Aurie gave the phone one last look and shoved it into her pocket. The last message from her sister had been that she was going into the Undercity, and that was a day or so ago. She hoped everything was okay.
"So you going?" asked Deshawn.
Aurie hopped off the desk. "I'm going. Don't worry. I'll tell her why you couldn't find me."
He started to walk away, then stopped. "Are you going to the Spring Formal?"
"Wait? Spring Formal? Isn't that like months away, or am I missing something?"
"Yeah, it's still October, but Isabella is planning it now, to give everyone something to look forward to."
Aurie nodded, knowing how desperate they were to find reasons to be hopeful.
"I'll be there."
Aurie left the library and headed to the hidden pool beneath the hall. The waterfall thundered against the water, spray forming a mist that kissed her skin as she passed through.
Even before she reached Semyon's room, she felt the vibration in the back of her teeth. The Engine of Temporal Manipulation was working harder than a few weeks ago when she'd come back to check on Semyon. Then it'd only been a slight vibration beneath the bed that could have easily been dismissed. No wonder Professor Mali had found it.
"Aurelia Silverthorne."
Professor Mali was sitting upright in her wheelchair, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail so tight it yanked her eyebrows upward. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the rests.
The Engine of Temporal Manipulation had been set on Semyon's chest. He appeared no different than before, still the same grayish manikin masquerading as her patron.
"I'm sorry, Professor," said Aurie, cringing as she entered the room and the full force of the vibration hit her. "I'm trying to help."
"Help?" asked Professor Mali in mock surprise. "You think this is help? No, you've made things worse. Can you not hear that or are you as thick as this decision?"
"It wasn't doing that before."
"Brilliant observation. I told you not to mess with Oba and the Engine." She shook her head. "This problem isn't even the worst of it. If we have the Engine then it means that Boann is no longer, and the world has one more problem. A big one."
"Who is Oba?"
"Who is Oba, she asks, after letting him free. A question you might have tendered before such foolishness. As you may recall from your history lessons, the world was a terrible place before the Halls. Unchecked power can lead people to very dark things, and in the annals of history, Oba was one of the worst."
"Which is why we need to save the Halls, so there is a system that keeps us together," said Aurie.
"System? Systems are made of people, and people are flawed," said the professor, shaking her head. The constant vigilance had clearly taken its toll on her.
"Maybe so, but look what it did for the Halls. The Cabal want to destroy it, but they haven't, not yet. Not while he's still alive."
The professor was staring into her lap. Words seethed from her lips in gut-wrenching command.
"Turn it off."
Aurie searched her memory. Oba had given her the knowledge of how to turn it on, but not how to turn it off. Had he done this on purpose? Without Invictus to oppose him, was he sabotaging the Halls as well?
"I can't."
The professor bored her eyes into Aurie. "Turn it off!"
"No. I can't. I don't know how."
The Engine whined to a higher pitch like a motor on its way to failure. It was like getting a root canal from a jackhammer. Aurie doubled over, wondering if this was the moment it failed. After a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime, she was able to think again.
"You've doomed us," said the professor. "Professor Chopra was right. We should have locked Semyon's apartment down and not let anyone in, not even students."
"No," said Aurie. "Maybe it's working harder because it's fixing him."
"Where is the time exhaust going? The Engine can't generate time or take it away," she said. "It's got to go somewhere."
A tightness formed in Aurie's chest. "I don't know where it's going."
"You've got to fix it, or something," said the professor. "We can argue about the stupidity of your decision later, but for now, it needs to relieve pressure or it's going to explode, and I can't even fathom the repercussions of that."
Aurie nodded, understanding.
"I'll see what I can do. He left me instructions. Maybe if I adjust the settings, it'll fix it."
She reached her hand out towards the Engine of Temporal Manipulation. The air around it vibrated with an energy that made the hairs on her arm stand up.
Aurie imagined the symbols that she'd traced before, seeing them as an instruction manual. Her fingers dangled towards the runed brass cylinder.
"I think maybe—"
The words died in her throat. Her whole body compressed, then like a rubber band pulled back and launched, she felt instant dislocation, a thousand times worse than when she'd traveled through portals.
Aurie landed in a pile of crunchy leaves. She was in a forest past the death of its foliage. It was a world of brown. She shivered against the cold, warding away the sun in her eyes to survey the surroundings.
"Where the hell am I?"
The Engine of Temporal Manipulation had transported her somewhere, probably north, judging by the weather and the colors of the trees. In Invictus, the leaves were in mid-change, which meant further north, the transition had already happened.
Aurie knocked the leaves from her clothes, thankful that getting thrown halfway across the continent was the only thing that had happened. She was probably in Canada, which was going to be difficult to explain when she crossed the border, but it was better than the alternatives. With the kind of power surging through the Engine of Temporal Manipulation, it could have torn her apart or done all sorts of strange things.
She smelled the faint burning of wood, and spied a curl of smoke winding into the clear blue sky. She headed towards what she hoped was civilization.
On the way, she pulled out her cell phone, but there were no bars. "I must be at the arse end of the world."
The smoke was coming from a small camping fire. She saw a solitary man warming his hands on the flame. Aurie stayed back, trying to get a read on him before approaching, but he turned and looked directly at her. Before she could think about hiding, he gave her a hearty grin and a friendly wave.
Aurie joined him at his fire. He was sitting on a log in homemade breeches and a dirty white shirt of a style she'd seen in historical reenactments. Even sitting, she could tell he was tall. He had crisp blue eyes, dark hair, and a pair of dimples that put a warm center in her gut. He was studying her with curious eyes.
"Um, hello?"
"Madam, I am pleased to meet you."
Her mouth went dry at his formal words. The idea that he was a reenactor was fading quickly, leaving an alternative she didn't want to consider.
"And you as well," she said.
"May I inquire about the nature of your attire? It is unlike that which I have ever laid my eyes upon."
She was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. "It's common where I come from."
"Which is?"
"Philadelphia."
"Franklin's home," he said with a wistful smile. "Have you ever had the good fortune to meet him?"
A knot of tension formed in her neck. Now she was sure she wasn't in Kansas anymore. But she also knew that time travel wasn't possible based on Einstein's Third Law of Magic, which left the most likely scenario that she'd been thrown into some alternative universe near her own, which if it were true, was very bad, as she'd never get back. There were other lesser possibilities, but she was too shell-shocked to think about them.
"Are thee well?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned.
She tried to console herself that at least she'd encountered a charming and attractive man on her arrival, a thought which suggested a bit of escapist fantasy on her part. This suggested that it might not be an alternati
ve universe.
"I've traveled far, and I'm a little tired," she said.
"Please, have my seat..." he said, standing up, leaving a space at the end of his sentence for her. He was at least six four, built like a lumberjack with powerful forearms. She didn't realize he was asking her name until he gave her an expectant head nod.
"Oh, I'm Aurelia, Aurie for short."
"I'm Beecee," he said, moving around the fire to a spot against a tree. He placed his forearms on his bent knees.
Aurie warmed her hands on the crackling fire. "Where are you headed?"
"I'm meeting friends," he said.
The smile stayed on his lips, but faded from his eyes. Dark thoughts traveled across them like clouds on a sunny day. He seemed to realize his sudden sullenness and cast it away.
"And you?"
"Traveling home."
"To Philadelphia?"
She nodded.
"Your path takes you by a circuitous route," he said.
"I'm lost, if that's what you mean. I'm looking for a place to stay."
"No pack? No gear. It is strange for a lady to travel alone and without her belongings," he said.
"I ran into some trouble."
"Ran into?"
"A figure of speech. I had belongings earlier, but now they're gone."
"Ruffians?"
"Sure," she said.
He smiled like he understood, but his eyes said otherwise. He seemed to be weighing a decision.
"What"—Aurie started to ask what year it was, but realized that would be rather odd—"news is, well, new? I've been out of touch for a while."
"I'm afraid I'm in the same situation, I've been deep in the territories, so I've not been privy to the news of the day," said Beecee.
"May I travel with you? At least to the next town."
"Certainly," he replied. "I was about to put out the fire before you arrived. Could you assist me and then we'll be on our way?"
When she nodded, he gave her a water bladder and pointed down the slope to a creek gurgling through the forest. The water was freezing cold on her hands.
Aurie swallowed the spell that came to her lips, a reaction to the discomfort. If she had her magic, she would have made her hands impervious to the temperature. Then she realized she wasn't in her home world, or time, or whatever. Aurie closed her eyes and focused on the well of faez inside, finding it right at the surface, and strong. There was no trace of Semyon at the edges, no anchor inside her mind.
Was he truly gone? Or was this a trick by the Cabal to get her to use magic?
But the clues of her new existence tempted her sorely. The spell erased the needles in her fingers from submerging them in the cold water.
The taste of faez was in the back of her throat, like an addict taking a hit of a cigarette after a long absence. Aurie ached to let loose and feel the flow of magic through her limbs, washing away the ever-present anxiety.
But she didn't want to disturb her new friend, who would not understand. If Ben Franklin were alive, that meant she was in colonial times, which was before the Hundred Halls had been founded, when magic was not generally a known thing, or at least not by the public. A man or woman finding their power, but not enough to defend themselves, might end up being burned as a witch or warlock.
When she returned, the fire was out, not even smoldering or trailing off smoke. Beecee seemed almost embarrassed by the state of the fire. She handed him the water bladder.
"I'm ready if you are," she said.
He led the way with long strides eating up the distance. She kept on his heels, relishing the chance to be outdoors. Aurie'd been so cooped up in Arcanium that she'd forgotten what it was like to walk in a single direction for more than a hundred feet. She knew her muscles would be sore, but it would be worth it.
After an hour, they crested a ridge into a valley. Multiple streamers of smoke trailed into the sky, announcing they'd reached the town. Coming up through the trees, they heard the banging of metal on metal. It rang through the air.
The town was no larger than fifteen-odd buildings, a dirt road heading out of the valley, and farms in the surrounding area. The houses were made of logs, with white pine coverings and smoky glass windows. Men and women moved through the town. The women wore dresses with aprons and dirty hems, and the men were dressed similarly to Beecee, but dirtier. The town reeked of horse manure, a pungent assault on her nose.
Aurie tugged on her shirt, wishing she had something less conspicuous. A woman in a light blue dress carrying a basket gave her a nasty glance as she tromped by.
The woman wasn't the only one. The men in the nearby fields stopped their harvest to stare before returning to the sweaty work.
Beecee checked back with Aurie. He seemed to ask with a raised eyebrow whether or not she was going to stay.
"Could I travel with you a little further?" she asked.
"Certainly," he said, "though I plan on acquiring more supplies before traveling on. It'll only take a short spell to barter. I can afford a little extra if you'll be needing it."
"That would be very kind and generous of you."
Beecee stopped a woman outside her house, inquiring about purchasing supplies. Aurie stayed back, as her presence aroused suspicion in the locals.
While she was waiting, a little red-haired boy with a constellation of freckles across his nose and cheeks came running up until he was about ten feet away, then stopped and glanced back to his mother. He had a carved wooden figure in his right hand.
"Hello there," said Aurie, giving a little wave.
The freckled boy didn't speak. He smiled cautiously, eyes glittering with wonder. He kept glancing back to his mother, the woman bartering with Beecee, as if he knew he wasn't supposed to be near her.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"In-jen," he said, in halting speech. "In-jen."
"In-jen?" she asked.
He pointed at her. "In-jen. In-jen."
It hit her what he was implying. She'd forgotten how dark her skin was compared to these folks. The boy thought she was a Native Indian. It wasn't her clothing that bothered the townsfolk but her skin tone.
She pointed to herself. "Persian."
"Per-jen?" he replied.
"Persian. Per...oh never mind," she said, sighing.
The boy ran away when the woman called his name in a high screech that Aurie couldn't understand. She dragged the boy into their house by his ear. Beecee came back to her.
"A petite moment and she'll bring us what we need. I asked her for a blanket so that you might warm yourself at night. It's a three-day journey to the next town," he said.
"Thank you," said Aurie, feeling embarrassed she had nothing to offer.
After ten minutes, the woman in the dirty dress with the red-haired son came marching up to them with a basket and a blanket over her arm. The smell of fresh bread beneath the covering in the basket made her stomach gurgle embarrassingly loud, receiving a searing look from the woman.
Beecee took the basket and threw the blanket over his shoulder. "Many thanks, Misses Butterton."
"May the Lord keep his watch upon your road, Mister Beecee."
As they moved away, headed out of town, Aurie found herself mulling over his name. Something about the way Misses Butterton had said it made Aurie realize she'd been hearing it wrong.
When they were about half a kilometer from the town, she asked, "Is Beecee short for something?"
He chuckled lightly. "My initials. B and C."
Something about those letters triggered a moment of fear, though she couldn't pinpoint why. She looked at him again, wondering if she knew him.
"And they stand for?"
"Bannon Creed, but my friends call me B.C."
Chapter Eleven
The end of the gun barrel looked like a big black tunnel to Pi. A tunnel that led to the end of her life. There were a lot of things that magic could do to prevent the bullet from smashing through her face and blowing shards of bone thr
ough her brain matter, but they required time and preparation. Two things she didn't have.
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the other girls approach. The one on the right had an arm made of cracked stone, striations of gray threading through her body. The girl on the left, wielding a baseball bat, had skin that pulsed translucently. If Pi wasn't staring at the end of her life, she might have focused her attention on the girl with the see-through skin.
The only thing that gave Pi hope about getting out of the situation was the fact that the gun barrel was shaking. It appeared Jade wanted to shoot her as much as Pi wanted to be shot.
"There are better options," said Pi, keeping her hands wide and her fingers straight. She didn't want to give the impression that she was performing any magic, or Jade would kill her.
Had it only been Jade, using the Voice would have been a possibility, but not a good one. When she'd used it on Sunil, it'd taken multiple attempts to get right. She didn't have that kind of time now.
"There are always other options," said Jade, facial expressions contorting with inner decisions. "For a rich girl."
"I was an orphan. I told you," said Pi.
"But you were born rich, with all the advantages it entailed. You just got unlucky for a while. But had you been poor from the beginning, you would have never been able to work your way back to the Halls," said Jade, clearly trying to convince herself to pull the trigger.
"Was she really an orphan?" asked the girl with the stone arm.
"Shut up, Nancy," said Jade, then she turned back to Pi. "I bet she got special treatment because her parents were in the Halls."
She opened her mouth to refute her, but she knew the truth. Semyon Gray had gone out of his way to help her sister because of their parents.
"My sister did," said Pi, nodding softly. "I can't change who I am."
"And neither can we." Jade nodded towards Nancy. "She got that in the Merlins. They used a cursed trap with no known counter. And Sasha." Jade motioned towards a dark-skinned girl with a loose afro and ghostly blue eyes. "When she didn't get into the Halls, it bankrupted her parents, and afterwards, they never wanted to see her again."
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