by Tara Lain
JAZZ GRIPPED his chest and bent forward on the edge of the bed.
Man, he’d been lit when he woke up, every cell tingling with Dash. He knew the sheets had probably been washed many times since Dash had left for Arcantaria, but Jazz was still certain he could smell him in the bed. All night he’d dreamed, and writhed in those dreams in the sweetest possible way, like ribbons of warmth circling him and tiptoeing along his nerve endings.
Then came the stab in the chest—with a dagger carved of loneliness, anger, and fear. And dammit, it hurt.
Jazz whimpered, startled at the sound coming from between his lips.
A knock on the door made him jump a foot. No magic required. Lysandra’s voice said, “Jazz, breakfast’s ready.”
He leaped off the bed like somebody had set his tail on fire. It only took him ten minutes to run under the shower and call himself clean, throw on some clothes, and arrive at Lysandra’s table looking expectant. “Morning.”
She dragged her gaze up from a pile of papers and files stacked beside her plate, which in turn was stacked with scrambled eggs. “Good morning, Jazz. Your breakfast is on the sideboard.” She pointed to a credenza where a plate of scrambled eggs with piles of bacon was sitting on top of a warming tray.
He grabbed the plate and carried it back to the empty place opposite Lysandra.
For a minute, he chewed bacon while she sorted through her papers, but his stomach kept clenching as waves of fear washed over him. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Ms. Mason, is Dash okay?”
She looked up steely-eyed. “As far as I know. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. Did he want to tell Lysandra Mason that he and Dash had a connection? “I guess sleeping in his bed made me think about him. I’ll bet Arcantaria’s amazing, but I think of Dash being with you and imagine he’s probably kind of lonely.” He took a big bite of bacon to cover his discomfort. Can she tell I’m only giving half-truths?
Her gaze stayed level for a second, then moved back to her papers. “No more than any boy at boarding school or college, I expect.”
“Maybe not.” He kept trying to consume bacon. It was damned good, even if his stomach was upset.
For a few minutes, there was silence as Lysandra thumbed through her papers, then she said, “But chances are good you’ll be seeing Dash soon, and then you can determine how he’s doing for yourself.”
“That’ll be good.”
She cocked her head. “You don’t want to go to Arcantaria only to see Dash, do you, Jazz?”
He shook his head.
“Good. That would be bad motivation. Arcantaria’s hard work. You have to want to make the effort for yourself.”
Did he want it for himself? “Yes, I think I’m ready to give this mage business a try.” He grinned, and she smiled back.
Then she shrugged and looked at her papers again. “And besides, you never know how summer romances are going to fare once winter sets in.”
The bacon slice he held by his mouth fell back to the plate. What the crap does she mean by that? What does she know? Jazz forced himself not to react. He picked up his coffee cup and drank, realized it was still black, and tried to swallow without spitting it back into his cup. Carefully he set down the coffee, added a gallon of cream and a packet of sugar, then took another sip. Be cool. Sound casual. “Have you seen Dash recently?”
“Um-hum.” She didn’t look up.
Don’t say anything. Keep quiet.
A full minute later, she said absent-mindedly, “I was visiting Arcantaria on other business and saw Dash briefly. He seemed fine. Not making many friends, I gather, but otherwise okay. His instructors speak highly of his skills of course.” She looked up, gave him a brief smile then returned to work.
Jazz’s mind careened off several facts. No friends. That helped explain the loneliness Jazz felt. But mostly the words lighting up his brain were “I was visiting Arcantaria.” He’d asked if she’d seen him recently. Recently. Did that mean Arcantaria wasn’t in the Himalayas?
Don’t blow a brain cell, idiot. She can probably teleport herself anywhere in the world in an eyelash blink. But she didn’t seem to do that much, if she could.
Her phone rang, and his breath stopped. For a few minutes, he’d forgotten why he was sitting at this breakfast table in Lysandra’s house. Now it came rushing back. Arcantaria. Was he going to be accepted?
Lysandra delivered a smile in his direction and answered her phone, still smiling. “Hello, Jamel. Do you have news for me?”
Gradually, her smile faded, then morphed into a frown and then a scowl. “This is outrageous. I can’t believe they’ve taken this obscene point of view.” She took a breath. “You told them I expected an approval of my nominee to Arcantaria?” She listened. “I see. This won’t be forgotten. Ever.” She hung up.
Jazz was already gathering himself and standing. “They refused me.” No question there.
“Yes. They insist that while you may have substantial powers of magic, your loyalty will always lie with the wolves, and you can’t be trusted with the secrets of Arcantaria.” She said those things angrily, but she seemed distracted and… something else. He couldn’t quite place what.
He didn’t even bother to reply. His chest hurt. Anger? Sadness? Resentment? Take your fucking pick.
She dragged her eyes from staring into the distance and looked at him. “I’m truly sorry, Jazz. I’ll go to the mat on this, and their attitudes may change when they realize how thoroughly pissed I am.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“No need, Ms. Mason. I appreciate all you’ve done to try to get me in.” He turned toward her. “And there was that matter of saving my life. If you hadn’t weakened Nardo, I never could have taken him out.”
“I think we’re more than even on that score.” She smiled tightly. “What will you do, Jazz? Go back to Yale?”
“Probably.” He walked to the door of the dining room. “Thanks again.”
He strode into the hall, then went back to Dash’s bedroom to get the light jacket he’d brought with him. For a second, he stood with his hand on the bed, already made up by some invisible person. Dash’s hurt and anger were buried under Jazz’s own disappointment and fear, but they were still there, steaming. I’ve got to do something. I can’t just go to Yale and forget it!
Almost crying in frustration, he headed out of the bedroom and found the double doors to Lysandra’s room partly open. Inside, he could hear someone humming and moving around, maybe cleaning. He glanced through the space in the doorway and saw a pretty little table with a beautiful crystal statue of some kind sitting on it. It might be that Chinese goddess named Kwan Yin. He stepped closer because the figure glowed like it was lighted and—he cocked his head—around the neck of the statue were some beads, like a child’s necklace or bracelet. Funny. He never thought of the powerful, hard-driving Lysandra as very child oriented. Wonder whose it is?
The maid’s humming got closer, and he stumbled away, feeling like he was dragging himself through every step. As he approached the front door, he came face-to-face with Berengaria. She must have heard Lysandra’s call, because she gave Jazz a sneering smile. “Good luck at Yale.” Never had the name of the college been such a four-letter word.
Jazz ignored her, but as he left the apartment, his belly gripped, and pain stabbed him in the chest. Something’s wrong, and it’s way more serious than not making any friends.
As the elevator glided to the ground floor, Jazz leaned against the wall and—wait. That expression he’d seen on Lysandra’s face. He knew what it was. Fear.
Second that motion.
Chapter Ten
DASH SLEEPWALKED through his classes and then made it back to his room without hitting anyone or breaking down and crying in the hall. Stupid how emotional he felt.
Inside the room, he pressed his back against the wall and slid to sitting.
Gods, he wasn’t normally an emotional guy. Usually the opposite. But he felt like he’d lost
so much to come to Arcantaria. Given up so much to be there. And he couldn’t find what he was getting in return. Weirdly the classes were fine, but not gripping and amazing like he’d expected. Maybe joining the Olympus Club would have given him what he’d wanted from Arcantaria since he was a kid, but that was gone now, and missing Jazz lived like a hole full of pain in his chest.
Can I leave? Surely not every student who came to Arcantaria made the grade. There must be some provision for washouts. Maybe they blanked your memory like an episode of Men in Black.
He dropped his head on his knees. If they wanted him out, who was he to disagree? Of course, if he left, Lysandra might demand that he live without magic. The thought made him slightly nauseated, but the fact was he was living without magic anyway. Not abracadabra magic, but the kind of magic that made life worth living.
With an inhale, he raised his head then stood. No time like the freaking present.
He opened his door and ran out, not even locking it behind him. Who cared? He trotted down the steps so fast he practically pitched forward on his face but managed to keep his feet.
Just before the bottom of the stairs, a guy started up. He looked up at Dash. It was the asshole who’d bumped Dash and called him entitled. I’ll show you entitled. Dash flicked his fingers, and the man’s foot slid out from under him and he fell backward on his ass. Not hurt, just embarrassed. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
Dash ran down the center hall to the administrative offices and knocked on the door.
“Come in.” It was a woman’s voice.
Dash opened the door and stepped inside. The woman he called Ruby Red sat behind a desk behind a partition wall. She looked up. “Yes?”
“Is the chancellor here?”
“No.” Her expression never changed.
“Who should I talk to if I want to quit?”
That got a response. “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows met her dark bangs.
“If I want to resign from Arcantaria, who do I talk to?”
“You wouldn’t be so foolish.” She frowned at him.
“Oh? Watch me.” He got closer to her desk. “May I trouble you for a piece of paper?”
She actually looked worried. “Honestly, you don’t want to do it.”
He peered around her pristine desk. She grabbed the one notepad in sight and shoved it in her desk drawer. He flashed her a disgruntled look and kept searching the office. As he turned, he spied a small pad of paper and a cup full of pens sitting beside a guest chair outside the chancellor’s office. Probably for writing I will not be a naughty mage one hundred times while waiting to see the great man.
Screw that. Dash grabbed the pad and a pencil, purposefully inscribed I hereby resign my position as a student of Arcantaria, signed Dashiell Mercury with a flourish, and slid it under the presumably locked door of the chancellor’s office.
When he turned, Ruby Red stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted crimson lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh, why? They obviously don’t want me here.” He could sense the hardness in his own eyes, but she looked almost frightened.
“They, uh, I think they have—” She glanced around furtively as if looking for eavesdroppers. “—plans.”
He shrugged. “Yes, well, I thought so too, but apparently not, aside from undermining every association I make.” He gave her half a smile. “Thanks for being concerned. If they turn me into a hedgehog, you can say I told you so.” Of course, they wouldn’t turn him into any small, adorable creatures. They’d turn him into a powerless human.
With a shudder, he left the chancellor’s office.
Carla’s human and so’s BeBop. They’re pretty amazing.
Trying to feel buoyed—hell, he’d made a decision—he plodded up the stairs to pack. He felt like crap, but the weight on him was simple, right? He wasn’t used to failing. Of course he’d failed at defeating Nardo, but so had Lys. Yeah, it took a werewolf to wipe out that asshole.
Just the thought made Dash smile. Definite upside to leaving. He’d get to see Jazz and maybe finally be boyfriends. Even if he had to enroll at Yale, he’d be willing just to be with his cute wolf.
Dash stopped, midstep. Of course, his boyfriend would have more power than Dash did or at least more than Dash was allowed to exercise, but that’d be okay, right? Can I take not being the teacher? Can I call my boyfriend to save me if I’m in trouble?
His stomach flipped. Maybe the future didn’t look quite as bright as he’d thought.
With a sigh he reached for his keys, remembered he hadn’t locked the door, grabbed the handle, and pushed.
Well crap!
Lounging on Dash’s small bed, as relaxed as if he were on a beach on the Riviera, sat Professor Hillebrand, longish red hair draped onto the bedcover.
“Uh, hello.” Dash tried to keep his face neutral but probably failed miserably.
“Hey, Dash. Thanks for the short rest. First time I’ve sat down all day.” He laughed as he sat up into a more formal position. “So, ready to get started?”
“Started?”
“Right. Our orientation meeting’s in an hour. Ready to boogie?” He stood and stretched. Like Dash, Hillebrand dressed somewhat informally, and the gap between his sweater and pants revealed a few inches of toned skin.
“Orientation meeting?”
He spread his hands in a pantomime of duh. “The Olympus Club. Right? Isn’t that what you applied to join?”
“Well, yes. But I thought you….” He trailed off, visions of his resignation from Arcantaria searing his brain.
“Thought I…?” He grinned.
“Well, to be honest, I thought you didn’t want me.”
He gave a loud snort. “Dash, I thought I made our interest clear. It was only your hesitation that was in question. Then when you applied, our course was set.”
“But when you walked away with Kitty and Anastasia, I thought…?” He took a breath. “Never mind.”
“All right, then. Want to get a cup of coffee before the meeting?”
“Uh, if you don’t mind, I have one thing to do before I’m free for the night. Can I meet you in the dining hall?”
“Sure. But be sure to meet me there because the location of the meeting’s secret, so I have to take you.”
“Oh, okay.” If Dash didn’t get that resignation back, he’d be kicked out of school before the meeting.
Hillebrand strode to the door. “See you in a few.” He was gone.
Dash peeked out the door to be sure the professor was off the stairs before he ran down them. The chancellor hadn’t been there earlier. Maybe he’d luck out and the mage would still be gone. Ruby Red seemed kind of sympathetic to Dash’s cause, so she might let him retrieve his note. He could convince her that she’d talked him out of it.
At the bottom of the stairs, he slowed his steps so as not to be totally conspicuous. He marched purposefully toward the hall of administration. As he approached the chancellor’s office, he heard voices. Maybe someone was talking to Ruby Red? Sadly, he didn’t hear a woman’s voice. More like two men.
He slowed and approached stealthily without looking like he was sneaking, in case someone saw him. He bit the inside of his lip. The voices were probably the chancellor telling some guard to go get Dash and throw him out.
Dash edged closer to the door.
A deep voice said, “Our guy’s still in there, correct?”
A lighter male voice, clearly subservient to the deep one, said, “Oh yes, he’s totally insinuated and highly trusted.” The man actually giggled.
Deep voice asked, “How’s this initiative proceeding?”
“Coming along.”
“What precisely does that mean?”
“The recruits will be trained and indoctrinated simultaneously.”
“That sounds time-consuming.”
“Sir, you wanted power. We’re attempting to get it for you. It’s not an overnight endeavor.”
“Haven’t
got forever.”
“If you’d prefer to try a different approach and save the initiative for a later time, we can take that tack.”
“I’ll consider it. Meanwhile continue. So what do you think about—” He kept speaking, but Dash froze. Footsteps coming up the hall. He glanced at his watch. Running out of time.
Flailing his arms, he leaped forward into the outer area of the chancellor’s office. The two men stood by the door to the inner office where the chancellor would normally sit, and the door was open, thank the gods. Interestingly, neither man was the chancellor, although one was the vice chancellor.
As Dash sprang into the space, they both gasped in shock.
Dash went for an advanced degree in overacting. “Oh thank gods there’s someone here!” He pressed his hand against his chest. “I came in earlier to see the chancellor and dropped this essential paper and….” He glanced down and saw the paper still lying on the floor where he’d shoved it earlier. Like a cat with a bird, he dropped to his knees, pounced on the paper, and crumpled it into his pocket. “I found it. Oh man, that was close.” Bouncing to his feet, he wiped a hand broadly over his forehead, as the two men, the short, stout, dark vice chancellor with bushy eyebrows, Mr. Warden, and a tall, reedy-looking dude Dash didn’t recognize, stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
Dash smiled huge, flashing every dimple. “Sorry if I startled you. When I realized the paper was gone, I just freaked. So excuse me. I’ll get out of your way.”
“A moment, please.” Warden frowned at Dash, who tried to keep looking happy-go-lucky and innocent—very, very innocent.
“Yes?” Just keep grinning.
“Who are you exactly?”
He couldn’t lie to the vice chancellor who had access to every school record. “I’m Dash Mercury, sir. So pleased to meet you.” He thrust out his hand. Suspiciously, the vice chancellor shook it. Dash blabbed on. “I’m sorry to have to run off, but I’m afraid I’m going to be late for my orientation to my, uh, club. I can’t be late or I won’t get in, and that would be just awful, so I really have to go and—”
