by Tara Lain
The guy leaned against a bike rack and scrolled through his phone, but his eyes shifted toward the students milling around. A clock chime sounded, and students began to run, clearing out the area in seconds.
Jazz stopped and turned half away from the guy, pretending to talk on his own phone. Still, Jazz’s werewolf sight picked the man up in the corner of his eye.
The man looked toward Jazz for a second, seemed to disregard him, glanced around, and then went through a door. One thing, though. The door hadn’t been there a second before.
Jazz’s breath caught, and his pulse quickened. The redheaded man had entered Arcantaria. He was as certain of it as the fact that BeBop and the girls were staring at him, holding coffee cups, from the other side of the park.
Jazz held up a finger toward his friends and then trotted to the spot where the guy had walked through the door. He stood as close to the spot as he could manage since half of it seemed to overlap a flowerbed. Extending his hand, he tried to feel the energy. Maybe a tingle. Not huge, but something was there. He stepped back, narrowed his eyes, and tried to see the space in soft focus. Okay, that doesn’t work. For the most part, the spot looked like anyplace on the map.
He turned and met the eyes of a short, stocky man staring at him from farther up the sidewalk. When Jazz caught him, the man looked away quickly and then paced in the direction he was facing. A woman met him a few yards away. The man seemed to raise his voice purposefully. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Then his volume dropped, and he said, “That kid with the shaggy hair might have seen something. He was at the door.”
The woman replied, “Maybe he caught sight of someone going through, but you know he’ll doubt his own eyes in no time. Don’t worry.”
“You’re probably right.”
Jazz started wandering across the park with his phone at his ear. Finally he got out of sight of the man and woman and broke into a run.
BeBop, Dij, and Fatima stared at him like he was nuts as he approached. BeBop extended a coffee cup. “Probably too late now since it’s past the time I saw the vision.”
Jazz said, “One of you look over the park to where I was standing.” They all started to turn their heads. “Just one!”
Khadija was closest to facing that way, so she looked casually across the park. “Yes, what am I looking for?”
“Is there a short, stocky man standing with a taller woman? She’s got on a suit.”
“Yes.”
“Look away.”
“What’s wrong, Jazz?” Fatima’s huge eyes got even bigger.
“Let’s walk as I talk. I don’t want them to get too good a look at us.” Jazz set out away from the park, sipping his latte.
A block later BeBop said, “Okay, Jazzster, what up?”
Jazz trekked to the edge of the sidewalk nearest the buildings, then turned to face them. “While you guys were getting the coffee, I noticed this dude who seemed kind of off. Sneaky. I felt like I needed to follow him, so I ran across the park, then pretended I was talking on my phone. The guy didn’t think I could see him—uh, I’ve got good peripheral vision. Anyway, he walked through a door and disappeared.”
“Yeah, so did you follow him?” BeBop was looking a little impatient with Jazz’s dramatics.
“No.” Jazz got a kick out of grinning at a frowning BeBop. “Because the door also disappeared.”
“What?”
“Yeah, what I’m saying is that a door appeared, the dude stepped through, and then they both disappeared.”
BeBop punched the air, getting looks from a couple of passersby. “I told you!”
“Yes, you did.”
Khadija spoke softly. “And you believe the man entered Arcantaria?”
Jazz nodded. “I do. I believe it more than because it’s logical. There’s a certainty—” He pressed against his chest. “—here. But then I went to check out the spot, and aside from a slight tingle, I couldn’t get any confirmation. No visions. No sudden portals opening into another world.”
Dij said, “But that man and woman saw you, correct?”
“Yeah. The man did. I looked up, and he was staring at me. I thought for a second it could be because I looked weird pawing at thin air, but he met that woman, and I could hear the dude saying he thought I might have seen something.”
“Peripheral hearing?” Fatima grinned at him.
Jazz snorted. “They definitely know what’s up.”
Fatima said, “And we don’t.”
BeBop raised his eyebrows. “Well, both Jazz and I have seen some evidence of… something. Maybe another dimension or a quantum overlay. Maybe Arcantaria exists somewhere like the Himalayas as rumored, but there’s at least a portal to it here in Greenwich Village, although I definitely saw an entire building.”
“And now we know where there’s a way in.”
Fatima held up a finger. “Unless the portal moves around.”
“True. But those people guessed I’d seen someone enter, so I’m betting the door is always around there.”
“Right, but how are we going to get in?” BeBop rubbed his hands together.
Jazz glanced at BeBop uneasily.
Chapter Sixteen
“HOW ARE we getting in? Well, first—” Jazz squinched his nose. “—I hate to say it, but I don’t think we should start with we. When we’ve got no idea what we’re doing, I think it’s overreaching to get four of us inside. We better start with me. If I get in and somebody sees me, at least I can claim I was invited.”
BeBop crossed his arms. “Okay, so how are we going to get you in? Hang out near the portal and run through when somebody goes in?”
Jazz shrugged. “It’s an idea, I guess.”
Fatima said, “You could go to Ms. Mason and ask her how to get through the portal.” She smiled, dimples popping.
Khadija looked at her Dusan sister. “My guess is that it may be impolitic to go to a master mage and ask her to give you the power to break into superwizard school.”
BeBop snorted. “Ya think? Look, you guys, how about we get some Chinese food and take it home for lunch? I don’t have any classes today.”
They took the subway back to the apartment—apartments. Mr. Said had been more than delighted to let the third unit on his impossible-to-rent sixth floor.
When they got to the top of the stairs, Jazz said, “I’m going to go change and call Carla for a check-in, then I’ll be over. Save me some moo shu veggies.”
He walked into his new place. Funny how in one day, it had taken steps toward habitability. His mom had sent Lindsey over with clothes he’d left at home and a futon for sleeping, plus some dishes and essentials from her own kitchen. He fully expected the place to be a showpiece in a day or two, since, after all, his brother was Lindsey Vanessen, and Lindsey would shape this place up so fast they wouldn’t recognize it. The apartment wasn’t quite as big as BeBop, Dij, and Fatima’s, but it was still roomy for New York. The big windows had a view of an edge of Washington Square.
The apartment had two bedrooms, and Jazz entered the smaller of the two and changed into sweats, then went back to the apartment door—just as a knock sounded on it.
Jazz looked through the peephole. Hello. He opened the door.
His beautiful neighbor turned out to be about the same height as Jazz’s six-foot-four and, up close, appeared to have violet eyes. He smiled—a pretty startling experience—and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I noticed that you’re also a new resident and wanted to introduce myself. I live next door, and I’ve only been here a few days longer than you. My name is James Odan, but people call me Odan.” He extended his hand.
Jazz took it. “Jazz Vanessen.” A trickle of energy tingled up Jazz’s arm—the smallest amount more than Jazz might have felt from a strong, spirited human like Carla. So the guy was supernatural; either a male of moderate power, or one of big power and good shielding skills.
Jazz smiled at Odan, dampening his own gifts like mad.
If the guy sensed Jazz’s alpha nature or mage talent, it didn’t show on his handsome face.
Odan said, “Perhaps we can get together sometime?”
“Oh, that’s kind. I’m actually waiting for my roommate to move in, so I’ll be pretty busy with that for a little while. After that would be great. You can meet her at the same time.”
“Her? Oh, how nice.” The flash of teeth wasn’t nearly as warm as the previous grin.
Jazz smiled back. If he weren’t committed to Dash and if this whole coincidence of Odan moving in on the same floor didn’t reek of manipulation, he’d have made sure this gorgeous dude knew his roommate wasn’t his girlfriend. As it was, he stayed quiet.
Odan’s smile faded a little. “Well, great to meet you. I’ll make sure to notice when your roommate moves in and then invite you both to dinner.” He glanced toward the other apartment. “Maybe I can include all your friends.”
Everything in Jazz screamed to invite the guy to come over and meet BeBop, Dij, and Fatima. Odan seemed lonely. Jazz totally got loneliness.
Don’t be an idiot.
Jazz shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, you mean our other neighbors? Yes, lovely people, but super busy. The boy, amazing kid, helped me get into NYU. And the women are a bit reclusive. But we’ll figure out a time, and I’ll ask them if they can join in. Could happen.”
“So I won’t bother you further.”
“Sorry. I’d invite you in, but I’m just going out.”
Odan gave a quick look down Jazz’s sweats-clad body. “A little basketball?” He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was amused. “Not a problem. I’m actually on my way to a meeting. But we’ll shoot for another time.” He raised a hand. “Bye.” He turned, walked down the short hall to the stairs, and started down.
Jazz wanted to run to his friends’ apartment, but he forced himself to step back into his place and close the door in case Odan was watching. He leaned against his own door and counted. After he got to a hundred, he opened the door slowly, stepped out to look, ran to the other apartment, knocked once, then opened the door and slid inside.
The three of them were gathered around the small dining table with Chinese food containers spread out on the kitchen island.
Fatima said, “Where have you been? The food’s getting cold.”
BeBop waved a fork. “We saved you mu shu, but it’s being coveted so grab it quick.”
Jazz dished his food onto a plate they’d left for him on the counter, then moved to the table and sat.
As he swiped plum sauce onto his mu shu pancake, Dij asked, “Did you talk to Carla?”
“Uh, no. I had an unexpected visitor.”
“Who knows you’re here? Your family?”
Jazz met her deep brown eyes. “No. Our new neighbor.”
BeBop pressed a napkin against his mouth to waylay the food that nearly escaped. “Holy shit!”
Dij nodded. “Ditto. Tell us.”
“He’s a supe, like we thought. I didn’t sense a lot of power, but he could be good at hiding, in which case he might be a much bigger threat. He suggested we get together. Even invited you guys.” He took a big bite of moo shu veg. “Um, yum.” After he swallowed, he said, “I played down our friendship in case you want to stay out of his target circle.”
BeBop shook his head. “No luck on that front, daddy-o. That guy was moving in here before you decided to rent the apartment. If he’s here for anybody, he’s here for us.”
Jazz stopped in midbite. “Whoa, you’re right.” Everything in him chilled. “So what do you think he’s after?”
BeBop put down his fork, folded his hands, and leaned into them. “A few options. At first I thought he was spying on the Dusans, since I’m just an ordinary human.” He nodded at Dij and Fatima. “But this changes my mind. I’m now guessing that he was interested in the three of us because of our connection to you and perhaps Dash. When you moved in here quite conveniently, he’s shifted his spying directly to you.”
“He seemed disappointed that I have a roommate coming, and especially that she’s a girl.”
Fatima chuckled.
BeBop sighed. “That may not be funny. It appears that whoever sent this dude knows a lot about us. Not only where we live, but also that Jazz is gay.”
Dij’s face got dead serious. “And who knows that the three of us are connected to Jazz, that Fatima and I are Dusans, and that Jazz is gay and susceptible to gorgeous black-haired men?”
Jazz swallowed hard. “Nardo.”
“AIM FOR the legs.” Hillebrand waved an arm at Dash as Dash slid across the simulated dirt of the obstacle course and fired a blast of energy toward the black-robed bad guy Hillebrand had programmed. Bam! The energy slammed against the villain’s shins. He tripped and fell backward, and Dash was on his feet and firing a wave of power at the fallen mage. He didn’t get up.
Dash ginned at Hillebrand. “Good call.” He wiped dust from his jeans. Simulated environment. Real dirt.
Hillebrand sauntered over to Dash from his spot on the sidelines of the mock battle. “Our instinct is to protect our hearts and faces, which often leaves the legs vulnerable.”
“I’ll remember.”
He nodded. “I know you will. You’re an exceptional battler for such a young guy. Did you spend a lot of time in mock battles with friends growing up?”
Since the school had to have a pretty decent resume on Dash and Hillebrand had access to it all, Dash stayed close to the truth. “No. I grew up indentured to my aunt, Master Lysandra Mason. She’s a great battler.”
“I should say. What a fortunate upbringing.”
“Um. Yes.” That answer was sort of true. He loved his aunt, but hadn’t known what it was like to have friends until he met Carla, Jazz, and the others.
“Sir, will we be learning teleportation or—” Dash spread his hands. “—whatever power you use to transport yourself to different places?”
“Interested in that, are we?” Hillebrand smiled.
“Yes, sir. It’s not a skill I possess so far as I can tell, but I’d like to know more about it.”
Hillebrand leaned against the simulated tree behind him. “As far as we can tell—”
“We?”
“Magery, the MagiCouncil, and the teachers of magic believe that while most powers are learnable, some are given in the form of gifts. The mage is born with them. In most instances, those are abilities others can learn with practice, but certain wizards will simply have the power from birth. That’s what teleportation is to me. My mother used to find me vanished from my crib. I could simply always do it. As a result, it’s hard for me to teach.”
“I see.”
“I suspect battling is like that for you, no matter how accomplished Lysandra might be. Secretly, I believe that the universe manifests the skills needed to protect and advance magery in any given era. Your abilities show the need for power of offense as well as defense.”
Dash tried not to sound too skeptical or curious. “You believe magery is under attack?”
“Don’t you?”
He wanted to spill the whole Nardo event. Clearly, the world had been under attack from a master mage, not the other way around. But his gut told him to hold the story in. All Dash said was, “Not in my experience, no.”
For a second, Hillebrand looked slightly pissed at that, but the storm clouds passed. “Of course not. You’re young and have been protected from the impact of humankind on our community. Every day, magery is weakened by the draining effects of human misery, violence, and debauchery. But we try to protect the young from the negative impact.”
“I see.” He saw bullcrap, but he’d learn a lot more by keeping quiet.
Hillebrand blinked as if coming out of deep water. “Anyway, as we were discussing, none of our other professors have the skill of teleportation, so I’ll be the only one able to teach you. Assuming I can figure out how I do it.” He laughed, and Dash joined in. Double phony. Hillebrand continued, “But I agree that if any
one can master the skill, it’ll be you, and it will be an excellent weapon to add to your battle arsenal.”
Dash said, “I’d certainly like to learn if you can figure it out, sir.”
Hillebrand made a face. “I’m not really old enough to be a sir, do you think?” He chuckled. “I appreciate the respect in groups, but since we’re likely to be together one-on-one a fair amount, feel free to call me Brand. That’s the only one of the nicknames for me I can stand.”
Dash cocked a half smile. “What? You don’t love Eustace?”
“I know. What parents of compassion would do that to a child?” He shook his head. “I understand I have my great-grandfather to thank for it.”
“So Brand it is.” Dash brushed his jeans one more time. “I better get to class. I have to enjoy Anastasia showing me up at summoning.”
“She’s very talented in the skill. Probably a born gift.”
Dash nodded and started toward the locker room entrance with Hillebrand beside him.
Hillebrand said, “May I ask a personal question?”
Dash paused. “Sure. If we agree I might not answer.” He showed teeth to soften the sass.
“Of course. I was wondering if you’re a lover of men? What humans call gay?”
Dash tried to stay relaxed. “Yes. Don’t tell me that makes it impossible to learn to teleport.”
Hillebrand gazed at Dash, then said, “Apparently not since I can do it.” He waved a hand and vanished.
All righty, then.
JAZZ PILED off the subway and ran toward Washington Square. Fourth day as a student at NYU. Totally lit. Should have done this to begin with. But he’d thought he wanted to be close to home and near the woods. Now if he wanted to run, he’d have to explain the lupinization of Central Park. He puffed a laugh. Of course the chances that he was the only werewolf in NYC were zero.
He bounded up to the coffee vendor BeBop liked and asked for a latte, but he never took his eyes off the spot where he’d seen the door.
