“One thing’s for sure,” he said, holding me in his arms. “We have to stop Nyquist. Tempest doesn’t deserve to suffer.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to sink into his warmth. “I have an idea. We’ll try tomorrow, see if we can do anything to keep Nyquist distracted.”
Chapter Twenty-One
FALL SEMESTER
EARLY OCTOBER
The next night, Rowan and I attempted to sneak back into Nyquist’s office to save Tempest, and possibly any others that he might be keeping captive, but from the minute we walked up, I knew something was wrong.
There was a lot more activity around the Administration Building, even this late at night. Rowan and I hid behind a bush, cloaked by Fedorov’s canceling box as we watched a group of male students walk up the steps and disappear through the main entrance doors.
“What are all those asshats doing out this late?” Lawson murmured. “Shouldn’t they be out planning a date rape or something?”
“First of all, don’t even joke about that,” I said. “Second, did they say anything to the male students about some late-night exam or something?”
He shook his head. Tonight, his hair was jet black and slicked back, making him look a bit more Rowan-like than normal. The tattoos and rings were still Lawson’s however, as was the long tank top, jeans, and expensive sneakers. “No one said anything to me.”
“Maybe you aren’t in the know. The guys that went up there are all in Nyquist’s inner circle.” I’d spotted Pierce and a few of his Neanderthal friends, though Cruise was surprisingly absent.
“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Lawson said sadly. “We aren’t getting in there without a lot of trouble.”
My eyes darted over. “You aren’t thinking about getting in a lot of trouble, are you?”
His lips thinned as he pondered my question. Finally, he said, “No. Not tonight. Too much is at stake.”
“Tempest is probably okay,” I said warily. “They look too busy to be torturing her.” It was probably wishful thinking on my part, but Rowan was right, there was little we could do with so many warlocks about. We’d get caught in seconds and be strung up right beside her.
Lawson frowned. “We need to get a message to our friends on the outside, though I haven’t been able to.”
Tentatively, I put my hand on his arm. “In the meantime, I think I have an idea to keep them busy so they’ll leave Tempest and the others alone.”
Lawson’s eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking about getting in a lot of trouble?”
I ran a finger down Fedorov’s box. He’d given me an amazing gift. One I was dying to get more use out of.
“I’m not thinking about getting into any trouble.” I smiled. “No trouble at all.”
Almost twenty-four hours later, Bridget and I were standing outside Witch Cove with our canceling cases in hand.
“Are you sure about this?” Bridget asked.
She was in her Rogue Witch garb, a navy hooded cloak trimmed in black, leather gloves, pants, and boots. Her hair was covered and her face was cloaked in shadow. I wanted to ask her where she got such a killer outfit and find out if she could get me one too, but we had business to attend to and not a lot of time to accomplish it.
And the question still hung there: was I sure?
I glanced at Witch Cove and then out across the campus that I loved. The powers that be had nearly ruined the place in the span of a few months. They deserved a little torture, especially Nyquist and his crew.
“I’m sure,” I said, tugging up the hood on my black sweater. This and black jeans was the best I could do on short notice.
“Good,” Bridget said, rubbing her hands together. “Then, here are my rules. One: We don’t do anything that could get us put in prison. That would be a huge bummer. Got it?”
I nodded. “No prison. You won’t get an argument from me.” I was risking a lot as it was.
“Two: we keep it fun. The days here suck bad enough.” Bridget waited for me to nod before continuing. “And three: we get creative.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, a small seed of worry growing in my gut. Bridget could be a little… off sometimes. What was I getting myself into?
She grabbed my hand, pulling me along and activating her canceling case at the same time. “Oh, you’ll see.”
Our first stop was the Senior Boys’ Dorm. Stately and made of brick, it looked like an Ivy League building in the soft, fall moonlight. Behind curtained windows, the males of our grade slept on cushy beds in private rooms. They probably had a maid or butler for all I knew.
Bridget pointed up to the third floor. “That’s where we would’ve stayed if they hadn’t relegated us to second class citizenship. Best bathrooms on campus,” she added. “They have a sauna.”
“Damn,” I said.
“So, we start here. Make it not so nice.” She put the canceling case in her cloak pocket and rubbed her hands together carefully. As I watched, she swung her hands over her head as if she were attempting a very strange dance and began chanting in what sounded like Greek.
I waited, breathless, for something to happen. In a few moments, a low droning sound caught my attention.
“Bridget, what is that?” I said, staring into the dark.
“Shh,” she said. “I’m concentrating.”
I gritted my teeth, remembering now how annoying Bridget could be. She could at least tell me what I was about to face. The droning was getting louder and my anxiety was peaking.
“Bridget.” I tugged her sleeve. “What’s going to happen?”
She didn’t answer, too engrossed in her magical dance.
Suddenly, a dark swarm appeared overhead. Insects the size of songbirds flocked around the entrance light, then zipped over the roof and down a small chimney.
“What were those?” I asked.
“Wait for it,” she said with glee on her face.
A light popped on upstairs. Then another. Dull shouts could be heard through closed windows. Then an upstairs window shattered, sending shards of glass down onto the ground.
“What the…” I froze, waiting.
Students started streaming out the main doors, first one or two, then more. They were batting at the insects, swinging at them with tennis rackets and shooting spells. As I watched, one of the insects shot back. A small electrical bolt hit a senior boy between the eyes and his head began to swell.
“Pixie minotaurs,” I said as it dawned on me where I’d seen this before.
The guy’s head ballooned to ten times its original size just as Rowan’s had during Freshman Year.
Bridget nodded, her face so full of joy as if it was Christmas morning.
I turned and watched the chaos with new eyes, giggling at the folly before me. Senior boys staggered around with Cousin It hair growth. One had giant hands, puffed up to twenty times their normal size, that he used to bat at the little buggers. No one got hurt, but man, they were annoyed.
“This is hilarious,” I said to Bridget, really grateful she’d brought me here.
“Wait until tomorrow night,” she said with a waggle of an eyebrow.
I did wait with growing anticipation, hurrying through my classes and dinner until we could sneak out again. This time, instead of taking me toward the dorms, she headed towards the Administration Building.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked, growing nervous. Word had spread on campus that the Rogue Witch was back and they were doubling the watch. Nyquist was not happy. He’d made magical announcements that kept popping up all over campus, floating images of him with stern warnings about severe punishments for the person responsible.
“I think this is a great idea,” Bridget said, just before casting. She started weaving her hands, magic twisting around her fingertips.
“Create a barrier spell at every door and window. Make sure to seal off any cracks and crevices,” she said, beginning to sweat a little as she moved her arms.
“Barrier spell? Y
ou know this would work a hell of a lot better if you just told me what we were doing.” I scowled, thinking I should probably just head back to bed. I had a test in the morning on making muffins rise, and as dumb as it was, I wanted to nail it.
“If I told you what I was doing, I’d miss that look of total shock on your face when you see what I’ve come up with. That’s at least half of the reason I’ve let you tag along.” Bridget’s eyes darted over to me and her eyebrows waggled up and down.
“Fine.” I did as she asked, sealing off any crack I could find. What would it be this time? More insects? Howling banshees?
Instead, I began to see water rising steadily behind the windows.
“Oh, geez. Flooding it? They are going to be pissed.”
“Just wait,” she said.
Once the whole building was filled with water, a glow started in every window as if a giant had turned on an overhead light. When I saw the fish swimming past the windows, schools of them darting through the offices and swimming up the staircases, I realized that was exactly what she had built: a humongous aquarium.
A small alarm rang through me when I remembered Tempest. “What about the people we think are held here? They’ll drown.”
Bridget shook her head. “The water is on the main levels and I checked to make sure no one was inside. Relax.” She patted my arm. “I’ve got this.”
With her reassurance, I was able to enjoy her prank for what it was—a thing of beauty, one that would really piss off the staff.
They came running, a few M.L.E. officers at first, then Nyquist in his pajamas. He shook his head and scowled, directing the guards to open the front doors. When they finally got them open, water poured out in a gush, knocking them to their feet and soaking everyone who had gathered around to watch, including Nyquist.
Bridget laughed, then wiggling her fingers made a fish jump from the puddle and flap onto Nyquist’s head.
“I bet he thinks something fishy is going on,” I said.
Bridget groaned and then laughed. “The puns again?”
“Hey, last time I didn’t get to participate.”
She acquiesced, waving her hand in a hurry-up motion. “Okay, get them out of your system.”
I grinned. “Those officers are really floundering.”
Bridget snorted. “That one was okay. Do you have any more?”
“You really schooled them,” I said.
“Oh, my Cod. So bad,” Bridget replied. “How about this? I hope they don’t find us gill-ty.”
“Awful,” I said, laughing. It felt good. It was the best I’d felt in a long time and I realized how much my spy persona was taking out of me. I was Charlie Rivera. I wasn’t a good little girl. I was a badass witch. I needed this.
I patted Bridget on the shoulder and she winked at me.
We watched for a while as they dried out Nyquist and tried to suck the water out of the school. With magic, they’d have it all set to rights in a day or two, but it felt good to stick it to them. Even if it was only a prank.
“What are we doing tomorrow night?” I asked as we headed back to our dorm under our cloaking spell.
“It’s your turn to come up with an idea,” Bridget said. “If you can.”
I grinned as ideas flooded my brain. “Oh, I’m sure I can come up with something.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
FALL SEMESTER
LATE OCTOBER
Today was Homecoming.
In the past, there would have been no classes as we were allowed to get ready for the big game. But, under Nysquist’s regime, classes continued until noon because no one should enjoy themselves around here.
Disha, Bridget, and I had barely gotten out of bed on time for the first class and were dragging ourselves out of our sleeping quarters. We had class with Mrs. Bass and today we were supposed to learn how to prevent spider webs from accumulating in high corners.
Oh, joy.
Unfortunately, we had all amassed too many foibles to skip. If we got more, we would get grounded and miss tonight’s events: the Homecoming Game and, afterward, Nyquist’s Magic Leadership Summit.
There was no way we could miss either of those. I’d never actually made it through a whole Homecoming Game. And, if our suspicions were right, something big was going to go down at that summit. That much was clear, especially considering the way Nyquist’s agitation had grown the closer the summit got.
As Bridget, Disha, and I turned down the hall toward Witch Cove’s exit, we stopped in our tracks and exchanged worried glances. A group of girls was crowded around the bulletin board, the students in the back craning their necks to be able to see over the ones in the front. A few were using levitation spells as the information seemed that important.
“That’s a lot of money,” one of them said. “I wish I knew who she is.” A tall blonde squeezed out of the group, two other girls following behind her.
“Me, too. I could use that cash,” one of her friends said. “I need a new car.”
“I need a new car,” said the third one. “You just got yours last year.”
“So? Someone dinged it.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Whatever. You’re a witch. Buff that shit out with a spell or something.”
As they left the building, I shook my head at their conversation. We had more pressing problems than new cars. It seemed like some of the women who stayed were the more vapid type, present company excluded. Either way, we moved forward, trying to find out what they’d been talking about.
“Excuse me,” I said, ignoring the dirty looks a few of the students threw my way as I squeezed my way to the front.
When I got there, I stopped and stared.
The bulletin board was covered with Wanted posters.
The sketch of a hooded figure occupied the middle of the page. Above it the word “Wanted” was written in thick, black letters. While underneath, it read:
REWARD
$50,000
For information leading to the
arrest of the “Rogue Witch.”
I snatched one of the sheets off the board, wove through the dispersing crowd, and handed the poster to Bridget. She examined it carefully, her expression giving nothing away. Disha read over Bridget’s shoulder, one of her perfect eyebrows going up.
“Well, my wardrobe could stand a makeover,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear.
Bridget folded the flyer and stuffed it in her pants’ pocket, without saying a word.
We left our crappy dorm and headed east toward the Spells Cave.
Casually, I stuffed a hand in my pocket and pressed the button in Fedorov’s canceling case. A cloaking spell surrounded us.
“That poster is a sign we’re really getting to them,” I said, waving my hand above my head to indicate I’d erected cloaking spell. “We’re keeping them busy. Nyquist is worried the Rogue Witch will try something during the summit.”
A smile stretched over my lips. I shouldn’t have felt so proud of myself, I hadn’t really accomplished much in the past few weeks since joining Bridget, but I loved to see Nyquist and his beloved M.L.E. scrambling for answers.
And $50,000? That was a lot of money. They wouldn’t offer so much if our antics weren’t giving them real headaches. Still, what was money to them? They probably used hundreds to wipe their old posteriors.
In the past three weeks since I’d learned Bridget was the Rogue Witch, the “subversive” occurrences—Nyquist’s name for Rouge Witch’s misdemeanors—had doubled.
How had that happened? An odd thing that was.
My smile grew deeper.
“Hmm, maybe I should turn Bridget in,” I said. “I could finally open a bank account and, like, buy and own shit.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Disha said. “You know what they’ll do.”
“A wanted poster,” Bridget mused. “I feel like some cowboy in the Wild West.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Excuse me, but you must mean c
owgirl.”
“Cowwoman,” she corrected. “What do you think was the last straw that made them go after us?” Bridget asked. “The water shortage in the all-male dorms? Or the fact they all got diarrhea the very same day?”
We burst out laughing.
This particular prank had been my idea, an extremely helpful distraction that ruined Nyquist’s day and hopefully forced him to take a break from torturing his prisoners.
Being a bit of a control freak, he personally tended to all emergencies, including this one. That day, I’d been finalizing the seating chart for the summit when Nyquist got a phone call, then shuffled out of his office and—after an extended detour in the restroom to take care of his own stomach issues—headed over to help with the crisis.
Unfortunately, the male staff and faculty had all known how to… stop things, but most of the freshman and sophomore students had been at a loss, figuratively and literally—even some juniors and seniors had needed help clogging their pipes. It was time the males felt as shitty as the females did.
To my surprise, Nyquist didn’t think twice about leaving me alone in his office, which had finally given me the chance to snoop around. Ironically, his trust in me had grown since the night I’d tortured Tempest. He thought I was like him, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
As soon as Nyquist left the Administration Building to tend to the gastrointestinal disaster, I activated my canceling case. Fedorov’s powerful magic swept through the old man’s office, neutralizing all protective spells and giving me ample freedom to look around.
At first, I didn’t find much. Nyquist wasn’t stupid or as trusting as I would have liked. But, in the end, the one thing I did find was enough to freeze my bones and make me wish I’d never found out I was a Supernatural.
Nyquist had a secret invitation for Mystro Ponomarenko hidden under his desk pad.
The terrifying mentalist was coming to the summit. The same wizard who had just killed Smudge Face and captured Tempest. The wizard who had sent one of the most powerful witches, Lynssa McIntosh, on the run.
Senior Witch, Fall Semester Page 15
