Several in the class gasped. Janine actually shrank away from me. Damn that woman, I thought, my hand going to cover my wrist. Not even here for five minutes, and she alienates me from the entire class. I should have worn a bracelet. My jaw clenched and my breathing increased as I fought to not respond.

Dr. Anders seemed satisfied. “You can’t reliably hide a demon mark with earth magic,” she said, her voice raised in the sound of instruction. “You need ley line magic for that. Is that why you’re here, Ms. Morgan?” she mocked.

Shaking, I refused to drop her eyes. I hadn’t known that. No wonder my charms to disguise it never worked past sundown.

Her wrinkles went deeper as she frowned. “Professor Peltzer’s Demonology for Modern Practitioners is in the next building over. Perhaps you should excuse yourself and see if it’s not too late to change classes. We do not deal in the black arts here.”

“I am not a black witch,” I said softly, afraid if I raised my voice, I would start shouting. I pushed up my sleeve to show my demon mark, refusing to be ashamed of it. “I did not call the demon who gave me this. I fought it off.”

I took a slow breath, unable to look at anyone, most of all Janine, who had pushed as far from me as she could get. “I’m here to learn how to keep it off of me, Dr. Anders. I will not take any demonology classes. I’m afraid of them.”

The last was a whisper, but I knew everyone heard. Dr. Anders seemed taken aback. I was embarrassed, but if it kept her off my case, then it was embarrassment well spent.

The woman’s footsteps were loud as she clacked to the front of the room. “Go home, Ms. Morgan,” she said to the blackboard. “I know why you’re here. I did not kill my past students, and I take offense in your unsaid accusation.”

And with that pleasant thought, she turned, flashing the class a tight-lipped smile. “If the rest of you will please retain your copies of eighteenth-century pentagrams? We will be having a quiz on them Friday. For next week, I want you to go over chapters six, seven, and eight in your texts and to do the even practices at the end of each. Janine?”

At the sound of her name, the woman jumped. She had been trying to get a good look at my wrist. I was still shaking, my fingers trembling as I wrote down the assignment.

“Janine, you would do well to do the odds on chapter six, as well. Your control in releasing stored ley line energy leaves something to be desired.”

“Yes, Dr. Anders,” she said, white-faced.

“And go sit by Brian,” she added. “You can learn more from him than Ms. Morgan.”

Janine didn’t hesitate. Before Dr. Anders had even finished, Janine picked up her purse and book, moving to the next table. I was left alone, feeling sick. Janine’s borrowed chalk sat next to my book like a stolen cookie.