by Sara Hanover
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll be busy.”
“And pigs will fly. You’ll wait for me if you know what’s good for you.” Evelyn tossed her head again, light blond hair rippling over her shoulders, and a dare-me look filled her eyes.
“Now go on. We’ve things to do.” She turned him about and gave him the tiniest of pushes away from the car. I watched him stride away with that super confident “I’m the shit” strut alpha males must practice from the time they hit 12 until they need a walker. “Mmm-mmm,” Evelyn murmured. “Isn’t he something?”
He definitely thought he was. “You’re lucky. Now, get in the car and buckle up, buttercup!”
The temperature had dropped considerably in the afternoon and made her camo outfit look like genius while I rummaged around in my car’s trunk praying for a stray jacket or hoodie to be stuffed in among the textbooks. Nothing turned up. I would have to brave the autumn weather in shirtsleeves and made a note to put contingency supplies in the car.
Evelyn tapped my shoulder. “Ready?”
“Pretty much.” I turned. She had a windbreaker hanging from her fingers.
“Thought you might need this.”
She could read my mind! Acceptable, for the moment. “Where’d you have this?”
“Stuffed deep in my backpack. Sorry it’s wrinkled.”
I took it and shrugged into it. “Good job. I see I picked a super sidekick.”
She tossed her head. “Partner.”
“You’ve just been promoted.”
She dropped her pack into the trunk and away we went.
* * *
• • •
The edge of the Silverbranch Academy bordered a small, unnamed creek that ran into Richmond’s main river, the James, which is a massively important waterway, some 340 miles long. The campus’ little fellow looked very unimportant in comparison, although it did set the Academy apart from the farmlands nearby. As the car crept into the visitors’ parking lot, the sky darkened with growing clouds, and trees thrashed to and fro in the wind. “My,” said Evelyn. “It’s getting busy out there.”
Looking through the windshield, I caught the distinct impression that the coming storm might not come from Mother Nature. Would that make me paranoid?
Evelyn grabbed her handbag. “Let’s go.” There are accessories she wouldn’t be caught dead without. Her pack, not so much but her purse and phone, always.
I sat. My purse these days is a small, heavy-duty, and lightweight backpack. I couldn’t find a comfortable shoulder bag that held Steptoe’s flash-bangs and a quart-sized carton of salt easily enough, not to mention the other necessities. Picking the pack up, I hefted it over my shoulder.
“Administration is that way. They said they’d have a pass for us.”
Much as I’d wanted to sneak in, the open country around made it impossible as well as unwise. Although forest blended in and out of farm acreage, the campus stood out easily. Down the road, a near-primeval forest awaited, but not here.
Stepping outside, the wind whipped Evelyn’s hair about her face, blinding her for a moment. She stopped and tried unsuccessfully to tuck it in place. I dug in my pocket and handed her a scrunchie, and she quickly bound it back.
We headed to Administration, skittering like other students and various fall leaves along the sidewalks in a hurry. In the gray afternoon, the blaze of climbing ivy turning red, gold, and orange lit up many of the buildings while the more modern ones held mirror images in their glassy sides, giving the whole place a small but classy and dynamic look. I wondered if any of it was illusion.
We blew into the main hall with a clatter of double doors and staccato of Evelyn’s bootheels on the tile flooring. I glanced down. Marble. Marble flooring. For the briefest of moments, I wondered if Mortimer and his Broadstone clan had done any of the work here. Quite possibly. No, make that probably. His people were said to be masters even among masters, and this stuff looked like quality, understated elegance. I smiled down at the floor. For another brief moment, I thought I could feel warm wishes reflected back at me.
Fortified, I tapped the back of Evelyn’s hand, and we forged down the hall toward Admittance.
A receptionist smiled up at us, perky and not much older than either of us at first glance, although a look at her clothes suggested she had never left the Fifties or maybe she just liked being retro. While Evelyn stared at her, thinking, I introduced myself.
“Oh, we have your visitor’s pass right here. Customarily, we let you take a walk around and then meet back here for a little orientation film, and a question and answer session.”
“Sounds perfect.” I took the pass. Under my glove, my maelstrom stone flashed red-hot, and then went icy. I guessed it just neutralized something in the paperwork, although I had no idea what and decided to get moving before the ageless receptionist figured out something had gone wrong.
Evelyn waved cheerily before joining me. She whispered, “OMG. I think she’s 80% Botox.”
“Really?”
“Has to be. Did you see her clothes?”
“Yup. I thought maybe it was rock ’n roll day here or something.”
Evelyn snickered. “She wishes. Okay, where to now?”
“A quick look at the classroom halls even though we’re going to have to hurry between buildings and hope it doesn’t start raining.”
“I’m game. My jacket is probably warmer than yours.”
“And not borrowed.”
“Right.”
A small but detailed map had been printed on the backside of the pass. I could see a silver star neatly marked “You Are Here” at the Administration building. I showed the map to Evelyn. “Hey! They’ve got a Starbucks. We can stop for coffee.”
“We’re going to need one.”
As we stepped back outside, the wind swirled up, much colder and uninviting, and it tried to slice through our clothing. Evelyn glanced up at the sky. “It almost feels like snow.”
“Seriously?”
“I know, I know. It can’t be.” She pulled up the hood on her jacket and tied it tight under her chin. “Yours has a hood, too, in the collar.”
My numb ears felt much better as soon as I got protection in place. We hurried from one building to another, sometimes with students and professors, but mostly alone, as class times didn’t coincide with our visit. We peeked into a number of classrooms, saw nothing remarkable, and Evelyn complained in a disappointed voice, “Doesn’t seem that different from Sky Hawk.”
And it didn’t.
“There are dorms,” I said helpfully. “We don’t have dorms.”
“Oh! Right! Maybe the good-looking guys are in the common rooms, studying.” She dug an elbow in my ribs.
“Sorry about that. They were in the brochure. Maybe we can sue for false advertising?”
She giggled, which seemed to lift the brooding atmosphere a bit, as we ventured to the nearest dorm.
If this was a den of magical learning, I hadn’t seen it, other than my stone’s reaction to my pass. Nor did I have an inkling as to why Carter Phillips had enrolled here, however briefly, or what he might have studied. If there was a glamour here, disguising the place, it was impenetrable. Notwithstanding the pass, I detected no magical activity, but I told myself I wasn’t the best detector ever. I should have brought Scout. The concrete pathway evolved into rather clever stepping stones as we approached Birch Hall Dorm. The vibrant autumn-painted ivy covered this building in huge waves. Behind it, however, I could see red brick, old-fashioned glass-paned windows, and numerous chimneys adorning the rooflike turrets on a castle. It looked tremendously old and a bit pretentious and very New England-ish charming, tucked away in the heart of Virginia. Two immense silver birch trees ruled the front lawn to the main part of the dorm.
A handful of students charged out of the doorway as we neared to step in, and a girl t
o the rear of the group stopped, her gaze catching sight of me with pass in hand. She was a ginger, and freckles dotted her face, making it merry looking. She laughed and waved the others on.
“Visiting?”
“Yes.”
“Bloody weather for it.” Her accent couldn’t quite decide if it were English or maybe Irish without the brogue. “You should go to the library. Definitely the library. That’s where everyone gathers.” And she was off, rather like a headstrong pony, catching up with her herd of fellows.
“Library?”
I shrugged. “She did recommend it.” We located it by the map and also by the students headed toward it, in handfuls and singles, seemingly unmindful of the weather.
We started toward the building, off to the northwest, when I happened to look back, over my shoulder, a recent habit. Anything could be following us. There, in the shadows of Birch Hall, I could see the gardens of the courtyard behind with three lovely statues celebrating water, earth, and air. Only the air statue looked disturbingly familiar.
My backpack tugged a bit. I shoved my hand inside to find Goldie’s feather doing a frantic jig.
“Ummm. How about you head to the library? I’m going to double back and see if I can find the girls’ bathroom in the dorm.”
“You can’t wait?”
“It’s been all day.” I danced a little on the stepping stones. Shoving the pass into her hand, I promised to catch up with her immediately. “And save a guy for me!”
Evie waved me on, shaking her head and chortling.
I legged it back toward the dorm, ducked around the south wall of the building and headed to the courtyard. There, face-to-face with the statue, I could see the unmistakable resemblance even though I’d met her in the darkest of night. The feather practically flew out of my backpack into my hand where I held it, with absolutely no idea what to do with it.
I could see that part of her wing statuary seemed chipped, missing a piece. Could it be that simple? Stepping forward, I angled the feather down into the gap and completed the wing.
Goldie turned her head toward me with a gasp.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FLY SO FREE
THE SKY BURST open, with a sheet of lightning striking nearby and sending its ozone smell crackling across the little courtyard. Seconds later, rain began to fall in torrents and with every wet drop on her body, the stone melted away. I couldn’t help but watch until both of us stood, drenched and free, and facing each other.
Goldie smiled as she stepped down off the dais toward me. “What enterprise. You have my profound gratitude, Tessa Andrews, and—”
The sound of a single person clapping interrupted her. We both swung around and she flung her wings up in genuine fight or flight reaction. I gestured at her. “Go! Go on, get out of here!”
“Oh, she can’t do that, Miss Andrews. You’ve freed her, but I still have a binding.” And the clapper moved into view, his features sharp and his stature a little on the short side, his suit far more expensive than either of the agents who’d visited me, and his bearing one of absolute authority. My heart sank a bit. If this was the judge in the Society, he knew his magic and I didn’t. My only move was to strip my gloves away and stow them and worry about freezing fingers. My stone flared up again, though, instantly warming the one hand. I clasped them together to share. Under my shirtsleeves, my bracers caught the same slight heat.
Lightning hit again, and thunder rumbled loudly, right overhead, so I knew the strike had been somewhere on campus. Maybe at the library? I hoped Evelyn had the good sense to stay inside. Or maybe it was worse in there? Did they know about me all over Silverbranch?
The gentleman drew closer, and I could see a flicker of caution in his movements. Okay, so he knew about harpies being warrior women with a lot of ability, and maybe he thought I could do more than I actually could, so he took care. Goldie shrugged, trying to bring her wings up again, and shuddered when they refused to answer to her.
She fell to one knee with a groan. Her head bowed. I nudged her. “Get up! We’re not done fighting yet!”
The gentleman laughed harshly. “She is. The moment Mortimer was taken from her, she surrendered.” He stopped watching Goldie and looked to me. “What about you? What does it take to break you?”
I refused to think about it. No names in my thoughts, in case he could somehow perceive them. “I don’t quit. Not in the driving rain, not standing all alone. I can’t fight the way you can, but I don’t quit.” While I talked, I dug the toe of my sneaker under a loose stepping stone in front of me. As any teammate on our field hockey team could tell him about the way I played the game, rain or shine, I’ll drive down that field and put my stick down your throat if necessary. If we needed points, I determined to be the go-to girl. Guys on the ice hockey team came out to watch and get pointers from me on roughing players without getting penalized.
Goldie gave another low moan, so quiet I barely heard it even though it gave me goose bumps when I did. I could feel her tremble next to me but refused to look at her. I had my attention centered on the man across from us. The stepping stone loosened obligingly. A heave rippled through her body.
“You know my name. Do you have one?”
“I have many. At this campus, they call me Maxwell Parker. Judge Parker, if you will.”
“You give it out so freely, I gather that’s not your true name. You don’t think I can harm you with it.”
He flashed white teeth, smiling.
“You would be foolish to try. I can reach out and touch any of your loved ones that I wish. Your mother. Your father. Your rather silly friend Evelyn. Not to mention the others which I already have in my sight—Broadstone. Steptoe. Brandard.”
My heart did a quick step when he mentioned my father. I wondered just what he knew about the situation or if he was bluffing. I noted he’d left Carter off the list. Had Carter covered his activities, or did Parker think that the Society had swallowed Carter hook, line, and sinker?
“You can’t touch me.” Maxwell Parker raised his hands to create some magical havoc.
“You’d be wrong.” I kicked my foot up, and the paver came up in the air where I caught it neatly and swung, my maelstrom stone smacking into it soundly, batting it directly at him. My hand and wrist stung like fire. He didn’t dodge in time. My aim caught him right in the temple and he dropped, well, like a stone.
Goldie lunged to her feet as he did, her wings gone, and her body entirely human, encased in that Amazon leather armor. She got to him first and tied him down. Stuffing a handkerchief from his pocket into his mouth, she looked up at me.
“Nice going.”
My hand smarted. I shook it off. “I manage. The question is: are you rescued or do we have something else to do? I’m game, short of slitting his throat.”
“Pity, because that would accomplish a great deal, but I understand your reluctance.” Goldie stretched. The rain had slowed to a very light sprinkle, and the drops ran over her as though her human skin operated like ducks’ feathers and was water repellent.
I watched her before getting it. “You’re a shapeshifter. Harpies are shifters. Took me a while, with everyone talking about where your nest is located and such.”
“Yes. We perform best half-and-half, human head and arms, the rest winged and avian, but we operate back and forth.” She winked at me. “My wings are tied to some spell Parker has concocted, but I can get around that, given enough time.”
“It took you a while to shift.”
“Yes. Side effect of his working. I expect it to wear off if nothing else, sooner or later.”
“We should make it sooner.” I joined her and looked down at the judge. “He’s really Society.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is everyone else like this?”
“A few are worse. His is a secret malady, though, or he’d be throw
n out. And he doesn’t want that. It would cut his power until he learned to adjust it. Right, buddy?” She poked him. His eyelids fluttered.
“I say we dump him in the creek and see if he floats, sorta like they used to do with witches in Salem.”
“That is an idea.” Goldie grinned at that.
Not a particularly good one if I wanted information out of him, though. I thought I could hear shouts and laughter in the distance.
“We need to go, and now. Can you leave this place, or are you centered here?”
“I can leave.” She patted the judge down one more time, found something of interest in a side coat pocket, and slipped it down her corset cleavage. I had a momentary mental picture of all the men I knew watching her action closely. I shook it off.
Opening my backpack, I took out Steptoe’s coat. “The best way to get out of here would be to do it unseen.” I also got my phone out, texted Evelyn to meet me at the car PRONTO, and put my phone on silent before putting it back in the little pocket most backpacks had reserved for cell phones and other important goodies.
I turned the coat inside out and began, very carefully, to see if I could stretch it apart, just as I’d seen Simon do it. It resisted. Fabric is fabric, right? Except when it isn’t, and I didn’t think this was, not entirely. I gritted my teeth and prayed I wasn’t exhausting its magical capability but this felt urgent. “I know what you can do,” I muttered at the object. “So get with the program.”
Judge Parker began to thump on the ground, kicking up small puddles of mud and water.
“What are you doing?” Goldie brushed sopping wet hair from her face impatiently.
“Working on something. Simon says . . .” I halted. No. Really? As easy as Simon says . . .
I took up the coat again, determined to stretch it enough to cover both of us, chanting Simon says with every pull. With great resistance, it began to grow in my hands. I turned it about, stretching and shaping it until it could cover both of us. I stood next to her and flung it overhead, catching the other edge. “Let’s go. Match your pace to mine. We can’t be seen.”
