Demon Accords 8: College Arcane by John Conroe

dear, so before anyone
is embarrassed, let’s just answer honestly, okay?”
     
    I held my right palm up and pulled heat from
the pool of warm air up in the steel rafters. I compressed it
smaller and smaller till it ignited in a ball of self-contained
fire, about the size of a grapefruit. Beside me, I felt T.J. pull
away from the heat, while on my other side, Ryanne leaned in,
fascinated.
     
    “Right, fire it is. Impressive, dear,” Berg
said.
     
    In the far corner, a daylily bloomed in a pot
of dirt. I pulled a lump of dirt out of the pot, across the room,
and into my left hand. She looked up at the sudden motion, eyes
narrowing as she spotted the pile of slightly damp earth in my
hand.
     
    Trying something quite a bit trickier, I
formed the pile into the shape of a little man, maybe three inches
tall, just the semblance of a humanoid figure. Then I walked it
across my palm to my other palm. Focusing my concentration for the
hard part, I carefully forced one tiny arm to make a salute in Miss
Berg’s direction.
     
    For a moment, her mouth hung open, just a few
seconds really, but enough to give me a perverse sense of
satisfaction. Then her eyes narrowed again and she waved one hand.
My little dirt man crumbled into a pile of potting soil, even as
much of the class awwed in disappointment.
     
    “Mr. O’Carroll, you have made your point, but
I don’t like grandstanding in my classroom. Attention whores will
not be tolerated, do you hear me?”
     
    “Ma’am, did you just call me a whore?” I
asked, temper flaring uncontrollably.
     
    “I identified a class of individuals that
most of the warlocks I have known invariably fall into. If the shoe
fits, Mr. O’Carroll, if the shoe fits. Now, enough. Let’s finish
the roll call,” she said, before calling another kid’s name that I
didn’t hear because I was trying to strangle my anger. A warm hand
touched my right forearm as Ryanne leaned in close.
     
    “Don’t flip out, laddie. She’ll learn soon
enough. And sooch a surprise it’ll be,” she whispered, distracting
me with her perfume, her warmth, and her understanding of what I
was.
     
    I glanced sideways at her. One eyebrow was
arched into a perfect smirk. “What? I watched you stand off with me
sisters, holding more power than the lot of us and you didn’t think
I would realize? Not to mention ya blacked out the whole building
yesterday. Britta’s been having a bird over it, she has,” she
whispered. “Jest bide yer time. The old bitch will like to shite
herself.”
     
    Just that fast, my overwhelming anger turned
to amusement at the mental picture she’d just painted. In fact, I
almost laughed out loud, but kept it to a quiet chuckle. Miss Berg
noticed and glared but finished out the rest of her roll call
without comment.
     
    “In this class, we will explore what is known
about your abilities, what is not known, and what is suspected.
We’ll cover some history, learn how these powers have been put to
use in different cultures around the world, and we’ll do a great
deal of actual practice in developing your full potential. That
will be important, class, for many reasons, not the least of which
will be that Mr. Jenks will be expecting you to be able to use your
gifts under stress in your survival class.
     
    “Now, for the rest of this session, I’d like
you all to group up by ability or in my witches’ cases, affinity.
Many of you are self-taught; others maybe have some training. You
can all learn something from one another. Now go ahead and group
up,” she said.
     
    The witches were almost even in affinities,
except for myself. I could have worked with either Tami and Zuzanna
or the little Earth witch, Michelle. I chose Michelle as it only
seemed logical.
     
    She looked at me a touch hesitantly. I was
still clutching a fistful of soil and I gestured with it. “Let me
go put this back,” I said, pointing at the potted plant.
     
    “That was really cool. Could you teach me to
do