Rising Magic

by Tara Lain

Dash said out loud, “Watch the back.” He stepped into the path of the three between them and the exit door and slammed a wave of power, barely pulling his energic punch. The three fell, and Dash yelled, “Let’s go!”

  Turning, he waited until the other four allies were back to him. One of the adversaries came around the corner. Dash smashed energy toward the guy, handed the dummy to Kitty, and shoved her toward the exit as Dash turned to fire at the women tearing around the corner toward them from behind.

  A scream sounded over his shoulder. Dash flashed a bolt toward the female mage, who toppled, and then whirled and raced toward the others. He rounded the corner—and stopped.

  Kitty backed toward Dash, clutching the dummy to her chest. Dash wanted to laugh again, but hell, these Olympus dudes had made this a for-real test. Case in point, the mage standing in the door, hands raised in battle, was Professor Hillebrand.

  Screw you, asshole. Dash stepped in front of Kitty and forced himself to grin at the professor. “Feeling lucky, huh?”

  Hillebrand grinned back.

  Dash said over his shoulder, “Make sure those dudes back there don’t get up.”

  Anastasia obviously put on her most badass voice. “Got it, boss.”

  Without turning fully around to Hillebrand, Dash fired off a big blast, and the gasp that came from the professor said he wasn’t ready. Dash had at least done a little damage.

  Not letting up, Dash flashed one hand and then the other, but Hillebrand was ready for him this time and blocked both bolts. Instantly, after the second one, Hillebrand shot out at Dash who didn’t move quite fast enough and got a rip along the sleeve of his long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Dash grabbed his arm, pretending to be hurt, and then fired back at Hillebrand under his arm. The shot caught Hillebrand on the thigh, and his slight grimace revealed a strike. Yes! Dash fired again and again. One hit, one miss.

  Dash smiled but it faded as a big wall of power swept toward him like an undulating wave, actually visible to the eye—or at least to his eye. He needed to get out of the way, but the wave was so huge—stretching to the wall on both sides of the hall—and moving fast enough that stepping back wasn’t going to do it. The shudder that ran up Dash’s back reminded him how much this moment was an echo of Dash’s battle with Nardo. The one that nearly killed him. And it said that this might be a stupid test to get into a stupid club, but Hillebrand was playing for keeps.

  As the energy wave singed the toe of Dash’s tennis shoe and he sucked wind, realizing this wave was hot, some fundamental instinct kicked in, and he dropped flat on the floor. Holy crap, the wave washed over him, seriously warming his butt.

  Hillebrand the asshole had felt no compunction about using fire against one of his students. Power rolled out of Dash on a righteous wave.

  Hillebrand’s eyes widened, and he raced to the side. Dash screamed “Now!” He stepped back, grabbed Kitty who was watching behind him, and ran full speed for the door with Kitty and the dummy in tow.

  The brilliance of the pretend sun hit him like a laser, but he kept running, no idea if the footsteps he heard behind him were from Anastasia, Mabel, and Anders or if they were Hillebrand and company.

  Dash got back into the faux forest and slowed. No one had told them how they’d “win” or where they had to take the “hostage” when they got him out. He glanced back at Kitty, who looked tired but still held the dummy.

  Dash stopped, grabbed the dummy, and held it up at arm’s length. “We declare victory.”

  At that second, Anastasia and Mabel ran up.

  Dash said, “Where’s Anders?”

  Mabel said, “He got caught. He tripped, and they grabbed him.”

  Kitty wrapped an arm around Anastasia’s waist and yelled, “Ollie ollie oxen free.”

  Dash laughed, and the three women joined in. They kept laughing harder until they were holding on to each other to keep from falling over.

  As Dash wiped his eyes, the image of the obstacle course vanished, and they could see they were standing in a room with metal walls and a stone floor. A phalanx of mages walked out of a door in the side wall with the vice chancellor at the front. He was flashing that big phony smile. “Well done, well done. Congratulations! What a victory.”

  Behind him slouched Hillebrand. He sported his usual smirk, but there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he was royally pissed.

  Vice Chancellor Warden went on, “Of course, our team was just a tiny bit easy on you this time in deference to your freshman status, but that shouldn’t diminish your victory at all. We’re very proud.”

  Dash held up his hand. “Excuse me, sir. Your little game here sent eight of your seasoned practitioners, including the head of your conjuring department, against us and even used firepower, and I mean that literally. You might call that easy, but just short of actually sending us against a master wizard in actual combat, I wouldn’t call that a lightweight test.” He showed his dimples but didn’t warm up his eyes. “Meaning no disrespect.” He glanced quickly at Hillebrand. Yep, pissed. But is he pissed enough to toss me out of the club?

  “Yes, well, as I say, congratulations.” Warden flashed the pearlies. “You’ve missed lunch in the dining hall, but we’ve catered an excellent repast for you in the club room, so why don’t you all go change and meet us there shortly.”

  Anastasia said, “Sir, where is the club room?”

  He laughed heartily. “Oh yes, I forget you’re newbies. Simply go to the dining hall and you’ll be directed from there.” He turned and led the group of mages away. One of them, the obnoxious guy named Childers Gerd, looked back and stared daggers at Dash. Hillebrand strode over to Gerd’s side and put an arm around his shoulders.

  Kitty whispered, “Wow, that guy really doesn’t like you, does he? If looks could kill.”

  “Yeah.” The question was, how literally should he take that statement?

  Dash reached out to Mabel and shook her hand. “Great job. Your transfiguration was spectacular.” Mabel grinned, and it was genuine that time. Dash smiled at Kitty and Anastasia. “You were both brilliant.” He raised his eyes to Anders, who was frowning, arms crossed, standing apart. “Good job, Anders.”

  The creases between his brows got deeper. “They captured me.”

  Kitty spoke with conviction. “That’s because you were protecting the rear of the column. No shame in that.”

  Okay, if Kitty could be that generous, Dash could try. He nodded affirmation.

  Anders brightened a little.

  Anastasia said, “We better go get dressed.” She glanced around and leaned in to whisper, “I think we surprised them. Good job, team.”

  Dash gave her a thumbs-up, then trotted to the locker room door. The women had their own, but Dash held the door for Anders, who crossed inside. They hadn’t left any clothes there, so they walked across to the exit from the hall. As they got to it, Anders put a hand on Dash’s arm to stop him and then yanked it back.

  “Just wanted to say, I’m sorry I was a holdup to the team. I’m not the first one to embrace change or new ideas. It’s a failing.”

  Well, damn. “I appreciate that self-reflection. I can be too much the other way, so balance is good.” He wanted to say, “Although not when you’re running from the enemy,” but he bit his tongue and got a smile from Anders.

  They went up the stairs together, not altogether comfortable, but not terrible.

  Making small talk, Anders said, “I wonder what they’ll serve for lunch?”

  “I hope there’s a lot of it. I’m starved.”

  “You kids, always hungry.” He laughed. “So what do you think of the club?”

  Danger, Will Robinson. “Oh, it’s great. What an opportunity.” He glanced at Anders and got a hint of what he was scared of. A look of too much interest. Dash tried to appear sincere. “What about you?”

  Anders shrugged. “It’s great, but it seems like it’s going to be a lot of work. I don’t pick things up like the rest of you.”


  “They must see potential in you. Don’t worry so much.”

  “I guess.” He pointed at a hall off the stairs. “This is my floor.”

  “See you at lunch.” Dash started trotting up the staircase to his room way above. A few steps later, he glanced back. Anders stood on his landing, watching Dash. When their eyes met, he waved and showed teeth, but those eyes stayed cold. Or maybe it was Dash’s imagination.

  After another couple of floors, Dash finally stepped into his room and stopped, staring into space. What’s going on? In his enthusiasm over having won their contest and passed the test, he’d pushed down the flat-out weirdness of it. Why the hell were they rescuing hostages? Who was this imaginary “great man”? Nobody could tell Dash that Hillebrand hadn’t been out of line using that much force on a student. Why? Had he just gotten angry and lost control, or did he really, really need to know how powerful Dash was? And if that was true, the question was why the hell did he need to know? Because Dash was his potential partner?

  Or his potential adversary?

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE KNIFE clinked against the water glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I congratulate our five newest members for their innovation and originality in passing their initial test. Well done. Very well done.” The speaker was Vice Chancellor Warden. “I know virtually everyone at this table knows how difficult it is to pass that test, so this accomplishment is not to be underplayed.”

  Polite applause rippled around the table, but a number of members stared at Dash and the rest of their newbie five pretty hard. The observers looked some combination of impressed, envious, or angry, and maybe, just maybe, a little scared.

  “Now I’d like to turn over the gavel to our great conjuring professor and the president of the Olympus Club, Professor Eustace Hillebrand.”

  Hillebrand stood and accepted the microphone from Warden. “Thank you, Vice Chancellor. How fortunate we are to have a mage of your caliber both at Arcantaria and as a sponsor of our little club.” He nodded toward Warden in a small bow. Laying it on thick, man. “I hope those of you who have heard these words before will forgive me, but I feel it’s important that we acknowledge any mages who choose to throw in their lot with the lofty goals of the Olympus Club.”

  He stared around the table intently. “By aligning your purpose with ours, you are dedicating your life to the protection and advancement of magery. This means we respect our history, but our passionate efforts are focused on molding the next generation of magery. We fold our bodies to shield the seeds that assure the flourishing of a greater future for all wizards and wizardry. It is our creed, it is our heart’s joy, it is our life goal.”

  Dash shuddered and felt Anastasia do the same. Sitting across from them, Kitty frowned. Her arm shot up.

  Dash gave her a little frown, but she either didn’t see it or ignored him.

  Hillebrand flashed a bland smile. “Yes, Kitty, our potions master extraordinaire. Excellent work in mixing the potion that caused the guard to collapse.” He extended his hands and clapped theatrically. Everyone joined in.

  Kitty smiled and nodded but looked a lot more interested in asking her question, so if Hillebrand planned to derail her, he failed. When the clapping stopped, she said, “Professor, can you describe the future? Tell us what this next generation of magery looks like, so we know to what we’re dedicating our lives.”

  “What an excellent question.” His cold blue eyes told a different story. “But I don’t want to hog the limelight. Why don’t we all tell Kitty what the brilliant future looks like?”

  One of the male mages jumped to his feet, uncomfortably reminiscent of certain fascist traditions. Ick. The guy barked, “A future in which the power of magery increases exponentially.”

  A woman leaped to her feet. “Reduced threat from the human population.”

  Another female said, “Increasing the resources of the mage community.”

  Three mages recited simultaneously, “Assumption by magery of its rightful place in the association of beings.”

  Hillebrand held up a hand. “Ah, well done, well done. So, Kitty, did that excellent recitation of values make it clear to you?”

  Kitty stared at Hillebrand and the mages who had recited like they’d lost their minds. Dash really wanted to stop her from saying more.

  Dash leaped to his feet and raised his glass of sparkling cider. “To the future of magery.”

  The whole group at the table, probably fifteen or eighteen people, raised their glasses. “The future of magery.”

  Kitty looked at Dash like maybe he’d also lost his mind. He smiled at her and tried to lower his brows enough to convey that she should quit talking. She seemed to get it and lifted her glass, then sipped.

  Dessert was served, a pumpkin cheesecake that was so good it could make a rock believe in magic, and everyone spoke to the people beside them. No more speeches.

  When lunch was over, everyone began dispersing. Dash fell in beside Anastasia and Kitty as they walked toward the door of the club room, which turned out to be at the back of the dining room in a hall that had been disguised with magic. To nonmembers it appeared to be a janitor’s closet. Once you were an accepted member of the club, the golden door of the Olympus Club became obvious to you. Pretty cool magic.

  As they got to the door, Kitty looked up at Dash accusingly. “How can you swallow that totalitarian nonsense? Did you hear that business about taking our rightful place in the association of beings? Bullshit! That’s only going to happen if we start using our power—”

  “Mr. Mercury.” The voice came from behind them, and Dash froze. How much of what Kitty said had been overheard? Dash turned and smiled a smile as phony as the one being flashed at him by Eustace Hillebrand.

  Dash murmured to Kitty and Anastasia. “You two go on, okay?”

  Kitty said, “Be careful.”

  “Thanks, Kitty. Same to you.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  She nodded.

  Dash hustled over to Hillebrand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Your friend is very, uh, heartfelt.”

  “Kitty? Oh yes, she is. A good woman and an amazing potioner.”

  “Yes, I observed.” He smiled. “She should be more careful that she’s not misunderstood. Some of our members are very literal. They may take her intellectual curiosity as contrary to their personal commitment.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “I’m sure you’ll speak to her.”

  “Yes, I will. Is that why you wanted to speak to me?”

  “No, actually.” His posture slouched a little. “I wanted to apologize for being so hard on you in the new members’ test.”

  Interesting. Dash gave a small shrug.

  “I do hope you understand, however, that it was a compliment to you and your talent. I saw that you needed a greater challenge and attempted to give it to you.”

  “Well, you certainly did.” He worked to keep his posture and expression open.

  Hillebrand gave him a level look. “Yes. So we’ll move forward and continue to challenge you appropriately.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He showed his teeth. “I’ll take that as a promise.” His smile faded slightly. “Not a threat.”

  Hillebrand raised his red eyebrows slightly but maintained his relaxed posture. “How about you meet me on the obstacle course tomorrow morning before your classes begin for some private instruction?”

  “That’s quite early, sir.”

  “I’m always one for catching worms and such.” He grinned.

  Dash nodded. I’ll just bet you are.

  “SIT HERE, Jazz. Dij and Fatima, stand back here.” BeBop held on to Jazz’s arm and pulled him over to the park bench.

  Jazz plopped down on the bench in the middle of Washington Square across from some of the NYU buildings—buildings he’d be going to college in thanks to Pop-Pop’s call to the president of the university. Unfair. Yes. But he didn’t care right then. The turmoil in his ch
est and belly kept changing, but it was still wonky. I need to see Dash.

  BeBop put his hands on his hips. “That’s as close to where and how I was sitting yesterday morning as I can remember.” He glanced around. “The weather and the light are similar. Maybe a little cloudier.” He walked around in front of them. “Hang. I’m going to get you coffee.”

  Fatima said, “I like tea, BeBop. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but I had coffee, so in case that had something to do with it, you better have some.” He took off running toward the coffee vendor near the sidewalk.

  Dij leaned down on the back of the bench behind Jazz. “How are you going to explain to Carla that we came here without her?”

  Jazz sighed. “We had to, Dij. It could be days before Carla can get to New York, and we can’t wait that long. She’ll understand. And I told her we wouldn’t make any decisions without her.”

  Fatima dimpled. “Good luck.”

  He side-eyed her. “Yeah.”

  “Oh look. BeBop needs help.” Fatima pointed toward the coffee vendor. “You hold the spot, Jazz. Come on, Dij.”

  The two girls trotted off, and Jazz gazed at the morning sun trying to push through clouds, then down at the NYU building where BeBop had seen the apparition he firmly believed was Arcantaria. Is that possible? Could Arcantaria be in New York? If it was, how did that work? Could two things occupy the same space at the same time? Arcantaria and NYU? Or was it that part of NYU was actually the magic academy? And if that was true, who knew about it? Hell, brain exploding.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up again. He saw New York University—period.

  A head of red hair caught his eyes. There were lots of students walking toward the college since it was time for morning classes, but this guy stood out. Partly because he was nice-looking and had that brightly colored mane, but also because—what? Something about the way he moved—sort of stealthy, observant, and hyperaware—sucked the attention, although nobody else seemed to notice the man.

  Jazz couldn’t stop watching him. BeBop, Dij, and Fatima were still maneuvering coffee. Jazz stood and, trying for casual but swift, strode toward the college. He could easily be a student on his way to class. He focused on an imaginary goal, letting his peripheral vision take in the redhead.