Magical Arts Academy 8: Transformations

by Lucia Ashta

  Good magicians? Or dark sorcerers?

  That’s precisely what I was wondering.

  You don’t know.

  I don’t know everything.

  He knew a whole bunch more than me—enough to fill an entire library.

  “Are they good or bad?” I asked Nando with urgency.

  “Who?”

  “The firedrakes?”

  “The firedrakes with us are good.” He spoke to me slowly, a bit as if I were a child.

  “Not Elwin and Sylvia and Mathieu and all of them. The five. The ones who’re human.”

  “Oh. Wait, how’d you know they were human?”

  “Elwin told me.”

  He arched an eyebrow at that while Walt sounded confused. “Elwin?”

  I ignored them. “Are they good or bad?”

  Nando diverted his attention from me for the first time since I’d collapsed in his arms, and Sir Lancelot flew away—to go see for himself, I presumed.

  “They’re asleep,” Walt said.

  “You’re sure they aren’t dead?” I croaked.

  “No.”

  “Never mind. Elwin told me they were alive.”

  Walt and Nando shared a look. Again, I ignored them. “What do they look like?”

  “Like normal people.”

  “That’s super helpful, Walt,” I said, finding that my tongue was working better, and my mind was starting to function like it normally did. What a relief. I was neither dead nor permanently impaired—at least, I didn’t think I was.

  Nando, responding to my sarcasm, said, “A man, woman, and three adolescents from the look of it.”

  “A family?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Help me sit up so I can see.”

  Just then Count Vabu spoke, loud enough for all of us to hear. “They have the mark of the SMS.”

  Then chaos broke out all over again.

  Chapter 7

  “What do you mean they carry the mark of the SMS?” Marcelo asked, peering suspiciously at the bodies of what I was sure must be a family. The children looked far too similar to the man and woman not to be related to them, which made their captivity in the bodies of firedrakes all the more curious.

  “Is it a branding of some sort?” Mordecai followed up before Count Vabu had the chance to answer.

  “No, nothing like that,” the tall, elegant vampire said. “I suppose I should have expressed myself more clearly.”

  “You should have,” Mordecai said with impatience but no ill will.

  “It’s more a taint, shall I say? An impression left behind by the dark magic after they’ve interacted with it. The magic of those associated with the SMS has a specific flavor to it.”

  “So it isn’t something that would remain behind because the SMS spelled them?” Gustave asked.

  The vampire was already shaking his head, every black hair staying right where it was supposed to as he did. “No, that’s different. This is a stain that remains linked to them once they’ve used the same brand of magic as the SMS.”

  All of us, even those who were in the midst of recovering, had rushed as best we could over to the unconscious bodies of the five humans we didn’t know. We formed a motley circle around their bodies, peering down at them.

  Although my attention was riveted by the five people, who might hold both answers and threats, my eyes moved toward Count Vabu. His gaze flicked toward his sister, who stood at his side, so quickly that I wasn’t sure I’d actually seen it.

  Hmm. The way he did that was... strange, almost as if he recognized this branding of the SMS because he’d sensed it in Priscilla. Of course, I might be thinking that only because I was aware that the staff magicians of the academy were leery of her because of her rumored associations with dark magic.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d seen, but I was plenty suspicious. When Count Vabu continued, I returned to studying the family on the ground. “I’m certain that at some point they’ve done dark magic while in the employ of the Sorcerers for Magical Supremacy.”

  “But you don’t know whether or not they’re still associated with the SMS?” Gustave asked.

  “No, though it’s clear that they were cursed into the bodies of those firedrakes by someone of the SMS.”

  “Maurisse himself, I’d guess,” Mordecai said, continuing to sound bitter about the betrayal of the head of the Magical Council.

  “Maybe,” Count Vabu answered. “But maybe not.”

  “He’s right,” Marcelo said. “The SMS has proven itself to be made up of highly skilled sorcerers. If the likes of Maurisse and Miranda are involved, who knows who else might be working with them?”

  “A sobering thought,” Wizard Meedles said in his deep, rumbly voice. He was holding up Madame Pimlish, who looked all too happy to be folded into his embrace. For once the woman didn’t look like she was searching for faults to pick at around her. She seemed simply relieved to have survived the transformation reversal, and shaken by how close she’d come to giving her life to it.

  Wizard Meedles was thoughtful for a second before saying, “My hounds will help. They can scent out any dark magic, along with its potency. They’ll be able to tell how recent their interactions with dark magic has been.”

  “But will they be able to distinguish the dark magic they had done to them from the one they performed?” Arianne asked while rubbing soothing hands across Mathieu and Sylvia’s backs. I was relieved to see the mated firedrakes looked only slightly shaken. Their coloring and eyes were bright, but that didn’t prevent Arianne from doting on them. Even Mordecai wasn’t willing to stray far from Sylvia, who’d been with him since she was a baby.

  “Will they be able to distinguish foreign magic from their natural magic?” Arianne said.

  Wizard Meedles grinned through his beard. “Why, of course they can! They’re the most incredible hounds this magical world has ever seen.” He boomed his pride.

  “It seems so!” Arianne sounded as amazed as Wizard Meedles. She was ready to fawn over the hounds all over again, I could see it in her eagerness.

  “Well then let’s not dilly dally,” Mordecai said. The longer we delayed in rescuing Albacus, the more he sounded like a grumpy old wizard. “Have your hounds do their thing, Marcus. We have no idea what Maurisse is doing to my brother.”

  Arianne reached across Sylvia to place a comforting hand on Mordecai’s arm. His face brightened at the touch, if only for a second. “We’ll get to him as soon as we can. Find comfort in that there’s little that Maurisse can do to Albacus since he’s, well, you know.”

  “Since he’s already dead?”

  “Since he’s a spirit. Albacus is no longer a part of the physical world, so Maurisse can’t cause him harm in that way.”

  “I realize that. I also realize that Maurisse is a formidable magician, who’s as skilled at spells as he is at deceit, and you and I both know that’s saying a lot. There might be ways to hurt my brother that we aren’t aware of.” Mordecai’s eyes shone with desperation, and I suddenly wanted us to hurry up as much as he did.

  “You’re right, darling,” Arianne said, patting his arm. “I’m sorry.” Then she turned to the rest of us. “Marcus?”

  The wizard nodded his burly head and looked down at the hounds that gathered around him. He went to crouch, but then spoke to Madame Pimlish. “Will you be all right to stand on your own now, sweet thing?”

  Sweet thing? Ugh. If I had to pick a single person in our gathering to call sweet thing, Madame Pimlish would be the absolute last. I’d pick Sylvia, the fire-breathing reptilian, or even the strangers on the grass before her.

  Nando chuckled softly in my ear. He was certain to be able to read my thoughts on this one.

  “I... I think I’ll be all right,” Madame Pimlish said, acting the demure part and failing at it. “Just until you can return to hold me up.” Oh, she was going to milk this for a long time, I could already tell. I hoped I wouldn’t be around her to witness most of it.

  Wizard
Meedles smiled at her, as if he realized exactly what she was doing, and didn’t care one bit. Then he’s definitely the man for her. Double yuck.

  When he crouched in front of his hounds and called them to him, I was relieved not to have to watch Madame Pimlish make googly eyes at him any longer. Why couldn’t they be like Clara and Marcelo? Their outward affection toward each other never bothered me. It was even nice at times to witness how much they cared for each other. But with Madame Pimlish and Wizard Meedles, it was... yeah, yuck. I supposed that was entirely the fault of the transformation teacher. I didn’t mind Wizard Meedles at all.

  The dogs yipped and wagged and licked Wizard Meedles as if they were inoffensive puppies instead of hellhounds. Then everyone quieted, even the hounds, while Wizard Meedles was clearly communicating telepathically with them.

  Now that I’d done the same with Elwin, it was easier to understand how fluidly Wizard Meedles could converse with his dogs. I’d seen Arianne, Gustave, and Clara do the same, only with firedrakes or dragons.

  If I was certain of anything, it was that the world of magic was one of possibilities.

  The eight hellhounds, even the pregnant one, raced to the bodies on the ground.

  I couldn’t help but think it was a good thing the five people hadn’t woken yet. The sight of eight hellhounds the size of small horses, and as vicious as any dragon, would be enough to kill them from fright.

  They immediately set to sniffing the bodies. It was a noisy, wet affair as the hellhounds didn’t mind slobbering on the magicians. We watched the hounds work. Even Sir Lancelot, perched on Brave’s shoulder, seemed enthralled enough to keep silent.

  I could have watched them do their thing forever. Though terrifying creatures, there was no doubt that they were fine representations of their specimen. On the job, they were all about efficiency. They sniffed and prodded until every one of them was finally finished. Then they sauntered over to their master and waited for him to crouch back down to their height.

  “So, what’s the pronouncement?” Mordecai asked far too soon.

  Wizard Meedles replied only by placing a hand up, indicating he should wait. Then he was all nods and smiles as he continued to speak with his hounds.

  When he looked up at us, the hounds rotated around his feet, taking their turns to receive pats and pets. It was clear the only reward they wanted for a job well done was their master’s affections.

  I was starting to really like the hounds—as long as their teeth and claws weren’t too close to me, of course.

  “They do indeed have the mark of the SMS as Vlad said. My hounds tell me it’s the same kind of magic they scented on the rat man who tried to spy on you.”

  “So they’re the enemy,” Mordecai said, and I tensed at the grim tone of his voice.

  “Not necessarily,” Wizard Meedles said. “My hounds can scent many variations in magic, and several of them tell me that a pure magic is much stronger than the stains of the dark.”

  “Which could indicate that these magicians were only doing what the SMS ordered them,” Brave said.

  “Precisely.”

  “If they followed orders willingly,” Mordecai said. “They’re just as guilty as anyone else.”

  “Perhaps. But if my hounds tell me that good magic is stronger in all of them than dark magic, then maybe the SMS cursed them into the bodies of firedrakes.”

  “Because they opposed orders,” Gustave supplied.

  Wizard Meedles nodded.

  “It’s definitely plausible,” Marcelo said. “If they got tangled up with the SMS, but then didn’t want to continue doing what was asked of them, I’d imagine they’d be punished.”

  “And Miranda would love to be involved in their punishment.” Priscilla spoke up when she hadn’t spoken much since stepping out of Madame Pimlish’s portal and into the academy.

  “What do you know of this?” Mordecai asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

  But Priscilla, like her brother, wasn’t one to flinch. “I know that the SMS doesn’t put up with people who don’t do what is asked of them. I know that Miranda enjoys making others suffer, so that if these magicians were to be punished, she’d be happy to do it.”

  “But you weren’t aware that they were actually people?” Marcelo asked.

  “I suspected there was a chance they were.” She showed no emotion at the suffering of five people. That made me more suspicious of her than her rumored dabbling in dark magic.

  “Yet you did nothing?” Marcelo’s voice had grown dangerous. Clara noticed too, attempting to calm him by wrapping an arm around his waist.

  “There was nothing I could do. In my own way, I too was Miranda’s captive.”

  “Explain.”

  “I wasn’t with Miranda by choice. I was only there because the SMS requested my compliance. I was well aware what they’d do to me if I refused.”

  “And why did they think you’d be willing to help them?” Count Vabu asked the question, surprising me. Up until that point he’d done nothing but rise to the defense of his little sister, if in his understated, barely-there way.

  “Because I’d been curious about dark magic before, and I’d experimented with it in the past.”

  I couldn’t believe she was admitting to that!

  “And because I’m a vampire, and the magical community makes certain... assumptions about us.”

  I wanted to know precisely what assumptions those were.

  “You’re telling us we should trust you?” Mordecai asked, not caring that it was a brusque thing to ask. I didn’t blame him. It was clear that the stakes had escalated to life and death, and even beyond death the SMS was still a threat.

  “I’m telling you no such thing,” Priscilla said, apparently not caring that he didn’t trust her. “You’ll have to make up your own mind about that. I’m simply telling you that I was coerced into working with Miranda. The SMS made it clear that if I didn’t do as asked, I’d pay.”

  Dark eyes flitted to her brother and back. “And that they’d make Vlad pay too.”

  “Me?”

  Priscilla nodded at the brother that looked like a male version of herself. She shrugged so slightly that her shoulders barely moved, but for the vampires, it was a significant expression. “They knew what to threaten me with.”

  “And you believed they could hurt me?”

  “I did. I learned not to underestimate the SMS. They made sure I was impressed with that point.”

  I shuddered. It was apparent she’d seen things to shock even her, and she was a vampire. If she felt threatened, then our opponent was even more formidable than I’d feared.

  Nando must have been considering the same thing because he pulled me closer, so I stood nearly in front of him. From my other side, Walt inched toward me too. He’d barely left my side since I returned to life.

  Just then, the woman on the ground began to stir.

  “We’ll continue this discussion later,” Mordecai threatened—or maybe it wasn’t a threat.

  The woman groaned loudly and brought a hand to her head. We stared and waited. She moaned some more, bringing her other hand to wrap around her head as well.

  Then her eyes flicked open with a start and she frantically moved her head from side to side, looking for her children and husband, it seemed like. She confirmed they lay next to her and sat up, clutching her head with one hand, leaning heavily into her other as she swooned. But she didn’t stop, working to verify the status of her family.

  Then her eyes landed on us. Her body stilled completely. Her eyes didn’t stop moving, roving over every single one of us.

  She was terrified, but of what?

  We were about to find out.

  Chapter 8

  “Please don’t hurt them,” the woman pleaded in a low voice, her eyes drifting across the many faces crowded around her and her family, attempting to determine who was the greater threat, I presumed, or perhaps the greater authority.

  “Tell us why we shou
ldn’t,” Mordecai grumbled, and the woman’s fearful eyes settled on him.

  I didn’t believe Mordecai was the kind of wizard who would actually hurt a family that included children, but the woman didn’t realize that.

  “B-because we mean you no harm. We w-won’t harm you.”

  “How can we be sure?”

  “Ah, well, I promise we won’t?” Without taking her eyes from Mordecai, the woman snaked her hand over to the man next to her, likely her husband, and shook him hard.

  “Promises don’t mean much when we have no idea whether or not you’re honorable.”

  The woman shook her husband harder, and he groaned. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she pinned her focus on me. “Isa, you know we wouldn’t harm anyone.”

  All eyes fixed on me, even Nando and Walt’s. “Me?” I sputtered. “How would I know that? I don’t even know you, not really.”

  “She knows to call you Isa,” Priscilla said, earning a bitter scowl from my brother.

  “That’s because they were around when we called her name,” Nando bit out. “Just because they were firedrakes doesn’t mean they were deaf.”

  “Then why does this woman, who has the mark of the SMS, act as if she knows her much better than that?”

  I had no idea, but Priscilla had gumption accusing this woman—and me, by extension—when she was the one who’d flirted with dark magic, by her own admission.

  Nando rose to my defense before I could figure out what to say. “We would already know if you weren’t distracting us with this ridiculous argument.”

  “He’s right,” Mordecai said, not seeming concerned about the pointed glare Priscilla shot his way.

  “Isa, tell them we’re not a threat,” the woman persisted.

  I was instantly uncomfortable to be put on the spot. How could I vouch for a family I didn’t know in any real sense? “I-I never felt like they were a threat to me.” In fact, it seemed as if they believed they were connected to me somehow, though I couldn’t fathom the reason for it. “It did genuinely seem as if they were trying to escape Miranda, and that they weren’t at all on her side.”