by A. L. Knorr
“This furniture is hideous. Old, moth-eaten, and ugly. We’ll replace all of it.” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate she meant everything in the entire room.
“Yes madam.”
Gage and I exchanged another wide-eyed look. The furniture was old, sure, but it was antique and well cared for. It went perfectly in the lobby. Getting rid of it seemed a crazy idea, and replacing it all would cost a lot of money.
The woman moved toward the exit leading to Victory Hall and paused there, looking into the corridor where the cases of academic memorabilia were on display behind glass.
“Ah, yes.” Her feminine voice drifted up to us, turning derisive as she continued. “Victory Hall. What a shame.”
She disappeared from view as she passed through the archway, her footfalls echoing once more on marble.
Gage and I moved as one. Leaving the balcony, we ran silently through the corridor toward the stairwell leading down to the ground floor at the other end of Victory Hall, keeping to the carpet runner. At the top of the stairs, we descended like shadows to the landing. The woman’s voice drifted through the cavernous Victory Hall, increasing in volume as she closed the gap between us.
“All these years of teaching,” she clucked, “wasted on an inferior syllabus. Accomplishments. Top Marks. Achievements.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
“Madam?” Her minion was a little impatient to get on with it.
“All of this goes in the trash, not the least of which is this hideous thing. Ugh.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth. Judging from how far away her voice was, I knew exactly which ‘hideous thing’ she was assigning to the trash heap. The beautiful onyx sculpture of the male and female magi, the Top Marks trophy. Basil must have spent a fortune on it.
I made to take the rest of the stairs down, steam whistling from my ears, but Gage’s arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me back against him and whispered, “Wait.”
Anger kindled, my mind began to spin like a top. She came in like she owned the place and clearly had plans. By the time she was through, it sounded like there would be no Arcturus left.
“Might it not be best to keep these things for posterity, madam?” The man asked in a placating tone. “History has always been important to you, and while the way things have worked out might be ah, an unpleasant thorn for madam, erasing the history of the building might be something you’ll regret. Down the road.”
Silence.
I couldn’t see her face and wondered if she were going to blow up on him. She struck me as the volatile type. But her answer was calm.
“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Bunting. Thank you for being the voice of reason during these times of transition.”
Her voice was full of emotion, pure pageantry. I cocked my head, wondering if she was crying. She sniffled. My stomach clenched with nausea. She sounded as genuine as a Louis Vuitton bag purchased from a street vendor in Istanbul. Dislike for the woman burned at the back of my throat.
Gage’s arm released me at the sound of her lament and I didn’t let the opportunity slide. He didn’t stop me from taking the rest of the stairs down into Victory Hall.
I rounded the corner and stopped at the end of the trophy cases. “Shame on you.”
The woman—who had had her back to my end of the hall—whirled and lifted a hand to her mouth. Her auburn hair bounced against her neck and shoulders. “Goodness!”
Her minion—standing behind her—poked his head from beyond his madam, adjusting his glasses for a better look.
“Headmaster Chaplin isn’t here right now.” I crossed my arms and sat into a hip. “Don’t you know it’s rude to come into a private estate unannounced? You’re trespassing.”
Unabashed at my admonition, the woman lowered her hand. Her eyes gleamed with fire and curiosity but her tone was sweet. “Who are you, dear?”
The kindness in her voice took me off-guard, this time it sounded genuine.
“I’m Saxony, a student here. Who are you?”
The man provided the answer. “You’re speaking to the Viscountess Barbara Chaplin.”
My anger deflated like a pricked balloon and I felt like smacking my forehead. I should have known. Basil had told me that her moral values had deteriorated after her Burning—enough for him to believe that the Burning process really did pose a danger for some mages—but she was still family. Nothing would change that.
A tumult of emotions crashed through me. Maybe she did have the right to come into the villa unannounced. Surely though, the changes these two were discussing weren’t at Basil’s permission. Of course they could have had a conversation I wasn’t aware of. I hadn’t spoken directly to Basil, not that I expected that Basil should share private family business with me. Still, it was weird. Gage and I were students here, and Basil and Christy knew we were here. If there were going to be big changes coming up, surely we might have been given some kind of notice? Then again, grief did different things to different people and Basil had been unusually absent-minded lately.
Her voice penetrated my fog.
“I see you’ve heard of me.” She seemed pleased. I noted she had a hand on the forearm of Mr. Bunting, as if to prevent him from speaking.
“You’re Basil’s twin, one of a set of triplets.” The words were just out and I second guessed them, following them up with an awkward, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Her eyes widened, but not unpleasantly so. “Thank you, but I’m surprised to hear my darling brother shared such a personal event with a student.”
I didn’t know what to say; I wasn’t about to blurt out that I was Burned. She could guess that from my voice if she was astute, which I was certain she was. The reason for her put-on Marilyn voice struck me then. Babs was also Burned. She was trying to cover up the sound of it.
She approached, walking casually. Her eyes flicked once to my left as Gage joined me.
“Two of you,” she said, still closing the gap between us. “How many students remain here, though school is out for the summer?”
“Just us. We’re here to support Basil.”
“And you call him by his first name.” She was close enough now that another step and she’d be able to offer a handshake, but she stopped there. Mr. Bunting had shadowed her down the hall and stopped just behind her, still looking out from behind her like he was afraid of us.
“Basil is my godfather,” said Gage. “I’m Gage.”
“Ah, you’re one of the twins!” She threw her hands up then pressed her palms together, seemingly delighted. “Of course, you wouldn’t know me. But I did meet your handsome father once. Chad Wendig, right?”
Gage nodded.
“And you?” Her eyes—hazel, I saw, now that she was close enough—fell on me. “Why do you call him Basil?”
Prickling with discomfort, I clasped my hands behind me. It was difficult to break the habits of a well-behaved student who had always respected authority figures, or even just adults who acted like they had authority.
“He told me to,” I replied.
“Then you must both call me Babs.” She reached out a hand for a shake, suddenly and rather aggressively. I fought the urge to cringe away from her.
This was a pivotal moment. Shaking her hand meant skin on skin contact, which meant the question of whether we were bonded or not would be answered. And how might that change things? She was Basil’s sister, and I was bonded with Basil. Ryan and Gage were twins. Basil and Babs were two of a set of triplets. The odds were good, weren’t they? I reached out, fully expecting a flare of heat to pass between us.
Our eyes glued meaningfully to each other’s as we received our answer. No bond.
I worked to hide my surprise. Her expression fell, just a little, as she let go of my hand and shook with Gage. She released him and took a step back. I thought I could guess from her face that she didn’t share a bond with Gage, either.
“Sorry about your dad,” Gage said.
I also murmured a condole
nce, embarrassed I’d addressed her long-dead brother and not her recently deceased father.
“Thank you.” Babs brushed at her cheek in a delicate motion. “He was a good man. No doubt you’re wondering how it is that I’ve come to be wandering these halls, discussing the changing of the drapes, as it were.”
“Perhaps it would be best to wait until after the signing—” Mr. Bunting began.
“Nonsense.” She cut him off with a wave. “These are academy students. The fate of Arcturus affects them, I’ll not keep them in the dark.” She clasped her hands. “My father’s will has been released. My dear brother and I are to inherit the estate fifty-fifty. It was our father’s wish that we run the school together. So you see, I have every right to be here. For too long my meek and timid brother has hobbled the fates of young mages. I am here to change that. I am here to push you to your maximum, to improve the syllabus, to open the doors to heights Arcturus students could never achieve in their wildest dreams under Basil.”
My skin marbled with goosebumps of horror as her tone hardened. This woman seemed as changeable as the wind, and she wasn’t finished.
“Arcturus Academy will become Firethorne Collegiate. My students will migrate here in the new school year, doubling the student population and putting these marvelous facilities to real use.”
“What about Headmaster Chaplin?” I rasped as I took a step back and bumped against Gage, who took my hand.
“He’ll be my second, of course. He has some value in certain subjects. Now, run along home. It’s nice that you’re here to support my brother in his grief, but you’re no longer needed. I’m here now. We’ll see you in September.”
She turned away and began to discuss the changing of stained-glass windows which lined Victory Hall. Not all of them. Just the ones with the Arcturus crest in the center.
Three
!
“The trick with this dish,” I said as I unpacked the shopping bags and lined up ingredients beside one of the industrial stoves in the academy’s kitchen, “is to steam the smoked haddock and poach the eggs for the right time. The fish takes roughly six minutes to steam, but the eggs take half that time to poach. If you overdo either, the dish doesn’t work.”
Gage pulled a pot down from the row of hanging copper vessels, filled it with water and set it over a burner. “How do these gas burners work? I’ve only ever worked with electric ones.”
“There’ll be a lighter around here somewhere.” Raking through a stainless-steel drawer full of odd bits, I paused at the snapping sound as Gage triggered a spark. The gas caught from the flame on the end of his finger, lighting the hob.
I straightened. “Wow, I’ve rarely felt quite so silly.”
Gage winked and rubbed his flat stomach. “Now what? I’m starving.”
After our interaction with Babs and her minion the day before, Gage and I had told Dr. Price, who’d alerted Basil. We still hadn’t seen the headmaster since the graduation dance, but Christy had been up early and gone today, texting that she was to meet Basil at the funeral home. She said they’d discuss Babs when the opportune moment came.
I wondered what state Basil was in. Gage and I offered to go to the funeral home but Dr. Price said she thought it better if we didn’t. There’d be tension between Basil and Babs, and she didn’t want Basil to have to worry about students observing the state of his family dynamics.
“First we do the garlic mashed potatoes, since they take the longest.” Retrieving a couple of knives, I handed one to Gage and we set to work on the potatoes.
“I can’t wait. I’m so sick of takeout.” Gage took the potatoes as I peeled them and cut them into the pot of heating water.
“It’s only been a couple of days but I know what you mean. Dover doesn’t have a lot of options. I still have the taste of old french-fry grease in my mouth.” I sent him a sideways glance as we peeled, changing subjects. “So, are you just going to wait for Ryan to show up before you head back to Canada?”
“What else should I do? He’s stopped answering texts again. All I know is that he’ll find me when his business is concluded.”
“That doesn’t strike you as inconsiderate?”
Gage rolled his eyes.
“What? Doesn’t it?” I spread my hands, accidentally flinging a potato peeling. Picking it up, I dropped it in the compost collector. “I mean, it’s great that he let you know he’s okay and all, but doesn’t he care that you’ve been stressed and worried?”
Gage’s brows arched as he transferred a potato wedge to the pot. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, now you are. You couldn’t eat until Ryan deigned to answer.”
“Don’t your brothers have quirks that drive you crazy? This is just like Ryan. Maybe he’s not polite, but he’s my twin. It’s just the way he is. Besides,” Gage leaned over and planted a kiss just under my ear. Sparkles of heat whooshed from the place his lips pressed, making my stomach flutter. “It’s not every day I have a huge abandoned villa and one smoking hot redhead all to myself.”
Desire and exasperation spiraled in my gut. “My brothers would never ignore my messages,” I muttered. “They love me too much for that.”
Gage stiffened but didn’t answer, which made me feel bad. Maybe I should apologize for implying that Ryan didn’t love Gage, but I meant it. Ryan didn’t know what love even was, in my opinion.
We finished the potatoes in a tense silence and stared listlessly at the pot as it began to simmer. I found a little ceramic bowl full of salt crystals and took a pinch. As I stirred it in and reached for a lid, Gage moved to stand behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his face into the side of my neck, which resulted in all kinds of fiery and delicious sensations.
I squeezed his face gently between my cheek and neck, placed the lid on the pot, and lay a hand over his. “I admire how forgiving and unconditional you are with Ryan, I just also think you let him walk all over you.”
“I hate that you dislike him so much.” His breath tickled my neck.
“He dislikes me even more.”
Gage pulled me away from the stove and turned me to face him. “That’s not true. He manipulated and used you, yes, but he did it because he admired what you’re capable of. And he was right, in the end. You saved him. Now that he’s achieved his goal, I’m hoping the two of you can be friends.”
I snorted.
“Friendly acquaintances?” His expression was as hopeful as a puppy eyeballing a bag of treats.
I let out a sigh, considering reminding Gage of what had happened to Nero, when the sound of a door slamming jarred us from our conversation.
From outside the manor in the opposite direction of the fire-gym, men were conversing. Though we couldn’t make out actual words, they spoke in loud, casual tones. There was laughter. There was a thud, followed by another door slamming.
Gage headed for the cafeteria.
“There’s a short cut back here.” I crossed to the rear exit, a door that looked like it led to nothing more than a pantry.
Gage followed. “How do you know?”
“I chased the thief through here. It connects to the west wing.”
We took the narrow set of stairs to the second level, passed through the door at the top and followed the jagged hallway until it dumped us onto a landing. A rarely used window seat beneath a set of arched windows gave us a view into the back yard.
A white moving van was parked on the grass with its rear doors open. A ramp connected the deck to the ground. Slashes of mud where the tires had ripped up the lawn revealed just how little the driver cared about academy property. A burly man appeared with a couple of boxes, took the ramp and entered the academy through a back door. Another muscled man in a tight t-shirt came into view, going the opposite way.
As the men passed, one said in a voice that carried up to us, “That desk isn’t going to fit through this door.”
“She said we could use the front doors for the bigger stuff,” replied the oth
er over his shoulder. He kept talking but I couldn’t make out what else was said.
Gage and I shared a wide-eyed look.
“Babs,” he said.
“She’s moving in?” Incredulous, I fumbled for my cell. Opening the camera, I snapped a photo of the van and a mover holding a stack of boxes. I texted it to Christy with the caption: Babs is moving in. Does Basil know?
“The biggest suites are accessible from that door. Do you think she just helped herself to one of the nicest ones?” Gage muttered, nose pressed against the glass as a third man joined the moving team. “Unreal.”
I didn’t bother to point out the irony at Gage’s disbelief over Babs rudeness but his lack of the same for his brother.
My phone vibrated with a response from Christy.
I held my screen up so Gage could see the contents of her text, a single character: !
Gage peered over my shoulder, resting his hands on my hips as we watched the trail of dots that meant Christy was typing another text. A few seconds later she followed the exclamation point with: Don’t approach them. We’ll be there in less than half an hour.
“Oh boy, oh boy!” I infused my voice with false enthusiasm. “Just when we thought we had a boring afternoon ahead of us.”
Gage pressed his body against mine, fingertips sneaking under the hem of my shirt to trace the skin by my belly-button. “I had other ideas about how to keep things interesting.”
My stomach did a triple-flip as fire blossomed under my skin. My breath hitched as I turned in his arms like a rotisserie chicken. His lashes cast enchanting shadows along his cheekbone, his lips parted. I ran my fingers through his hair and was about to draw his mouth down to mine when he pulled his head back, eyes flying open.
“Crap, the potatoes!”
In spite of having to clean up gooey potato-foam, which had dribbled down over the stovetop and the front of the stove, the meal was a success. We ate in the kitchen while at the other end of the academy, Babs’ furniture continued to be moved in.
