Rebel Academy: Curse

Chapter Six FOX

The gallery wall closed, sealing me into the darkness behind, which pressed on me like a shroud.

Great Pan, don’t let me die like this.

Every night, after the Kitten Incident that’d shown my family in the House of Jewels I’d possessed magic, I’d feared that I’d die locked away in the attic. After my stunt at my sister’s garden birthday party, even my window had been boarded over.

Was dying within the castle walls because I was a mage any different?

Too dark, too dark, too…

I cringed back against the cold stone, struggling to drag in raspy breaths of the stale air, which stank of death.

I squeezed closed my eyes, clawing at my throat.

My lungs burned, and I choked, hyperventilating.

So much for being able to hold my breath for a really, really long time (okay, that’d been a lie; sue me).

I forced myself to count back from a hundred in my head to calm myself.

100, 99, 98…

In a pop of glitter, I transformed into a Birman cat with a crooked tail (because all the attitude was in the tail). I’d heard of being scared straight, but Damelza had scared me into a shifter.

There was a reason that Rebel Academy was considered the deadliest of the academies.

Witches were bitches.

After all, what was one more dead mage to a witch?

Yet Magenta loved me.

I meowed mournfully, curling into a fluffy ball and covering my head with my paws like if I couldn’t see the darkness, then I wouldn’t really have been walled up alive.

I could see others’ lies but I was even more skilled at lying to myself.

Then I grunted, as I was snatched by the scruff of my neck and cradled to Ezekiel’s chest. Did all angels have abs like this because okay, mine were like Zeus’…okay, Adonis’…okay some lesser demigods’, but Ezekiel’s were like sculptured stone.

I purred, snuggling closer.

The main thing that was different between the space in the walls and my attic was that this time, I wasn’t shut up alone. I should’ve felt guilty about that but knowing my slow death wouldn’t also be a lonely one pretty much meant that I didn’t.

Why had I ever told Magenta that I could survive this? Oh yeah, cockiness and male pride.

I grimaced. Brilliant.

The truth was that I didn’t truly believe that Magenta would be able to rescue me in time. You’d better sue my furry ass again.

Ezekiel slumped onto his ass, leaning against the wall. There was no one to pretend courage to anymore, only the pussy that he’d placed on his lap, and we were a dead man and his pet walking now.

That was the truth.

I trembled, and he scratched behind my ear.

All of a sudden, his wings flared with violet light; their tips pulsed.

“Better?” Ezekiel cradled one of his wings close, before scooping me onto his soft feathers. “I should’ve adapted the environment to suit your needs. Unfortunately, all the drama of our impending deaths scattered my usual strategies.”

Had he seen my file and knew about the attic? Had he looked at the baby photos with me in diapers?

Was a cat able to flush?

These were the times that I regretted how little I’d been allowed to see myself in mirrors. On the scale of our problems (from numb asses from sitting on a stone floor to being unable to breathe), it didn’t rate high.

But still…diapers.

I thwapped my tail side-to-side but couldn’t resist snuggling further into the nest of Ezekiel’s wing and sniffing its delicious tangy, citrus scent. Ezekiel sighed, resting his head against the wall and stroking his strong fingers down my back. I purred, kneading him with my paws.

Ezekiel winced, but when I glanced at the hardness tenting his pants, I realized that it hadn’t been with pain.

I did have one adorable furry ass.

Pink spread down Ezekiel’s neck and chest. “Let’s…hmm…put you somewhere less…sensitive, kitty.”

Hiding in my shifter form was just another type of lie.

In a spray of glitter, I transformed back into a man, who was now sprawled in his professor’s lap. So, a man could definitely flush.

Ezekiel caught me around the waist, before I toppled over, and for a moment, we stared intently into each other’s eyes.

Awkward.

It looked like I could embarrass myself in any social situation. It was a talent.

I attempted to wriggle off Ezekiel’s lap (I could pull off Bask’s sexy lap dismount), but Ezekiel firmly banded his arms around me, holding me in place.

I ducked my head, fiddling with the hem of Ezekiel's harem boy pants. "Well, that just happened. I mean, we just got walled up, then I panic transformed into a cat, and now I'm sitting in your lap like a..." Mouth, on Pan's golden cock, stop rambling humiliating small talk before I ban you from talking for...at least five minutes. My mouth snapped shut. I'd never been shocked into silence before, but then my threat had been harsh. Five minutes, who was I kidding that I could manage that without a gag? I prodded Ezekiel's stomach. "Ehm, sorry for getting you walled up alive."

As apologies went, that was weak.

He waved it away. "Today isn't going according to my expected schedule but then, it rarely does in this academy. I'd believed that the story of the original mage being walled up here was a myth. Yet once, I'd believed that about Magenta herself. In her lively rebellious self, she disproves that."

I bit my lip. I yearned to know about Magenta's first love who'd been a mage like me. He'd taken his last breaths here, the same as me. My skin tingled.

I could almost feel him.

"Who was he?" I asked.

"The tale goes that he was a powerful shimage like you." I jolted. My connection to the last mage to be allowed into the academy (the only other shimage who I'd directly heard of), shuddered through me. Why were we so hated? "It's the original love story. A witch and a mage fall in love. When the mother and Principal discovers them together..."

He trailed off. Yeah, I knew the rest.

For the first time, I understood that this was harder on my lovers than it was for me. I only had to suffer the punishment, but they had to witness, as I suffered it.

What if this had been done to any of them?

My eyes widened. Were my lovers still be on the other side of the wall?

I leaned over Ezekiel, and he let out an oomph, as I could've...okay, as I definitely...kneed him in the balls.

I scrabbled with my nails on the crumbling stone. "Magenta!" I hollered.

Could she hear me?

Pan's balls, how worried in that adorable I'm going to tear up the entire academy by its roots way of hers was she? Don't let her have self-combusted in a flurry of snow. Would the stress make Bask permanently unpettable? Although, that thought was sacrilege. What if Sleipnir savaged Lysander's gorgeous wings in his grief?

I had to save them from themselves.

My pulse pounded, and my throat was dry. "I'm alive," I called. Well, that rated highly in the Dumb Things to Shout to Your Loved Ones. If I'd been dead, I wouldn't have been screaming to them, would I? But it was difficult to think of reassurances under pressure, and the last time that I'd tried this, it hadn't ended well. "Just...don't worry."

So, that was Number Two on the list.

Ezekiel snatched my hands, pulling me back into his lap. "You're bleeding." I stared dazedly at my broken fingernails. "Plus, they can't hear you; it's part of the spell. In the past, they walled up whole groups of prisoner mages in the walls of this castle. It would've been distracting for the witches if they'd been able to hear them begging for mercy or shouting obscenities." I shivered. I hated to hear about other mages being hurt. Ezekiel glanced at me in surprise. "Doesn't Bacchus teach you anything in her lessons about the spells that live in this castle?"

"Live?" I asked.

"Spells and hexes are alive in a way," Ezekiel's eyes burned in the dark, "as much as we are or were, I guess."

I snorted. "Do you need a pint of bitter to down your bitter pill, professor?"

Ezekiel arched his brow. "Don't bother yourself; I've already swallowed it, since you students have killed me."

Ouch, that was my furry ass spanked. I hoped not literally because with the muscles in Ezekiel’s arms, it wouldn't be the sensual stroking that Willoughby gave Bask down by the lake.

"Does sorry cover it again?" I ventured.

I didn't expect the chuckle. "Killed by a pussy... My Glory in Angel World would die with shock."

I choked on my own tongue. The professor had made a sexy innuendo and it looked like he was probably more into sucking Ambrose in the common room than tonguing Bacchus.

My brain froze just for a moment on the image of Ezekiel on his knees before the dominant fae. Ambrose stroked Ezekiel's cheek, as he thrust his dick into his mouth with long, deep thrusts.

It'd have to be that way around because with Ambrose's sharp pearly teeth, he'd do more than graze Ezekiel's dick if he tried to push inside those plush lips. Unless, fae had developed a special method…? After all, I doubted that an entire race didn't suck each other off.

Was Sex in Different Supernatural Races an area of study because I'd be up for that.

"Did I short-circuit your brain?" Ezekiel asked worriedly, shaking me. "You've been staring off blankly for over a minute with this funny little smile. On my feathers, Ambrose should be here. He always seems to know how to talk to you students. But me...?"

I blinked. Okay, I was back in the room...or walled up alive.

I squirmed (nothing at all to do with my hardened dick). "Look, I wish that I could've passed the mission, then neither of us would be here."

Ezekiel's gaze was shrewd. "You don't because my assessment is that you chose not to capture the dragon." His wings flared, and he leaned closer until our foreheads touched. "Don't you think that my friends and me were desperate not to complete our missions? That we hated them? I can never rub myself clean. My Soul is tarnished. We cared enough for each other to survive."

"You survived," I corrected. "How'd it work out for them?"

Ezekiel let out a hissed breath. Right, no more pissing off my angel professor.

"They died one by one, and I had to watch them fall," Ezekiel whispered.

Truth: I'd have died to save them.

I rested my hands on either side of Ezekiel's cheeks because his truth had shivered down my spine like rain in twilight, the solitary plucked note on a trembling cello, and the salty track of tears.

"Then I'd return to the castle and their death portraits would appear in the gallery." Ezekiel's gaze was intent on mine. "The castle became one of ghosts and memories. Even though I survived, I was still trapped here, training yet more Rebels to send out to die. I've always tried my best by my students. Please tell me that at least I achieved that, even if..."

"You’ve been kind to us," I replied, tightening my hold. "You don't deserve to be in here. I don't care what Damelza thinks because she should've promoted you for understanding what we need. But how long is the House of Crows and its backers going to get away with treating the Rebels as their personal expendable army? We have to stop them."

"I admire your spirit. But I'd say that we've been stopped. Plus, you're wrong. What did I teach you about strategy?"

Typical. Even in here, I couldn't escape pop quizzes.

I desperately sought to remember his lesson. Damelza had swept in, then Willoughby's letter had spilled his secrets, before Bask had been snatched...

My brow furrowed. "Don't copy Napoleon...? Wait, it could've been always copy Napoleon…?"

Ezekiel sighed. "That right there is why I was slung in here, rather than promoted. Your Power of Confess senses the truth, right? Well, the truth is that I'm a terrible teacher." He paused a moment. I expected my power to blare Nirvana or possibly Eminem (I couldn't decide between the two), that Ezekiel was lying, but instead, there was only silence. So, he was terrible at teaching. It wasn't like I'd had any experience before coming to the academy, but in that case, the judgment of what made a good teacher could go screw itself. Ezekiel was epic. "See? I've been...concerned...for a while now that Damelza intended to punish me for my failings. Even you've noticed my loss of control over the class."

I laughed. "I’d prefer that than Bacchus who controls us with bondage or Juni who uses the traditional savaging with wolves method." He winced. "Anyway, we're terrible students, or hadn't you noticed?"

He snorted. Rude. "What, am I blind? But I'd never treat any of my students as strictly as I was, even if that’s meant bending the rules."

"The Princes obey you...sort of..."

"Barely. By my wing, the Princes will obey anyone who threatens them with their families." Gently, he clasped my hands, lowering them to his lap. Then his wings wrapped around me in a feathery embrace. "I don't imagine confidentiality matters anymore. I was stricter on the Princes, only because I was trying to protect them. You Immortals have no idea the pressure that the Princes are under from their so-called guardians. Our patron, Titus, watches over the academy in a spell that's triggered by certain words or behaviors, especially by his nephew. It's more watchful over certain areas like the Princes' bedroom or during class. Willoughby's brother has a similar dark curse that connects to his bed in the Prince's bedroom and his suit. Punishment Points must be administered by his Tutor. They're disciplined daily. She can't bend the rules, even if she wants to, and I highly doubt that she does." He grimaced. "Lysander has no choice but to act like a—"

"Jerk?"

"Fae prince." Ezekiel wings flared brighter. "I spoke about teamwork for a reason. The Princes receive enough cruelty, and I haven't even started about the methods to break Midnight. If I'd only made more effort for unity when I was a student and understood that we weren't rivals, then perhaps..."

My friends would've survived. He didn't need to say it for me to hear it. Nor the added: And us too.

I squirmed off his lap, slipping underneath his wings. "I'm not a tamed pussy. I won't simply sit around here, telling sad tales, and waiting to be disciplined. I'm off to explore my territory."

If I had a tail in my human form, I'd have been wagging it. I didn’t need to spray on the stones to prove that they were mine. Well, maybe later. I needed to piss sometime.

I crawled into the dark, away from the eerie violet of Ezekiel's wings.

Would I crunch over the bones of mages? I flinched. What if I trampled all over Magenta's first friend — lover's — skeleton?

"Get back here," Ezekiel ordered, scrambling to his knees.

"I can't hear you," I called, "it's this weird side effect of being about to die, along with the Dark Mark appearing on my dick and a sudden urge to be called Foxy Lady."

Then I yowled, as my nose bumped into something hard. I cradled my nose, falling back onto my heels. Ezekiel's cuss was long and creative, as in turn, he bumped into me.

Tentatively, I reached out, feeling the contours of the large metallic object in front of me. Ezekiel held his wing above my head in a sweep of light.

My pulse fluttered in my throat, and I leaned forward, yearning in a way that I didn’t even know I could feel. My magic thrummed through me in joy.

It couldn't be... This was forbidden... Please, let me have this moment of worship...

I stared in wonder at the golden shrine to Pan.

It’d mean death to have such a shrine in a witches' coven because Pan was the mages' god. Even to mention him merited a whipping. I shivered at the phantom pains of the lash.

I'd always been curious about the god who believed that shimages were the most blessed and not wickedest because they could transform into animals. Pan ruled nature. To him, there was no right or wrong; only wild freedom.

I traced my finger over the carvings of non-magicals, who’d been caught up in Pan’s dance, before glancing at the statue of the golden horns.

What would it be like to see my beautiful Horned God?

I'd never felt so settled in myself as I did kneeling before this shrine, in the same way that I never felt so uneasy as I had before Hecate’s.

Then Ezekiel pointed at the statue of a huge erect phallus. "They left sex toys in here? As if this shrine doesn't break enough rules."

I snickered. "Let's just say that my god likes to party."

I tilted my head at the rich silk that was draped along the back of the shrine. It was embroidered with red-breasted robins like drops of blood on the black.

My magic shied away from it, but I couldn’t stop looking at it, and my fingers itched to touch like it belonged to me.

Carefully, I reached out to lift a corner and peer at what was underneath.

I hollered (okay, squeaked but in a manly way), letting the silk slip through my fingers.

Ezekiel rubbed my back with his wing. "You found the last resting place of our original mage? Definitely not a myth then."

I nodded.

My throat was suddenly too tight to speak. Magenta had loved this man.

I smoothed my hand over the silk like a blessing. It was the least that I could do for a fellow mage. Yet who’d built a shrine that was versatile enough to double as a tomb if there’d never been another mage in this castle? It must’ve been constructed by magic. Yet who’d cared enough to respect the mage’s body in this way, rather than let it turn to dust on the freezing floor?

Whoever had done it must’ve loved them.

When my fingers brushed a book, which was balanced on the silk, I gasped. Magic prickled across my skin, jumping from the cover. I ran my fingers reverentially down the spine.

“By my feathers, don’t touch. I understand why you have the urge to test your wings, when they were clipped for so long, but resist it. There are worse ways to die than quietly walled up alive, like screaming in agony.” Ezekiel clutched my shoulders. “First, Bacchus doesn’t teach you about spells and then, she doesn’t warn you about the risk of cursed objects.”

“Pan would never curse one of his shimages, right Great Pan?” I eyed the shrine hopefully.

Would it be desecration to remove items from a grave? I vaguely remembered the Egyptian gods cursing grave robbers.

I shrugged. I wasn’t a robber, I was just a curious pussy.

Wait, didn’t curiosity kill the cat?

Too late.

I snatched the book, holding it close enough to see through the gloom that it appeared to consist of sheets ripped from other books. The front was decorated with fluffy red feathers.

Robins again.

Why were my hands shaking?

“Don’t…” Ezekiel urged, but it was distant like everything had fallen away but the book, me, and the itching urge to open it.

The fingers cramped, as I attempted to resist. Then the image of a glade in summer, which was speared with sunlight as butterflies flitted between violets and lilies of the valley, slammed through my mind. Instantly, I craved like my body was aflame.

I threw open the book, and a gust of wind that was scented with sweet wild blackberries blasted out. I fell backward, shocked at the chill, which ghosted down my spine.

Invisible fingers traced my cheek in tender gratitude.

I swallowed, freezing.

I was being watched. On my prickles, I was being observed.

It was the same as when I’d stepped into the academy’s courtyard bailey, and Magenta had first kissed me with cold lips that’d warmed with life, even across the veil of death.

What were the chances that this spook only wanted to make out with me?

Perhaps, Ezekiel was right about a quiet death being better than whoever I’d unleashed.

After all, now we were walled up alive with a ghost.