The Ax Swings In Harlem

CHAPTER NINE

The Ax Swings In Harlem

FLINT

I had a free get-out-of-dance card. Fallen neatly in my lap because of anatomy, and I threw it away over a handful of tears. I cursed myself in silence while putting my shoes on. Sasha stands beside me cautiously. She thinks I'll collapse at any given moment. Man, I wish I did.

Sasha hands my blazer over as I stand. If I was back in Maine, I would've been taken to the hospital with a frantic Myers by my side. The nurses would've ripped my clothes off and thrown me in a length foam green gown with a slit in the back for my ass to breathe. But Sasha informed me that things are different here. She knows I don't need the clarification but elaborates anyway.

The school uniforms are sewn with something called anitamite silk. Supposedly it's from a gigantic worm, she called it a caceo, that relieves itself in the Moors' Neighboring forest. Yup, the school bills you a mortgage rate for magical education with uniforms made out of excretion from a maggot's ass crack. Classic Mythicae.

Sasha rolled her eyes when I put my blazer on in disgust. According to her, Mythicae harvests silk due to its magical components. It responds to magic of its wielder as well as healers. The silk essentially has a mind of its own. It can protect its wearer when exposed to extreme abnormalities, erratic imbalance of the body and foreign casts. The uniforms act as armor. Making it easy for the staff to tend to students. As Sasha put it mildly, it's fashion's cheat code.

Sasha patted my back, walking me to the doors that exit the school's infirmary. I hope Piper grabbed my shit or I'll be turning my boxers inside and out for days. Dean will kill me if I lose everything. Relief washed over me when we spotted Piper waiting outside. I let the breath I'd been holding. My bag is tucked neatly against hers. Her nails are pressed tightly against a scroll that strikingly appears to be a form of communication- a phone. Sasha waves, catching the attention of her longtime friend.

"Flint!" Piper said, snatching my neck the moment we approached her. "So glad you're okay. We still have an hour before dinner. We can drop off your things and pick up a map for tomorrow."

"Sounds good." I said with a smile. Piper releases me, handing my backpack over.

She sets her scroll into her pocket and glances at Sasha. "If we hurry, we might meet his roommates and still be able to catch Ve at dinner."

"Maybe," Sasha grumbled, "pretell Flint, what dormitory are you in again?"

"Harlem," I said, scratching the scruff of my chin. "59B on the fourth floor."

Sasha nods and beckons me to follow them. By now, the crowd of students has thinned. But those who are among us continue to stare as we walk past them. I'm not new to the unwelcoming feeling. It was like this back home thanks to Bobby and his goons. Guilt surges my core. I brought Sasha and Piper into this without knowing it, and now they'll have to deal with a few assholes. Thanks to me.

The girls cut through the passages between buildings until they arrive at the front of a massive structure. The Harlem dormitory, thanks to its sign, is an all boys residence. Piper pushes the door open for us and we enter the foyer. I guess I expected empty liquor bottles and untidiness. Gratitude coats me when I notice the place is practically spotless. Sasha makes her way to steel doors placed at the end of the hall. She surpasses the male students who gawk at her, and clicks on the elevators button. Damn, this school has just about everything.

The elevator chimes when it reaches us. We step inside its vacancy and Piper presses the fourth floor. The doors closed slowly with a subtle hiss. I cleared my throat preparing myself to ask something that's been gnawing on my mind all day. "There's something I've been meaning to ask. Can you guys tell me about casting?"

Piper peers over me, glancing at her friend who nods quietly. "Um, sure. What do you want to know?"

"Start with the circle?" I suggested but it sounded more like a question.

Piper smiled at me and leaned against the cold gray wall. She began explaining that there are four techniques to performing magic. The most common, which Sasha uses, is when a mythical creates a light orb to help them concentrate on their spell. Essentially, the circle Sasha forms is to help her aim her magic into one place and remain focused. It's simply a light trick for beginners. Some people claim they use it for aesthetics. They don't.

The next method is words alone. The wielder holds enough willpower to cast without needing a form of assistance other than their vocals. Third technique is a bit more complex. Some magic wielders are able to write and translate words to perform magic. Penmanship techniques are becoming more rare nowadays. Something about the new generation is too lazy to indulge in the language or its glyphs- photographs of spells. Their penmanship is the only connection needed. A wielder can cast any spell as long as they correctly translate the words or draw a spell's glyph accurately. I found out that it's Piper's favorite. Lastly, the most intriguing, is unfathomable. Piper continues, "the last one is where a person doesn't need to draw, speak or write to cast. They cast in their minds. Only a few students can do it here without hurting themselves. Extremely dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. You might cast transportation somewhere and have your body turned inside out."

Piper shook herself with chills. She probably saw a mental image of her example. Bile rises in my throat. Sasha pushes me out the elevator when its doors open. "Come on you guys," Sasha ordered, "let's get his things unpacked. I'm starving."

Piper joins us, side by side. I turned to her, "which method is the easiest?"

This earns me a devilish smile. "Trying to learn magic on your first day, Mr. Anderson?"

"Just curious." I said.

"Your technique will come to you. It'll have a way of finding you. Some are simply meant for others. It's a matter of your heart and mind. The magic flows through your soul and not just flesh and bones. It'll be interesting for you. There's not many like you."

We make our way down the threshold until Sasha stops abruptly at a cedar door. Piper's words echoed in my head anxiously. There are not many like you. Good chance that if there was a dragonling like me before, the school eradicated their whole existence. Sasha holds her hand out to me, "give me your ID."

I stare at her empty palm cursing to myself. They're going to see that damn picture. I pull my bag off, ripping it open and feverishly search for my card. Once I found it, I placed it in her palm. Sasha begins to thank me but stops. Piper joins her side, and the two cackle in obnoxious loud wheezes. Piper squeezed my shoulder, wiping a tear from her green eyes, "Flint, you are a piece of work!"

"When the school year is over," Sasha teases, swiping my card into the chip reader, "I'm keeping this as my momentum."

That's fucking lovely. Be my guest. I reach for my card again but stop when I see the chip reader. Perched on the side of the door is a bubbling heap of mud, bones,and miscellaneous items growing. It boils, thickening over the card until it releases a satisfied hum.

"Access granted."

My eyes widen as I stare at the creature. Slowly, the muck dropped from its face until it revealed two giant doughy eyes. Sasha places her hand on my back to soothe me. The creature, which I later found out is a clavis, peers at me in its dripping essence. Sasha pushed me closer, mumbling something about not being rude. I offered a smile to the blob but it gave an uninterested gaze.

"Flint Anderson, Harlem Dormitory. Room 59B, quad division." The clavis said. Its voice was lowered and shaken. "Welcome to Mythicae and Astral-"

The sound of cold iron splinters the door. It's whoosh died, replaced with a shrill from Piper. Inches away from my face rests a newly swung ax in the door. A few strands of my hair fall to the ground from where the blade grazed me. One centimeter closer and the janitor would be mopping my brain off the floor. Grunts followed behind heavy footsteps as the ax began to wiggle itself out of the doorway. Behind the chaos was a stout young man who was now looking at us from the ax-sized hole he created in the door. The man clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his blonde hair. His baby blue eyes softened and the scowl he had was replaced with a genuine smile.

The door swings open, and I'm face to face with a muscled man carrying an ax over his shoulder. I think I heard Piper stifle a gasp but Sasha remains unbothered. The man holds his free hand out to me and shakes mine. "I guess you're our new roommate. I'm Andrew Devonni." He sets the ax down behind the doorframe. "Welcome to Mythicae, you poor unfortunate fuck."

I find myself laughing at this. Sasha and Piper exchange looks and cling to my sides. Andrew, who's shirtless and practically has his waist exposed, smacks my shoulder. I like this guy. Seems like the type of guy who does reckless shit and laughs about it with you when he breaks his arm. I think Piper likes him too for other reasons.

Andrew hooks his thumb to the trim of his boxers, leans against the gram, and teases. "See something you like, girls?"

I thought Andrew would shrivel up and turn to ashes by my cousin's heavy death glare. If looks could kill, Andrew and I would perish under her scrutiny.

"Go ahead and get settled, Flint." Sasha ordered, linking arms with her blushing companion, "Pip and I will be back to get you for the dance. We need to get ready."

I nodded and smiled deeply at my cousin. "Thanks, Sash."

She ignored the nickname and turned on her heels quickly leading a wobbly Pip down the hall. Just when I think that's the end of it, Sasha's voice ruptures the silence. "Put some fucking clothes on Andrew! Some of us choose not to know what it looks like!"

One smug look at Andrew said it all. I entered our dorm and watched Andrew close the door. The cedar splinters until it entwines with sprouting twigs and closes the gap. Holy shit. No wonder that Clavis seemed depressed. It must think I'm one more dumbass to repair the door from.

Behind me, lounged in gray furniture, are two men roughly my age. Andrew, who later informed me that he's nineteen, broke the ice. "Listen up shitbricks, this is our new roommate-" he pauses asking me. "What's your name?"

"Flint Anderson."

"Flint here will be staying in Ralph's old room. Let's not kill him on his first day." He teased or at least I hoped. "That's Donnic, my twin. He's a bit of a loner and prefers words over women."

Donnic, who pushed his glasses up and looked at his carbon copy, snorted. "No, I just don't stick my phallus in everything that's wet."

At least it'll be easy to tell the twins apart. Donnic is scrawny in size compared to his brother, but they share the same flared nose and ashy blonde curls. Total opposites in personality though.

Andrew rolled his eyes and gestures to the next guy who's reading from a scroll. "And that's Blake. Star Captain to Mythicae's Dybbuk team, and a hit with the ladies. He can set you up with a puck bunny. Just say the word."

He wiggled his eyebrows at me with staggering enthusiasm. Blake set his scroll down and looked up. His gaze cuts me in half, "you're that halfling."

I suppose he's meaning I'm part human, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of clarifying. I don't know if they hate humans yet. I can't appear weak. "In the flesh."

Blake grinned wickedly, standing to join me. "So you're Sasha's cousin?"

My blood turned to ice. Andrew and Blake seem like the type to fuck and dip. Which didn't bother me until he mentioned my cousin. No asshat is going to treat her like a piece of meat. I don't bother replying. He knew the answer, and he patted my shoulder with a hearty laugh. "Relax, I'm not going to bone your cousin. I just want to dance with her. Come on, let me show you to your hellhole."

Something tells me the only dance he wants is under the sheets.I relaxed my shoulders, noticing how tense my body feels. We're at an academy full of heebie-jeebies and fuck-nots. They can pick anybody- the whole academy if they want- except Sasha. I'm not letting them use her for some lousy five minute top-off. Not if I have a say in the matter.

Blake opens a door that resides closest to the dainty makeshift kitchen. I can't complain. My room is closest to the fridge and bathroom. I thank him while tossing my bag onto the thick mattress that sits in the corner. Blake closes the door behind him when he leaves. I expected my room to be a hobble musky shitshow, but I'm surprised at its interior. I have a desk that sits on the right side of my room. The sunlight drizzles perfectly at the mahogany desk too. The room bore a sliding window with a balcony attached.

The view is my favorite. Being on the fourth floor meant we had a view of the midsection to the towers. The pathways below seem small and the students are unaware of how easy it is to spot them. This place really is beautiful despite its otherworldly nature. I might actually enjoy living here.

I began to pull the dark purple curtains over the window when I spotted something. Matter of fact- someone. Down below in the middle of Mythicae's crosswalk is the girl before. She pulled her hood over her hair and looked up at my window. Maybe I've lost my mind and this girl is a stranger looking for her boyfriend. Hell, it's an all boys dormitory. The wish can't be far fetched but it is short lived.

The girl tucked a strand of vibrant blue hair back and smiled. She showed her perfect blindingly white teeth as she gave a slight wave. The window before me cracks. My heart climbs in my chest alarming me. Deep lines spread across the pane but it never shatters to my dismay. I should've told Sasha my suspicions.

There she was, sauntering below and taunting me. I can't call it a coincidence anymore. Verity is going to kill me. Carve my heart out and drain its contents with her perfect lips. Or whatever freaky shit she's into. It's always the drop-dead gorgeous women that are crazy. In some twisted way, somehow, she'll be comforted at my funeral. Dressed in black alongside Sasha with crocodile tears as Piper soothes her back. They'll never figure out it's her. Pretty privilege at its finest.

She disappears shortly into a coursing wave of students. Effortlessly and unseen by her friends, the staff and at first me. Maybe she followed us the entire time. At first glance, anyone would've thought nothing more of it other than a friendly encounter. But this is no friendly encounter, and the girl is far from harmless. I don't have to see her face or heartless eyes to know it's her.

Verity.

What a fucking witch.