by Ilana Waters
But Oliver wasn’t one to be outdone by a few frogs. He set his sight on Zaira and narrowed his eyes. Cho started coming after him, but I held him in place with a binding spell. His face went red with indignation, and my own went red with effort. I knew I couldn’t hold him forever. Miles started toward me, but then I had a brilliant idea. I glamoured Pen’s voice so that it seemed like she was calling him. It worked, and for a few seconds, he was distracted, his eyes searching for her in the crowd.
I hope Oliver doesn’t go ballistic on Zaira, I thought. Then again, he wasn’t really the type. Then again, how was he going to stop her magic if he didn’t?
Suddenly, the strangest thing happened to Zaira. She glanced around her, confused, and scratched her head. It was as if she couldn’t remember why she was on the field in the first place. She got a very bored look on her face, blew a puff of air out of her cheeks, and sat down, as if waiting for something very dull to be finished.
Greggers’s whistle sounded. “TIME! Number Seven, Jambs, is OUT. One point to House of Air.” There were indignant cries and boos from the water section, and cheers from the air side. Zaira just stood up, shrugged, and walked nonchalantly off the field. Oliver folded his arms and smiled in triumph.
How the hell did you pull that off, mate? Jae asked, dumbfounded.
It was a reverse-desire spell, Oliver replied. Simple enough, really. I merely made Zaira stop caring whether or not water won the match.
Dash clever, I say! Jae exclaimed. Oliver looked to me, and I nodded.
Agreed, I said. But we won’t be able to use it again. Cho and the others will be on their guard for it now.
The House of Air does not back down from a challenge, Oliver said. He readied himself as Greggers put her lips to her whistle. She blew it, and the sand in the hourglass resumed falling. The toads, frogs, and other fauna sank back into the earth, which closed over them and dried up. By a bizarre stroke of luck, the curly-haired boy on the water team got his ankle stuck in a divot left by a particularly large toad. As he used both hands to pull his leg out, he tripped and fell backward, landing on his bum.
Greggers’s whistle blew again. “TIME!” she screamed. “Number Eleven, Zeeger, is OUT! One point to House of Air.” The air section stood up and cheered. The curly-haired boy, Zeeger, cursed and left the field. Jae threw his fist up cried, “Yes!” He, Oliver, and I looked at each other and smiled. Now it was us three against Cho and Miles, with only five minutes to go.
I can’t believe it, I thought. Air really has a shot at this. We can’t let this get mucked up.
The late-day sun hit my eyes. Without my sunglasses, I was forced to shield them for a moment, squinting. As I did, I saw Victor in the stands across the way, then a flash of something in his hand. A torch? But why would he be carrying a torch at a play-off game? And how can I see its light when the sun’s still out?
I realized it wasn’t a torch at all, but something with a reflective surface, like a small mirror. Why would Victor bring a mirror to a play-off? He hardly seemed the type to check his makeup. The only reason I could think of was to work a spell. Mirrors allowed magical energy to bounce off them and onto something else. Is Victor trying to cheat, to affect the outcome of the game? This seemed more likely.
Maybe he wanted air to lose, because I was on the team. Or maybe water, the way his cronies were heckling Zaira. He probably had money riding on it. Nasty prat. I had no choice; I had to alert Greggers. Maybe, if Victor were caught, I’d get a little revenge for everything he put me through. Miles was struggling to hold off the spells Jae and I were throwing at him. I was just about to call a time-out to report Victor. But then, Cho threw a spell into the air where Oliver was hovering. It missed Oliver by inches, hitting the top of air’s dugout behind him. I saw Oliver spasm in pain.
I think he’s being a bit overzealous with the static, especially on himself. I expected him to drop to the ground and continue battling Cho, as he’d done before. But this time, Oliver fell straight into the empty wheelbarrow I’d seen there before. He climbed out of the wheelbarrow as if his body weighed a ton. Cho advanced on him, hitting him with spell after spell. Each sent Oliver back to the wall, where he stumbled forward, only to fall back again. His face was the very picture of agony. Something was wrong.
“For God’s sake, stop! You’re going to kill him!” I shouted to Cho. I ducked, and one of Miles’s defensive spells zoomed over me and split the bottom of a bleacher. The crowd gasped. The girl who’d been sitting on the bleacher fell between the cracked boards with a loud “oof!” I rushed toward Oliver and Cho. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jae turn toward me, his palm in front of Miles, telling him to hold up. I couldn’t understand it.
Why isn’t Oliver defending himself?
Chapter 19
I could see the magic shooting from Cho’s hands into Oliver as he kept walking forward. Probably thinks Oliver’s about to fall down for good, earning one more point for water. Cho advanced as Oliver’s mouth opened in wordless anguish. The last few steps I took toward Cho ended in a leap as I crashed into him. I flung my arms around his torso and knocked him down. It stopped the magic coming from his hands, but not before it careened into House of Air’s dugout, tearing off the top part of the roof. The crowd just above the dugout screamed, and several spectators ran further up into the bleachers.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Cho, shoving me as we got back up. “You’re supposed to use magic in a play-off—not tackle your opponent in a bear hug. I had MacLeod fair and square.”
“No, you didn’t.” I spun him around by the shoulders till he faced Oliver. “Look. Something’s not right.”
Cho’s face twisted in indignation. He was about to make another remark when he finally got a good look at Oliver. He was slumped on the ground, his breathing shallow. Cho’s features scrunched in confusion. He knew spells that purposefully caused an opponent harm were against the rules—and against his nature. He knew his magic shouldn’t be having that effect on Oliver.
“Blimey,” he said softly. “What got into him?”
It didn’t take us long to find out. The hourglass’s sand stopped falling so abruptly that the glass shook. Greggers was blowing on her whistle like her life depended on it. She, Miles, Jae, and Professors Burgess and Yen ran to Oliver. A few spectators joined them, including Victor and his two henchmen, along with Colleen, Pen, Imogen, and Suyin. Then, the woman who looked exactly like Oliver came down from the stands.
“What did you do to my nephew?” Oliver’s aunt screeched, her Scottish accent thick with emotion. She flew over the railing, not stopping when part of her skirt tore. “Ollie, Ollie!” she wailed. She knelt beside him and cradled his head against her shoulder. Oliver looked pale as a ghost, his eyes half-closed, his body limp.
Specs leaped out of his box, over the spectators, and landed on the middle of the field in a crouch. He shot back up and was at Oliver’s side before anyone could blink.
“Hmmm. Mmmm-hmmm.” He bent down and examined Oliver. “Indeed. Oh, my.” For a moment, his ears and hair seemed longer, and his glasses disappeared. He stood back up and pushed the glasses further onto the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid it’s just as I suspected. Mr. MacLeod’s entire body has been rid of magic.”
Everyone gasped. Oliver’s aunt broke out in fresh sobs. “But how?” she cried. Oliver’s shoulders shook with wet coughs. “How could this have happened? I don’t understand.”
“I think I do,” Professor Yen said grimly. He poised one hand over the wheelbarrow, his other hand held up in a warning. “Don’t any of you come closer.”
“Why not, Argyle?” Specs asked. “What’s wrong?”
“This.” Yen waved his hand over the wheelbarrow. Everyone gasped again, taking wide steps back when it suddenly filled with what looked like thick pieces of turf.
“Spell-cleanse!” whispered Miles.
“Glamoured to look invisible,” said Yen.
“There can be no doubt about it. This was a deliberate attempt to harm a player—and sabotage the game.”
“But who would do such a thing?” Burgess asked. “And why?”
That spasm of pain I saw hit Oliver. It hadn’t been static at all, I realized. It must have been Cho’s spell bouncing back from the wall. Victor used his reflection spell so that it would knock Oliver into the hidden cache of spell-cleanse. He must’ve positioned it next to House of Air’s dugout, then waited for the perfect moment to make his move. No doubt he added a bit of pain magic to it, just for spite.
“Who, indeed?” Victor glanced around, while Mason and Dirk nodded. “Of all the reprehensible things to do to another witch.” Victor’s gaze finally rested on Cho.
“It wasn’t me, I swear!” Cho held up his hands. “I had no idea that spell-cleanse was there. Honest! Ollie, mate, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” Oliver coughed in response.
“Oh gods, what’s going to happen to him?” Oliver’s aunt asked tearfully. She wiped perspiration from her nephew’s forehead. “Will he lose his magic forever?” Oliver’s eyes bulged, and what little blood remained in his face drained from it. The rest of us stared at one another, jaws slack, eyes wide with horror. The permanent loss of one’s magic. I don’t think anyone could contemplate a worse fate. Possibly not even death. I mean, can you imagine? Having to live as a mere mortal?
Er, no offense of course to you, dear reader.
“He’ll be all right, ma’am.” Professor Burgess put his arm underneath Oliver and pulled him to his feet. “I’ve seen this happen once or twice before. The young ones always manage to pull through. Usually in a few months.”
“You mean it’s not permanent?” she asked.
“He’ll recover,” Burgess assured her. “It’ll just take some time. Come now. Let’s get him to the infirmary.” They hobbled off the field, propping Oliver up between them.
“Why was this spell-cleanse even here, Mrs. Greggers?” Specs asked sharply. “Didn’t you have a whole cadre of students helping you clear the field before the game?”
“I did—I do!” Greggers wrung her hands, looking left and right, as if for an explanation. “We must have missed this one wheelbarrow. But it still would’ve looked empty, like it did to the rest of you. And my kids would never do a thing like this, not one of ’em.”
“I’ll make sure this is contained properly.” Yen started forming a protective bubble around the wheelbarrow. “You.” He jutted his chin at Jae. “Grab a few other students to help. We have to get this to Jenkins so he can lock it up.”
“But what about the game?” Jae asked. Yen and several others gave him a dirty look. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just . . . aren’t we going to finish it? To see who wins?”
“Really.” Victor shook his head, while Mason and Dirk tsked and looked astonished. “Thinking about a game at a time like this. When our comrade-in-arms has just fallen. For shame, Jae. For shame.” Our eyes met, and although his expression didn’t change, I could practically see the evil grin on Victor’s face.
“I think, given the circumstances, this play-off must be called early,” Specs said. “Mrs. Greggers, kindly remove everyone from the area. We have to make sure no more spell-cleanse is glamoured anywhere on the field.” He turned to face the confused spectators. “Due to unauthorized use of certain magical materials, I am officially ending this year’s second Tournament play-off.” Groans and protests erupted, but Specs continued. “Since there are presently more remaining team members for one house in particular,” he boomed, “by default, the winner is . . . House of Air!”
A great cheer arose from the air section. The water spectators swore and threw down their flags, or broke them in half over their knees. The hourglass glistened for a few seconds, then faded away. The marching band started streaming onto the field, music blaring, until Greggers half ran, half flew across the field, crossing her arms back and forth over her head. The music died down as Greggers explained what happened. About the possibility of still-hidden spell-cleanse. The marching band clutched their instruments tightly. Then they hurried off the field. The spectators did the same, the air section chattering excitedly, the water section muttering and shooting dirty glances in our direction.
“Off you go then, the rest of you.” Specs nodded to us. “Everyone who is not Equinox staff—or helping Professor Yen with the wheelbarrow—needs to get inside.”
“But Headmaster, who’ll serve as House of Air’s prefect now that Oliver’s . . .” Colleen started. “I mean, he can’t, until he . . .”
“True.” Specs adjusted his collar. “However, all prefects register their second with me at the start of the school term.”
Their second? Oh, yes. That replacement prefect Miles and the others mentioned months ago.
“As it so happens,” Specs continued, “I know them off the top of my head. Until Oliver recovers, the new House of Air prefect is . . .” He turned to me. “Joshua Alderman.”
There were several cries of “What?” and “Blimey!” I’m fairly certain one of them came from me.
“It . . . it is?” I stammered. “But how is that possible? Oliver and I don’t . . . I mean, we’re roommates, but we hardly get on. What makes him think I’d be a decent prefect?” Or that I even want the job?
“I agree,” Victor said. “I mean, considering how rude you were to Oliver on the very first day you met him.”
I narrowed my eyes at Victor. “You don’t seem surprised to see me named as second.” Indeed, Victor was as calm and collected as I’d ever seen him.
Victor shrugged. “Maybe I’m just not one who lets his emotions get the better of him. Unlike some weak-minded people.”
“Oh, piss off, Victor,” said Colleen.
“Yes, do piss off,” agreed Pen.
“Ladies.” Specs looked at them sharply. “While at Equinox Academy, you will maintain the highest standards of civility and decorum, regardless of the circumstances.”
“Yes, the circumstances.” Victor coughed.
“Very dark and mysterious,” agreed Mason.
“Wouldn’t you say, Headmaster Specs?” asked Dirk.
“Surely,” said Victor, “you will be launching an investigation, both to protect the student population and bring the offender to justice?” Colleen clucked her tongue, and I swore there were several audible eye rolls. I just glared at Victor till I thought my head would explode.
“I hate to say this, Gilliam, but I doubt an investigation will come to anything.” Professor Yen shook his head. “There were too many students here today—and even spectators—who could’ve done this.”
“Are we forgetting who was first on the scene, so to speak?” Victor raised his eyebrows in my direction. Everyone turned toward me.
“What?” I blinked. “You can’t be serious. That’s outrageous.” I squared my shoulders at Victor. “You know perfectly well you’re the one responsible for what happened to Oliver. Don’t you see?” I flung my arms out, looking from person to person. “It was Victor, with his—”I stopped. Even if Victor had used a reflection spell, I had no way of proving it. He’d probably ditched the mirror, or whatever he used, as soon as he finished the spell. And finding a small mirror in the stands wouldn’t even mean that Victor had used it. He could claim it had been dropped there earlier, by anyone. It could have been lying under a seat for years.
I am truly hexed, I thought to myself.
“With my what?” Victor prompted. “I have no weapons, no secret spells. Go ahead. Search me. I assure you, you won’t find anything untoward on my person.”
Except the soul of a sociopath. I felt my face burn as I scowled at Victor.
“Besides, I’ve nothing against MacLeod.” Victor yawned and examined his nails, as if the whole conversation bored him. “Really, he’s so meaningless to me, I barely think about him.”
“That’s right,” said Mason. “You, on the other hand, Alderman .
. .”
“Still don’t know why you’d want to hurt that bloke.” Dirk shook his head.
“Don’t be daft.” Colleen put her hand on my shoulder. “Why would Joshua sabotage his own captain?”
“Please, McKay.” Victor glanced up from his nails. “Everyone knows that Alderman’s always looked down on Tournament.”
“Is that true?” Professor Yen asked.
“Well, okay,” I started. “Maybe it was like that in the beginning, but—”
“Clearly,” Victor interrupted, “you wanted MacLeod out of the running so you could be captain.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I moved toward Victor. But Colleen’s strong fingers digging into my shoulder held me back. “I never wanted to be in this stupid Tournament in the first place. You just said so yourself.” Professor Yen pursed his lips. Crap. Everyone just heard me call Tournament “stupid.” Victor folded his arms and smiled widely, like he’d won a prize.
“Maybe that’s what you wanted us all to think,” he said.
“Yes, you got me.” I threw out my hands again, flinging Colleen from my shoulder. “I’m a master of reverse psychology.” This is getting truly insane. Why doesn’t Specs or someone do something?
“You still didn’t answer the most important question,” Victor said.
“I thought the sarcasm answered it,” I snapped. “Wait, what question?”
“Why did you hurt Oliver?” Victor asked.
“I DIDN’T!” I shouted.
“That’s enough,” Specs finally said. “Mr. Alderman, Mr. Wright, you will refrain from such unseemly conduct while you are representatives of Equinox. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” we muttered. Well, I muttered. Victor’s tone was all buttery and fawning, which made me want to strangle him even more.
“Very well, then.” Specs smoothed out his lapels. “Professor Yen, Jae, and a few more of you will escort the wheelbarrow off the field. The rest—”
“Actually, Gilliam,” Yen said, “on second thought, I think you and I can handle it. I don’t want to take the chance of any other students getting hurt today.” His comment was for everyone, but he looked only at me.
