Night Terrors (Sarah Beauhall Book 4) by J. A. Pitts

couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like she was wiggling the wand around randomly and muttering under her breath. But I could feel the magic. At first it was a tickle on the back of my neck, then a breeze that ruffled the hairs on my arm. Finally, several small sparks flew into the air and coalesced into a diamond pattern, settling onto the surface of Katie’s classroom door.
    “Interesting,” she said. I watched her, expecting more, but she didn’t divulge. Instead she walked over, tapped the door with her wand, saying a quick “Alohomora,” and it clicked open.
    “I have a key, show off. Did you just say ‘Alohomora’? Is all that real? You know, wizards and Harry Potter?”
    She grinned at me and shrugged. “No, I’m just screwing with you.”
    I looked at her appraisingly. I didn’t know her to joke, this was a change. Odd time for it, but what the hell.
    “So, what’s interesting?” I asked, going back to her previous comment. We walked into the cool classroom.
    “Magic,” she said. “Chaotic. Not something I’d expect to find in a school.”
    Well, that sucked. “Right, then. Chaos magic. So she was attacked?”
    “Not necessarily,” Qindra said, glancing around the room. “Let’s not be hasty.”
    The classroom had been mopped down and all the papers cleared off Katie’s desk. While Qindra walked around doing her hoodoo, I ransacked the desk.
    Didn’t take me long. Mostly papers, crayons, safety scissors, unopened pack of little kids’ underwear in case one of them had an accident. Old pictures and stacks of graded papers. Nothing exciting. In the bottom-right drawer, however, was her personal stuff. Inside was her purse, some cards I’d sent her over the last couple of years, and the first scarf I’d ever knitted. It was folded neatly under her purse. I took out the purse, set it on the desk, and grabbed the scarf. Inside was a stack of five pictures. They were all of me: sleeping, working at the studio, hammering a sword on the anvil at Julie’s old smithy, she and me dancing out at Black Briar. The fifth one was of me in the hospital after I’d killed the dragon.
    I sat there with those pictures on the desk, trying to see myself the way she saw me. The pictures were intimate, quiet.
    What the hell would I ever do without her? I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, fending off tears. I had to figure out what had happened here. That was my mission. Then I could figure out how to bring her home.
    I wrapped the pictures back in the scarf and left them in the bottom of the drawer. I’d take her purse with me when we left.
    I leaned back in her chair and stared out across the room. The desks were tiny. All along the walls were brightly colored posters with Muppets, actors, and athletes saying things like “Gym time is fun time” and “Milk makes you strong”. Katie hated them. Said they were paid advertisements, but it drew money into the schools, helped buy pencils and paper.
    Qindra meandered around the classroom for a few minutes, then made a beeline back to the bathroom.
    “They cleaned up in here,” she called, stepping back to look at me through the open door, “but they did a piss-poor job. Come look at this.”
    I leveraged myself out of Katie’s chair and wove between the desks. This was her domain. Every inch of it radiated Katie.
    I leaned around the doorframe and followed where Qindra was pointing. In the very corner of the room was a supply cabinet. Underneath it something glowed purple, like neon running lights on one of those souped-up street racer cars.
    “What the hell is that?” I asked, squatting down and craning my head sideways.
    “Not sure,” she said, looking at me. “Started glowing when I cast a revealing charm on the room. But I’m not touching it.”
    “Seriously?” I went down onto my knees, lowered my torso and reached for the cabinet when Qindra grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me back.
    “You neither,” she said. “That’ll kill