Fated (A Mystic Academy Novella)

L ana Longhorn , Mrs. Sandler called out without looking away from the board. Head to the main office now.

I sighed. Which one of my siblings was in trouble now? I left my seat and followed the office aid, Mira Keppel. Like me, Mira would be graduating in a few weeks. Unlike me, she wasn’t taking AP classes and hanging around the school just to keep an eye on her siblings.

Is it Wes or Talia? I asked Mira when I caught up with her. Or both of them?

I don’t know. The principal came out of her office looking flustered and asked me to get you.

A flustered Principal Mateo? My bet was on Wes. No woman was safe from him. I wondered what he’d done this time or how he’d gotten busted. Principal Mateo was a ball-breaker. Most students, male or female, could never fool her, except my brother and sister. They had no problem using runes to go invisible, open a portal, and sneak out of a classroom for an afternoon coffee break at the nearest Starbucks—or to make the teachers or the principal forget they were in trouble.

The problem was they weren’t very good with runes. I’d often find a teacher wandering aimlessly in the hallway with no idea how he or she got there, or what class they’d been teaching. Fixing them often led some to remember what had happened before, which landed Talia and Wes in trouble. It was a tightrope I walked between cleaning their messes as per our parents’ expectations and letting them face the consequences of their actions.

My hand closed on the blade hidden in my jacket pocket. I’d thought being in charge of the artavus would slow my siblings down, but nope. They still found a way to pull a fast one on me using their individual gifts.

I entered the main office and met Mrs. Francis’s gaze head-on. She studied me from above the rim of her glasses. She always gave me the impression she knew my secret. Or should I say the Longhorn family secret?

I gave her a tiny smile. Morning, Ms. Francis.

Lana. Go inside.

Thank you. Because of my fingerless gloves, I shoved my hand in my pocket before grabbing the knob and turning it.

I could feel Ms. Francis’s and Mira’s eyes on me. I was sure they assumed I was a germophobe like everyone else did. They didn’t know my gloves and long-sleeved dresses and tops were for their protection.

I pushed open the door, expecting to see the contrite expression on Talia’s face or Wes’s cocky mug. Instead, my gaze fell on the man seated in front of Principal Mateo’s desk, and my inner warning system went off. Black leather duster, black leather pants, and leather fingerless gloves.

Grimnir.

Fear coursed through me. What did he want?

He rose to his feet, graceful as a jungle cat. His dominant crimson aura said he knew he was at the top of the pecking order. Strong-willed. Survival-oriented. Confident. The lighter layer along the edge hinted at sensuality and competitiveness. He faced me, and I found myself staring into amber eyes with russet/coppery tint. I fought the instinct to cringe. As though he could sense my feelings, he smirked.

I thoroughly disliked reapers.

A sound came from the corner of the room, and my head whipped around. Are you shitting me? Another one? This one had green eyes with specks of gold and a terra-cotta complexion that brought to mind sunsets and fall colors. His dreadlocks came to his shoulders, and a scar over his left eyebrow added character to a face that might have just been beautiful.

Where do they recruit them? Modeling agencies? Even though I’d only seen reapers from afar, I’d yet to see an ugly one. A smile lifted the corner of Dreadlocks’ lips as he walked toward me, dimples flashing on his cheeks, and my fear shot to infinity. I couldn’t see his aura. Why couldn’t I see it?

I didn’t like it when I couldn’t see and read someone. Soon panic would kick in, which led to sweating. Sweating was bad for someone with my gift. I’d worked too hard to conceal my ability to let a beautiful face screw it up.

Lana Longhorn, Dreadlocks said as though he’d been waiting a long time to meet me. He offered me his hand.

I took a deep, calming breath and slowly exhaled. I didn’t do human contact, so I kept my hands in the pockets of my jacket and gripped my artavus. The gesture steadied me.

That’s me, I said, proud my voice was calm. And you are?

Scouts from MIT, Principal Mateo said before he could answer.

Scouts? That was the lamest lie I’d ever heard.

Use my office, please, Principal Mateo said, throwing a brief smile my way as she got up from behind her desk. She reached out to pat my shoulder and stopped when I cringed. She clenched her hand and dropped it to her side. The smile she gave me was uneasy. Like I said, Lana will be a wonderful addition to your program. I have a few errands to run, so take your time.

She hurried out of the room. I stared at her, wanting to beg her not to leave, but I knew it would be pointless. She couldn’t protect me from reapers. No one could. Reining in my fear, I turned to face the two Grimnirs in the office and caught their grins.

Errands? Wolf Eyes asked.

Dreadlocks shrugged. I wanted the woman gone, and I have no idea what a principal does outside of school. I think she’s going to have her hair done.

Their arrogance set my teeth on edge. They’d probably runed her. My parents had drilled into us to never rune Mortals unless it was necessary, and never to do or say anything to attract the attention of a reaper, yet two were here to see me.

Dreadlocks indicated the empty seat. Sit, please.

I squared my shoulders. No, thanks. I’d rather stand. So? What is it? What do you want? Do you need my help with something? I talked fast when I was nervous. I mean, what are two Grimnirs doing at my school?

They exchanged a glance.

You know who we are? Dreadlocks asked.

Don’t all Immortals? They sought our help all the time. The fact was reapers were the bane of our existence. Grimnirs or Valkyries, it didn’t matter. They were all bloated in their invincibility and importance. Taking another calming breath, I continued. Is someone about to die and you need me to smooth things over for you?

We’re not Valkyries, Wolf Eyes said. We don’t friend those whose souls we reap.

Then what do you want? If you don’t already know, you interrupted my class.

Wolf Eyes chuckled.

She’s sweet, he said, imitating Dreadlock’s deep voice. She won’t give me any trouble. He laughed. I’m going to make some parfait treat to thoroughly appreciate this. Rocky road ice cream with crushed Oreos and chocolate syrup with fudge at the bottom, and strawberries and whipped cream on top. Yummy goodness. Want some? You’re going to need it.

I got this, Echo. Dreadlocks said.

How about you, Immortal? Want something sweet to improve your disposition? Echo asked.

My eyes narrowed. If he were an icicle, he’d be a pool of boiling water on the wooden floor of the principal’s office. Grinning, he pulled out an artavus and etched air portal runes. Despite my dislike of reapers, I was impressed. I’d never seen anyone make an air portal before. We used solid surfaces. Even Mom and Dad did, and they were ancient.

The air grew dense and shimmery as though a pool of water was forming. Then it peeled back to reveal Echo’s destination. It wasn’t an ice cream or yogurt shop. It looked like a kitchen with leather seats on stools and flowers on the counter.

Go easy on my friend, Immortal, Echo said. We were at a wedding this weekend, and he cried like a baby. He’s emotionally fragile.

Screw you, Druid, Dreadlocks said.

See what I mean? Touchy. You sure you don’t want to rethink the treat, pal? I make amazing parfaits.

Since when did soul reapers attend weddings? They’d probably gone to reap some poor bastard. The portal closed behind him, leaving me alone with Dreadlocks, who studied me intently as though something about me puzzled him.

You don’t like us very much, do you? He sounded surprised.

I don’t know you well enough to dislike you.

I meant Grimnirs in general. What have we ever done to you?

Of course, he wouldn’t know. They never hang around to see the effects of their indifference. Every Immortal family I knew had lost a relative, a friend, or a child because a soul reaper refused to help. They had no problem asking for our help and using us whenever it suited them, but they took the moral high ground when roles reversed.

What do you want, Grimnir? I asked.

He made a face. Okay. Please, sit down so we can talk.

He settled on the edge of the table and rested his elbow on his thigh. If I sat on the chair he just indicated, I’d have to look up at him. I was not putting myself in that vulnerable position.

No, thanks. Tell me what you want so I can go back to class. I’m missing a lot as it is.

You were bored out of your skull in that class, Lana. And the ones before that. If I recall, you were busy doodling both times. Why are you even in school? You already have enough credits to graduate.

My jaw had dropped when he finished his first sentence. You watched me?

Studied you. He grinned, not in the least apologetic. Let me see if I remember it correctly. Three AP classes, peer tutoring, and early acceptance at U-Dub months ago.

He’d know about U-Dub if he’d gone through my files on the school computer. This was another reason I hated reapers. They invaded people’s privacy without losing sleep over it. This one