Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  She chuckled. “I really have nothing to say to that.” A pause. “I’m not bad. Unless you piss me off, that is,” she said, laughing again.

  “I won’t make that mistake again.” With a little more ease between them, they continued walking through the maze of Tartarus, headed past the interrogation room, and continued through an open area that connected the four corridors of the turret. From there, Annie led Jordan to a small, comfortable room that looked more like a home than a prison—comfortable chairs at the center, a television at the far wall, the table piled high with food. His shoes made no sound across the carpet, and the walls were covered in sheetrock rather than stone.

  “Help yourself.”

  “Why didn’t I know about this room before?”

  “We just furnished it for you. We’re not sure how long you’ll be here. Eat something.”

  Jordan filled his plate with sandwiches, chips, and vegetables and dug in after sitting down. Behind him Annie filled a plate and sat beside him, but she only played with her food.

  “It’s actually pretty good,” Jordan said, holding up the almost-empty plate. His smile warmed his face, so he looked less like a sullen, insolent child and more like an easily excitable boy with a new plaything.

  Annie smiled and pushed her plate away. “Did Amelie know you’re a wizard?”

  Surprised by the question, he refrained from answering immediately.

  If Amelie knew, she’d still be alive.

  “No.”

  The admission didn’t surprise her; she nibbled on a carrot stick, her gaze never leaving him.

  “Amelie believed in natural healing, in Wicca,” he continued. “So everything I had with me—the herbs, potions, amulets—you know, New Age stuff. She thought I was too.”

  Jordan pushed his remaining food away, no longer hungry, no longer interested in the events forming around him.

  “Did you love her?” The line of questioning made him anxious. He hid his shaking hands in his lap.

  Did I love her? Did we even know each other?

  “I think I did. I think she loved me too,” Jordan responded quickly, then grimaced. “Did you find the killer yet?”

  “It’s… it’s complicated.” Annie started pacing. “Though we have all of this magical trace, there’s nothing to tie it to anyone and even if we did, Rathbone probably moved them elsewhere. The crime techs searched the entire database comparing the signatures to known wizards, but no matches. The Wizard Council denied the request for stakeouts because there’s not enough evidence for them to approve it.”

  “So what happens next?” Jordan flipped his head to keep long hair out of his eyes. When that didn’t work, he ran his hands through his hair, leaving it flying high above his head. “Am I being charged with theft?”

  “To your second question, who will press charges? You actually helped us, so no. And in terms of what happens next, you have two choices: either you remain here with us while we try to get Rathbone and the men who killed Amelie—though that could take years—or you can leave. We’ll do everything to keep you safe, but I can’t promise anything.”

  Jordan contemplated his options. Leave and always be on the run, or stay and do nothing. Would they hide him somewhere warm like a beach in the middle of the ocean? Or would it be in a big city hidden in plain sight by the sheer number of people around? He’d take whatever they gave him so he could be free.

  Amelie.

  “So I’ll be able to leave?” he finally asked.

  “Yes. You can leave. If that’s what you really want.”

  The shadows and darkness that weighed Jordan down were finally replaced by freedom and lightness, allowing him to glance out the large pane of glass on the far wall. It framed desolate, dead land, yet those dead trees were the most beautiful view he had ever seen.

  “Can I see her?” Sadness, raw and painful, filled his eyes.

  Annie strode over to Jordan and placed an arm around his shoulders as he shook uncontrollably. She led him back to the table and sat him down. Pliable and willing, he did as Annie directed him to do.

  “Amelie is home, picked up five days ago, by her family. I’m sorry.”

  Jordan’s tears fell uncontrollably; the pain and sadness crashed around him. For the first time in days, he let himself feel. Finally, Annie handed him a box of tissues, and he dried his tears.

  The voices of two men conversing at the entrance of the room wafted to Jordan, and he looked up. He recognized Cham, but while the other man looked familiar, Jordan couldn’t place a name to the face. As tall as Cham but older, the man was in his late forties or early fifties, with sandy brown hair graying at the temples. An air of importance surrounded him, though his casual jeans, loafers, and collared shirt gave a different impression. As the man walked, the traditional riding cloak draped across his shoulders swung out after him, causing confidence to radiate out.

  “Who’s that?” Jordan whispered to Annie.

  “Ryan Connelly.”

  “Oh.” Jordan said, surprised. “The Grand Marksman?” Jordan watched carefully as the leader of the wizard community in America entered the room.

  “That’s the one.”

  With Ryan in some form of danger, the Grand Marksman was followed by two additional men, both in traditional Wizard Council cloaks. They stood on either side of Ryan as he performed his duties.

  “Hello, Jordan.” Ryan held out his hand and offered a smile.

  Jordan dumbfounded, obliged and shook it. What’s he doing at Tartarus?

  “It’s a pleasure, sir.” He cleared his throat.

  “You’ve given us quite a headache, Jordan Wellington,” Ryan said, his voice neutral and calm. He smiled again, but it was about as friendly as a cat in water. As Ryan sat down beside him, Jordan noticed the dark circles under his crystal blue eyes that were bloodshot from lack of sleep. The weight of what had happened clearly sat squarely on his shoulders and slumped and dragged him down.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—”

  Ryan held up his hand. “I’ve been in meetings all week and on the phone with the Amborian Witch Council, discussing your situation, the progress we’re making, and what to do next. The Witches Council over there has been facilitating conversations between us and the United States government as well as the government of Amborix and the FBI. It hasn’t been easy keeping our secret.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Disappointed in himself, Jordan stared at his hands in his lap.

  Ryan ignored the wizard and said, “Jordan, though Amborix isn’t a big threat to the United States, its neighbors could be persuaded to assist them if they felt we weren’t working in their best interest. This is a real problem you’ve created, young man.”

  “I’m so very sorry.”

  “I’m sure you are. However, without your rash decision, Rathbone’s plans for me and the rest of the Wizard Council would still be unnoticed. So, for that, I thank you.” He offered a grim smile.

  “I guess you’re welcome. It doesn’t make other things better, though.”

  “No, it surely does not. But the good news is that the FBI accepted our final assessment and notified the Royal Police of Amborix to let them know you’ve been cleared in the murder of Amelie Maxillian. As with any case involving nonmagicals, several people have manufactured evidence to support your innocence because, as you know, we can’t tell them the truth.” Ryan stopped and turned to Annie.

  “So I’m free to leave?” Jordan asked before the topic could change.

  Ryan folded his hands together and rested them on the table.

  “Conditionally, yes.”

  “What does that mean? Annie said I’d be made safe.”

  Annie rubbed the back of her neck.

  “You will be, Jordan,” Ryan assured him. “The problem is that you’re a huge liability to our safety, to everyone’s safety. If we could, we’d leave you here for a while, but that’s not practical. We will set you free, but there’s a condition.”

  �
��What’s that?”

  Cham joined the group and waited beside Ryan’s guard. He carried a small canvas bag with a broomstick at the far left corner of the flap opening. The sign of the wizard, thought Jordan.

  Ryan cautiously glanced at Jordan, who was distracted by Cham’s busywork as he prepared for Jordan’s release. The Grand Marksman cleared his throat.

  The once paramour to the Princess of Amborix, the former fugitive, the now-free man turned and looked at Ryan. Jordan’s face blushed deep red, embarrassed for keeping him waiting.

  “We want to track you and always be able to know where you are. If we find you out and about in the magical world, making a name for yourself, we will put you back in prison,” Ryan said.

  “Then I’m not really free.”

  “Listen, Jordan, you made a huge mistake stealing from Rathbone. He won’t stop until you’re dealt with. We will send you off to make a new life, but realistically you’re safer here.”

  “Jordan. There’s no good outcome until we have someone in prison. I’m sorry we can’t do better for you. The best we can do is keep you safe,” Annie said.

  Cham pulled out a glass vial containing a clear liquid and handed it to Jordan. “This will restore your powers. You’ll need them in case you’re discovered.” Jordan took the vial and drank the potion in one gulp.

  I should just teleport now.

  “You can’t teleport into or out of here,” Annie said before he asked. “It’s part of the magic of the prison.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. What’s next?”

  “We’re gonna take you to a safe house, give you a new identity, and get you out of here. You’ll be safe, though it might not be what you were hoping for. We don’t want Rathbone to touch you, and my bet is you don’t either.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank us yet. We’re still not done.”

  Cham took out a second vial that housed two small black beans about the size of grains of rice. He dumped them into the palm of his hand and showed Jordan the magical instrument.

  “What are those?” Jordan’s face contorted to a grimace, unsure if they would make him eat, snort, or wear them.

  “They’re atomie beans. They grow in pairs in these tiny little pods. Think of them as a magical GPS. They will help us track you.” Annie offered a reassuring smile.

  “Is this gonna hurt?”

  “It might prick a little, but it’s not bad.”

  Cham placed the first bean on Jordan’s shoulder and hovered his hand above it. Jordan took a deep breath at the slight prick, and the bean disappeared, snuggled underneath the first few layers of skin. He ran his fingers over the tiniest of bumps, resisting the urge to scratch it away. Its twin remained inside the vial Cham held, glowing, ready to perform its duty.

  Chapter 19

  Holding a tightly rolled scroll signed and sealed with the wax insignia of the Wizard Council, Annie entered the records chamber in the basement of Wizard Hall. The parchment declared Jordan Wellington innocent in the murder of Amelie Maxillian and listed a few other small details pertaining to his release that were known only to a select few at Wizard Hall. After issuing the decree, it was promptly sealed in wax and given a unique magical signature in case it was ever needed in the future. She swiped the parchment across the record finder’s desk and waited for the machine to assign a storage area.

  Annie strolled through the enormous chamber that had been magically enlarged over the centuries to accommodate records and files dating back to the late 1600s, when the Wizard Council first took power. The aisles were narrow, some so packed that she had to turn sideways to cut through the overstuffed storage containers. Finally finding the correct storage bin, Annie dropped the parchment into it.

  An antiquated speaker box with a pleasant female voice said, “Thank you,” and spit out a receipt. Annie grabbed it and left the chamber.

  The Wizard Hall basement housed several functions of the Wizard Government. The records chamber was located across from the cafeteria and parallel to the maintenance department. Annie left the chamber, heading toward the library on the other side of the basement.

  She loved the Wizard Hall library, which was filled with the most amazing ancient tomes on magic, both good and bad. Annie always found herself learning incredible new ideas, spells, and potions, all of which she relied on to do her job.

  The library was housed behind tall, heavy oak doors, hand-carved with scenes depicting centuries-old battles fought between good and evil. Given her height and eye level, Annie had become quite familiar with a depiction of a battle between a petite girl with long, curly hair, similar in size and shape to herself, and a demon so large Annie couldn’t recognize its type. Her friends and colleagues nicknamed the portrayal Annie the Brave. Always curious, Annie glanced at the female warrior decked out in a long bulky dress and carrying a torch with a fire so large it filled two picture spaces. Again, she traced the story from the left side of the left door across both doors, ending at the right door.

  Someday I’ll figure that out.

  The doors squeaked on century-old hinges and when opened revealed a musty old space where dark oak paneling covered the walls. Long tables lined the outside of the hall. Wizards and witches in the process of researching or reading for leisure took up several spaces.

  The center of the library contained heavy wooden shelves that stretched as far back as anyone could see. Each shelving unit reached up to the thirty-foot-high ceiling and stored thousands of books.

  The library buzzed with activity—many magicals hung from tall ladders, which zoomed along the shelves or floated in the air, searching for necessary information.

  Books dating back to before the Wizard Council, some as old as the twelfth century, cluttered tables and shelves. These ancient volumes kept high on the shelves were generally not used as often as newer ones. The oldest books were bound in leather and handwritten with whale-oil-laced inks and paints on parchment that should have been brittle and torn—but with magic and care, the books remained in pristine condition. All black magic tomes, dangerous and wicked, were housed in locked rooms accessible only to employees with high-level clearance, including any member of the Wizard Guard.

  Annie walked the full length of the first chamber, the rows of books seeming to never end, until she found Cham in a secluded section at the halfway mark of the library, perfect for private conversations.

  “It worked okay?” she asked.

  He placed his scrying crystal and maps in his backpack. He must have just finished testing the beans to ensure Jordan’s traceability once he went into hiding.

  “It’s all set. Jordan’s in the courtyard of the prison, enjoying some freedom.” Cham placed the vial in his pocket.

  “We’ll take him to the safe house. I’m not sure if he’s gonna enjoy living with the giants.”

  “At least he’ll be safe. I tried convincing him to stay at the prison, but he’s anxious and wants to leave.”

  “Do you blame him?”

  “Not at all.”

  *

  Free—yet not—Jordan strode around the ugly courtyard at the center of Tartarus, which was aptly named after the lowest level of Hades.

  It’s one form of hell for another, Jordan thought, relieved to be leaving this place. Even the courtyard depressed him and mimicked his inner turmoil.

  Standing at the end of the long archway with a view to the dead, beige landscape he sighed.

  Do I want to leave?

  The longer Rathbone went without the orb, the longer Jordan would be on the run. Even his promised new identity didn’t ease his concern because the outside seemed scary and unstable. He shuddered, wrapped his arms around himself as if offering himself comfort, but the gesture was empty. He was still alone—except for his newest traveling partners. Two giants, large and lumbering, would watch over him for the foreseeable future.

  When he saw Annie and Cham enter through the metal gates, his heart took off at lightning speed, his nerves u
navoidable. Jordan stayed rooted in his spot as they marched down the archway, joining him in the courtyard.

  “How’re you doing?” Annie asked.

  Jordan shrugged with downcast eyes and sucked in a deep breath.

  “It’ll be okay. We have a place for you, and only a few know you’re leaving today.”

  “Is it too late for me to stay here?”

  I don’t really want to, but Rathbone is out there, and it’s dangerous.

  “Not at all. Wherever you feel safest.”

  Jordan reconsidered his options. Tartarus Prison was safe, but his bones ached at the prospect of staying here. Freedom, no matter how little, sparked a fight in him. He could almost taste the freedom and the frozen pizza waiting for him wherever he was going to be.

  “I think I’d rather leave. This place is depressing.”

  “We get that. We’re gonna take you to the safe house. It’s fully stocked already, so you don’t need to worry. On the bright side, you’ve already met your guards.” Annie pointed to the two giants behind him.

  “They seem competent at least.” Absently, he shifted his weight between his feet. Living with giants—what would Lissette think? “They won’t hurt me at all, will they?”

  “No. They’re good. We treat them well, and they know their job. You’re safe. Plus, you have magic,” Annie said. “Oh, and I can’t forget this.” She pulled out a necklace, a gaudy golden circle on a thick gold chain.

  “What’s that?”

  “A protection amulet. I know it’s ugly as hell, but it’s strong magic. It will offer you time should you need it. Just wear it under your shirt.”

  That ugly thing, right…

  Unconvinced, Jordan placed the amulet around his neck, dropping it under his shirt. Rather than being cold and heavy as he expected, the piece was light and hummed against his skin.

  Maybe it will be okay.

  “Thank you,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t just mean for the fugly necklace. I mean…” His fingers fumbled with the chain for something to do. He felt lost for words. They—she—believed him and worked to help him. No one had done that in such a long time.