Fated for Her Wolves - Tara West Page 0,89

grating laugh that sounded like two rabid cats mating. “Oh, Miss Goldenwand. I promise that when you find yourself on your knees at my school, you won’t be begging for more.” Shadows fell across her features and a wicked gleam shone in her eyes. “You’ll be begging for mercy.”

Well, fuck. She swallowed a lump of bile. “Noted.”

“You’re okay with this?” Laughter rang in Doublewart’s words.

Serah bit back a curse. “I don’t have a choice.”

“No, you don’t.” The matron’s eyes lit like fireworks. “Here at Dame Doublewart’s, we like to get a jump on discipline.” She picked up an old, gnarled wand that was as long as a yardstick and slapped it across her palm. “Our students spend their first night in the dungeon to get a taste of our disciplinary procedures. We generally find that after that first night, our students are much more receptive to our rules.”

Dragon balls! This woman was mental. “So you’re throwing me in detention, and I haven’t even done anything yet?”

“That’s right.” Her smile widened, revealing sharp incisors. “If you accept these terms, I will grant you admission. If not....” Dame Doublewart slapped her palm in rhythm with the ticking cuckoo clocks behind her.

Serah released a shaky breath. “I accept.”

“Excellent.” Dame Doublewart set down the wand and stood. Turning, she thumbed through a stack of papers. “Let me just find the contract.”

Sitting as as stiff as a statue, she watched Doublewart locate the papers that would seal her doom. She only had one semester left until graduation—roughly four months with holidays. She didn’t believe for a second that her grades couldn’t be bought. This school was practically falling apart at the seams. If its condition was any indication, the teachers were likely underpaid, too.

If she and her potions professor had been more discreet, she’d still be at her posh school, dining at their custom sushi bar for supper and sucking the cream out of Periwinkle’s éclair for dessert.

Dame Doublewart faced Serah, holding a faded scroll. Tapping it with her wand, she mumbled a reveal spell, and it came to life, the words jumping off the page and forming in the air in front of her like they were reflecting off a computer screen. She was impressed that Dame Doublewart’s old wand could conjure such a modern spell.

“Sign here,” the matron said, pointing at the signature line at the bottom of what must have been thousands of words of fine print.

Serah frowned. No way was she reading that contract. It would take her all day. It couldn’t be too terrible. Grandfather wouldn’t send her to a horrible school.

She pulled the wand out of her pocket.

“Not with that,” Doublewart snapped, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “With your finger.”

Serah pocketed her wand, biting back profanities, then leaned toward the signature line, jerking back when the contract crackled.

“I haven’t got all day.” Dame Doublewart turned her beak nose to the ceiling, rolling her eyes.

Serah reached toward the contract again, wincing when the screen pricked her finger, using her blood as the ink. Signing in blood? Grandfather had a lot to answer for.

By the time she finished, her finger throbbed and blood dripped down her wrist. She grasped her wand and silently asked it to heal her, sighing in relief when the pain stopped. There was a blood stain on her suede boot. Those boots had cost two thousand merlins. She zapped the stain with her wand, smiling when it disappeared.

The matron snickered at Serah’s wand. “Follow me.” She tapped dark chestnut panels on a wall, and it split open, revealing a secret tunnel.

Serah hesitated. “But my bags.”

Dame Doublewart’s eyes became cold, unreadable. “You won’t need them. You’ll be issued a uniform after detention.”

A uniform? She made a face. At her old school, the only dress code was an unspoken one: dress like you had money. Needless to say, Serah had exemplified proper dress code. She couldn’t imagine being forced to wear some starchy polyester or cotton-blend monstrosity.

“Of course I need them.” She looked at Dame Doublewart as if she’d grown a second head. “My grandfather just bought me those bags from Elysian.”

Ignoring her distress, the matron impatiently waggled her fingers. “Your wand.”

Clutching her wand to her side, Serah took a big step back. “My wand?”

“We don’t allow Goldenwands at Doublewart’s. Every student is issued a standard PF Wand.”

“A Pegasus Feather Wand?” Hysterical laughter bubbled from her throat. “Those are so last century.”

“I know, which is how I like it.” Doublewart flashed a smile so tight, her face looked