by Tara Lain
For the last three days, morning and evening and often at lunch, Jazz had lurked around the area. All his classes weren’t in the math building, so sometimes he had to run blocks in order to take a look. Nothing. Nada. Craptastic goose egg. Could they have moved the door since that couple saw me watching?
He paid for his latte and, sipping it, headed toward the building.
Wait.
Jazz stepped behind a tree trunk, trying to make it look like he wasn’t hiding, then glanced to the sidewalk leading to the fabled spot and saw the stocky man who’d been talking to the woman walking with purpose toward the invisible door.
Damn, too far away. What the hell? Jazz took off at a run, dodging slightly so it didn’t look like he was making a beeline for the man. Amazingly, the guy didn’t look up. As Jazz got closer, he could see that the man had a crease between his heavy brows and was intent on whatever his goal was. Hopefully, it involved going through that door.
Jazz made a half circle and stopped behind a wall that was as close a barrier as he could reach near the spot. He peeked out. The guy had slowed and was glancing around. Since classes had started—making Jazz late—the sidewalks were empty. The guy’s chest expanded with an inhale, he seemed to flick his fingers in some kind of spell, and the door—no, the portal since it was an opening—appeared, allowing him to enter.
Jazz raced from his hiding place straight for the portal and smashed into it like it was a physical barrier, but—his arm went through. The wind whooshed from his lungs. Talk about your weird feelings. His body pressed against a rock-solid wall, totally invisible, but his arm flailed in space, and he couldn’t see it. To his eyes, it was like he had no arm.
Rock, meet soft place. But what the hell should he do? Pull his arm out, assuming he could? That would disengage him from inside the portal, and who knew if he’d ever get even a body part in there again?
Could he use the arm as a wedge to get the rest of him in?
Okay, try moving one way or the other?
Ignoring the butterflies pounding against his stomach wall—it was his right arm after all—he pushed. Whoa, my arm moved a little, didn’t it?
The second time, he pulled. Holy crap! Nothing happened. His arm didn’t budge.
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. He pulled again. It was like being caught in a Chinese finger puzzle, a sucking feeling but no movement, as if his arm got stuck even harder.
Chapter Seventeen
WHAT’S GOING to happen? Bells will ring. Students and teachers will come out of the buildings, and I’ll be standing here with my arm disappeared.
If it’s like a Chinese puzzle, maybe it works the same way.
He pushed his arm farther in, even though every instinct said to pull. Sure enough, the arm moved. Like squishing through silly putty, but it moved. He pushed in and tried to pull out real fast.
Oh man, it didn’t work.
Trapped. His wolf instincts screamed, No, no, no. No trap.
People were strolling on the sidewalks and lounging in the park nearby, but they didn’t seem to notice anything weird, which was weird in itself, but he was partly obscured by the bushes. He wanted to yell for help, but wouldn’t that be great? How could he explain to a human cop that his arm had disappeared inside an invisible school for superwizards that happened to exist in the same space as NYU but on a different plane—or something? Right. First question. Did you say wizard? Oh yeah, that would be fantastic.
Gulping air to keep from panicking, Jazz tried to focus. Come on Vanessen, you’re a wizard. Act like one.
He’d said he wanted to get into Arcantaria. Here he stood with the universe practically demanding that option, and he was scared. Make that terrified. The medium his arm was trapped in felt thick and sticky. What if I push in and get trapped and can’t breathe and—fuck, quit psyching yourself.
One more time, he tried to pull. No luck.
Okay, the fact was since Dash had left, Jazz hadn’t really practiced being a mage. He hadn’t done much supe stuff at all. He’d spent the remainder of the summer playing with his friends, then submerged himself in getting ready for college and going there. Not one time did he try to become invisible or freeze an event in time or attempt to ball up energy in his palms and cast it toward someone. The gods had sure wasted power on him.
Now here he stood. Up to his bicep in power.
He closed his eyes and focused on the center of his chest, trying to shove the fear aside with energy and certainty. The universe turned on that heating pad behind his breastbone, and then came the champagne bubbles—hot champagne.
He drank it—metaphorically speaking—and let the fizz travel through his chest and out to his arms and legs. Arms, good.
Pushing the energy into his trapped—no, call it submerged—forearm moved him forward. The consistency of the medium he pressed through seemed to soften somewhat. Keep pushing.
His shoulder passed through. Instinctively, he bent his head away from the portal, and he stilled for a second while he tried to press his foot against the barrier. No go. It had to be continuous or no movement.
Okay, sometimes the only way out is through. He sucked in air, let his mind dissolve in the fire in his chest, and thrust his neck, chin, and finally his mouth and nose into the portal.
The medium closed around him like so much pudding.
No. No. Can’t breathe. Can’t—
His arm popped through the dense substance and wriggled in air.
Hope leaped in his chest, and Jazz pushed his head as hard as he could until his shoulder, neck, and then mouth and nose hit that air too.
Something let loose and he was flying, or maybe falling, until he hit a hard surface on his side and wound up curled in a fetal position on some kind of floor. But there was air. Thanks to the gods and the goddess.
What there wasn’t was light. Darkness folded around him.
He turned his head. A crack of light showed a few inches away from where he lay. He flipped over to face it, at the same time feeling across his arms and legs to make sure he was all there. He wasn’t even sticky. More weird.
Quietly, he sat up and leaned closer to the surface where the light showed.
Oh. He snapped back. Voices. Since they were very faint, they had to be a ways away. Jazz’s werewolf ears could hear leaves growing.
He felt around the thin line of light. He was in some kind of closet. Considering his status as a gay werewolf, one of those things werewolf law had said didn’t exist for many generations, he had to grin. Too appropriate.
Okay, get serious. He didn’t know where he was for sure. Probably Arcantaria, but he could have landed in Oz for all he knew. If he got caught, he’d be in trouble for sure, but would he be in danger? And speaking of getting out, could he? How?
Don’t get ahead of yourself. If he was in Arcantaria, he needed to find out where Dash was.
He listened again. The voices were still mumbling away, but it didn’t sound like anyone was right outside the door of his closet. He felt for a handle or knob. Nothing. Okay, not good. He was inside a closet or cabinet others used and couldn’t seem to go forward or back. How the hell did people get out of here?
Uh, duh. They’re magic.
With a sigh, he focused his mind in his chest and “thought” the door was open. A soft click signaled that he, too, had a little fancy magic going on.
He pressed an eye to the crack. Beyond the closet stood a darkened, sparsely furnished room and a rectangle of light that signaled an open door.
Behind Jazz, a scuffling sound and a tingling feeling up his back had to be somebody else coming through the portal.
Jazz pushed open the closet door and flew into the room. He dived behind a chair and then snuck around a heavy set of drapes until he was squatting on the floor, the drapes in a puddle of velvet around him.
The door of the closet creaked. After a pause a voice said, sort of introspectively, “Hello? Why’s this door open?”
Damn, he should have pushe
d the closet door closed, but whoever was arriving might have heard it. Jazz literally held his breath in case mages could hear as well as werewolves.
The voice muttered, “Careless.” Footsteps sounded walking across the room.
Jazz took a chance and peeked from behind the drape. A flash of red hair showed before the person disappeared through the door into the lighted hallway. After a moment’s wait, Jazz sneaked from behind the curtain, keeping low, and tiptoed to the door. He glanced out. No one occupied a longish, low-lighted hall, but across the hall a glass wall looked out on a totally alien scene. What? It showed mountains and valleys of green, with forests in the distance and a river and not a single person. A few minutes before, he’d been in New York City. Where the hell was he now?
More voices, closer than the original ones, vibrated down the hall.
Jazz focused his hearing and listened. Three voices. Two male, one female.
“…under control where you are?” That was a male voice, youngish and casual.
The responding female voice said, “I’m not sure about the facts we’ve been given. There appears to be a girl in the picture.”
The next comment was too soft to hear, like someone might have closed a door or moved farther away. Damn.
Jazz pricked his ears and managed to catch, “…connection….”
I need to hear this. Jazz peered out the door. No one. Okay, if I don’t look too sketchy, maybe I can pass for a student if someone sees me. He took a breath, stepped into the hall, and strode with confidence and intention toward the voices that he could hear more clearly with every step.
Other voices intruded, coming from the opposite direction!
Jazz glanced around, saw an open door, and slid inside. The voices got closer. “How do you think they managed to do that? I mean, we didn’t even get close to winning our challenge.”
The speakers were two men—males. Uh, mages.
The other mage said, “It’s that new guy, I hear. Really talented.”
“Really tricky. I heard he cheats. Even cheated to get in here.” That voice was snide, angry.
“How can you do that? I mean, seriously, how can you cheat to get into Arcantaria?”
At least that was confirmation of where Jazz was. The voices started fading as they retreated farther.
The snide voice said, “Lots of pull and money, I hear.”
“Hell, that describes half the students in the place. Not exactly unique….”
The voices faded, allowing the voices he’d been following previously to come to the fore again. They’d moved closer, probably headed back to the portal.
The male voice was saying, “…can we be certain he’s on our side? How can we be sure?”
The female said, “We’re doing everything possible to be certain.”
“Understand, this is not an idle question.” He sounded emphatic.
The other male finally spoke. “May I ask why this is so critical, sir? There are many who flock to our cause.”
“This one is special. We need his skill and power but can’t risk it being turned against us.”
The female said, “We’ll double our efforts to determine if there’s any connection between them.”
“I better get back.” That was the second man.
Jazz drew a deep breath. Since he had no clear idea how to make his way through the portal from this side, maybe he could follow those two—or at least watch how they did it.
He slid out of his hiding place and ran to the room that held the closet. With a quick glance inside—still empty—he hurried to the drapes and hid behind them again.
Just in time because he heard footsteps approaching. He stilled his breath as much as he could. Werewolves could be really quiet. Apex predator and all that.
Two people came into the room and closed the door behind them. The female said, “What do you make of that?”
“I can’t imagine that any one mage is that important.”
“Well, the professor says he is.”
“I met the other one. He’s a boy. Adorable, but… if this one’s like him, I don’t get it. The power of the movement is great. Why do we need these—these children?”
“We’d better get going.” She sounded impatient.
“Yes.”
The door of the closet opened. There was a lot of clomping, and then it closed.
Hmm. Closed. He hadn’t quite thought that through. Slipping out from the drapes, he put his ear against the closet door in time to hear the female say some words.
Gods! Jazz heard them clearly, but what were they? The language sounded familiar, but not. Probably Latin.
Okay, think. Remember. He closed his eyes. “Per. Peri. Portum.” He blew out his breath. What would they have been saying? Probably open something. Open sesame? He snorted. Okay, open what? The door. Open the door. Yes, port something was door in Latin. What sounds like peri and means open? Peri. Per. Pera. Wait. Aperture is an opening, right? Something about—
“Excuse me. Why are you here?”
Jazz jumped. An older, very severe-looking woman stood in the doorway. Wow. She’d even opened the door without him hearing it. Not many people could sneak up on an alpha werewolf, but he’d been so focused. He smiled. “Oh, sorry. I was going to go through the, uh, portal, and others were using it. Just checking to be sure I can go in.”
Her lips tightened, which was hard to tell since her mouth was so narrow to begin with. “You arrived through the portal?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“May I ask why?”
“Uh, I was delivering a message to the professor.”
“Professor Hillebrand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Remember that name.
“From whom?”
“Uh, I was only authorized to deliver it to Professor Hille… uh, brand. Meaning no disrespect.”
“Olympus.”
“Pardon?”
She looked at him unblinking with her eyebrows raised.
Obviously, she thought that was supersignificant.
“From Odan, ma’am. The message was from Odan.”
Her face did two things at the same time. It relaxed and got confused looking. “I thought I saw Odan here.”
Jazz tried to appear relaxed. “I don’t think so, ma’am. I left him right before I came here, in that new apartment of his.”
“Oh yes, I heard something about that.” She gave a little shrug. “Perhaps I saw that new student. He looks a lot like Odan.”
Jazz’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Not many people look like Odan.”
Her thin lips took on the hint of a smile. “That’s certainly true. Okay, you go first.”
“Oh no, ma’am. You go.”
“No, no.” She waved a hand.
Oh hell, oh hell. He opened the closet door as he took a deep breath. It would be great when she opened the closet in ten minutes and he was still there, or better yet had his arm stuck outside. Or his head. Gods, if he couldn’t figure out how to get out of that door, he better hope it was his head, because the mages of Arcantaria could probably find altogether new means of torture.
He stepped inside the closet and closed the door.
Dark. He knew he was facing the portal because that’s the way he’d come in, but no light showed around any edges or—apertures.
Okay, give it a shot. Time’s leaping. He focused his mind. Peri porta.
Not one damned thing happened.
Behind him, outside the door, he heard the scraping of high heels on the floor.
Come on. Get serious. It’s aperture. He focused. Aperi, uh, porta.
Bad job.
Aperi portam.
There was a knock on the door. “Are you still there?”
Oh gods. He centered his mind in his chest, let the heat rise with a golden glow until it filled his whole body and his brain.
The knocking behind him was barely audible as the heat turned to fire and seemed to flow out his mouth, “Aperi portam.”
The portal opened like a hole in the universe, and just as the knocking started again behind him, Jazz stepped out across from New York’s Washington Square.
Chapter Eighteen
FOR AN instant, Jazz blinked in the sunlight but then took off like a wolf looking for a hiding place. That woman was coming through the portal any second. Best if she found him gone.
He ran to the largest tree in front of the math building and stood behind it, trying for super casual. In that spot, his hanging around could be explained no matter who saw him.
Before he could even settle into a comfortable slouch, the woman appeared as if from thin air. The portal was slightly obscured by trees and bushes, but the chances someone might catch the comings and goings in that spot were high—like he had. But to most people it would appear to be a lack of attention, a blink that obscured a person’s arrival in that space or a tree branch blowing in the wind. People would doubt their own eyes before they believed the seemingly impossible.
The woman glanced around, then started striding purposefully across the street toward the park.
Jazz hadn’t planned to follow her, but his feet moved anyway. The woman was walking at speed but also seemed wary because she kept looking over her shoulders like she was scared someone might be following her. If she saw Jazz, not good.
Hang on. I’m not a human. I did it once, I can do it again. Whoa, how could he be so dumb?
Come on, you can make this happen. Letting heat build in his chest as he trotted from bush to bush, he focused on the golden light and let it ooze out to his extremities. A woman and a little boy maybe four or five wandered by as Jazz thought, invisible.
The child gasped. “Mom, Mom, that man disappeared. He disappeared like Harry under the cloak.”
“Yes dear. That’s nice.”
The woman hauled the kid away as the little boy dragged his feet and stared at the spot where Jazz had been.
Okay, at least I know it worked. He’d only used the invisibility skill back in the summer when he’d been trying to catch the people who were threatening to reveal his werewolf pack. But…. Oh damn.
