Nightworld Academy - L.J. Swallow Page 0,23
I doubt you can remember how to make them from when we were kids. You’d do something nobody would notice.”
“Hmm.” He twirls the root around in his finger, lips pursed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe you thought I did, even for a minute.” He looks up and fixes his eyes on mine. He’s not kidding anymore. “I don’t do shit for other people, and I don’t use my magic to hurt people.”
“Matt, I never said you did.” He grabs the bag and shoves the other items in. “All I said is that Katherine knows you. Why so uptight?”
“Me, uptight?” He shakes his head. “See, this is what I can’t get my head around. How people think I’m dangerous. That I might choose to hurt people.”
“I don’t, Matt.”
“But you don’t trust me, do you?”
“I’m wary of you,” I admit. “I worry about you having the Blackwood book.”
“I knew Jamie bloody told you!” Matt exclaims. “Don’t waste your time telling me to take the book back. I’m just researching.”
My mouth dries at his outburst. I knew he’d be defensive, but this reaction is extreme, as if I flicked a switch to his fury. “There are other books to research,” I suggest. “Why the Blackwood one?”
“The magic is interesting.” He waves a hand. “I’m not explaining or defending myself to you, Lia.”
“I’m not asking you to.” His growing agitation worries me. Why so defensive to me? “Promise me you haven’t used any magic from that book. I heard that Blackwood spells can corrupt the user.”
“Pfft. Stories. If the book were that dangerous, why isn’t it locked away from the academy?”
“Probably because most witches have no chance at being able to wield the magic,” I suggest. “And that if a witch did, he or she would face a lot of trouble.”
Matt shakes his head. “You and Jamie are overreacting.”
His whole stance has changed. The easy-going smiles, the relaxed banter. Now he’s stiff and gruff, as if I’m threatening him.
“Matt.” I close the space between us. “Jamie’s worried about you, that’s all. I am too. I’ve persuaded him not to tell anybody about the book, if you give him it. You know you’ll be in trouble if you’re found with the Blackwood grimoire.”
“I won’t be expelled for having a book," he says derisively.
“No, but you’d be watched harder. Maybe tracked. That would be awful, Matt. Two more years here with every move watched by faculty.”
Matt pulls the string on the hex bag tight. “Let’s see if somebody left other hex bags around the other dressing rooms?”
I blink after him as he drops the bag to the floor and storms out. He marches from room to room, doors crashing open and closed as he moves in and out of each.
Finally, he returns, pushing past me, and drops another three bags on the table.
“This is worse than my experimenting with harmless magic—whoever planted them intended to cause trouble. And what about the potions students use to get high with? How is my magic worse than those?”
“Because it’s legal,” I say, but he’s right. Why should those things be allowed?
“No, because it’s easy,” he says. “Because the idiots performing those spells can’t conjure anything better. They won’t amount to anything, but spend their lives doing as they’re told. These people don’t think outside the box.” His fists clench. “People want to stop me because I’m wrong and rebellious. They want to stop me because they’re frightened.”
How did a simple trip backstage lead to this? I never realised how precarious Matt’s moods are.
“I agree,” I say softly and touch his hand so he relaxes his fist. “That’s exactly why. And that’s why we’re scared for you.”
He focuses on me as if he’s back in the room. “Are you scared of me or for me, Lia?”
My mouth dries. “Both.”
“You don’t need to be.” Matt touches my cheek with the very tips of two fingers. I should be barely able to feel, but the energy shimmering from him spreads to his fingers. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“You’re intense Matt, especially when—" I glance at the book and he pushes it into his bag, “I just worry.”
“I don’t deserve your worry, Lia. But I love that you think of me at all.”
“I can’t explain why, but when you shared your magic...” I trail off as he closes the space between us.
He finishes the sentence for me. “I felt what you wanted from me—and I wanted to kiss you too.”
That wasn’t what I was about to say, even though it’s true. His admission stuns me.