Free Whirl (Ondine Quartet Book 1) by Emma Raveling Page B

to attend my first class with my
new magic instructor. The location they gave was far from the main
campus, though it was technically still on school grounds.
    The sound and smell of the ocean grew
stronger as I trudged up the road. Tall evergreen trees, bright
green with spring, surrounded me on all sides. After a semi-steep
incline, the trail ended on a flat bluff that overlooked the
coast.
    A small, wooden cottage was the only thing up
here. It looked neglected and in disrepair. The roof sagged and it
was in desperate need of a new coat of paint. The rough quality
oddly suited its wild location on top of the cliff.
    Feeling a bit unsure, I knocked twice.
    "Come in. Door's open," a throaty female
voice called out.
    The small home was a cluttered mess and
smelled like a smoky bar. The living room was filled with wires and
cables protruding from several computers and a stereo system that
was attached to huge floor speakers. Books were haphazardly
arranged into waist-high piles on the ground, and hundreds of DVDs
and CDs lay scattered everywhere. Empty beer cans, pizza boxes, and
bags of junk food were strewn randomly across the floor.
    There was barely any space for me to walk. It
was like I'd walked into some guy's ratty college dorm room.
    "Back here, dear."
    I carefully picked my way through the
littered floor and headed to the next room. It was a small dining
area and kitchenette. Another room, probably the bedroom, lay on
the other side. A flat-screen, high-definition television was
mounted on the wall, tuned to a game show.
    An old woman sat at a rickety wooden table,
smoking a cigarette in one hand and holding a glass of amber liquid
in the other. A half-empty bottle of scotch was in front of
her.
    My new instructor, I presumed.
    The ondine was really old. She looked
like she was in her nineties, which meant that her real age was
closer to one hundred and twenty. Thin and frail, she was tiny, no
taller than five feet. Long hair framed her face like a silvery
waterfall and her entire skin was covered in a complex web of deep
wrinkles.
    I was thinking she really shouldn't be
sucking on those cancer sticks and chugging booze at her age when
she spoke.
    "Kendra Irisavie. We meet at last." Light
periwinkle eyes peered at me.
    "Um, yeah. Ms…?" I paused, feeling rather
stupid at not even knowing her name.
    "Oh, for God's sakes, sit down and call me
Nexa. I don't like anyone addressing me by my Redavi name. Bunch of
posturing idiots." She tapped the tip of her cigarette in an
ashtray already overflowing with butts. The top of the table was
barely visible, buried under empty bags of assorted snacks.
    "Want any?" She extended a bag of sour cream
and onion chips.
    "No, thanks." I sat down, growing more
curious by the second. "What's your family name?"
    "Genevieve." I remembered the other pair of
light blue eyes I'd seen last night.
    "I met Jeev…er, Augustin last night."
    She gave a harsh bark of laughter. "My dear
grandson. He absolutely despises me, you know," she added
conversationally.
    It was hard to believe the distinguished,
impeccably dressed man I'd met was remotely related to this
woman.
    "The answer is Simone de Beauvoir, you
idiot!" Nexa suddenly shouted at the TV. On screen, a female
contestant had gotten the wrong answer on Jeopardy.
    "I swear these contestants are getting
dumber," she huffed. "I knew her, you know."
    I had a hard time following her abrupt
changes in conversation. "Who? The woman on TV?"
    "No, no. Why would I know her?" Nexa waved
her hand aimlessly and took a big gulp of scotch. The smell of the
strong alcohol wafted through the air. "Simone. She was brilliant,
but absolutely crazy."
    This chain-smoking, alcoholic mess was
supposed to train me to use my Virtue? The woman seemed a little
unhinged.
    Nexa rummaged around on the table, pushing
aside crumpled bags until she found the remote and switched the
television off.
    "Ondines haven't had an Empath in a long
time."
    This was nothing new. I'd