Page 63 of Professor and the Seer

Struck me, I should add.

It hit me, and I gasped, jolted by the energy that coursed into me and had no way out. No way until Reaper whispered in my mind, Time for you to realize what you can do. I’ve given you some of my power. Channel it.

As if I knew what that meant. Then again, I’d seen Dina do it often enough. Pointed her fingers and zap. I did the same, waggling my digits. Energy shot out of me and hit the monster pummeling John’s shield.

The electricity fried the minotaur, who jiggled on his feet, keeling over, his body slightly smoking.

I blinked at my fingers, expecting to see scorch marks. Before I could fathom what I’d done, lightning struck me again, and again, filling me with power. Just in time, as a monster reached for me with filthy, hairy fingers grimed in dirt.

I screamed at him, shooting lightning from my mouth, and that minotaur, too, hit the ground.

But so did I. Suddenly dizzy, I knelt and wavered, weak all over. A monster grabbed me and grunted, the smell of burning hair pungent as he electrocuted himself and took the last of my energy.

I fell onto my back, panting, barely able to focus my eyes. One more minotaur leaned over me, his fetid breath making my stomach churn.

Was this how it ended?

The sword came out of nowhere, slicing through the bullish neck, separating the head. I could have done without the shower of blood.

I heard John yelling, nothing coherent. By the time I’d managed to push myself to a sitting position, he’d dispatched the last minotaur.

As if that were a sign, the rain ceased and the clouds evaporated. The sudden flip from gloomy to sunny was jarring.

I tried to blink, only it must have lasted a long time because I woke somewhere else.

19

John

A good thing John believed in his Gram’s prediction for the future, because there was a moment on the quad when he hit the soggy ground and the minotaur battered his shield that he honestly thought he’d die.

Then Frieda came to the rescue, channeling lightning as if she were a weather witch and using that power to down three of the monsters. An effort that caused her to collapse. Seeing a monster about to lay his filthy hands on her, John charged and swung, for once making his fencing teacher proud as he lopped off the minotaur’s head.

Just one more monster left. The beast grunted in his direction before it charged. John ducked and stabbed, the tip of his blade entering flash. A yank upwards ensured the beast wouldn’t survive.

Before he’d pulled his sword free, the clouds evaporated and sunshine brightened the quad—and the mess left behind. They’d vanquished the threat. Not that he celebrated. Not with Frieda unconscious on the ground.

Dropping the blade, John gathered her into his arms, cradling her to his chest, extending his shield to protect her not just from any possible lingering threats but to ensure visions didn’t plague her on top of her fatigue.

The good news? An injury hadn’t felled her, simply over-taxation from channeling so much power.

He rose with her in his arms just as the doors to Leabhar House opened and students spilled out. Jessica and Francis reached him first, overflowing with jubilance and congratulations.

“Professor, that was so sick, the way you stood up against those things!” an enthusiastic Jessica gushed.

“How did your lady friend channel that lightning?” asked Francis. “I’d be terrified to even try.”

“Frieda’s got special abilities,” he murmured, not wanting to ignore and be rude to the students but, at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to escape.

Alas, Dean Wharton arrived next, not looking at all like a man in charge of a college with his well-worn jeans and plaid shirt.

“Professor Mosby, what in all the arcane happened here?” Wharton strode across the drying quad. “I got trapped in my office when the shields went down. Some kind of panic room ward left over from my predecessor. By the time I dismantled it and escaped, I had all kinds of incident reports, including one of minotaurs and fanged rabbits on campus.”

“We were attacked, sir.” The most basic explanation John could give.

It still sent Wharton’s brows high on his forehead. “By whom? And why?”

Since he didn’t want to blame Frieda, he told a little lie. “Seems Swain had someone on the outside trying to help him escape.”