by Ilana Waters
“Night,” I replied in a heavy voice. Then, I dragged myself to Specs’s office, stomach full of dread. Most of the lights had been turned off by this time, making the corridors dark and shadowy.
“Mr. Alderman,” Specs greeted me as I entered. “So glad you could make it. Please have a seat.” I sat in the same chair as before. Just like in the hallways, most of the lights in the office were out. Only one lamp in the corner and one on Specs’s desk illuminated the room. Still, I could see the rainbow of roses outside the window clearly. The rosebush looked full and lovely as ever, even though a large bowl lay on Specs’s desk with only a few petals at the bottom. I surmised he had eaten the rest.
“I know it’s late,” Specs continued, “but I wanted to speak with you before I left.” He didn’t seem as angry as he had at the assembly.
“You’re leaving?” I raised my eyebrows as I sat tentatively on the edge of the chair. “Sir?” I added.
“Just for Samhain break, like many others.” He sipped tea from the same blue teacup as before. “After I investigate this latest incident, of course. Term breaks are prime fundraising time for Equinox, I’m afraid. I’ll be doing quite a bit of traveling over the next week or so.”
All was silent for a few moments. I stared past Specs and out the enormous window. With a full, round moon shining, you could easily make out the expanse of moors and forest beyond. It was on the same side as the gym, so the scene was identical to the one I’d enjoyed with Colleen earlier. Except that seemed a million miles away now. The snow had stopped falling. With few leaves on the trees, everything just looked cold and desolate. Still, it was picturesque, in a melancholy sort of way.
“Nice view,” I said.
“Yes,” Specs sighed, glancing over his shoulder at it. “It helps to be able to see nature, even if I can’t be out in it.”
“Be out in it?” I repeated. “I thought you enjoyed spending your time here. I got the impression Equinox was like . . . your baby or something.”
Specs managed a tight smile. “Oh, it is, in a way. But you know how children are. And babies especially need a lot of tending.” He set the empty teacup down in its saucer, and more tea immediately swirled up from the bottom. “Sometimes, I’d give anything not to be stuck at this desk all day.” He continued to gaze longingly out the window. “Sometimes I just want to run,” he whispered fiercely. “To feel the ground fly beneath my feet, the wind’s fingers in my hair.” For an instant, the glasses on Specs’s nose seemed to disappear, and his hair grew longer, framing the sharp points of his ears. Then, just as quickly as the vision appeared, it was gone. I blinked, and Specs looked the same as he always had.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. It never occurred to me that Specs felt the same way I did at Equinox. Trapped. Held down by the weight of everything going on around him.
“Sometimes,” he chuckled, almost to himself, “when I want to get away from everything, I go into the forest and sit in a tree.” He turned back and saw the look on my face. “You don’t think I’m in earnest? I assure you, I am entirely serious.”
“Yes, well . . .” I cleared my throat. “You’re, ah . . . quite serious in general. Awfully stern for a fae, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
I half expected him to make a comment that, with recent events, he had every reason to be serious. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully.
“I always was very serious-minded,” he agreed. “I probably should’ve been born a witch. But when I was your age . . .” His voice drifted off. “You know, they say we never really grow up,” he remarked abruptly. “We only learn how to act in public. The sooner you can do that, the sooner you can live the life you really want. For you, I know that means helping people.”
“Really? Why do you think that?” And why is Specs suddenly moonlighting as my career counselor?
Specs gave me a look that told me I should know better than to ask. “Don’t see this school as a system you’re buying into, Joshua.” He sipped his tea. “See it more like a test tube. An aquarium or terrarium, if you will. Look at the whole thing as a scientific experiment. Something you’re in long enough to observe and learn from. Then you can take from it what you like and discard what you don’t. Learn how systems work, how people interact.” He squared his shoulders and faced me. “The bullies, the outcasts, and all the rest. Extracting key information from observation like this requires balance. Like in juggling.” He rose from his seat, then bent down over his desk and took out three red balls from a drawer.
“Juggling?” That’s what he called me down here for? To discuss circus sports?
“Yes. The secret to juggling isn’t in catching the balls, but in throwing them.” Specs gracefully tossed the balls in the air, gathering them effortlessly when they fell. “If you throw them so you’ll know where they’ll land, then catching them is simple.” He sped up the rotation, and the balls went up and down even faster. “If you can find that rhythm, it’s much easier to keep everything in balance. As soon as you throw one ball, you’re ready for the next, and so on, and so forth.”
As the balls came down again, he threw each one to me. I had a little experience juggling, but not much. Unsure of what to do, I fumbled with them awkwardly for a few seconds, then tossed them back to Specs. He threw them back to me, and soon we were a pair of jugglers. Specs kept the balls coming at me faster and faster, until I could barely keep up. As soon as I returned the balls, they came zooming back to me, like fist-size missiles. I couldn’t seem to find the rhythm Specs was talking about, and he grinned at me with a gleam in his eye. Eventually, I lost control of the balls. All three hit my face, one after the other, before falling to the ground.
The balls weren’t particularly hard, so I wasn’t hurt. Just embarrassed. Specs coughed, which could have been to cover a chuckle. I called the balls into my hand and gave them back to Specs, who replaced them in his drawer.
Man, I thought I had good reflexes from years of training with Titus. But Specs handed me my ass in juggling. Damn fae move at the speed of light. I sat back down, and Specs and I studied each other.
“I didn’t do it,” I said quietly. When Specs didn’t reply, I spoke again, louder. “Do you think I did it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Specs laced his fingers together and set his hands in front of him.
“Then why not expel me? Why keep me around?”
“Your continued enrollment at Equinox may inadvertently work in my favor,” he replied. “Everyone’s favor, in fact.” His words were heavy with implication, which I desperately tried to unravel.
“You’re saying you want me to be your little spy and figure out who’s doing this?”
Specs’s expression didn’t change. “I said nothing.” He paused. “But as I understand you’ll be staying at Equinox over the break, I expect you to put the time to good use.” He gave me a meaningful look. It was obvious he wanted me to find out what was going on. This time, I was the one who paused.
“Why me?” I finally asked, narrowing my eyes.
Specs tilted his head as he looked at me. “You’re an unusual young man, Joshua. And you have an unusual way of thinking. You see things that others don’t. Sometimes, that is a more useful asset than anything else.”
***
After I left Specs’s office, my mind was a whirl. I didn’t feel like going back to my house, and with Oliver gone, there was nothing forcing me to. I knew from previous experience that the housemaster, Professor Yen, would be asleep at this time of night. So, I snuck up to the attic of Equinox’s main building.
I’d been there a few times before. It was filled with bits of junk from previous occupants. Someone had tacked up a few charcoal drawings, now faded with age. I even found what I thought was a secret passage, but it was bricked up. It was quiet, and no one ever came up here but me. A good place to go and have a think. It wasn’t exactly a tree, like Specs had, but it was close enough.
I lay on a squeak
y cot underneath a round dormer window, bouncing a ball of magic against the eaves. Sometimes, I felt like that hedgehog boy in the faerie tale. The one so ugly, so different, that he’s hated by everyone around him—even his father. He tells his father he’ll take a rooster to ride on, and some other farm animals, and be gone. His father will never have to see him again. He never wants to.
Could I have been wrong about Specs? I followed the ball of magic up and down with my eyes, trying to toss it so I knew where it would land. Maybe he doesn’t know everything that goes on at Equinox. Maybe there are things that are beyond his control, even with faerie magic. I kept throwing the shining ball in an arc, but could only predict where it landed about half the time. It was clear that Specs didn’t believe any investigation he undertook would yield answers. Still, I felt he was placing a little too much faith in my ability to think outside the box.
Sometimes, thinking differently is more curse than blessing.
Chapter 14
“No running in the halls!” Oliver called. “Remember, the science and potions lab rooms have been switched this term. And—oy! Peters! Knock it off with that see-through spell on Becca’s shirt. I saw that.”
It was after Samhain break, and Equinox was back in full swing. There was the nonstop chatter of students. The shoes and boots that shuffled, tip-tapped, and thumped across the floor. The sounds of doors opening and closing. Although I’d had over a week to determine who—or what—had broken into Equinox, my efforts had yielded few results.
The spell on the storage room door had been at least doubled; I doubted any thieves who were students would be breaking in again. Unfortunately, this also meant I couldn’t get a look at the inside. How did Specs expect me to investigate when I couldn’t access the scene of the crime?
I’d been able to glean a few facts, but nothing conclusive. Again, I found vestiges of fire magic, but no indication as to their owner. Shifting further through impressions at the site revealed motivations different from the first incident. With Cerridwen, I’d felt anger and rage. Here, the broken wards and locks were more about cunning, calculations. It wasn’t just a prank, or a flash of ill temper. Whoever took that hologram potion needed it for something. Something more sinister than a light show.
It didn’t help that Specs had met me in the hall earlier this morning. “Welcome back, Mr. Alderman. I trust you had a productive break?” I knew he was asking if I’d found out who broke into the storage room. “Not as productive as I would’ve liked, sir,” I said with a heavy voice, eyes on the ground. “Sorry,” I added.
“Mmmm,” was all he said before walking away. I felt embarrassed, like I’d let him down. But what was he thinking? I’m only a sixth former, not a PI. Still, I was annoyed that for all my purported brains and powers, I was no closer to solving this mystery than before. No closer to proving my innocence.
At least I still had Colleen, despite the fact that she might think me guilty of several crimes. As I stood with the air team on the sports field, I could see her, Pen, and the other fire witches practicing for Tournament. I didn’t envy the time they had to spend with Victor.
If she does think I’m guilty, hopefully, she also thinks the incidents were nothing more than childish antics. Something I’d grow out of, in time. It wasn’t quite as good as her believing I was innocent, but if it kept her by my side, it was better than nothing.
The first play-off was in two weeks, with the opposing teams decided by drawing lots. No one knew which teams would be picked yet, so all the houses were doubling down on their practicing, honing their strategies. Even if they weren’t picked to compete in the first play-off, there was always the second. Besides, everyone wanted to be ready for the final round, just in case their house was chosen.
It was fairly brisk outside, but not as cold as it would be during the first play-off. The second was in April, and I half hoped House of Air would be picked for that one instead. The temperature would be so much more pleasant. Now, students were shivering, rubbing their arms, and stamping their feet in place. A few started using warming spells.
“None of that!” Oliver said sharply, marching back and forth in front of the team. We were all lined up in a row, awaiting our captain’s instructions. “Save your magic for the enemy. We’ll need every ounce we have if we’re going to win the Sylvan Chalice this year.” He continued marching, his eyes focused straight ahead, fingers clasped behind his back.
“Now, as air witches, we have a distinct advantage in Tournament. It’s easier for us to fly than other witches, and harder to knock us to the ground. However, as is often the case in life, our greatest asset is also our greatest weakness. The instinct to stay in the air, our natural element, is equally strong. But more than ten seconds is a travel, as you know. So, I’ve come up with a solution to overcome our weakness.”
I yawned. Oliver sure loves to hear himself talk. I wished Colleen were beside me so I’d have someone to mind-speak to. Or even Miles or Pen.
“Bored already, Alderman?” Oliver stopped and raised his eyebrows at me.
“What? No, no.” I shook my head and tried to stifle another yawn. “Just listening to your, ah, brilliant strategy,” I said quickly. The students around me snickered. Oliver’s mouth took on a pinched look.
“Glad to hear you approve of it,” he said. “Especially since I haven’t told anyone what it is yet.” More snickers, a few guffaws. “Perhaps you’d like to be the first to see it in action?”
“Absolutely,” I said. Anything to make this practice go faster.
“Step forward, then,” Oliver instructed. And I tried, except I didn’t so much step forward as all the others stepped back. Oliver closed his eyes and mouthed some words, moving his hands over me. The other students were whispering, but I had no cause for alarm. Whatever Oliver was doing, it wasn’t painful, and I doubted it was permanent. There was no way he’d endanger Air’s chances of winning the Chalice. I stood still and let him work the spell.
Satisfied, Oliver opened his eyes and gave a sharp nod. “Right then,” he said.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“Aye. Let’s practice.”
“Just you and me?”
“Of course. I want the rest of the team to understand the spell.”
“But what is the spell?”
“You’ll see,” Oliver replied.
I let out a deep sigh and faced Oliver, about five yards apart. First, I sent a huge gust of wind to knock him down. But he was too smart for that. He deftly deflected the air to the left, accidentally sending oxygen all the way to the fire witches. Which could have been dangerous, had they not managed to diminish the resulting fires. Flames leaped in the air, then died down after a few angry shouts from across the field.
“Sorry!” Oliver called, cupping his hands around his mouth. He looked back at me, set his mouth in a line, and launched several spirals of air in my direction.
Oliver was fast. Too fast. And there was one spiral on either side, like miniature tornadoes of magic. One at a time, I could have dealt with them. But two? I’ll admit, they flipped me backward and into the air. I fought to gain control of them. I’d nearly shrunk them down to the size of tree stumps when I felt a zap of pain in my wrists.
“Ow!” I tumbled to the ground, grabbing each wrist in turn. But the pain vanished as quickly as it appeared. Oliver made the tornadoes fade away, then walked over and offered me his hand. Tentatively, I reached up and let him pull me to my feet.
“That static you felt will kick in at five seconds in the air. It’s a warning that you only have five more seconds before a travel’s called.” The team groaned. Oliver put up his hands. “Hear me out. We need a way to compensate for our instinct to stay in the air. If we don’t, we’re finished as soon as we begin. I’ve been studying previous air plays in Tournament for weeks now, and nine times out of ten, this is why our house loses. We can’t afford to have it happen again. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that much, and it�
�s over in a flash.” He turned to me. “Right, Alderman?”
“Right,” I said through gritted teeth. It was true Oliver’s static wasn’t sadistically painful. Not like I imagine Victor’s would be if he were the one doing it. Just sudden and sharp—the exact sort of thing to get a witch’s attention without hindering their magic. Still, I was pretty sure Oliver chose me for his guinea pig as payback for spacing out on him.
“And that static thing’s not illegal?” one girl—Liza, I think—asked.
“A perfectly acceptable move according to Tournament Rules and Regulations, Chesterfield,” Oliver said. “Which you should all have memorized by now.” More groans from the team.
I hadn’t exactly memorized the text Oliver referred to, but I was quickly learning there were a lot of rules when it came to Tournament. I remembered Miles and the rest telling me about it over one of our lunches. No using memory spells to make the other team forget things. No attempting to read your opponents’ minds. The list went on and on. No telekinetically forcing anyone to do things, like hit themselves over the head. In fact, you couldn’t purposely do anything to cause permanent injury or death to an opponent.
“No risk of grievous harm?” I’d asked. My father, who’d regularly watched gladiators get eaten by lions in arenas, would find that very dull indeed.
“Oh, students can be harmed, of course,” Miles said. “You could pull a move that might break one of the other player’s legs. Just not on purpose.”
“If you’re an air witch, for instance, you can’t send a swarm of killer bees after the other blokes,” Pen explained. “It’s a battle of wits, not just a battle of brawn.”
“So it’s entirely possible that bloated sods like Victor could lose,” Miles added.
