Chapter 4

September 1st, 2018

Collège de St. Cyr,

Serpens Hall

Moon in Taurus - Waning Gibbous

I still can't quite believe it. I'm still pinching myself for it. As I look around, it slowly starts to sink in. I'm in Serpens Hall. I've been entered into the A.A.S., I have the keys that prove it, and my name is on the roster at the main hall. Cassandra Tremayne, it says, alongside the others. The only Year Three student to have made the grade. There were supposed to be two of us, but according to Sashi there's a Year One, this semester. It's rather unheard of, I believe, a Year One admitted into A.A.S.? I don't bother questioning it, couldn't care less. I'm in, and that's all that matters. No longer do I have to put up with old Bishop and his sleep-inducing lectures. The man may be head of the Alchemy department, but I swear he's the most boring teacher in the entire University. And ever since I entered St. Cyr and first laid eyes on him, I've been dying to study under Professor Ezra King. In each and every sense.

A giggle drops from my lips, I cover my mouth with a stiff hand and dive into my bedroom. Room three, right beside the door to room six. Another giggle. I really must get a hold of myself. But room six is Professor King's, and the thought he'll be sleeping right above me is beyond what I can take. Oh, what a silly, clichéd thing to do, isn't it? Fall for the teacher. Especially seeing he was never my teacher, and all the contact I've had with the man is when we cross paths along the crowded halls and corridors of St. Cyr.

But oh, the looks he gives me. Oh, the way he stares at me. As if he wants to eat me whole. I rather wish he would, but no such luck. Seeing I was never his student, the man could have manned up and ask me out, but nope. Professor King is a go-by-the-rules kind of man, apparently. We'll see about that this year, with us being thrown together into such close quarters. I'm not being cocky, I'm not stupid. But I can tell when a bloke's into me, and Ezra King has been into me since we first bumped into each other.

Literally.

Yet another cliché on a life that should have been made of outstanding events. Turns out the universe has seen fit to make Cassandra Isabelle Tremayne the world's biggest walking cliché. I can live with that, I can just about live with anything, now I'm at Serpens and studying under him. Who seems to be absent, now that I think about it. I was hoping to see him standing there, at the end of the corridor, bathed by the light coming in from that narrow window, arms crossed in a typical Professor King demeanour, ready to welcome us all. Ready to shower me with one of those fiery looks of his. Just the thought of it makes me shiver and puddle with want.

But he isn't here. Sashi knocked on his door, and there was no response. Then the others started flocking in, and we didn't want to seem too eager, so we went into our rooms to unpack. I've finished, and can't bear the thought of simply sitting here doing nothing, so I head off to the common room. This place is different from Cygnus. The common room there was massive, but then again, I was on the first and second floors for the past two years. Sharing a room with three other girls on Year One and two others during my second year. Now, I have an individual bedroom with an en suite bathroom, and this common room is intimate and cosy, complete with a tiny kitchenette and all.

The table seems large enough to sit the six of us. I wonder if Professor King plans to do his lessons here? There's a spacious sofa on which a Year Four student I can't remember the name is already sprawled (as if he owned it, the wanker) and three very comfortable-looking armchairs. I aim for one of them, the closest to the lovely fireplace. The windows are wide and tall, filling the place with cheery light, and the kitchenette has a roomy fridge, which is essential for Sanguinaires like me. If I don't take my monthly dosage of Regulars blood, my immune system is gone. No one likes a snotty nosed, lung-coughing Sanguinaire, and Professor King will be no different. Then again, having a sick student under his wing might just about bring out his loving, caring side. I wonder if he'd tuck me into bed and bring me chicken soup. He seems more like the type of man who'd run you a bath to lower your temperature. I could live with that.

Biting back another snigger, I walk into the common room, and the Year Four deems to raise his head and acknowledge my existence. His dark eyes narrow, as he lowers his book - Treaty on Alchemical Solutions of the third grade Chaotic System, which is not required reading for this term, but for the next. I can see where we stand, this will prove to be a highly competitive environment, after all. Well, as long as they keep their little paws away from Professor King. I can be as smart as the best of them, and as competitive.

"Hey," Year Four greets, and I smile back at him. "I'm Igor Pčevič."

"Cassandra Tremayne."

"I've seen you around. You were in old Bishop's class, right?"

Heavens, this was all I needed. He's seen me around. Worst line ever. "Yes."

"I wonder how you got into this class, Professor King only takes his own students and those already doing the A.A.S."

Oh, so that's how we're rolling? "Actually, he doesn't. Every year, since he started teaching at St. Cyr, Professor King asks students for an essay on specific themes, according to what year you're on. Those essays will determine whether a student joins the A.A.S., independent of being his student or not."

"I see." He sits up and studies me, but I'm delivered from further questioning by the sudden entrance of two more students.

One of them is my best friend, Sashi Ghurjharatrii. Sashi's a Year Two student, and we were together at Cygnus, having bonded practically from the word go. He gets me, he does, and isn't shocked nor offended by my often inappropriate jokes. Says I lack filter, but loves me for it. I love him for being himself, always rearing to go. We both wanted in to the A.A.S. for reasons of our own, and while working on the assignments Professor King delivered to Year One and Year Two students, Sashi and I helped each other and bonded even more. I was almost as frantic to see his name on the board as I was to see mine.

The other individual, I do not know. He looks slightly familiar, with a head of strawberry blond hair and those pale grey eyes, but I can't quite place him. He wasn't in Cygnus, that's for sure, nor on Year Two. So he must have been a Year Three student last term, and is now a Four. Which means Sashi is also the only Year Two student taking this course. Makes one feel extra special, it does.

"Hello," Sashi says, saunters into the room as if he's floating on a cloud. "I'm Sashi, this young man is Ben. That's Cassie, over there, and you are?" he throws at the sprawling Igor, but my attention is caught up by Ben.

A hand snakes up to cover my mouth, shit's about to come out of it. I try to rein in the giggles but am powerless. Sashi's eyes flit quickly in my direction, a keen, amused look no one else seems to notice but me. He knows me too well, and knows I'm not gonna hold it much longer. I break out in a fit of giggles as Igor introduces himself.

"Big Ben," I cackle, and cannot stop laughing for the life of me. The young man blushes deeply, his eyes taking on a panicked look. "Now I know why his face's familiar, he's Big Ben!"

Okay, this isn't fair. And it's not right. I let the laughing fit run its course, sober up, straighten my face. Ben isn't happy, he looks downright desperate. It was before my time, what made Big Ben famous around St. Cyr. When he was a freshman. See, we have this initiation ritual around here, where the Year One students are to manage a feat. Nothing magical, mind; though they're free to use magic if they want to. All it's required is that they try to abscond from the cellars one very specific bottle of wine. St. Cyr poses as a winery and vineyard for the outside world of the Regulars. Although the main building - the old château - is really the university, there's another entrance and another main building on the other side of the property. That building, a palatial mansion built in the late 1800s, is where the wine business operates from. And in its cellars, the best of wines are kept. Each year, one vintage bottle is chosen and the Year One students are challenged to get it. Whoever manages to bring the bottle to the main Hall, wins one year's worth of favours from every other student, including the seniors.

Ben became famous when trying to get that bottle. He decided to use magic, and being a Shifter, simply took off his clothes and shifted before venturing to the winery. Thing is, it's a bit of a walk there, and Ben decided to shift into a tiny little mouse. Took him ages to cross the grounds and the vineyards, and he must have spent all his energy, for next thing he knows, he wakes up the next morning just outside the winery, in a pile of cardboard boxes, trash and old paper that was about to be set on fire. As the first flames start to lick over him, he jumps up, back to his normal self, and completely naked. The man in charge of burning the trash is in a panic; I mean, suddenly this naked, freckled creature jumps from amidst the flames, yelling at the top if his lungs, how was the man not to get scared?

All Ben had time to do was take off running down the vineyards back to the château, his parts hanging, his feet scraped and bloody, as if the fires of hell were after him. When he gets to St. Cyr proper, most students are out and about, and spot him immediately. A very naked, very well hung Year One student, who failed to get the bottle but managed to shift - no wonder he's been in the A.A.S. all along. Someone had a mobile phone, and a photo was taken. That photo is said to hang in the common room of Corvus Hall, where Ben hails from. I never saw it, but those who have, swear he really is Big Ben. Wish I could tell, but turns out Sashi might find out sooner, seeing Ben's type isn't girls like me. Or any other kind of girl, for that matter.

"I'm sorry," I say, and slide off the armchair to come grab his hands. His eyes are still panicked, and I realise this boy must have been teased and harassed over this for the past three years. I'm such a stupid cow, sometimes. "I'm so, so sorry."

He nods, tries to pull away his hands, but I don't want us to start off on the wrong foot.

"Don't mind Cass," Sashi says. "She's got no filter and her brain's addled."

"Oi," I shout, but smile. "It's true, shit comes out my mouth way before I can think. I'm really sorry, it was wrong of me, Ben. Please, can we start over?"

He nods, averts my eyes all the while. As he releases himself from my grip, I swear I'm gonna make it up to him.

"How immature," Igor mumbles, and I instantly grab the pillow under his head and swat him across the face with it. "And that's very grown up, Cassandra," he adds, but laughs. He actually laughs. Maybe Mr Year Four is not that bad, after all.

I slink back to my armchair, kick of my shoes and curl my legs underneath me. The tights I'm wearing are already running a line, I tease it further down my leg, listening to Sashi's incessant drone. That boy can talk your head off, if you let him. My brain switches off, I nod at all the right spots without listening to a word he says. Instead, I'm wondering about Ezra King and where he is. Teachers are supposed to be at St. Cyr by the twenty-fifth of August, it's September first and no sign of him. What could have happened? Has he resigned? The thought shocks the hell out of me. I'm left sweating, dry-mouthed, heart bursting like a mad set of drums. His name was on the board. Right after the A.A.S. initialism, it was. Class led by Professor Ezra King, it said. Unless it hasn't yet been corrected? Because his name was also in front of Head Master of Serpens Hall, with Professor Marie Follet as Second Head Mistress.

My thoughts are diverted by the door being opened yet again. The speed of my heart - which was already unbearable - increases as I try to quash the hopes it might be him.

It's not.

But the bloke who walks in is nothing short of stunning.

He's tall, and lean. Long legs encased in black jeans, Doc Martens on his feet. A tight fitting black shirt that suits him to a tee, topped by a grey brocade silk vest. His hair's tied back in a ponytail, and seems to come down to his shoulder blades. His eyes are so dark I can't see the black of his pupils, and the grin which he gives me sends shivers down my spine. I've always had a thing for blond men, it seems, and this one's right up my alley, what with those tempting lips and that wide grin. We lock eyes with each other, and my hands shake a bit. My legs too, but they're tucked under me, and I hope he makes nothing of how I must have blushed at the sight of him.

Good lord, he's gorgeous. Even Sashi and Ben seem impressed, I can see from the corner of my eye how they ogle him. But he has eyes only for me. Realising this warms me up inside, and for a split second Ezra King has completely vacated my mind.

"Hi," the newcomer says, and my entire body freezes. "I'm Alec Delacroix."

Shit.

This isn't a bloke.

This is a girl. I just got the hots for a freaking girl. I was ready to jump a bloody, fucking woman.

What the hell is wrong with me?