Morgan took the fastest shower on record, but still ended up being five minutes late when she and Neil stopped outside the orientation hall. She grabbed the long hanks of her hair, wringing out the excess water before dragging the strands back in a sloppy ponytail.

“You’ll do fine. Mistress McKay is tough, but fair if you give her a chance. Everyone in the school has been in at least one of her classes. I’ll be there if you need me.”

She glanced at Neil in surprise. “You’re coming in?”

He blushed at her blunt question, self-consciously running a hand over his choppy hair, which looked like he’d hacked off the ends himself. “While hunters join teams, witches have covens. Often, older students watch orientation, both to keep an eye on the competition and suss out potential members as well.”

Her spirits plummeted. “Great.”

Exactly what she needed—more attention.

“It’s really painless.” Neil appeared so earnest, sweetly trying to ease her apprehension, that she gave him a strained smile.

But he was wrong.

In her experience, magic always hurt.

“Let’s get this over with.” She pushed open the door, and immediately became the center of attention of the whole assembly. There had to be over a hundred people in the hall.

She located Harper and her entourage almost instantly, and barely stifled her sigh at the coming humiliation. While a few adults were in attendance—possibly other teachers—the rest of the room was filled with teenagers of all ages. In the front of the stadium-like classroom sat those barely out of grade school.

“Miss Moran, it’s good of you to join us.” An older woman, her light brown hair scraped back from her face and secured at the base of her neck, wore a dour expression at odds with her youthful complexion, barely spared her a glance before returning her attention to her desk. “Please take a seat.”

Neil gave her a friendly nudge with his shoulder, then took up position near the door, leaning awkwardly against the wall.

Ignoring the snickers from the balcony, Morgan surveyed the room, sighing when she saw the only seat available was front and center. Nervous energy swirled in the auditorium, the younger students shifting away from her as she walked past them, giving her a moue of distaste, as if they smelled something foul.

Little snots.

When she refused to look away, a few of them shifted uncomfortably and quickly dropped their gazes. When she sat, everyone scooted their chairs away from her. Morgan simply smiled, relaxed in her chair, and stretched out her legs, crossing her feet at her ankles.

The kids were a mixture of guys and girls. What didn’t surprise her was neither side, hunters or witches, wanted anything to do with her.

Prejudice was indoctrinated into them young.

“Tonya.”

A cute little girl in a pretty white dress and a shimmering blue sash around her waist bounced to her feet when her name was called. She practically skipped to the front of the room, her ponytail bobbing with confidence as she stopped in the center of a circle of ancient sigils chiseled into the stone floor. Never once had she doubted her place in the world.

Mistress McKay gave an elegant wave of her arm, and light flashed up from the sigils as magic swelled throughout the room. The air around the circle shimmered into view, sparkling a faint red where it rose up from the floor. “What is your craft?”

“Earth, Mistress.”

“Very well.” McKay wrote something down, then straightened. “Begin.”

The kid scattered something across the floor, then held out her hands, her fingers splayed wide. She narrowed her eyes, mashed her lips together as she concentrated. Very lightly, a trickle of magic danced against Morgan’s skin. After a good five minutes, three sunflower plants began to sprout. Without soil. Without water. Without sun. In ten minutes, a foot-tall plant stood before them. The girl gave a pleased nod and dropped her hands, but the use of magic had exhausted her, leaving her skin pale and coated with a light sheen of sweat.

Two more kids were picked. One made a book fly in a small circle, while another soaked the floor when he made it rain. Inside the room. With nothing but his thoughts.

Then the first hunter was selected.

“Chase.”

Instead of heading toward the circle, a slim guy strutted toward the desk and placed his hand on a rock.

Nothing happened.

McKay studied her watch. After five minutes, she gave a nod. “Step back.”

Curious, Morgan leaned forward, but still saw nothing but a rock.

Everyone else appeared satisfied.

“Morgan Moran.”

Though she expected to be called, hearing her name made her jump. Snide chuckles rose from the gallery, but she ignored them.

“Send her home where she belongs.”

McKay scanned the crowd, her expression so severe, it was enough to silence the hecklers.

“Moran. I used to hunt with a Jack Moran.”

“He must have liked you, since you survived.” Morgan spoke without thinking. She had to be one tough broad to still be alive, strong in her own right, after hunting with Madman Moran. She wasn’t what Morgan would have expected, especially since the woman barely reached her shoulders, an itty-bitty thing who looked like she belonged in an ivory tower protected by dragons.

McKay turned toward her with an inscrutable expression. She could almost be pretty if she let down her hair and smiled. “I see you know him well.”

Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Morgan shrugged. “He raised me.”

Now she got a reaction.

McKay’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and the first spark of interest lightened her almost silver eyes. Sharp. Intelligent. “He must have liked you…since you survived.”

Morgan couldn’t help it, she grinned at McKay’s identical reply. “It was a close thing.”

McKay’s lips kicked up at the corners before she glanced down. Morgan could understand why the MacGregor would hunt with her. She was no-nonsense like him, and hated the bullshit.

“You’re listed as a hunter?” She frowned, looking at Morgan in question, as if expecting her to protest.

“Correct.” Morgan lifted her chin, waiting for the snub.

Witches treated hunters as second-class citizens.

She shouldn’t expect anything else, even from the teachers.

McKay merely hummed, leaning forward to take notes. The front of her shirt parted slightly, enough for Morgan to see four wicked slashes marring the front of her chest, trailing over her collarbone to disappear into the shirt.

They were deep.

Brutal.

It was a miracle she’d survived.

“Impressive.” Without looking up, McKay’s whisper was hardly more than a breath of air. “Jack doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and he wouldn’t have sent you here if you didn’t have what it takes.”

McKay straightened as if nothing happened, and pointed her pen at the rock. “Place your hand on the stone.”

Morgan snapped to attention, unconsciously clenching her fingers into a fist. “Why?”

Instead of impatience, McKay gave her a slight smile. “We’re here to test your level of magic. This rock is from the primordial realm and reacts to magic.”

“I don’t practice.” Morgan barely resisted shoving her hands behind her back.

“Not a problem. If you place your hand down, we can confirm that you have no magic and adjust accordingly.”

That was the problem.

She had magic, but she refused to use it—unheard of for a witch.

Morgan reached up, gripping the torque tightly and sent up a silent prayer.

Her fingers hovered over the stone, half expecting it to reach out and bite her. Instead, she sensed nothing from the rock. It could have been any one of the million used to build the Academy. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hand down.

The rock warmed, and she tried to jerk her hand back, but it stubbornly remained stuck.

Primordial magic swarmed up her arm, spreading heat in its wake, and began to burn mercilessly when it hit the runes engraved into her flesh, the magic battling for possession of her soul. The world around her wavered and darkened, her insides twisting until she feared she was going to be sucked down into the rock.

The torque tightened, diverting the worst of the magic.

It wasn’t enough.

Her back felt as if it was being fileted from her body, the runes twisting and worming under her skin, fighting against the pull, the forces trying to tear her apart.

Rage tore through her, a primal scream of pain and fury crawled up her throat. “No!”

The stone under her hand cracked. The world around her rippled, swirled and dipped before slowly righting itself. It took all her concentration to hold back the feral urge to give into the dark side she’d always denied.

She would not turn into a primordial monster.

After three controlled breaths, the wild impulse gradually faded, and she felt like herself once again. When the world came back into focus, the rock under her hand was nothing more than dust. Mortification burned through her, and Morgan dusted off her hands.

“Sorry.” Her throat was scratchy when she spoke, her stomach still churning as she pried her other hand away from her torque.

The room was deathly quiet.

McKay studied what remained of her rock, then glanced up at her curiously. “You have magic.”

“Not active.” Morgan frantically shook her head. “Dormant magic I can’t access.”

McKay didn’t look convinced. “What was your craft?”

Morgan had never chosen a focus of study—no point when she wasn’t able to do anything about it but writhe in pain whenever she tried to access it. MacGregor insisted she learn the basics, and she humored him, but she had no interest in learning more.

“I’m a null. The only talent I have is the ability to break any spell or curse.” Morgan refused to have the future she had mapped out before her altered. She was too good a hunter to be sidetracked. She couldn’t bear to be trapped in a future she detested. “I can’t cast.”

An inability to cast was tantamount to a terminal illness for witches.

Some of the teachers who had crowded closer to get a better look now turned away in pity, not wanting to get too near, as if her inability to cast was catching.

McKay didn’t appear convinced, but after studying Morgan for another few minutes, she reluctantly conceded. “Very well. You won’t be expected to attend classes, but I do expect you to read the books I assign you, and give me detailed reports on what you’ve learned. You will stop by my office after your evening practice, and we will go over your assignments.”

Her relief was so intense her legs nearly dropped out from under her.

“Thank you.” Morgan wasn’t sure if she’d spoken out loud or not, but McKay gave a slight tip of her head in acknowledgment.

That’s when Morgan knew McKay was covering for her.

She knew the truth.

Or she suspected.

Morgan had more than just basic magic.

And the runes on her back were growing in power, enhancing her abilities.

Sooner or later, she would no longer be able to hide it from everyone else.

Even though the runes were covered, the thin shirt she wore felt like a flimsy barrier. She turned on her heel and darted from the room, ignoring Neil’s shout to wait.