by Kyle Shultz
I stifled an angry retort. Calling Linus “rock-breath” was one thing. Calling Malcolm “dragon-breath” would probably have more unpleasant results.
“You also,” said Cordelia, “have an opening for a Professor of Mundane Survival.”
“We always have an opening for one of those. Nobody wants to teach it.”
“I think you’ll find Nathaniel is both willing and able. Right, Nathaniel?”
“Of course,” I hastened to concur. “Mundane Survival. Yes. Absolutely. Love Mundane Survival.” Whatever that may be, I thought.
Malcolm’s eyes shifted to Crispin. “So what about the slightly less hairy and ugly one?”
“Oi!” Crispin interjected.
“Actually,” said Cordelia, “I was hoping you’d be willing to take him on as a student. In exchange for me and Nathaniel teaching classes, I mean.”
Malcolm hesitated. “You’re asking a lot of me here, Cordelia.”
“Christopher’s a good student,” she argued. “I’ve been training him; I can testify to that.”
“But is he ready for advanced magic?”
“Absolutely. He’s shown remarkable promise in our lessons.”
“How long have you been training him?”
“Two years.”
I cringed inwardly. More like two weeks, I thought. The lies were piling up higher and higher every second. I wondered how long it would be before they all came tumbling down.
Malcolm spun back to the piano and started playing again. I was familiar with the song he’d chosen—it was a well-known old lullaby that I remembered from childhood. Some nursery rhyme set to music. My mother had never sung it to me, saying she didn’t like the lyrics. I agreed with her—they were creepy. I’d never been musically inclined, but I knew the words of the ancient poem by heart:
Sleep now, my darling, rocked by the waves
Wake not until I call thee
Heed not the storms that rage above
Thy bed in the silent deep.
“I’ll have to think about it,” said Malcolm abruptly, snapping me out of my reverie. He broke off playing and turned to face us again.
“Certainly,” said Cordelia. “We understand.”
“I’ll arrange for you all to have rooms in the West Hall. I’ll give you a final answer in the morning.”
“That sounds fair.” I searched his expression for any hint that he might just be stalling us until he got the chance to have Madame Levesque come and kill us. I’d always been good at reading people, and my improved senses only enhanced this ability. I could now pick up on minuscule facial twitches, eye movements, even shifts in heart rate if the room was quiet enough.
Unfortunately, even with beast senses, I couldn’t get a good read on Malcolm. Apparently dragons, even in human form, were annoyingly inscrutable.
“Right, then.” Malcolm slammed his hand down on the piano for emphasis, striking a random, discordant combination of notes. “That’s enough humanity for one day. I’ll be turning back into a dragon now, so if that’s going to be too much for your delicate constitutions, perhaps you should all run along.” He made a shooing motion with his hand.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Crispin.
I tugged him back towards the door. “Come on.”
“But he’s a dragon!” Crispin protested. “How often do you meet a dragon?”
“More often than I would have expected, it seems.”
“Hold on,” said Malcolm, looking keenly at the box in Crispin’s hands. “Why does that box have airholes, young man?”
“Oh, it’s just my pet,” said Crispin. “His name’s Reginald.”
“Does he eat humans?”
“No,” said Cordelia. “He’s a toad.”
“Did he use to be a human?”
“Well,” said Crispin, “there’s some debate about—”
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s just an ordinary toad, I assure you.”
This seemed to satisfy Malcolm. “Fine, then. You may keep him.”
Crispin grinned. “Great!”
“Thank you for everything, Malcolm,” said Cordelia.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he cautioned. “I can’t promise you this is going to work out. And even if it does, my expectations for both you and your friends while you’re at this college will be very, very high.” He gave her a stern glare. “Is that clear?”
“Quite.”
“Good,” he said, as his body burst into flame and began to transform once again. “I’d hate to have to fire one of my best students.”
Cordelia signaled for us to get out of the cavern—quickly. We followed her to the entrance, feeling waves of heat washing over us as Malcolm exploded back into dragon form.
Once we had all scurried out the door, I slammed it shut and leaned against it, panting. “So you went to a school run by a dragon?” I asked Cordelia. “That explains so much.”
Cordelia didn’t answer. I noticed that there was a strange, haunted expression on her face. “You all right?” I asked her.
She blinked. “What? Oh. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. It’s just…seeing him again was awkward, that’s all.” She took a deep breath. “Now, let’s get to the West Hall before we disturb Malcolm with our chattering and undo all the progress we’ve made winning him over.”
“Fine. Which way is it, then?”
“Follow me.” Cordelia started down the hallway with us close behind. Before we got very far, however, a girl carrying an armload of books swerved around the corner ahead of us and hurtled directly into Crispin.
She started apologizing almost before they both hit the floor.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I heard her saying, as a red-faced Crispin struggled to gently disentangle himself from her.
I resisted the impulse to dive in and help her. I’d learned the hard way in recent weeks that women didn't appreciate gallantry from monsters. Crispin could handle this one on his own.
“It—it’s all right,” he stammered. I was surprised by how flustered he was. Normally, Crispin adjusts automatically to any situation involving a pretty girl. He makes a fool of himself every time, of course, but he’s never lacking in confidence.
The olive-skinned young woman leapt off of Crispin, brushed a few stray locks of her dark hair behind her ear, and straightened her spectacles. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, snatching up her books one at a time. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Unlike Malcolm’s accent, her Caledonian brogue sounded musical, not grumpy.
“No, no, it’s all right, really.” Crispin had finally found his voice again.
I flicked my tail impatiently. “Christopher, why are you still lying on the floor?”
“Oh. Right. Forgot about that.” He scrambled to his feet.
Cordelia was staring at the young woman in disbelief. “Molly?” she exclaimed. I couldn’t quite tell whether she was happy, worried, or a mixture of both.
As Molly took in Cordelia, her face lit up. “Cordelia?”
“Molly?”
“Cordelia?”
“Molly?”
I raised a hand. “How long is this going to go on, exactly? We don’t have much—”
“Cordelia!” Molly lunged forward, nearly knocking me over in the process, and threw her arms around Cordelia, squeezing her in a tight hug. Cordelia choked and struggled to loosen her grip, looking extremely uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have described her as a hugging person.
Crispin elbowed me. “You think they know each other?”
“Nah, I’m sure they’re complete strangers.”
“It’s been so long!” the girl cried, finally releasing Cordelia. “How have you been? I heard—”
“These are my friends,” Cordelia interrupted, desperate to divert the thread of the conversation. “Nathaniel and Christopher Bartley.”
“Barlow,” I reminded her.
She gave me a pained look. “Whatever. Say hello. Now.”
“Hello!” said Crispin, diving to retrieve a book the young woman had failed to pick up. He handed it to her, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, beaming at him.
“You two are friends, I take it?” I asked Cordelia.
Cordelia fidgeted with the buttons on her coat. “She’s my cousin. Lady Margaret Beaumont.”
My jaw fell. “Lady…Beaumont? There’s more than one Lady Beaumont?”
“Don’t make me remind you about the title thing,” said Cordelia.
“Please, just call me Molly.” The other Lady Beaumont extended her hand to Crispin. “Never really liked being called ‘Lady Margaret,’ it makes me sound old and pompous.”
I’m sure she’d been expecting Crispin to clasp her hand or shake it, but instead, he opted for his usual theatrics. Bowing at the waist, he gently kissed the back of her fingers. “How do you do?” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Crisp—”
I swung my tail up and smacked him on the back of the head just in time.
“Ow.” He shot a brief glare in my direction, then went back to being a grinning fool. “Christopher Barlow, at your service,” he said to Molly.
She giggled.
I rolled my eyes. “Not the flirting, Christopher. We've discussed the flirting, remember?”
Crispin jerked his head in my direction. “That’s Ni—er—Nathaniel. Ignore him.”
Molly’s gaze shifted to me. I braced myself for the usual stifled gasp and awkward silence. It was better than what I got from ordinary people, at least—no screaming or fainting—but the reactions of magic-savvy people to my appearance still set my teeth on edge.
She did gasp, but it wasn’t stifled. Also, it was accompanied by a look of ecstasy, as if somebody had just handed her a particularly adorable puppy. “Oh…you are magnificent!”
I blinked. “Er…begging your pardon, but I’m actually hideous.”
“Magnificently hideous! Turn around!”
She reached up, grabbed my shoulders, and spun me around before I could stop her. “Wonderful, wonderful!”
“Ow!” I flinched as I felt her pulling hairs free from the tip of my tail. I whirled around to see her producing a petri dish from her pocket.
“I’ll have a look at these under the microscope later,” she said, slipping the hairs into the dish. “Now, let’s see those fangs.”
“Whuh…” My protest was cut short as she pulled my lips back from my teeth and peered into my mouth. I cut my eyes from side to side, looking at Crispin and Cordelia. Crispin seemed jealous. Come to think of it, Cordelia seemed… No, that’s ridiculous, I thought.
“Geh hrr uff meh,” I begged Cordelia, struggling to speak through Molly’s impromptu dental examination.
Cordelia eagerly obliged. “So nice to see you again, Molly,” she said in a loud voice, seizing the girl’s arm in a firm grip and pulling her away from me. She gracefully segued into clasping Molly’s hand in familial affection. “We must catch up sometime. Very soon.” Something about the way she said “very soon” made it sound like “never.”
“Absolutely!” said Molly. “I look forward to it. Sorry for getting so excited about your friend, but you know how passionate I am about magical creatures.”
“Oh, yes,” said Cordelia. “I remember.”
“In fact,” Molly continued, “that’s why I’m here. Warrengate recently hired me to teach cryptobiology.”
“You’re very young to be a teacher,” Cordelia remarked.
Crispin tapped her on the shoulder. “So are you,” he pointed out.
“Oh, are you teaching here too?” Molly smiled. “That’s wonderful! Perhaps we’ll have a chance to work together.”
Cordelia did not return the smile. “Perhaps. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
“Of course! Of course.” Molly stepped back. “Very nice meeting you two!” she said to me and Crispin.
Shy-schoolboy-Crispin was back. “It was nice being met by you. I mean, I was delightful—delighted—”
I whacked him with my tail again to shut him up. “Come on, lover boy,” I said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Molly turn and walk away. She started humming a tune—the same old lullaby I’d heard Malcolm playing, as a matter of fact. What a coincidence.
“I wonder what she was after?” said Cordelia in a low voice, once we’d rounded the corner and Molly was out of earshot.
Crispin frowned. “Who says she was after anything?”
“She’s a member of my family. You shouldn’t even have to ask whether or not she has a hidden agenda.”
“But she was nice!”
“Yes. She always has been. Loves magical creatures, too, in case you haven’t noticed. When we were both young, she was never without an entourage of magical pets following her around, causing mayhem.”
“That’s brilliant!” said Crispin. “That’s exactly what I’d like to have.”
“But I haven’t seen her since we were both quite young,” Cordelia went on, “and if she’s been subjected to my family’s usual regimen of training in dark magic, then trusting her would be a very, very bad idea.”
“And besides, Crispin,” I said, stopping and giving him a stern look, “we are in a school that trains evil sorcerers. It is an actual villain school. This is not a place to find friends. It’s definitely not a place to find girlfriends.”
“Actually,” said Cordelia, “it’s not strictly accurate to call Warrengate ‘evil.’ It doesn’t really fit into that category. If an enchanter were trying to blow up the Afterlands, Warrengate wouldn’t stop them or try to help them. They’d just watch from the sidelines and take notes on how big the explosion was.”
I wiggled an ear thoughtfully. “Technically speaking, are there any sidelines when the entire world is getting blown up?”
“If there were any, you can bet Warrengate would find them. In any case, think of it as an antihero school rather than a ‘villain’ school.”
“Antihero school. Sounds delightful.” I sighed and scratched the back of my head. “Cordelia, we shouldn’t be here. This was a terrible idea.”
“No, it is not.” She reached up to fix the angle of her hat, which had been disarranged by Molly’s enthusiastic hug. “And once we’re safely away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, I will tell you why.”
“I can’t wait,” I muttered under my breath.
“For now, let me say this. If you want to get out of here in one piece, then stay away from my cousin.” Her eyes bored into Crispin. “I’m specifically addressing you, ‘Christopher.’”
“Right,” said Crispin, looking down at his toes. “Of course. I understand.”
“Good.” Cordelia walked on, looking relieved.
I wasn’t. I fell into step beside Crispin and whispered, “You’re not fooling me.”
He feigned surprise. “Fooling you?”
“With the act. When you look down at your feet like that, you’re just trying to hide a mischievous smirk. You fancy Molly, and you don’t have any intention of staying away from her.”
“Is it a crime to have a crush on a girl?”
“It’s a bit weird to have a crush on a girl who’s going to be your professor. Ethical issues arise.”
“I’m only a fake student. It doesn’t count.”
“Besides,” I added, “I thought you had a crush on Cordelia.”
His eyes fell on the back of Cordelia’s hat. “Initially, yes. At this point, I think of her more as a beloved aunt.”
With difficulty, I prevented myself from bursting into laughter. “I really wouldn’t advise telling her that.”
CHAPTER THREE
Crispin Loses His Temper
“Let me draw you a diagram,” said Cordelia, pulling a piece of chalk from the pocket of her jacket.
My ears drooped, and I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, not the chalk,” I moaned. “It’s too late in the evening
for the chalk. This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
Crispin elbowed me in the ribs. “Come on; don’t be a baby.”
Cordelia began scribbling on the stone floor in front of us. We were sitting on the roof of the West Hall, far above the layer of fog that stretched across Warrengate Island. The first stars of the evening appeared one by one in the sky overhead as the red glow of the sunset faded. Looking over the parapet, I could see the foggy landscape stretching away into the distance, a sea of endless white. It was impossible to tell where the land ended and the ocean began.
“This is you,” said Cordelia, pointing to the squiggle-furred stick figure she had just drawn.
“Why does it look so grumpy?” I motioned to the angry features she had scrawled on the stick-monster’s face.
Crispin chuckled. “Do you really have to ask? She’s captured you perfectly.”
“And this,” Cordelia went on, drawing runes in a circle around the stick figure, “is your curse. Since you destroyed the last vestige of the Clawthorn Rose, you’re now the source of it, which means we can’t break it by conventional means without killing you.” She glared at me briefly before continuing to scribble.
I pricked my ears towards her. “I sense lingering resentment. Don’t tell me you’re still angry with me about that.”
“Let’s not get into that discussion again, shall we?” she said, her tone frosty.
“By all means.”
“So far, we’ve tried to modify your curse instead of actually breaking it. I initially thought that giving you the ability to shapeshift into a human would solve our problem. You’d still be cursed, but you wouldn’t have to be a Beast all the time.”
“Except that idea hasn’t worked.” I leaned back against the parapet and stretched out my legs, frowning at my huge, clawed feet as I remembered all the failures of the past few weeks.
“Exactly,” said Cordelia. “Every time we try to cast a spell on you meant to grant shapeshifting powers, the curse—er—”
“Eats them,” I supplied, wiggling my claws moodily. Red runes surging from my body to attack and devour any spell Cordelia tried to put on me had become a familiar sight in recent days.
“For lack of a better term, yes.” Cordelia doodled a more feminine-looking stick figure, casting runes toward the chalk version of me. Then she put an “X” across the entire drawing. “Parallel casting only works if the two spells act in harmony. Your spell seems to have a particular dislike for anything intended to alter your form. It won’t even tolerate glamour spells, despite the fact that those are nothing more than illusions.”
