Rosemary Johns - Rebel Academy - Curse

Maybe it was a game of Whack a Professor. If she’d only let my hands free and pass me a mallet, I’d be happy to take a turn.

See, academy spirit. I was a brilliant student.

The vines fully formed into a professor who was scrutinizing us like she could see into our Souls. I straightened up, projecting my brilliant student thoughts, but Bacchus’ eyes only narrowed with frenzied fury.

Then Bacchus raised her hand, and vines shot from the stools, grasping the other students (apart from Magenta) around the waist and dragging them to sit down, before tying them securely in place.

“Valhalla!” Sleipnir struggled, and Mist flared his nostrils. “Whatever happened to asking us to take our seats ? It’s called using your words.”

Had the professors forgotten to tell us that it was Bondage Sunday?

Bacchus’ eyes flashed. “The son of Loki dares lecture me about words over actions, when he’s nothing but reckless deeds?” Pocus pushed himself onto all fours, before crawling to wind around her feet, rubbing his head against her thigh. She stroked his ears as if calming herself. For the first time, I realized that Pocus did protect Midnight and those who he loved, simply by playing the faithful familiar. Yet did he also love Bacchus? “Shall I show you just how words and deeds are connected in spells? After all, we have two whipping boy puppets .”

I stiffened. Okay, puppets didn’t sound good.

Yet a spell couldn’t be as dangerous as a hex or a potion, could it? The way that Bacchus’ lips curled with the danger of a true wicked witch forced my heart to beat harder against my ribcage.

Magenta’s concerned gaze met mine.

Bacchus’ gaze was ancient death and retribution. “I’ll delight in teaching you the Mind Control Spell. Then you can use your words to influence anybody to become your magical bitches, and today, your whipping boys are the bitches.”

Bacchus’ cat-like hazel eyes swirled to amber with ancient possession and madness, which was a scary combo. Especially to see it reflected in the face of your professor, as you sat bound to your fellow whipping boy at her feet.

Oh, and not to forget that Bacchus’ lesson plan was to turn Midnight and me into bitches . I’d watched Shawshank Redemption on the TV that dad had brought me in the attic, cheers. I knew what that meant.

Unless, magical bitch was more like I’d be bred for real, grow a womb, and pop out my own litter by the end of class…?

I clenched…everything.

Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop…

Sweat slipped down my neck and between my shoulder blades.

Midnight caught my gaze and shot me a shaky smile, but his wings were also quivering.

100, 99, 98…

I bit my lip, forcing myself to count back from hundred. My cousin, Aquilo had taught me the trick, when I’d first been trapped in the attic and shaken by panic attacks. He’d trapped my hands between his, before encouraging me how to deepen my breaths and concentrate on the counting. The suffocating, claustrophobic darkness of the attic had fallen away, along with the crushing pain in my chest. I’d been able to control it: the panic and the fear.

After, Aquilo had softly explained, “Perhaps, we’re nothing but weak boys. But even if our families can hurt, bully, and control us, our mind is our own.” His frosty gaze had met mine. “Use it.”

My chest had tightened again. Because I’d known then for certain that he’d suffered like me, which meant that I’d never truly be alone again.

It’d been an agony not to be able to save Aquilo, just like I hadn’t been able to save Glow or dad. Was he safe now from his mother and twin sister? Had he been married off to some bitch of a witch?

Nope, it didn’t sound cuter just because it rhymed.

No one had saved me, but I was okay with that because Magenta had shown me that I wasn’t nobody and I could save myself, as well as my other lovers.

My breath steadied. Aquilo had always been smarter than me, even if his self-esteem had been beaten out of him. If he’d believed that my mind couldn’t be truly controlled, then I’d find a way to turn this mind control thing around to bite Bacchus’ ass.

Midnight needed me. That was enough to slow my heart, and curl a warm smile across my lips, as I offered him a confident head bump.

Midnight’s wings stopped quivering, and he nipped my lower lip.

“Whipping boys don’t injure each other; that’s my job.” Bacchus swept closer to Magenta, and her purple dress, which was pinned at the shoulder with a moth badge, tangled on the roots. She tugged on it impatiently. Her hair fell to her waist in an ebony veil. “Well, your Prefect’s job too.”

Magenta stiffened, and her magic encircled me protectively. “Ah, I’ve found our first point of difference.”

“Hey, I doubt that it’ll be our last.” Bacchus raised her arm, and a short iron spear appeared in her hand; it was covered in ivy and topped with a pine cone.

Magenta sighed. “You can’t just wave your screw or tear limb from limb wand around and get your own way, you know.”

Bacchus’ expression darkened. “My bacchal thyrsus has whipped men and women into orgies, which have rent apart cities and burned empires. It's chaos, frenzy, and ecstasy. For thousands of years, I've used my thyrsus to liberate people from the pettiness of their morals and society's rules. It's not my way but the way of fervor."

"But can it produce a pure Chaos moment?" Sleipnir growled.

"Or a Broadway production of Wicked ?" I added.

I'd always wanted to see that.

Bacchus shook her thyrsus threateningly or like she was auditioning for a part in Wicked .

Bask cocked his head. "Or how about a professor who isn’t possessed by a revenge obsessed bad bastard of a god?”

Sleipnir raised his hand. “I vote for that one.”

Mist attempted to raise his hoof and slipped off Sleipnir’s shoulder onto the lab table with an alarmed snort.

Willoughby chuckled.

Slowly, Bacchus lowered her arm.

Wow, we'd done it. We'd broken the professor, and all it'd taken was the power of banter.

Then Bacchus swung and pointed the sharp point of the spear at my forehead.

I swallowed, paling.

"If you insist on a demonstration, a frenzy is always an invigorating start to a lesson." Bacchus’ grin was sly. "Points to those who guess correctly: will the whipping boys screw or tear each other limb from limb?"

Midnight whimpered. I wasn't an exhibitionist, but screwing in front of my class and professor had never sounded such a good option.

"Do we get extra marks if the answer to this thrilling multiple choice quiz is neither ?" I asked.

Bacchus tapped her chin, and Pocus looked worriedly at Midnight. "I'll award extra marks if you don't die."

Always look for the silver lining.

" Wait ," Magenta hissed, “I shan’t allow it.”

“No one allows a frenzy; it simply is .”

To my relief, the door to the classroom crashed open, and Bacchus swung away from me. I sighed, as the thyrsus grazed but didn't pierce my cheek.

Lysander limped into the classroom. He was even paler than he'd been yesterday. His blazer was askew, and he pulled at it almost absentmindedly, dragging in deep breaths.