Insidious Winds by Rain Oxford

like five hours, but Hunt never let me take a break. He had a
very no-nonsense way of teaching that combined the “use the force” style with a
“get over it” attitude. He wasn’t just a wise, powerful, old wizard like all of
the students thought; he had a cleverly disguised sense of humor.
    Vincent was very good at explaining things and always
seemed to be able to read me. Since he had the power of visions instead of mind
control like John, I didn’t worry too much about that. I told him that I was
practicing with Langril as well and after muttering something in German, he
told me to just be careful.
    Professor Langril was absolutely insane. The magic he
attacked me with would have killed anyone and he never held back. He taunted
me. He nearly killed me every single lesson, until I thought maybe he intended
for me to die before I could get the key.
    I knew, however, that his methods were effective.
While the violent attacks I learned to use were not anything I was proud of, I
did feel like I stood a better chance against Krechea and his shadow walkers.
    Because the magic I used was the same demonic power
that Langril used.
    “I’m not… like you am I? I’m not half Dothra wizard,
right?” I asked, gasping for breath on his bedroom floor.
    Despite the fact that I had just struck him with a
bolt of lightning that would have killed a human, he was barely breathing
heavily. “Every wizard is a descendent of Dothra. How much of your ancestral
nature you have in you is yet to be seen. Don’t worry; I have faith that you
will have the power you need when you need it to defeat your enemy.”
     
    *          *          *
     
    By Monday of the fifth week into the school semester,
the atmosphere in the university changed. Nobody died, there wasn’t anything
under the school trying to kill anyone, and nobody got a mysterious burning
sickness. In fact, I didn’t see any shadows trying to eat people. Word started
going around that maybe no one would die this semester.
    Overnight, someone had displayed a large, lovingly
decorated poster in the dining room with a daily counter of how many days since
there was a death at Quintessence… starting this semester, at least.
Thirty-five days. What a record.
    Darwin and I were eating dinner, wondering where
Henry was, when Addison sat down in his normal seat. “Where is Henry?” she
asked.
    “We hid him in the closet when we saw you coming,”
Darwin said, then slapped his hand over his mouth melodramatically. “Oh, no,
you got it out of me. Do you want me to go get him? Do you want him to…” he
paused and raised his eyebrows for effect. “… come out of the closet?”
    “I’m going to kick your ass one of these days,
Darwin.” Right after she said it, she looked over our shoulders and smiled.
Henry sat down beside her and handed her a small bouquet of wildflowers.
“What’s this for?” she asked. He shrugged, stood back up, and went to get a
tray of food.
    “Darwin, didn’t your father teach you not to scratch
yourself at the dinner table?” Henry asked when he sat back down. Addison was
holding her flowers as if someone was going to try to take them from her.
    “I can’t help it. My skin’s crawling.” Darwin
scrubbed at his chest and shoulders, twisting his dark green hoodie into a
knot. “It’s like the air is upset.”
    “I feel it, too, but I’m not scratching.”
    “I don’t feel anything odd,” I said.
    “It must be a shifter thing,” Darwin said.
    “But you’re only half shifter, so why do you feel it
stronger?” I glanced around the dining room and noticed other shifters
squirming or looking somewhat jittery. “Can’t animals tell when it’s going to
storm?”
    Henry gave me his posh deadpan stare which was both
disapproving and impatient. “We’re not meteorologists. We can occasionally
detect sudden changes as part of our animal instincts. This doesn’t feel like
that.”
    I was still scanning the room. “Hey,