Demonic Vampires (Supernatural Shifter Academy #3) - G. Bailey Page 0,13
don’t have a great deal of faith in my own abilities. It’s less a matter of self-esteem, although considering the circumstances of my childhood, that’s not exactly stunning either. The issue is that I’ve had the equivalent of less than a year’s training in something not only incredibly difficult, but incredibly dangerous. It’s all made exponentially worse by the fact that I have five forms to keep track of, each with its own devastating supernatural abilities, and the last thing I want is to end up causing more problems than I solve with my own magic.
Even as I clamp my eyes shut, brow furrowing in concentration as I dig for that by-now familiar cool spot in my stomach -- my own personal reserve of magic -- I find myself panicking a little. What if I can’t manage it? Or worse, what if I only half manage it, and some of us don’t make it all the way? Oh god, I think, my heart pounding a little faster, or what if I end up dismembering us? I heard stories during my first few witchcraft lessons, cautionary tales about young witch shifters who got a little too enthusiastic with the teleportation and ended up losing limbs and organs because they weren’t focused enough to do a fully-fledged job. The idea makes me feel a little queasy, but there’s no time to worry about it now; I can hear voices coming from up ahead, and I don’t need to open my eyes to know that they’re coming from the Academy watchdogs. Those bastards.
“Millie, I don’t want to rush you,” Hazel says breathlessly, “but you might want to double-time it!”
“I’m trying,” I grit out through my teeth, trying to steady my breath long enough to summon enough raw power for the spell. The witch powers haven’t exactly come easily to me, and this is something so high-level that I’m not even sure it’s in my wheelhouse; that’s the problem with being a witch shifter: it’s not enough just to get into the form. After that you need to learn how to cast spells, something that doesn’t hinder any of the other species. It’s like learning an entirely new level of magic. I try to remember my training -- specifically, what Shade taught me about transforming -- and focus on the present moment. Which is not hard to do, considering the people currently coming after us. I bring my powers to the forefront and allow them to seep through my being. A surge of triumph washes over me as I can feel the coolness of my magic permeate my body, a telltale sign that I’m on the verge of transforming, and I open my eyes just in time to see my skin turning ruby red, the magic accessible to this form bursting out of my chest in a tidal wave.
“Atta girl,” Landon says, looking at me a little wonderingly as energy begins to radiate from my palms.
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” I warn him, rubbing my hands together and trying desperately to remember the spell. It sounded easy in theory when it was first explained to me: the key is to focus on your destination while allowing your raw power to engulf you and the people you’re transporting. Although now I’m quickly discovering that that’s easier said than done. London, I think, panic beginning to consume me as the Academy representatives draw ever closer. Come on. We need to get to London. Frowning, I try to concentrate on the city, imagining the big landmarks and the skyline over the water, as pretty and picturesque as a postcard. Extending my hands, I allow my powers to flow out…
But nothing happens. I crack open my eye, dismayed to see that we’re exactly where we were. Except there’s no time to troubleshoot; within moments the two lackeys are on top of us, and it’s clear in an instant that they’re no mere humans. The one on the left is already sprouting fur, drawing quite a few stares from the innocent bystanders, although I’m sure the other agents will be around in no time to do damage control. The one on the left exhales a jet of flame so hot that it burns blue in the warm Boston air. My eyes go wide, but Silas pushes me out of the way just in time, taking hold of my hand without even being aware of it.
“We have eyes on the escaped students,” the wolf yells, his voice loud and insistent. “We’re