Stop Kidding Around (Magical Mates #2) - Macy Blake

Chapter One

“May I help you?”

Confidence, Toby thought as he leaned out of his car’s window to reply to the tinny voice emerging from the intercom. “Good afternoon. I’m here for an interview with the headmaster.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I believe you’re in the wrong place.”

Toby scowled and glanced at the large stone sign situated just behind the security intercom. Smith Academy. “No, this is it. Will you please check the list again?”

The person who’d arranged his interview must not have put him on the schedule for security. It happened. Not that Toby actually had any experience with this sort of thing. But surely, things like this happened all the time.

“You are in the wrong place.”

This time the voice sounded stern, as if annoyed by his presence. That also happened, but Toby did have experience in that arena. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and considered what to do next. He didn’t exactly have a contact number to call. Which, upon reflection, really should have raised a few red flags.

In fact, a lot of how the interview with Nick Smith, the mysterious headmaster of Smith Academy, was set up should have made him a bit wary. The whole thing had been… unusual.

He should have known something was wrong when he received a reply to his posted resume from a mysterious headhunter looking for a teacher with experience in science and mythology willing to relocate. Immediately. And they didn’t even require a phone interview. They’d wanted him for a face-to-face based on his resume alone.

If it seems to good to be true, it probably is.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

Toby had never felt more right about a decision in his life, which was why he’d spent the last two days driving so he could be at Smith Academy in time for the interview. And also why he conveniently had his car filled with most of his belongings, just in case they wanted him to start right away like the recruiter’s email had said.

Sure, it wasn’t like he’d been able to find out a lot about Smith Academy on the internet. He’d tried, but the lack of information really showed how exclusive this school was.

Right?

That’s what he thought at the time, anyway. He hoped he wasn’t wrong.

“Excuse me?” Toby said, hoping his desperation wasn’t coming through. “Will you please speak to the headmaster? I have it right here. I’m supposed to meet with Headmaster Nick Smith at two o’clock to interview for the open teaching position.”

The intercom remained silent, and Toby’s hopeful mood began to evaporate. Then a really old pickup truck pulled in behind him and blocked his only way to escape. The hair rose on the back of his neck.

“Shit.”

The truck door opened, and a giant man sporting a blond mohawk and a scowl that sent a shiver of fear down Toby’s spine emerged and began stalking his way. Toby had a flashback to all those Unsolved Mysteries episodes he’d binged on a few months earlier.

“I’m gonna die.”

He tried to come up with a plan of escape. He locked the car doors and rolled the window almost all the way up. It was the only thing he could think to do. The problem with Unsolved Mysteries was that they didn’t offer practical advice to keep your from becoming the main character of the show’s next episode.

Toby desperately glanced around, trying to make a plan, but the entrance to the school had been cleverly designed with ditches on either side. He couldn’t escape.

“You lost?” Viking asked through the crack in the window.

“No,” Toby squeaked. So much for confidence.

The Viking’s scowl turned to a snarl. “What do you want?”

“Nothing! I’m here for an interview.”

The snarl turned back to a scowl. “An interview?”

“With the headmaster?”

The scowl almost turned into a smirk. “The what now?”

Toby sighed. “Clearly there’s been some kind of mistake. I have an interview with Nick Smith, the headmaster of Smith Academy. I don’t know what’s gone wrong, but if you’ll just move your truck, I’ll leave.”

His heart only pounded a little. If by a little he meant like one of the drum solos from the ’80s hair bands he’d recently developed an obsession with. The power ballads were really catchy. “Livin’ on a Prayer,” and all that. Which, speaking of prayers, a little divine intervention wouldn’t be a bad thing at the moment.

Viking glanced to the other side of the car. Another man Toby hadn’t even noticed earlier sauntered around the front, rounded the hood, and glared at Toby through the