“Watch it, elf!” The wizard glared at the tiny creature and bent low to get a good look at both of them. He examined their dirty clothing and Huxley’s battered face. Then he headed in the opposite direction to deal with his personal mess. Terrified, the elves scrambled along the path.
Up ahead, the same German contingent that had been conducting business the entire week finally wrapped up their business in the market, indifferent to the changes that had come in the short time they had been there. The elves ran closely behind the group, hiding alongside their long legs. Busy with their conversation, the Germans never noticed the small creatures at their feet. The humans turned outward, looking for the portals, Bitherby and Huxley continued down the path, coming to the door they wanted.
They ran for the metal door, reaching for the shiny handle and opening it with shaking hands. Lunging inside, they slammed the door shut, plunging into darkness.
*
The school day started in one hour. In his twenty years as headmaster, Fitzgerald Turtledove had never been away during the school day. He sat in the interrogation room at Tartarus Prison, his hair tied neatly in a holder, his robes pressed and clean. Confident and unfazed, he waited patiently for the interview to begin.
Milo refused to allow anyone else to interview him. Shiff and Brite protested that decision, as they were not emotionally attached to the headmaster and insisted it should be one of them who questioned Turtledove. Milo brushed them off and entered the room, much to their dismay. The wizard guard sat directly across from the headmaster and smiled warmly at the other. They had been friends since their own days at Windmere.
“Fitzgerald. Thanks for coming in.” Milo’s tone, warm and pleasant, surprised Shiff and Brite, both of whom hid behind the two-way mirror, watching the interview.
“I didn’t think I had much of a choice, though anything to help Annie and the Guard.” Headmaster Turtledove offered a smile that was not too wide and not weak; perfectly warm and friendly. He placed his hands in front of him, resting them on the table.
“If a student or former student comes to you, are they generally safe at the school?”
Not rattled, Fitzgerald Turtledove looked Milo in the eyes. “Ask what you really want to ask, Milo.”
“Fair enough. Who got to you?”
The headmaster was well aware of why he was summoned to Tartarus prison, though the directness of the question caused an eyebrow to raise, only slightly, as if his friend had been forced to ask the question. “I don’t scare easily, and this is Annie we’re talking about. I did not and would not ever turn her in.”
“Anyone else there with you when she arrived?”
Headmaster Turtledove summoned a folder, thick with papers. He pushed the contents to Milo. “Standard background check. Nothing out of the ordinary. So I hired Mr. Jacobi. He was with me at the stables when Annie first arrived.”
Milo glanced behind him at the two-way mirror and scowled before returning to the folder and scrawling notes in his personal book. Not working in the field for so long had rendered him slow. He tapped on his notebook as he collected his thoughts.
“So Annie arrived and then what?”
“We left Annie alone with the elf. She came to collect him and I assume bring him here. Mr. Jacobi and I waited outside for a moment. It was snowing heavily by that point. When I had given her enough time to speak with the elf, I came back inside the barn. We were attacked not long after that. I got her out through a hidden door to the basement.”
“Did Jacobi come back inside with you?”
The question concerned the headmaster, his eyes crinkled as he thought about that night. His eyes raised in remembrance. “No. Annie and I noticed how quiet it was, and then the jinxes hit the building. I don’t know where he ran off to.”
“Did Jacobi attend Windmere? Did he know Annie at all?”
“Jacobi didn’t go to Windmere and came to work for us within the last year, so I don’t expect he’d know Annie from the school. Jacobi was very displeased with the damage the elf caused. The stable was unusable, and he blamed Annie. Just ask her.” A small grimace crossed the headmaster’s lips, though it didn’t remain for long.
Milo glanced again at the papers, shuffling through them at a quick pace and stopping on an arrest report. He slid the document to the headmaster.
“Yes,” Turtledove said after skimming the document. “He was arrested last summer at the black market while purchasing an illegal poison to control stoorwood snakes. They aren’t native to this country and therefore attack the creatures we use in the advanced creatures class for the zoology program. After his arrest, I gave him a stern warning and accepted his apology. He assured me this wouldn’t happen again. I believe in second chances, though a second offense will end in termination.”
“Fair enough, though this gives him a connection to someone at the market.” Milo tapped his fingers against the table, his thoughts swirling in his head.
“Milo, do you have a thought?” Turtledove asked.
Milo trusted his friend. He believed that Mr. Jacobi had made a contact at the market and used it, whether someone there needed his help to protect themselves from the master or he was threatened for some reason.
Maybe he’s just mean.
“Usually the Wizard Guard are not welcome in the black market, but we’re generally left alone. I mean, we don’t go in with palms blazing or anything. But this time, someone there snitched on Annie and Gibbs. The patrons are more than willing to do so, probably to protect themselves from the djinn that now has control. My guess is that Jacobi has a contact and snitched to someone there who needed the protection, or he was coerced, or maybe he’s just mean.”
“Jacobi doesn’t use modern technology,” Headmaster Turtledove put in.
Milo raised an eyebrow. “That’s good to know. Easier to find his connection to the market.” Without the magic help, Milo understood it would be next to impossible to find out who had alerted the djinn that Annie and Gibbs were there and that Annie was at Windmere. Especially now that the market was nearly empty. Though Milo also knew he might be able to scare that information out of the stable master. “I doubted you’d turn her in.”
“I’m very fond of Annie. We spent a lot of time with her after Jason died. Which leads to my lack of a motive. I have absolutely nothing to gain from harming her. I actually want her to come and teach.” He offered a smirk as he waited for his friend’s reaction.
Milo returned a grin, but unlike Annie’s reaction to that proclamation, he didn’t laugh. “You’d be lucky to have her. Does she know?”
“She does, and she laughed.”
Milo returned the papers to the folder and crossed his hands on top of it. “Good luck to you. Do you think Jacobi would do this?” Milo asked.
With a shrug, the headmaster responded, “I wish I could say he wouldn’t. That’s not to place blame away from me, it’s just that he was angry and has connections at the market.”
Putting away his notebook and pen, Milo stared at his old friend. “So if we find something on Jacobi, what would you like us to do?”
“Whatever you have to. And I’ll do what I have to.”
“Fitzgerald, thanks for coming in.” Milo pushed the folder back toward the headmaster.
“Keep it. Give it back when you find or don’t find anything.”
*
Shift and Brite watched the headmaster leave the interrogation room, escorted by a giant. Milo followed and handed the folder to Shiff. “Did you catch that?”
“Yes.”
“See if Jacobi has any contacts at the market. He should have a communication crystal in his personal things we collected. Find a connection, and I’ll handle the interview.”
“No problem, Milo.”
When the two wizard guards turned out of the hallway, Milo entered the second interrogation room, which held Mr. Jacobi. After thirty minutes alone in the empty, cold room, the suspect fidgeted with his hands in his lap. He glanced at
Milo when he entered the room and offered a sustained glare, never taking his eyes from the wizard guard.
Milo ignored the reception and sauntered to the table, sitting across from the stable master. Jacobi’s brown eyes darted from side to side as he wrung his thick hands. With each movement, the chair groaned under his weight; it was almost too much for the thin metal chair.
“How long have you worked at Windmere School?” Milo asked finally.
“Why am I here? I didn’t do nothing.” His stout body looked small in the interrogation room, childlike and afraid.
“We’re asking everyone involved in the first attack at the school some questions. That would be Headmaster Turtledove, Annie Pearce, Bitherby the elf, and you, of course. So please relax and just answer the questions. Okay?”
Mr. Jacobi nodded in agreement and continued kneading his hands together; they were rough and scratchy, and his callouses sounded like sandpaper when he rubbed them together. “I started at the school a year ago.”
Long after Annie left, Milo noted. He pulled out a report from the employee file, handing it over to Jacobi. “You were punished for interactions at the black market.”
Jacobi looked at the report, and his hands shook.
“I’m not here to debate that,” Milo went on. “My question is; did you have that contact at the black market before or after you purchased the illegal poison?”
“I know people who work all over. I knew a guy there. Said he’d help me out. Had to get rid of those snakes before my creatures died.”
“Of course. Yes, of course. I remember seeing them slither from the forest all the time. Caught one in the bathroom once. Nasty scar across my hand.” Milo held up the top side of his left hand. Two circular scars shone brightly in the fluorescent light. “Took several spells to heal it.” He smiled, but Jacobi glared. Sweat beaded in his short black-and-white hair and rolled into his dark brown eyes.
“What school did you attend? Was it in the States?”
“What’s that got to do with anythin’?”
“Just curious.” Milo offered another smile.
“Went to Tennyson in the south. Fine school. Better than Windmere, I’ve seen.”
Milo had worked with enough Wizard Council members to disagree with that, but he moved on. “So you don’t much like Windmere. You haven’t become loyal to the school or teachers?”
“Nah. Not at all. Love the headmaster. He’s good man. Gave me a second chance and all. Students are crazy wherever you go. I like it enough. It’s just not as good as Tennyson, that’s all.” Jacobi attempted a weak smile.
“You were alone just before the attack. Did you call anyone, talk to them about anything in particular?” Milo said, failing to keep the anger out of his voice. Whether it was out of loyalty to Windmere or to Annie or just plain disdain for this crude man, he couldn’t help his tone.
“I didn’t do nothing! Don’t like phones anyway. Too much trouble.”
A knock rattled the two-way mirror and flustered Mr. Jacobi.
Milo stood. “Excuse me a moment.”
Shiff stood inside the viewing room. “Look at this.” He handed Milo a translucent, light-yellow crystal. “Took it from him when he entered.” Shiff waved a palm across the stone, lighting it. A video-recorded scene began to unfold in front of him. Milo watched the scene and listened carefully. Very clearly, Mr. Jacobi and a second man were discussing Annie Pearce. Milo smiled.
“Brite’s off to fetch the second man. It’s Jacobi’s brother.” Shiff handed Milo the crystal. His phone rang. “Yeah…” He listened as a smile crept across his lips.
“That was fast.”
“Not even hidden. Found him at home, he’s coming quietly. He already gave up his little brother about the phone call. Though he didn’t admit to telling the master,” Shiff said.
“Probably told someone who told the master. Anyway, I’ll finish here. Let me know when the elder douchebag is here.”
Armed with the new information, Milo re-entered. Jacobi glowered once again, his hands crossed against his chest.
“You don’t have a cell phone. Do you, Jacobi?”
“Why does that matter?”
“This is your communication crystal, yes?” Milo swiped his hand across the yellow rock, lighting it up. Jacobi’s eyes grew wide as inside the crystal, the picture of two men deep in conversation replayed. Like crystals that track magical energy, this particular one was not only used to converse with someone but also was able to collect and save the conversations, storing them deep inside the crystal strands. Milo swiped his hand across the rock, increasing the volume.
“Winn, that girl. She’s here!”
“What you talking about?”
“That girl from the market. She’s come here to Windmere. The elf’s here too!”
“Really? You sure it’s the same one.”
“Yes! It’s them.”
“Well, goody. I tell the master; he’ll leave me alone. Can get my work done then. Finally you good for nothing, got something right…”
Jacobi shook his head.
“I know he’s at the market. I’d recognize that dirt and the crowds anywhere. Who did you talk to?”
“Just my brother. He works at a market. You don’t know. It’s changed. It’s not the place it useta be. Gotta do what you can to stay alive,” Jacobi pleaded.
“Did you hear they were being hunted? Did you get paid?”
“Protectin’ the family. I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“Right. You didn’t do nothing wrong. Jackass. By the way, your brother came here willingly, and he’s talking. You working for the master, is that it?”
“NO! No, I’m not working for the master.” Jacobi’s voice squeaked and grew silent.
Milo motioned through the window, and two guards entered the door. Each grabbed hold of Jacobi’s arms and assisted him up and out the door. The giants tossed him in a lesser, magically enhanced cell and locked him in.
“You got no right to hold me!” the stable master yelled.
“We’ve got a conversation that says you turned in two wizard guards. We got ya,” Milo said.
“I called m’brother, ‘bout the girl and the elf. I did it. But it was my brother’s fault!”
“Sure it was,” Milo said and walked away, leaving Mr. Jacobi alone in his cell.
Chapter 26
The hiker parked his car in the empty lot, the same lot that had been home to reporters and police vehicles for the better part of two weeks. Though the sky was clear and the sun bright, gusts of wind continued to blow icy air over the forest and through the trees, creating dunes of snow to the left of the clearing. Where the sun reached the earth, shallow snow piles began to melt, leaving many of the trails thick with mud and sand.
Prepared for the early spring conditions, the hiker pulled on thick waterproof boots and tied the long laces twice around his leg, securing them. Stepping onto the parking lot, his boots crunched against the remaining snow and ice as he trekked onto the trail.
The earth, still too frozen from the low temperatures, was a sea of ice and mud. He slipped across a muddy patch, righted himself, and took the trail around the clearing to pick up the southern path. It led him close to the anomaly, where the wind blew in like a wind tunnel, icy and cold. He shivered violently as birds squawked a fearful, panicked tune above him. The sky darkened and shadows grew long and dark in the clearing. Curious, the hiker glanced upwards, where the birds flew against the backdrop of billowing black smoke. It came from somewhere deep in the forest.
A fire?
The hiker sniffed the air, which clean and fresh with the aroma after a spring storm.
Where’s the rancid smoky smell?
Animals scurried out of the forest. Three deer—a mother and two small fawns—ran across the path, ignoring the hiker as they escaped the fire. Plumes of smoke stretched through the dense trees and wound around the hibernating trunks, rising higher above Busse Woods, and curling out across Chicago
land.
The man felt a chill unlike anything he ever felt before and glanced in the direction of the cold air, unable to see what caused the dread at the pit of his stomach. Stepping away from the icy spot, from the turbulent air, he took a long look inside the trees.
Where’s the fire?
The hiker broke free of the trail and stepped inside the trees, expecting to be overcome with smoke. The air was clear though a little damp from rotted leaves and other foliage. Venturing further inside, he whiffed the scent of dung and matted wet animal fur. He turned around and searched the trees for the animal, but he was alone. Directly above him through the bare branches, the smoke still billowed upwards—and yet the source of the smoke should have been right where he stood.
“What the hell?” he said as he ran out of the trees. Snapping a picture of the fireless smoke, the man called 911, reporting a fire in Busse Woods.
*
Max White sat at his desk in the communication center located in the basement of the Wizard Hall. After being suspended last year for missing an incoming police call and nearly risking exposure of magic during a double homicide, he’d become the model employee, always arriving before his 8:00 a.m. shift and not using his cell phone for anything except emergencies.
Today was a slow day, and yet he monitored every police scanner and message that came in, looking for hidden meanings or connections. But the calls were all arbitrary acts happening to random people at indiscriminate locations. Bored, Max lovingly touched his phone, longing to fly some birds, but he resisted. Instead, he turned his attention back to the job, listening to the movements of the police, fire, and ambulance calls as they came in.
“Fire at Busse Woods…” the voice on the radio cracked. The hairs on the back of Max’s neck pricked.
The black market!
Max dialed Milo right away. His heart palpitated rapidly; he felt nervous to speak with the Wizard Guard department manager after his major mistake.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 58
