Feral Magic: Druid Academy, #2
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Someone is creating werewolves…
…From unwilling victims.
Even the professors at Dragondale Academy are worried.
Lyssa has other concerns.
Her hippogryff Stormclaw has been attacking people, and the headmaster says he's too dangerous to be allowed to live. Can Lyssa work out what's causing his aggression, and find a way to stop it, before it's too late?
And what's going on with her powers? She can control three different elements – but all the professors tell her that's impossible. Her grades are starting to suffer, and now some of her professors are threatening to flunk her.
When an injured werewolf tracks Lyssa down in her druid grove, it can only mean trouble. But who is Leo really – and how is he connected to the attacks? Lyssa agrees to keep his secret, as tensions between the two races threaten to spill over into violence.
How much longer can the tentative truce between the druids and the shifters survive?
You'll love this Academy fantasy, because of the twist, turns, and magical surprises.
Get it now.
Read more from C. S. Churton
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Feral Magic - C. S. Churton
Chapter One
I leaned back against the old oak tree and stared at the ball of fire between my hands, idly making it bigger, then smaller, and bigger again. The flames twisted and flickered between my palms, responding instantly to my will. With a sigh, I released the flames and before I drew my next breath, they had burned themselves out. I wasn’t here to play with fire.
The new academic year was starting the day after tomorrow, and I had a whole heap of work to get done before they sent a portal for me. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent the entire summer focussing on my practical work, because let’s be fair, magic is freaking awesome. Less awesome was all of the theory work my professors had set me to do over the summer, even after I’d scraped a pass in all of my exams.
I opened my worn old backpack and pulled out a pad of paper, and wrote across the top, ‘Practical Uses of the Solerium Sithum Leaf in Modern Magic’, then paused and chewed the top of my pen. I’d been putting this one off for weeks because I didn’t have the slightest idea where to begin. Honestly, I didn’t even know what the Solerium Sithum was, and it was hardly as if I could just jump online and look it up. After a few more moments of chewing and staring at the blank sheet, I tossed it aside. I’d do it tomorrow at the academy, with a little help from Kelsey – the druid/werewolf/genius I called my friend. No point in me guessing and getting it wrong when I could just hold off for a day and make sure I had the right answers.
Pleased with my logic, I stretched out against the tree again and conjured some more flames, this time letting them lick harmlessly along my fingertips. It always fascinated me how the same flame that could reduce a log to ashes in seconds never left the slightest mark on me. Knowing a conjured element couldn’t harm its maker was one thing; seeing it in effect was another entirely.
I encouraged the flames to trickle up my arm, spreading past my elbow and leaving my entire lower arm wreathed in bright orange. And then a wisp of smoke caught the corner of my eye. Shit. I let the flames go and looked down at the singed sleeve of my t-shirt. Another one. Great. I was going to have no clothes left at this rate. The flames couldn’t hurt me, but my clothing was another matter entirely.
If there was one saving grace for my lapse, it was that there was no-one around to see me almost turning myself into a human torch. Again. One of the perks of the grassy clearing I was sitting in. Not only was it one of very few beautifully green spots in the grey little town of Haleford, it was a druid grove – an area accessible only to magic users, meaning there was absolutely no chance of mundanes stumbling across me playing with fire and accidentally exposing the entire magic community. And since I was the only magic user in Haleford, I always had the place to myself. Most people had to share with the other druids in their town – their families, at the very least. Family. I grunted and plucked a blade of grass from beneath me, toying with it between my fingers.
I shook my head and chased the thought from my mind. It was a beautiful day, and tomorrow I’d be back at the academy, and, ridiculous assignments notwithstanding, I couldn’t wait. Now wasn’t the time for self-pity. I was a freaking druid, and I had a future in a whole world I’d never even known about this time last year. I’d be crazy not to be completely thrilled. That was the reason I spent most of my waking hours at the grove. Not the other thing.
I grabbed my discarded notepad and pulled it onto my lap again. I should probably at least take a crack at it before I got back to the academy. But I’d barely written the first sentence before a rustling in the bushes distracted me. I looked at them, cocking my head to one side. There were no animals here – the druidic protection charm kept everything that wasn’t magical out, furry friends included. Last year a wampus cat had visited a lot, but since he turned out to be a dark druid and tried to turn half the academy into zombies, this whole town had been warded against him. And there was no way he could have found a way through Professor Talendale’s wards. Right?
My breathing hitched in my throat and my eyes locked onto the bushes, staring at the spot where I could see them moving. Suddenly, they parted and a figure burst through. A man. I scrambled back and collided with the tree behind me, the book still clutched in my hands. The man was easily six-foot-tall, with dark hair cropped short, and lean muscle that I could make out through his t-shirt. He was wearing jeans and trainers, and as he moved I saw he was dragging one leg behind him, like he could barely put weight on it. Even from here I could make out the dirt encrusted under his fingernails, and the grubby state of his clothing.
He grunted in pain and his hands trembled, and then started to blur around the edges. A gasp slipped from my lips, and his head pivoted to me. I sat, frozen, as he advanced on me in his lopsided gait, his eyes locked onto me. Eyes that kept shifting from almond-shaped to round, and back again. He wasn’t one of us. He was a werewolf.
W...What are you doing here?
I stammered, my voice barely a squeak.
He stopped moving and cocked his head to one side, then gritted his teeth. His eyes returned to their human shape. He couldn’t be much older than me. But I’d never seen him before. There were no werewolves in Haleford.
Easy, druid,
he said, keeping his weight on his uninjured leg. I come in peace and all that crap.
You better,
I said, conjuring a flame. Smoke rose up immediately, and the flames flared more brightly than I’d intended. I glanced down and saw the flames lapping at the notepad I’d forgotten in my hands. Shit. I groaned and put the flames out. My visitor smirked.
Nice show, hot stuff.
I glowered at him. I was pretty sure I could set him on fire easily enough.
Relax,
he said. I told you, I’m not looking for trouble.
Then what are you doing here?
He gestured to his leg.
Well, you might have noticed, in between setting everything on fire, I’m in need a of a little help. I was hoping for some healing.
Funny way of asking for help,
I said, eyeing him reproachfully, coming in here, insulting me. Anyway, I can’t heal.
He frowned.
What do you mean, can’t heal? You’re a druid, right?
He glanced around him, as if confirming where he was. "This is a druid grove, even if it is a little small."
I pushed myself up from the ground, because I was getting a little sick of staring up at this jackass. Come in here and call my grove small, would he?
He held his hands up in mock surrender.
Size isn’t everything, right? It’s very...
He looked around again, as if trying to find the right word. Quaint.
I’ll give you bloody quaint.
I had absolutely no idea how I was going to kick a werewolf’s backside in a fight, even an injured one in his human form, but I was pretty sure that I was going to find a way if he kept insulting my grove.
Why can’t you heal, druid?
he asked again.
Because I’m still in training, not that it’s any of your business.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Why can’t your pack heal you?
It’s complicated.
I waited for him to expand until I started to get the sense I’d be waiting all day.
Fine. Don’t tell me.
Flashes of shifter sociology from class were starting to come back to me. Shouldn’t you just... like, heal on your own or something?
He rolled his eyes and gestured to the single, rustic bench in the clearing.
Do you mind if I sit, if we’re not going to fight? Because this hurts like a bitch.
Who said we’re not going to fight?
He hobbled over to the bench and perched on the edge without waiting for permission, which made me wonder why he’d bothered to ask in the first place.
I did. You’re a druid, I’m a werewolf... it’d be really bad for inter-community relations.
He shot me a grin. And once I kick your ass, there’ll be no-one around to help patch this up.
And just what makes you think you’d win?
He snorted and started rolling up his jeans’ leg on his injured side.
Werewolf, remember?
I considered conjuring another fire ball to remind him he wasn’t the only one round here with powers, then I remembered my smouldering notepad and decided against it. The last thing I needed was to set light to my clothes with him watching.
He’d rolled his jeans up past his knee, and I caught a glimpse of the wound that was the source of the blood saturating his clothing. The skin was marred with jagged tears, like it had been bitten or clawed. There was so much blood that I couldn’t tell which. Already the skin was inflamed around the wound, and tinged a grey-ish colour.
He prodded at the torn flesh and winced, then leaned back on the bench with his arm stretched along its back. He’d have passed for casual if it wasn’t for the way his hands were blurring. I eyed him carefully from where I stood, because if there was one thing I’d learned from Kelsey, it was that young werewolves were dangerous until they had full control of their powers. After a moment, he seemed to get his pain under control, but he didn’t touch the wound again.
I’m Leo,
he said.
Like the lion?
I blurted before I could stop myself. Except you’re a wolf.
Oh my God, did I really just say that? My mouth had no filter. Leo rolled his head to look at me with a less than amused expression.
Very original, druid. Yeah, like the lion. Are you going to tell me your name?
I considered it for a moment, then gave a shrug. He was inside my druid grove. What difference did it make if he knew my name?
Lyssa. Lyssa Eldridge.
Well, Lyssa Eldridge, it’s lovely to meet you,
the shifter said, with a voice that could have been genuine, but I suspected was leaning more towards sarcastic. I’d get up, but...
He gestured to his torn leg, and my eyes flicked to it once more of their own volition. Shredded would be more accurate.
What happened to you?
I asked, pretty sure that I didn’t want to know the answer. His hands blurred and he looked away from me for a second until they stopped.
A dog,
he said eventually. I was cutting across some farmland and a guard dog got the drop on me.
Mauled by a common dog? And you couldn’t fight it off, seriously?
Suggesting violence against animals? What sort of druid are you?
A shit one, apparently.
I edged closer, watching him carefully but he seemed to have himself back under control.
Anyway, I’m new to all this. I didn’t even know about any of it until last year.
Well, that’s just great,
he said, and this time there was no mistaking the sarcasm, either in his voice, or on his handsome face. Exactly what I need. Tell you what, why don’t you just ask your alpha–
He must have caught the confusion on my face because he screwed his up in thought and amended,
–wait, mentor, right? Just ask him to come down here and heal this up, and I’ll be on my way.
I don’t have a mentor.
Fine, your parents, or whatever.
My parents don’t know magic.
Leo leaned forward, staring at me, then grunted as he accidentally put weight on his injured leg.
You don’t have a mentor, and your parents don’t know magic?
He looked around him at the grove again, frowning. You’re definitely a druid, right?
Yes, I am a druid,
I snapped, scowling at him. "And yes, this is still a druid grove, before you ask. I– I’m adopted."
The words were harder to get out than they should have been. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Just because we weren’t related by blood didn’t make them any less my parents, or make Holly any less my sister. And the fact that they hadn’t told me until I found out for myself – thanks to the unexpected appearance of my magic – didn’t mean they loved me any less.
Oh. I’m... sorry?
Leo sounded confused, turning the statement into a question, but he seemed sincere enough. I remembered from my studies that pack and family were important to shifters, especially wolves.
Don’t be.
I shrugged it off. Anyway, I don’t know anyone who can help. And term starts soon, and no-one other than me comes here, so you’re going to need to find another grove. Another druid.
He looked at me like I was crazy, which was rich considering he was the one who’d come bursting into my grove, and then shook his head.
Sorry, that’s not going to work, druid girl. The nearest grove could be fifty miles away, and I’m not going anywhere on this leg. We’ll have to make do. You’re a fire element, right?
Yes, I’m a fire element.
Obviously. Wait, what do you mean, ‘make do’? What do you expect me to do? I already told you I can’t heal.
You can use your powers to cauterize the wound and burn off the infection. With any luck that’ll keep it in check until I can get somewhere safe.
Yeah, and you seem like the luckiest guy alive. Hold on, cauterize the wound – as in, burn you?
I shook my head. I can’t do that.
You can,
he said, and you have to. Look, it’s easy.
He reached out and took my hand, positioning it over his leg. Just hold your hand here, and think about how much I piss you off.
I snatched my hand away.
No!
He cocked his head and gave me a mocking look.
Is the little druid worried about hurting the big bad werewolf?
Getting less worried by the second. I squatted down next to his injured leg – it really was a mess, the gouges were deep and smeared with dirt and blood, and underneath it, the grey-ish tinge seemed to be spreading.
Maybe you should go to a hospital,
I said doubtfully. He snorted.
Maybe you should just stop being squeamish and cauterize the damned wound.
I rocked back on my heels and glared up at him.
You know what? Maybe coming in here insulting me and my grove isn’t the best way to ask for help, did you ever think of that?
He looked down at me like he genuinely hadn’t – I mean, seriously, didn’t they cover basic etiquette in shifter school? – and then burst out laughing.
You’re still upset I called your grove quaint, aren’t you?
So what if I am?
I had absolutely no idea why I felt so defensive about my grove – it was perfect as it was, thank you very much – but I was getting pretty sick of people laughing at it for being small, or rustic. It was mine, and it had everything I needed. So what if it wasn’t as big or grand as some of the groves in more populated areas? I was a freaking druid, we didn’t care about big or grand.
Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Leo said when his laughter finally died down. It’s positively the most impressive grove I’ve ever seen, even the Pack of the Seven Suns would have been honoured to tread its sacred ground.
He snorted again, so I slapped his knee just above the wound and he gave a satisfying yelp.
I don’t know who the pack of the seven whatevers are, but if they’re as irritating as you, they can stay away from my grove.
You’ve never heard of the Pack of the Seven Suns? Seriously? What are they teaching you in druid school?
"Well, duh, druid stuff."
Not much of it, apparently, if you can’t heal yet.
You know what? I changed my mind. I would love to burn the hell out of your leg.
Finally!
He clapped his hands then rubbed them together, leaning forwards in anticipation. Let’s do it, then.
But, for all my bluster, I really wasn’t sure I wanted to do it. I’d never used my powers on another person before. Not a living one, anyway. Leo was an arrogant prat, but even so, I didn’t want to hurt him. Not that badly, anyway. I squinted up at him – the sun had snuck out from behind the clouds, making it hard to see his face.
You do know this is going to hurt, right?
Just... make it hot. I don’t want to do it twice.
Yup, he knew it was going to hurt. There was more going on inside his thick werewolf skull than he was letting on. I drew in an unsteady breath and lifted my hand, pushing it tentatively towards him, then jerked to a stop.
Come on, druid girl, don’t wuss out on me now.
I gritted my teeth and tapped into the anger inside me – this idiot called my grove quaint – and my hand flared red. I could feel the heat pulsing out of it, though it didn’t hurt me.
Ready?
I asked the shifter. He sat back and stretched his arms along the back of the bench, curling his fingers over the edge, and then nodded.
Do it.
On three. One, two–
And on two, I jammed my hand into his wound, channelling all the heat into his ragged flesh. His back arched and he howled in pain, the sound half-human, half-animal. His muscles all locked up and I could see the veins standing out in his neck. The stench of burning, putrid flesh stung my nostrils, and his right foot gouged a hole in the green earth, but between his will power and my grip, his injured leg stayed still. It only lasted five seconds, but it felt like at least twice that. I was pretty sure it seemed a whole lot longer to him.
When I moved my hand, he sagged back into the bench, eyes still closed, panting and drenched in sweat. The wound had stopped bleeding, and the flesh around it was dark and burned. The hint of grey seemed to have disappeared from his skin, but it was hard to tell with all the damage.
I sat back on my heels while he recovered – as much as he was going to, at least, given that I’d burned rather than healed him. Something caught my eye and I pushed myself to my feet, and stalked round behind the bench. When I was halfway there his eyes opened, and he rolled his head round to follow me.
I gasped, staring down.
What the hell?
Sorry,
he said weakly.
Do you know how long this bench has been here? Look at it!
There were huge chunks gouged from the wood – long, finger width groves an inch deep in the top two planks.
Well, it was that or your neck, which would you have preferred?
My hands fluttered up to my throat of their own volition, touching the smooth skin there.
Yeah, that’s what I thought,
the shifter said, flexing his leg and wincing. What happened to three? They didn’t teach you to count at druid school?
I figured it was best to get it over with.
I bent over, examining the damaged wood. As far as I could tell, the bench had grown itself right out of the ground, and the wood was solid. Hard enough that it had me wondering how badly I’d have been hurt if Leo had turned on me. At Dragondale, the professors healed the students all the time – particularly the ones who, like me, rode surly hippogryffs in their spare time for fun. Out here, and alone in a druid grove no-one in this town could enter, I’d probably bleed to death. A shudder ran through me. That didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun.
When I looked away from the wood, it was to find myself inches from Leo’s face, with his dark green eyes staring right at me. My breath caught in my throat beneath his feral gaze, then I jerked my eyes away and straightened up with an awkward cough.
I better go. I’m, uh, I’m not going back to dru- I mean, Dragondale Academy until tomorrow. They’ll send a portal for me, but you can stay until then. If you want to, I mean. While you’re getting better.
He let out a throaty chuckle.
Thanks. Promise not to chew the furniture.
You better not. I don’t know how to grow another bench. It’s not like this place came with a manual.
I headed back