Elementals Chapter One

When Nicole Cassidy moves from sunny Georgia to gloomy New England, the last thing she expects is to learn that her homeroom is a cover for a secret coven of witches. Even more surprisingly … she’s apparently a witch herself. Despite doubts about her newfound abilities, Nicole is welcomed into this ancient circle of witches and is bedazzled by their powers—and, to her dismay, by Blake—the school’s notorious bad-boy.

Girls who get close to Blake wind up hurt. His girlfriend Danielle will do anything to keep them away, even if she must resort to using dark magic. But the chemistry between Blake and Nicole is undeniable, and despite wanting to protect Nicole from Danielle’s wrath, he finds it impossible to keep his distance.

When the Olympian Comet shoots through the sky for the first time in three thousand years, Nicole, Blake, Danielle, and two others in their homeroom are gifted with mysterious powers. But the comet has another effect—it opens the portal to the prison world that has contained the Titans for centuries. After an ancient monster escapes and attacks Nicole and Blake, it’s up to them and the others to follow the clues from a cryptic prophecy so that they can save their town … and possibly the world.

The secretary fumbled through the stacks of papers on her desk, searching for my schedule. “Here it is.” She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “I’m Mrs. Dopkin. Feel free to come to me if you have any questions.”

“Thanks.” I looked at the schedule, which had my name on the top, and listed my classes and their locations. “This can’t be right.” I held it closer, as if that would make it change. “It has me in all honors classes.”

She frowned and clicked around her computer. “Your schedule is correct,” she said. “Your homeroom teacher specifically requested that you be in the honors courses.”

“But I wasn’t in honors at my old school.”

“It doesn’t appear to be a mistake,” she said. “And the late bell’s about to ring, so if you need a schedule adjustment, come back at the end of the day so we can discuss it. You’re in Mr. Faulkner’s homeroom, in the library. Turn right out of the office and walk down the hall. You’ll see the library on the right. Go inside and head all the way to the back. Your homeroom is in the only door there. Be sure to hurry—you don’t want to be late.”

She returned to her computer, apparently done talking to me, so I thanked her for her help and left the office.

Kinsley High felt cold compared to my school in Georgia, and not just in the literal sense. Boxy tan lockers lined every wall, and the concrete floor was a strange mix of browns that reminded me of throw-up. The worst part was that there were no windows anywhere, and therefore a serious lack of sunlight.

I preferred the warm green carpets and open halls at my old school. Actually I preferred everything about my small Georgia town, especially the sprawling house and the peach tree farm I left behind. But I tried not to complain too much to my parents.

After all, I remembered the way my dad had bounced around the living room while telling us about his promotion to anchorman on the news station. It was his dream job, and he didn’t mind that the only position available was in Massachusetts. My mom had jumped on board with the plan to move, confident that her paintings would sell better in a town closer to a major city. My younger sister Becca had liked the idea of starting fresh, along with how the shopping in Boston apparently exceeded anything in our town in Georgia.

There had to be something about the move for me to like. Unfortunately, I had yet to find it.

I didn’t realize I’d arrived at the library until the double doors were in front of me. At least I’d found it without getting lost.

I walked inside the library, pleased to find it was nothing like the rest of the school. The golden carpet and wooden walls were warm and welcoming, and the upstairs even had windows. I yearned to run toward the sunlight, but the late bell had already rung, so I headed to the back of the library. Hopefully being new would give me a free pass on being late.

Just as the secretary had said, there was only one door. But with it’s ancient peeling wood, it looked like it led to a storage room, not a classroom. And there was no glass panel, so I couldn’t peek inside. I had to assume this was it.

I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, my hand trembling. It’s your first day, I reminded myself. No one’s going to blame you for being late on your first day.

I opened the door, halfway expecting it to be a closet full of old books or brooms. But it wasn’t a closet.

It was a classroom.

Everyone stared at me, and I looked to the front of the room, where a tall, lanky man in a tweed suit stood next to a blackboard covered with the morning announcements. His gray hair shined under the light, and his wrinkled skin and warm smile reminded me more of a grandfather than a teacher, he looked old and had his prescription, he was explain to the class why he is taking CBD oil for anxiety and for pain in his body.

He cleared his throat and rolled a piece of chalk in his palm. “You must be Nicole Cassidy,” he said.

“Yeah.” I nodded and looked around at the other students. There were about thirty of them, and there seemed to be an invisible line going down the middle of the room, dividing them in half. The students near the door wore jeans and sweatshirts, but the ones closer to the wall looked like they were dressed for a fashion show instead of school.

“It’s nice to meet you Nicole.” The teacher sounded sincere, like he was meeting a new friend instead of a student. “Welcome to our homeroom. I’m Mr. Faulkner, but please call me Darius.” He turned to the chalkboard, lifted his hand, and waved it from one side to the other. “You probably weren’t expecting everything to look so normal, but we have to be careful. As I’m sure you know, we can’t risk letting anyone else know what goes on in here.”

Then the board shimmered—like sunlight glimmering off the ocean—and the morning announcements changed into different letters right in front of my eyes.