by A. L. Knorr
Gage looked longingly at his empty plate. “You should have warned me the portions were so small. I would have eaten two servings, even if it is incredibly fattening.”
I laughed. First, because Gage was so lean you could count the veins in his arms—and second; he’d had a portion big enough that my brother RJ—who outweighed Gage by a good twenty pounds, wouldn’t have been able to finish it.
“Can we make it again tomorrow?”
“We bought that pot-pie dish for tomorrow.” I didn’t remind him that my flight back to Canada was booked for Friday evening. I’d already delayed it once and had a powerful urge to delay it a second time. When I’d explained to my parents that I wanted to be here to support Basil, even if it was just for a few extra days, I hadn’t realized that I’d be spending more time smooching Gage than attending Basil. I wasn’t about to set my folks straight.
Voices intruded on our stainless-steel picnic once more, only this time they were coming from the front lobby and they were anything but happy or casual.
Leaving our dirty dishes on the countertop, Gage and I scrambled through the cafeteria and emerged in the hall connecting with the lobby.
“What are you doing?” Basil’s voice thundered loud enough to make the crystal chandelier tinkle.
Gage grabbed my hand and yanked me into a lounge. We paused just inside the door, not daring to appear in the foyer.
Babs answered with infuriating calm. “My desk and my piano are too large to fit through the back door so we’re bringing them in through the front. Calm yourself. You look pale. Perhaps you should sit down.”
“Gentlemen,” Basil addressed the movers through clenched teeth. “You are trespassing. If you bring in one more item—I don’t care if it’s a bloody paperclip—I will press charges.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Babs scoffed. “I’m perfectly within my rights to be here. This building and all its grounds and assets are half mine.”
Basil seethed. “The will takes effect only after the paperwork is agreed and signed.”
“A formality. There is no reason to delay.”
“Take a smoke break, lads,” our formidable headmaster snapped.
There was a short span of silence—during which Babs gave a longsuffering sigh—followed by shuffling footsteps as the movers left the foyer.
“Shall I—?”
I recognized Dr. Price’s voice. I hadn’t realized she’d been there. I felt bad about eavesdropping but not bad enough to reveal myself or take myself out of earshot. This was too important to miss.
“Stay, please.” Basil leveled his voice to address the doctor. “Take a seat, won’t you?”
Their footfalls went silent as they passed from the marble onto one of the Turkish rugs. I dared a peek. Christy and Basil took the large sofa, the one with its back to us, while Babs took a wingback kitty-corner to them.
“Let’s work this out like adults, shall we?” Basil was making an effort to sound in control.
Babs crossed one long leg over the other, tugging the hem of her navy dress down in a ladylike gesture. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her face turning a quarter to look at her brother.
“Yes, lets. We can start by reminding ourselves that the will stipulates that we only receive our inheritance if we agree to run the Academy together as partners. That was our father’s wish.”
Worried that I’d catch her attention, I pulled back behind the doorjamb. Gage—who hadn’t chanced a look—slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his head tilted to listen.
Basil made a sound of forced patience. “You know that will never happen. We would sooner kneecap one another than agree on the yearly menu, let alone how students should be instructed.”
“There’s no way around it.” Babs sounded as haughty as she was confident. “We steward the school together or we lose the property completely. We can make it work so long as you follow my approach. Face it, your students have been gagging for an opportunity to become real mages. Something you’ll never allow them.”
I shot Gage a look of incredulity. He put a finger to his lips, expressing much less indignation than me.
“Actually,” Dr. Price interjected, “Headmaster Chaplin’s methods have introduced powerful but highly ethical mages into supernatural society, not the least of which is the contribution to the Agency’s ranks. Thanks to Basil, the Agency itself has become the most trusted and reliable organization of its kind.”
Babs made a sound in her throat, a gentile scoff. “Trusted and reliable, yes. Effective? Not by half. When are you going to learn that you cannot serve two masters? If you serve virtue and integrity, you sacrifice competence and potency.”
“I disagree,” Basil replied, tightly. “And the discussion is pointless, at any rate. I’ll buy you out. There’s nothing in the will that prevents it.”
Babs snorted outright this time, foregoing her ladylike front. “With what fortune? This estate is half mine. The retro-fittings it’s undergone make it unique the world over—thank you for that, by the way. Firethorne’s facilities pale dreadfully next to this place. The academy is priceless.”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Price ventured, “an agreement could be made? A house with two heads of equal power divided against one another cannot stand. If you agree to Basil’s headship with a fifty-one to forty-nine—”
“Christy—” Basil began reproachfully.
There was the sound of palms hitting flesh, like Babs had whacked herself on the thigh. “Nonsense. I plan to exercise all of the power the will legally gives me and not a drop less, and yes, that includes where Burning is concerned. If students wish to take the risk, who are we to stifle such desires?”
“Who are we? We are their caretakers and guardians. We are responsible for their lives while they are under our roof,” Basil’s voice was beginning to climb again. “We are responsible to see them graduate safe and sound, in possession of a beating heart.”
Babs sighed heavily. “When are you going to accept that Burning is natural to our species? It’s a shame its risky and painful, I agree, but you know that we can minimize the risk. I have hopes that one day we can eradicate the risk completely.”
“No,” Basil barked. There was another sound, like he’d hit the arm of the sofa. “No. No. No. I cannot allow such roulette to be played under my roof!”
“Our roof.”
Basil sputtered. “Restrain me, Christy, or I shall—”
“Unless—”
The lobby went silent at Babs’ soft voice. Gage and I locked eyes, his were as round as mine felt. My heart pattered and scampered like a field mouse dodging the shadow of an owl.
The grandfather clock ticked eight seconds.
“Unless?” Basil sounded breathless.
“Well,” Babs paused, probably enjoying the tension and Basil’s agony. “You know how much I enjoy a good wager.”
Silence.
If a beetle had emerged from under the carpet to trundle past the phone-box, we all would have heard it.
“You’re insane,” Basil said, matter-of-factly. There was the sound of fabric sliding on fabric, like he’d shifted on the couch to face Christy. Then: “She’s insane.”
Babs sounded both smug and alluring, neither affected nor deterred by Basil’s reaction. “Come, now. You’re always going on about how superior your way of teaching is. A simple tournament between our students would decide things for good. If my students win, I take over the school. Fully and completely. If your students prevail, you shall have Arcturus back unchanged, free to continue relegating its alumni to the dusty annals of mediocrity.”
“I really don’t think—” that was Christy, overtop of Basil, who was making a choking sound.
Babs cut her off. “I’ll leave it for you to mull over, though the fear in your eyes speaks loudly enough. You’ll not dare take a wager you’re sure to lose. If such is the case, then you must accept our partnership from this point on, as you cannot legally stop it. If you need me, I’ll b
e in my suite—the Rose Room, by the way—working on the Firethorne syllabus for the upcoming school year.”
Stunned silence was broken only by the sound of Babs rising to her feet, followed by her pumps as they clicked on the marble. She crossed to the double doors where she called to the moving men: “Hop to, lads!”
Four
Desperate Times
Around the corner from Basil’s office, Gage turned me to face him, whispering, “Maybe we should let him alone for the day?”
“We’ve already given him a full hour,” I whispered back. “He knows we’re here. Won’t he wonder why we haven’t come to see him?”
Gage studied my face, blue eyes piercing from under a wrinkled brow.
The situation was strange. On top of grieving for his father, which was supposedly why I was still here, Basil now had Babs to contend with. In Babs’ irrational view, the partnership envisioned by their father actually meant she was in control. If that came to pass, Arcturus likely wouldn’t exist by the end of the summer.
Gage took my hand and we squeezed each other’s fingers, fire threading from his hand to mine and back again. He nodded.
Keeping his hand in mine, I led him onto the landing in front of Basil’s office.
The door was open.
Approaching the doorway, Gage and I slowed as one, then leaned forward for a peek.
Basil—seated behind his desk with his chin in his palm—saw us immediately. Brows arching, he twitched a finger for us to enter.
Dr. Price was seated on the largest sofa, a steaming mug of tea sat at her knee. Her expression didn’t change when she saw us, but she shuffled over and gestured for us to sit down. I sat by Christy and Gage sank onto the sofa beside me. We looked at Basil.
“Thank you for staying.” He leaned back against his chair and let his hands fall into his lap. “It wasn’t necessary but it was very kind.” His gaze drifted to Gage. “Christy tells me Ryan has texted you?”
Gage nodded, shifting on the seat and making the leather squeak. “He says he’ll find me when his business is done in Naples. He won’t tell me what he’s up to, but I’m hoping he’ll be back in a matter of days.”
Basil and I shared a look. The headmaster’s mouth flattened into an unhappy slash.
“You’ll be wanting to get off home, I’m sure?” Dr. Price addressed me.
I nodded. “But I won’t go so soon if I can be of help. I haven’t arranged for a summer job, and my besties aren’t even in Saltford right now, so—”
“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.” Christy raised her teacup to her lips.
I’d personally lost all interest in hot drinks, except coffee, the moment I became a mage, but to each their own.
The office fell silent.
“What about Arcturus?” I asked.
Basil looked down at his fingernails, as though they might hold an answer. He didn’t look surprised that I’d asked.
Dr. Price set her cup and saucer on the table. “You overheard the conversation in the foyer, I take it?”
Gage looked at the ceiling, the chicken.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry we eavesdropped, but we were incapable of tearing ourselves away.”
“I can imagine,” Basil muttered without looking up.
Dr. Price angled her knees toward us on the sofa. “Then you’ll know that the future of the school is quite uncertain. Basil will never agree to share the running of the academy with Babs, and Babs will never relent her share of authority. As you’ve already seen, Babs is acting as if her take-over is a done deal.” She looked at the headmaster.
Basil chewed his cheek, still inspecting his hands.
“But Basil can’t just step down,” I sputtered, mentally begging the headmaster to look up. “Keeping half the authority is better than handing the whole lot over to Babs, isn’t it? From the sounds of it, she’ll change everything.”
“That’s just it.” Dr. Price crossed her arms. “Babs’ methods and dealings would soon drown the school in a cesspool of mistrust within the supernatural community. She’ll ruin its reputation and everything Basil has worked so hard for these last thirty years.”
Basil’s eyes flicked up, homing in on me with such intensity that I felt goosebumps run up the back of my scalp. But he still didn’t say anything.
Christy, meanwhile, seemed to be hitting her stride. Disdain had crept into her features. “Her ultimate goal has always been to take over the Agency. Chaplin senior’s death has provided the perfect stepping stone—using the Academy to begin her infiltration. She’d turn both the school and the agency into the same soulless operations so many of our competitors run. Mark my words, before the year is out she’d have multiple deaths on her hands.”
My jaw drifted open. Christy didn’t miss my horror.
“Oh yes, she’s already allowed three students—that we know of—in her care to expire, chalking it up to collateral damage. Part of her interview strategy involves asking potential registrants how willing they are to attempt a Burning. If she finds them cowardly—according to her own standards, naturally—she doesn’t allow them in. Her relentless pursuit of her goal of one day graduating only fifth-degree mages has already left a trail of—”
“That’s quite enough, Dr. Price.” Headmaster Chaplin lifted his chin. “Thank you.”
Dr. Price pressed her lips together and looked down at the carpet. Her mouth was bracketed by white lines.
The headmaster got out of his chair and went to the small table in the corner, where he poured a glass of water from the carafe. He twisted to look at the three of us on the couch, holding up the carafe with a brow raised in a question.
Gage and I shook our heads mutely. We’d downed several glasses before approaching Basil’s office. In fact, my bladder was beginning to send signals.
Basil drank before setting the glass down and coming to stand behind the spinning wingback chair. He faced us, leaning his elbows on its back. “There is something to be said for Babs’ idea.”
Christy recoiled. “The wager? You can’t be serious, Basil!”
Basil’s glasses had slipped down his nose and he pushed them back. He was sweating. “A tournament. Winner takes all.”
“It’s madness!” the doctor cried. “You said so yourself when she suggested it.”
A cold stone had settled low in my gut, growing heavy as I realized that Basil was seriously considering taking the gamble. But wouldn’t I if it were my school? Babs had suggested he wouldn’t take a wager he was sure to lose. But Basil and his staff were excellent teachers, in my limited opinion. Wasn’t there a chance that Arcturus alumni were in fact superior?
“In some ways, it’s the only open door.” He straightened, brushing the velvet covering of the chair. “Think of the alumni we have access to, the number of competent students Arcturus has churned out over the years, some of whom by now may even be Burned. My students are incredibly loyal, a few are talented enough to hold agency positions. Surely, when they learn what is at stake, they will gladly champion our school.”
Christy made a sound of incredulity.
Gage was silent but he pressed the side of his hand against mine.
“I must object.” Dr. Price got to her feet, looking to Gage and me. “Tell him it’s foolhardy, please. He won’t listen to me.”
“If I were Basil, I would consider it,” Gage said.
I lifted my chin. “Me too.”
Dr. Price frowned, bemused. “I’m the only sane person in the room.”
“Think about it, Christy,” Basil’s voice was soft and hopeful. “If I can’t buy her out and I can’t overrule her authority, what else can I do?”
“Where is your faith in the student body?” Gage asked Christy.
Dr. Price crossed her arms, her blue suit jacket straining at the shoulders. “Are you going to take on the responsibility of winning or losing millions of pounds in assets, Gage Wendig?”
Gage looked uncomfortable. “No. I’m on
ly a second-year.”
The icy pinpricks of her pupils came to me. “How about you, Saxony Cagney?”
I shrank. “Of course not. Basil already said there are plenty of alumni fit for the job.”
“My point is not that the alumni wouldn’t be fit to compete; Basil is right, there are many competent mages among them. My point is, who would be willing to perform under that kind of pressure? Losing a trophy is one thing, losing Basil his entire fortune and inheritance is quite another.”
It was a good point, and the silence in the room meant we all realized it.
Then Gage plowed ahead, having found his hill to die on, apparently. “But if you believe that Arcturus actually does turn out the best students, then isn’t the risk manageable? It could all be over in a matter of weeks, maybe even days.”
“Never overestimate an opponent,” Basil said, lifting a finger. “But equally, and perhaps more importantly, know your own capabilities.”
“Basil—” Christy warned.
“What? Losing only means I have to find something else to do.” Basil had begun to pace. “So what? It’s something I bandy about every summer. But winning—” He swept back to the doctor, face alight. “Winning might even mean giving some of the poor Firethorne students a chance to try their hand the Arcturus way, out from under the threat of death by Burning, and the pressure to try it.”
Christy turned her back on all of us and put her forehead in her hands. “God save me from rash individuals.”
Basil, Gage and I watched her recover herself.
She turned, plastering on a serene smile and directing it at Basil. “That is quite enough madness for one day. At least sleep on this. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You’re grieving. You’re upset. Just—” she interlaced her fingers and put them under her chin, “—please? Sleep on it?”
“Christy, we train young mages for a living, in all kinds of competencies.” He pushed his glasses back into place for the second time, then gripped the back of the chair again, knuckles turning white through the skin. “If I’m truly afraid of losing it all to Babs, then don’t I have to ask myself what I’m doing running a school for mages in the first place?”
