Veiled Spirits

“Miss Gallagher!” A nasally voice yanks me out of my nightmare.

My head jerks up off my desk at hearing my name, breaking me free of my dream. I look around, dazed and confused, having no idea where I am. It takes me a moment to realize I’m in my advanced magic theory class. I guess I fell asleep during the lecture. Subtly, I wipe my hands over my eyes to clean up any tears that leaked out from my dream.

“Am I boring you, Miss Gallagher?” Professor Moore sneers. He’s a stout man with a round belly. His black hair is thinning, and his brown eyes remind me of a weasel. As a mage from a lower family, he especially enjoys tormenting me during his classes.

“Absolutely,” I reply honestly. Advanced magic, my ass. I was doing spells more complex than this at ten years old. Plus, after being awake for nearly three days and just having a soul-crushing nightmare, I have no tolerance for his petty bullshit.

Professor Moore sputters, and his face turns red in anger. I don’t think he expected me to answer honestly. Unfortunately for him, apologizing isn’t my default setting. “Out of my classroom! I won’t tolerate this behavior! Go to the dean!” Professor Moore screams at me.

“Yep,” I reply, not even fighting it. Instead, I shove all of my stuff back in my backpack and get up. I don’t bother to glance around the classroom to see the smug faces of my classmates. They love whenever I get in trouble. My suffering is these entitled assholes’ preferred entertainment.

Don’t they realize there’s so much more going on in the world than petty mage politics? How can they spend all their time social climbing when so many people are suffering?

Sometimes, I want to scream at all of them. I want to shake them out of their safe little bubble and make them look at real problems. Everything my classmates care about—status, money, and power—doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Even the richest and most powerful people still die. Instead of using their resources for good, the people of Hawthorne Grove live their lives selfishly. They use their gifts for personal gain, never to help others.

It drives me crazy. I can’t wait to never see this fucking town again. Once I graduate, I’m moving to some normal human city and never thinking about these horrible people again.

Shaking my head, I stalk out of the classroom, tuning out the laughter that follows me.

While I try to walk steadily, I stumble once I’m out of the room. The short nap did nothing to alleviate my exhaustion. I feel like I’m about to pass out, and the hallway spins like a gravity ride at an amusement park.

Hopefully I can keep it together enough to avoid puking on the dean. He wouldn’t be happy about that. Dean Murphy already hates me enough as it is. I’m sure he would expel me if he could. The only thing stopping him is the sizable donation my family makes every year. If he kicks me out, HGU will lose their biggest donor.

While Dean Murphy can’t expel me, he can make my life hell. He’s a pro at making this school even worse than it is. I’m super excited to see what punishment I get today. Not.

“You don’t look so good, kid,” Aggie chimes in suddenly from beside me.

I stumble and crash into the wall at her appearing out of thin air. “Jesus fuck!” I hiss in surprise. “What the hell, Aggie! Where did you even come from?”

“Well, you see, when two mages love each other very much—” Aggie breaks off as I make a gagging sound at the thought of her parents getting it on. I very much don’t need to picture two old people banging. She grins at my theatrics. “You pulled me to you. You’re running on empty with how much magic you used this weekend.”

“Don’t I know it,” I mutter as I rub my hands over my tired eyes. It doesn’t help.

Sighing, I shuffle down the curving stone stairs of Gallagher Hall. Aggie floats silently next to me. We don’t talk, in case someone is near enough to hear me.

The door to the courtyard is right next to the stairs, so I’m out in the bright sunlight in no time. Blinding light stings my gritty eyes and causes my head to throb painfully. Luckily, it’s only a quick walk to the Byrne building, which houses all the administrative offices.

I heave open the heavy, dark-wood doors and trudge up to the third floor. The dean has his own floor in the building because, of course, he does. How could a pompous asshole be expected to share a floor with peasants? That would just be agony for him.

As I push open the jet-black doors to his personal office, I’m greeted by the sight of one of my two favorite people on campus.

“Isabel, lovely to see you!” Judith, the dean’s assistant greets me. She’s a tiny woman, and she has her gray hair pulled back into a perfect bun. Her blue eyes always twinkle with joy behind her glasses. Today, she wears a deep purple dress with a lacy black cardigan.

Judith hops out of her chair and walks to me with surprising speed for an old woman. It takes her no time at all to move from her antique walnut desk and across the thick navy carpet to where I’m standing. She wraps her thin arms around me, enfolding me in a grandmotherly hug. I hug her back, needing some comfort after the dream I just had.

“What are you doing here, dear?” Judith asks me kindly. She knows I never venture to the dean’s office willingly.

“I got in trouble for falling asleep in class,” I tell her with a wince. Judith is one of two people I respect here, so I want her to think positively of me. I don’t want her to think I’m a lazy bum like the rest of the school does.

“Have you not been sleeping well, dear?” she asks, not judging me for falling asleep in class. My shoulders slump in relief, and I shake my head no. “I can tell. Let me talk to the dean for you. You’re not in any shape to deal with that nasty man. What’s the easiest punishment for you right now?”

I snort at her calling her boss a nasty man. She’s not wrong. Dean Murphy is a pathetic excuse of a mage. Humming, I try to think of what I can do in my half-dead state right now.

“Probably running laps for Levi. Other than you, he’s the only one here who doesn’t hate my guts.” Levi doesn’t allow any of the usual bullying in his class. That’s why I’m taking another one of his classes this semester. It doesn’t hurt to learn more self-defense techniques, either.

“They’re just jealous. I’ll go talk to the dean. Have a seat, dear. You look like a feather could knock you over.” Judith points out the row of black velvet chairs across from her desk. As I head over to the chairs, Judith pulls open the gold door to the dean’s office and slips inside.

I sink onto the cushy seat and lean my head back against the royal blue paisley wallpaper. My eyes slip closed as I wait for her.