Rising Magic

by Tara Lain

  Anastasia said, “What an unpleasant person.”

  “Yeah. He insulted me pretty thoroughly on the stairs a few days ago. If the club voted on new members, I’m pretty sure he must have been an emphatic no on me.”

  “We need to keep an eye on him.”

  Dash glanced at Anastasia. He wanted to ask why but figured he should lay low until he spent some time with Anastasia and Kitty and determined where they stood.

  There was a loud pop. Dash looked toward the center of the group on the other side of the fire and saw Professor Hillebrand had manifested a bottle of champagne. With a flourish of his hand, he produced another. Then he grinned and pulled a bottle of sparkling cider from the air. “This is for our members too young to drink.” He lifted the bottle, then brought it down in a bow toward Dash. Everyone laughed. Well, everyone except Childers Gerd.

  After they all had toasted, many making a point of remarking on Dash’s age, Professor Hillebrand said, “May I see our new members separately, please. I want to give you your advanced study options.”

  Anastasia noticeably brightened and clasped her hands together. Kitty looked excited too. Dash got it. Hell, he’d give a lot to be able to pull objects out of thin air. It wasn’t an everyday skill. Few wizards had the power. Of course Dash could manifest energy and power waves, which was arguably more important. That was how he’d held his own against Nardo—for a while. But Hillebrand could do that too. He showed that power when they’d battled on the obstacle course. Again, not all mages had that skill, but perhaps the ability to conjure power and energy was a precursor to manifesting actual dimensional objects. That would be freaking cool.

  Hillebrand walked over to a side space of the cave—the Matrix cave. Dash didn’t believe it was a real cave for a minute. But he followed with the others, a little excited about what he could learn.

  As the five gathered, Dash looked more closely at the two he didn’t know. The older man, probably forty or so, had a receding hairline and deep brown eyes that read as icy and unforgiving. He didn’t blink a lot.

  Dash extended his hand. “Dash Mercury.”

  “Marshall Anders.”

  Dash looked at the woman. She grinned at him quite flirtatiously. She was probably in her early- to midtwenties, her long brown hair lying over her shoulders and those transparent eyes quite mesmerizing, if a little freaky up close. She stuck out her hand enthusiastically. “Mabel James.” She shook Anastasia’s and Kitty’s hands next, but she never stopped smiling at Dash.

  Hillebrand said, “All right, now that you’ve met each other, let’s get to work. Here are lists of special classes designed for each of you.” He gave them a typed sheet of paper. Everyone started reading the second they got it. Hillebrand said, “Wait. You’ll have plenty of time to review your classes. We’ve tried to integrate these advanced opportunities into each of your existing schedules. If there’s any issue, please speak to me directly. And you’ll have a chance to do that tomorrow morning at 6:00 a.m. when we begin our special training class on the obstacle course. Please dress in comfortable, sturdy clothes, and don’t be late. If you need time to discuss your schedule, come a few minutes early.”

  Kitty said it. “Special training?”

  “Yes. When we’re finished with you, you’ll all be wearing green berets.” He laughed. “You’ll have a few classes with just the five of you and then be merged into the larger group.”

  Kitty frowned. “Sir, I don’t want to participate in violence.”

  Dash happened to be watching Hillebrand rather than Kitty and saw the slight crease pop between his brows, then instantly vanish. Hillebrand tossed his red hair and flashed a lot of teeth. “Of course not, Kitty, but as a mage, you must know how to defend yourself and your community. Without that inherent skill, you’re merely a dabbler.”

  “Sir, meaning no disrespect, but I want to be an herbalist. The most defensive action I expect to take is to mix a potion that makes someone vomit.” She tittered.

  “Yes, yes, I understand. And if you look at your schedule—”

  “You told me not to.” Kitty was all naïveté, and Dash had to wonder if it was as genuine as it seemed. She was a good person, not a dumb one.

  Hillebrand seemed to accept her ingenuousness. “Yes, to save time. But look at it now, okay. All of you, look at your schedules.”

  Dash turned his eyes down to his paper but glanced up at the others to gauge reactions. All of them looked pretty pleased, except maybe Anders, who wasn’t one to be happy about much. Kitty was clearly thrilled. “Oh, this is wonderful. Exactly what I’d want if I could pick from every class I can imagine.”

  “Well, there you go.” Hillebrand gave her a fatherly smile even though he was probably only a little older than she was. “So you see. Our special training is merely part of the curriculum.” He stepped back. “Now get some rest because from here on, your days will be action-packed. Congratulations to you all.” He walked away.

  Mabel squealed. “I’m so excited. Look at all this transmutation.” She held out her schedule to Kitty, then seemed to make some kind of silent decision and sidled over to Dash. “Can I see your schedule?”

  Dash smiled. “No offense, but I haven’t really looked at it yet. I need to think about it before I share.”

  “Oh sure, I understand.” Her bottom lip stuck out a little, and she sort of twisted, pressing her breasts together. Simpering. No other description. What the hell was she playing at?

  She sauntered away, and Marshall Anders caught up to her. “I’ll show you my schedule.”

  When they were out of earshot, Anastasia smiled. “So you got exactly the classes you want, Kitty?”

  Kitty smiled brightly and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Yes. It’s a wonderful schedule.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Does anyone else think this club is positively fishy?”

  Chapter Twelve

  JAZZ SAT cross-legged on the couch with Fatima on one side, Dij on the other, and BeBop on the floor in front of them. They all stared at the computer where Carla was holding forth. “Oh my God you guys, I miss you so freaking much. I mean, after I saw you the other day and I came back here and I just can’t, you know? I mean, I feel so alone.”

  Jazz nodded. “We miss you too, and we need your advice—”

  “No, wait.” Carla’s image frowned at them. “I want this taken seriously. I can’t get over what we talked about. All of you have options. I’m stuck being a regular human.” She dropped her face in her hands, looking sadder than she hardly ever did. “I should just quit the society.”

  Jazz shook his head. “Come on, fam, don’t be that way. Hell, we wouldn’t have a society without you.”

  She sighed. “It limits you to have to include me. I mean, you guys could have already decided whatever you need to decide, but you had to wait for me to get out of class. It was one thing when Jazz was at Yale, but it seems like you’re not really committed to school.”

  Jazz frowned. Is that true? Was he quitting college in exchange for who knew what? Not like he got carte blanche to wizard school. He looked up. “I’ve got to tell you all something.”

  They all looked at him.

  “When I left here the other day, I didn’t go back to Yale.”

  Dij asked, “Where did you go? Home?”

  Jazz shook his head. “Home first. Then I went to Lysandra Mason’s apartment.”

  Carla pitched back in the chair she was sitting in. “Whoa.”

  Jazz looked at her, then glanced away. “I never told anybody at the time, but the night Dash left for superwizard school, Lysandra offered to nominate me to go too.”

  “Holy crap.” Carla looked at him accusingly.

  “I never told you because I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay with you and my family, and I guess I wasn’t ready to talk about it or anything.”

  Khadija said, “That was a sacrifice. Imagine what you could have learned.”

  Jazz nodded. “But
when Master Bopherson wouldn’t tell us how to get to Arcantaria—”

  BeBop said, “You decided to go there yourself to find him.”

  Jazz nodded. “But they wouldn’t let me in.”

  Carla scowled. “What the hell? Lysandra Mason said you could go.”

  “Yes, and she was really pissed that they wouldn’t take me, but they insist I’m too much of a werewolf and they can’t trust me with the secrets of magery. I guess one member of the council held firm and wouldn’t agree, so I’m out.”

  “That’s total bull!”

  Jazz smiled. Carla might be angry he didn’t tell her, but she’d defend him against anybody in the world. “So that’s why I’m still in New York. I was waiting to hear if I was accepted to Arcantaria. And the totally crap part is Pop-Pop thinks this could be the time for me to go to Arcantaria. But obviously it’s not.” He wiped a hand over his shaggy hair.

  Fatima said, “What about Dash?”

  Jazz sighed. “Earlier, I was feeling like he was super angry and lonely. Desperate even.” He checked in on his chest and gut. “Weirdly, it’s changed. All that’s gotten more—I don’t know, remote. But it’s still there, like floating under the surface.”

  “Oh great.” Carla threw her hands in the air. “Dash’s in trouble, and we’re all stuck here with zero idea where he is or how to get to him.”

  “Not necessarily.” BeBop grinned and wrapped his arms around his knees.

  Carla said it for all of them. “BeBop, what are you up to?”

  BeBop rolled up onto his knees. “First, baby boos, we need to solve a big problem for Carla and Jazz. I have the perfect suggestion. Carla, baby, you may need to be in college in order to transform the world, but nobody says you have to be in Harvard.”

  Jazz snorted. “Only a full scholarship and the highest score on the SATs in seven generations or something.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve heard they appreciate high exam scores at other colleges.”

  Jazz blurted, “But—”

  “Like NYU.”

  For a second, there was silence.

  Fatima said, “BeBop, are you suggesting that Carla transfer to NYU?”

  “Yep. And Jazz too. Then we’d all be together in the same city, the whole Superordinary Society.”

  Jazz frowned. “Not all of us. Dash won’t be here.”

  “Well….” BeBop pressed a finger into one of his dimples and rotated it. “I’ve got an idea he might be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  BeBop’s cutesy act went away, and he started telling them about an amazing experience he’d had that morning. He concluded saying, “And it seems to me that mystery location, that building I saw superimposed over the NYU math department, could be—”

  Fatima whispered the word, “Arcantaria.”

  Frowning intently, Carla said, “Why do you think this wasn’t some kind of hallucination, BeBop? Come on, you’re human, not a supe. You don’t see visions. Uh, do you?”

  “No, not normally, but I’ve got to tell you, I tested this apparition a lot of ways. No matter how I looked at it, I still saw another building superimposed over NYU. Finally it faded and was gone.”

  “What happened then?” Carla was wide-eyed.

  “I had to run to the class I was teaching.”

  “What about when you came out later?”

  BeBop made a face. “Nothing. Nada. Not a ripple.”

  Another silence as they all looked at each other.

  Carla sighed. “Hate to say it, Bopster, but I think you had too much coffee.”

  Khadija spoke softly as always. “Perhaps not.”

  They all looked at her.

  She smiled. “Not about the coffee, but my sisters are aware that there are things in the city that are not as they appear. I cannot speak about this building specifically, but it is possible.”

  Carla leaned in so her face filled the whole screen. “How do we find out?”

  Dij said, “Fatima and I can query our sisters, but be prepared. They may not know.”

  “And they may not tell us.” Fatima cast a meaningful glance at Khadija. “We’re considered quite rebellious and, therefore, not reliable.”

  BeBop said, “We can launch an expedition—”

  Jazz held up a hand. “Hang on. Before we take on the mysteries of the city, I want to go back to BeBop’s suggestion that you and I transfer, Carla. I gotta tell you, I think the idea’s lit. I mean, you and I keep complaining about how we don’t fit into our schools or with our classmates. So if we transfer, we can fit in with each other.” He looked at BeBop. “You think they’ll take us?”

  “No cap, man. The daughter of the governor and the son of the Vanessens, both with great grades and scores? Even crass New Yorkers gotta be im-pressed.”

  Dij said softly, “Gentlemen, perhaps we should be sure that Carla actually wants to forsake her position at Harvard. It would be giving up a lot.”

  BeBop tucked his thumbs in his armpits grandiosely. “Hey, she’d get to hang with us, and that’s worth more than any old scholarship.” Then he snorted. “Sorry, Carls, didn’t mean to railroad you.”

  Carla looked thoughtful, signifying she was actually weighing it, which was good—and unusual. “My folks were pretty excited when I got into Harvard, but they also know I’m not totally ecstatic. They love Jazz, so if they know I’m going to get to hang with him and my crew, I think they’ll be happy.”

  Fatima smiled softly. “I might mention that there’s another apartment on this floor that’s unoccupied. You’d have to live next door to the new neighbor who is admittedly suspicious, and of course you’d have to walk up five flights, but—”

  Carla actually gasped. “Are you saying we’d all get to live together?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Fatima’s dimples sunk into those nearly perfect cheeks, and her brilliant eyes sparkled.

  Carla disappeared from the screen, and her kicking feet took the place of her head.

  BeBop looked around. “Whaddya say? Shall we take that as a yes?”

  Carla popped back up. “Are you really going through with this, Jazz? Don’t leave me hanging. As soon as we sign off, I’m going to call my folks.”

  Jazz nodded. “So am I.”

  “Okay, but promise you won’t go looking for any spooky mystery buildings until I get there.”

  Jazz shook his head. “Can’t promise that, fam. But we won’t make any decisions until you can make them with us, okay?”

  She looked only partly satisfied with that answer. “So you’re just going to hang there? Don’t you have to go back to school?”

  Jazz let out a breath. “Yeah, I do. I’ll need to talk to the transfer office and get my stuff. Of course, that’s assuming I can even get into NYU after the semester’s started.”

  Khadija said, “This may be one time when you want to apply liberal use of your last name.” She said it with a straight face and, when Jazz gawked at her, started to laugh.

  They all joined in. Jazz nodded. “Yep, all’s fair in love and the Superordinary Society. I’m calling Pop-Pop right now.”

  Carla waved a hand. “I’ll call the gov. Talk back at you in a bit.” The screen went dark.

  BeBop looked up from his phone at Jazz. “BTW, baby, research suggests that there’s more than one building on the NYU campus funded by the Vanessen family.”

  Jazz grinned. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if one of the buildings we pay for is… Arcantaria?”

  “GOOD MORNING, new members. Welcome to special training.”

  Hillebrand looked bright and energetic while the five new recruits stood in a huddle, all sleepy and in need of caffeine. Somebody had set the temp on the obstacle course to freeze-your-nuts-off, but all the usual surprises of the various programs had been turned off—at least, for that moment.

  Dash, Anastasia, and Kitty had stayed awake until too late in quiet discussion over what could be up in the Olympus Club. The fact that Kitty, least suspicious of
the world’s wielders of magic, thought the club was as off as last week’s fish made Anastasia nervous and Dash more nervous. But finally they’d agreed that the only way forward was through. If they wanted to know what was really going on, they had to participate.

  So here they were, participating.

  Hillebrand said, “We’ll begin our training with an assessment. You’ll work as a team, making your own strategic decisions, and we’ll observe your approach. In following lessons, you’ll receive direction and instruction. Ready?”

  Mabel James nodded enthusiastically.

  “All right.” Hillebrand waved his arms and the background of the obstacle course changed from an outdoor scene of trees, rocks, and dirt paths to something resembling a jail cell or interrogation chamber. Around them rose unrelieved gray metal walls and floors.

  Whoa.

  Mabel said, “Oh dear, where are we?”

  “As the image suggests, you’re in a facility where they hold people. Here are the facts of your situation. Inside this facility, a hostage is being held. He’s an inspirational leader the world cannot do without, and yet he’s being held by villains against his will and against your convictions.” He flicked his hand, and an avatar of a tall dark-haired man with a bland, nondescript face sat in a cell, held by an energy field as well as bars.

  Something about the vision made Dash shudder.

  “Now all of you are outside the walls of this facility.” He waved his arms, and the five of them were standing back in the forest outside high walls. “It’s your job to get in and free the hostage using the skills you possess. Go!” With a snap of his fingers, he disappeared.

  They all gasped—-even Dash. Oh yeah, he’d give a lot to be able to do that.

  Okay, focus. Dash stared at the wall, his eyes following the seam of the gate and the view of what appeared to be a gun tower on either side of the entrance. First order of business, get out of view of those. He crouched and ran to the wall. Likely, the people behind the guns couldn’t see anyone that close.