“Some good things came from last night,” offered Rachel. “I found out that Zoë Forrest is willing to help us save the world.” She shook her head in astonishment. “I don’t understand my friends. Siggy doesn’t seem to care—or at least he doesn’t keep the details straight—and the princess! She thinks we’re running a social club.”
Even as she spoke, Rachel realized that while Zoë had offered to help, she had showed no real interest in saving the world, asked no questions. She just wanted to be helpful. Glumly, Rachel leaned back and watched the driving rain sluice against the round window.
“I care! I want to help,” cried Gaius. “William and I both. We’ll do everything we can!”
A joyful little smile tugged at her lips. They were kindred spirits, she and Gaius Valiant.
“You and William?” she asked curiously. “Not Mr. Von Dread?”
Gaius’s voice became lower. “Vlad’s different.”
“How so?” Rachel leaned forward eagerly. Did Von Dread want the world to end? Was he as wicked as Nastasia and Peter believed? The foremost evil boy? If so, the princess was right not to want to marry him.
“He thinks the world’s actually under attack,” Gaius said, “as in literally.”
Two things happened to Rachel simultaneously. The first was crushing disappointment. If Gaius thought the danger was figurative, not an actual threat, he did not see what she saw after all. He was not her longed-for somebody else who understood.
The second was surprise—as startling as the thunderclap that shook the campus. Vladimir Von Dread understood the world needed saving? And he wanted it saved—not destroyed? She felt an unexpected sense of kinship with the grim older boy.
Maybe she should marry Dread.
Rachel straightened and briskly shook her head. Where had that come from? Was her heart so fickle as to flip-flop with every inconsequential thing? Refusing to give in to disloyal thoughts, she pushed away any fleeting thoughts of marrying someone other than her boyfriend.
Still, it pleased her to know Dread saw what she saw.
She felt less alone.
Glancing across the hall, Rachel peered at Gaius’s book to see what he was reading. The answer gave her another jolt of surprise, this time of a joyful one. In his lap was A Field Guide to Gryphons and their Southern Cousins.
“Oh, you are reading a Daring Northwest book!” cried Rachel, delighted. She darted across the hall and sat down next to him.
“Yes, indeed I am. See? I pay attention.” He gave her an engaging smile and scooted closer to her.
They were so close that she could feel the heat of his body. It felt very nice on such a cold, damp day.
“Here. Look!” She reached over and flipped to the chapter on Arimaspians. “This section is about my ancestors and how they stole gold from gryphons—Lucky and Siggy would like that part. And this, here, is about my direct ancestor, Abaris. He was a priest of Apollo and a famous physician. We are descended from him on my father’s side.”
“I’ve heard of him.” Gaius nodded, impressed. “We talked about him in true history sophomore year. He’s the guy who flew around standing on top of an arrow, right?”
“Yep. I like to think my broom-riding skill comes from him.”
“Maybe it does.”
“Unlikely,” she laughed. “Otherwise, wouldn’t all members of my family be as good?”
“Maybe you’re the only one who inherited that particular trait.”
“Could be,” she said, amused.
Looking down at the book, her eyes were drawn to the contrast between the white page and his tanned hand. It was a well-formed hand, nicely callused, as if used to working—and so much larger than her own. Feeling suddenly delicate and demure, she lowered her lashes.
Gaius turned a page, still reading about Abaris. Without looking up, he said, “I hear you and Vlad made some kind of information-sharing pact.”
“Yes. I am working on a list of information to give him. You’ll be there, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. When were you thinking of doing this?”
“As soon as I clear everything with my friends.”
Gaius glanced at his watch. He closed his book and stood. “I have to go,” he said regretfully. “It’s almost two o’clock. We have a meeting.” He shot her an apologetic grin. “You know how Bavarians are about punctuality.”
“Right.” Rachel rose, too.
She stood awkwardly, her hands in her pockets. She wanted to rush over to him, to hug him, but she dared not. There were words for girls who behaved too freely with boys, words her grandmother had spoken with scorn.
Gaius smiled down at her. She gave him a shy half smile. Lifting her chin with a finger, he leaned in and gave her the lightest of kisses. When he pulled back, his cheeks were a bit red. Picking up his blue comforter, he departed, stopping once to wave goodbye. She waved back. Then, he was gone.
Rachel stared after him, her fingers resting on her lips, her face aglow.
Chapter Seventeen:
Conversations in the Storm King Café
“Our detention’s been put off until the next sunny day,” announced Nastasia. “Mr. Gideon says the task he has assigned us is better performed in dry weather.”
She, Joy, Sigfried, and Rachel walked single file beneath the floating umbrellas as they hurried across campus to visit Valerie. The girls wore warm coats over their scholar’s robes. The princess had placed a perfectly-tailored, blue Gore-Tex rain cover over the square portion of her cap. Siggy wore one of the new robes Rachel had helped him purchase. But he did not yet own a coat or shoes. His bare feet slapped against the puddles pooling on the wet gravel.
“By ‘our’, I assume you mean the four of us,” said Joy hopefully.
“Miss Griffin, Mr. Smith, and I.” Nastasia brushed water from her robes.
“Why wasn’t I included?” Joy demanded. “I did the same things as the rest of you!”
“Maybe because you came in to the infirmary on your own…pretending to be ill?” Rachel said pointedly. She stomped in a puddle in her high green rain boots. Droplets flew everywhere. The princess made a noise of resigned distress.
“I was not pretending,” Joy objected. “I had a stomachache.”
“You admitted you were pretending,” said Rachel stubbornly.
“All right, it ached from curiosity,” admitted Joy. “But who could bear such curiosity?”
The princess sniffed disapprovingly. “A person concerned with the honesty of his word.”
Joy’s face crumbled, crestfallen, more because of the princess’s censure than from concern for her integrity. “Please take me! Please! Please! You guys will have so much fun together! I hate being left behind. Are you really going outside the campus wards?”
Nastasia nodded. “The herbs we are to collect grow on the northern part of Roanoke Island.” She said something else, but Rachel was no longer listening. The hair on her arms had risen.
The Tree!
The previous day, while petting the little Lion, Rachel had had her very first vision—a vast tree rising far above the others in the forest. She had received the impression that this Tree was on Roanoke Island, but she had not seen it from the Watch Tower. It must be on the far side of the tor. A slight smile curled about her lips. Could this detention have been arranged by the power that sent the vision?
As she walked along, her shoulders hunched against the cold, Rachel wondered how to broach the topic of her midnight visit to Von Dread. The princess would certainly disapprove. As Rachel recalled the previous night, she found herself haunted by some of the images she had seen. Zoë might be used to seeing people naked, but Rachel was not. Her memory of the janitor’s dream office continued to disturb her. She shook her head, as if to dislodge the image, but it did not help.
As her feet crunched against the soggy gravel, her thoughts moved from Dread to Gaius. She pictured him smiling at her in the hallway and remembered, with perfect vividness, the feel of his
kiss on her lips. She imagined what it would be like when he finally hugged her properly, allowing her to curl against his chest. These thoughts filled her with a happiness that made her step light.
Once or twice, her imagination strayed into bolder territory, not something as passionate as full-out snogging, but a more intimate kiss. Each time, she balked, disturbed and uncomfortable. Apparently, she was just not ready for such things, even in her fantasies. She bit her lip and hoped the older boy would prove understanding.
• • •
She had still not made up her mind how to tell Nastasia by the time they reached the infirmary. Valerie sat upright, reading one of her school books. Tiny Magdalene Chase lay curled up with her head on Valerie’s lap. Payback snuggled beside her; the elk hound’s circular tail curled over her back. Salome sat on the bed next to Valerie, her pretty cheeks flushed, and her eyes red, as if she had been crying.
Sitting down on a nearby chair, Rachel gently asked her, “Is something the matter?”
Salome looked away. “Someone hurt my friend. I’m angry.”
Valerie hugged her. “It’s okay. He’s been caught. He’ll go to jail. That’s what is important.” Valerie stroked Magdalene’s hair gently. “Other people had it much worse than me.”
“If you say so.” Salome stared sullenly at the flame pattern of her brightly-painted nails.
Rachel looked down at Magdalene. The sight of the tiny girl clutching her porcelain doll to her chest caused Rachel’s heart to ache. How horrible not to be wanted by one’s family. If only she could do something to help. She recalled how Magdalene had wanted the doll to be her familiar. Everyone had laughed at her, and yet, Rachel had seen that doll move and talk and bravely attempt to drag her unconscious mistress to safety. If Magdalene were bonded to it, she would always be able to feel where it was. That might be comforting.
Rachel considered explaining this to Mr. Tuck, the tutor who presided over the Familiar Bonding Ceremony. He was cheerful and jovial and she loved his class. Then she recalled how he had ignored her when she told him about the wraith. He would not believe her. But there was someone else who was willing to look out for Magdalene who was “neither a tutor nor a fool.” Rachel made a mental note to ask Gaius to tell him. Mr. Tuck might ignore her, but he would listen to Vladimir Von Dread.
• • •
The nurse came bustling over with her scrutiny sticks, two rounded lengths of wood carved with runes and set with gems of different colors. She ran them over Valerie and Magdalene. Some of the gems lit up. Others remained dark.
“You are free to go, but yes?” Nurse Moth said in her French accent. She looked down at the sleeping girl in Valerie’s lap. “Miss Chase should stay.”
As Nurse Moth turned away, her scrutiny sticks passed near Rachel. The amethyst lit up. Lifting Rachel’s hand, the nurse tsked over the large bruise. Pulling out her silver flute, she played a song. Soothing music filled the room, accompanied by the smell of fresh baked cinnamon buns. Twinkling green sparkles played over Rachel’s hand and thigh. They tickled and felt very good at the same time. She watched the black and blue splotch on her hand, where the sheep’s hoof had stepped, shrink and fade. When she poked her thigh, there was no pain.
Rachel thanked the nurse with great enthusiasm.
• • •
Back out in the rain, they hurried along under the rim-to-rim floating umbrellas, which buffeted about in the wind. In the dimness of the gloom, the umbrellas’ silver outlines and handles glowed eerily. The group seemed quiet and caught in their own thoughts. Looking at Salome’s bloodshot eyes, Rachel recalled how frightened she herself had been when she had first found Valerie on the floor of the bathroom and how that fear had been dispelled by the sense of peace she had felt while hugging the little Lion.
“We should get Kitten’s Lion,” Rachel said. “I bet he could make everyone feel better.”
“Kitten Fabian’s familiar?” Valerie adjusted her camera as they walked.
“Yes, if you hug it, you feel…happier. Comforted.”
“A comfort lion,” giggled Joy.
“Yes! A Comfort Lion!” cried Rachel with a laugh. “Exactly!”
“It came and sat on my lap briefly yesterday,” said Nastasia.
“Was it comforting?” Joy asked.
“Perhaps.” The princess frowned thoughtfully. “I had this odd vision, while it was sitting there, of a great, enormous tree.”
“I had that vision, too!” cried Rachel.
Walking across the foggy commons, she considered what it meant that the Lion had given both her and her best friend the same vision. Did that make it less special or more? More, Rachel decided, because she shared it with her friend.
• • •
Valerie had missed lunch, so the group made its way to the Storm King Café, located in the basement of Roanoke Hall, near the mail room. Warm wood moldings and bright brass made the place cheery. Behind the marble counter was a soda fountain. Behind that, a door that led to a kitchen with a grill for hot sandwiches and burgers. In front of the bar, tables, some round, some rectangular, stood on a black and white checkered floor.
The waitresses were a spirited dark-haired girl with a mischievous smile, and Xandra Black, the young woman who, while possessed by prophetic spirits, had warned Nastasia not to touch Joshua March—a warning Rachel now wished she had not encouraged the princess to ignore, since it had put Nastasia in the Halls of Healing. Both girls wore café uniforms, a smart, blue sailor dress and a white paper hat with blue trim. Along with her dress, Miss Black wore a hood that covered her face, except the tip of her nose and her mouth. The hood looked odd under her paper hat.
Joy gestured at the first girl. “Everyone, this is my sister Faith. The soda jerk.”
“You call your sister a jerk?” Siggy asked.
“No, that’s her job. Soda jerk,” explained Joy. “It’s what they call someone who works at a soda fountain.”
“Waitress is fine with me.” Faith leaned against the bar, smiling impishly.
The waitresses handed them menus. The Storm King Café served exotic teas and a variety of soft drinks: sarsaparilla, birch beer, Cheerwine, elderberry cordial, and egg creams. It also served light fare—grilled cheese, sandwiches, hamburgers, and all manner of ice cream sundaes. A case to one side held confectionery sculptures made out of maple sugar or marzipan—leaves, fruit, fanciful unicorns, and castles. Beneath these were honey cakes, sugar flowers, and other items available for purchase by those who wished to leave an offering at one of the shrines in the Memorial Garden.
The friends sat on stools by the high bar, all except the princess, who seated herself at a table. Despite Lucky’s moaning, Sigfried generously pulled out a fistful of money and paid for drinks and snacks for everyone and a sandwich for his girlfriend. The princess thanked him primly but insisted on paying for herself. She pulled out her crisp, hot pink bills with drawings of wombats that looked like they could have been done by five-year-olds. The two girls behind the counter laughed and said that the Storm King Café did not accept Monopoly money. Nastasia humbly accepted Siggy’s largesse.
Valerie ordered a Reuben and a Cheerwine, which turned out to be a kind of cherry soda. Siggy asked for a burger and fries with a malted milkshake. The princess picked Earl Grey tea and scones. Joy had a sarsaparilla float. Salome chose a peach sundae. Rachel ordered an egg cream, which turned out to contain neither egg nor cream. It was surprisingly good, though, frothy and chocolaty. She drank it slowly, dreaming of sharing one with Gaius, their heads close together as they sipped on their twin straws.
The princess frowned slightly. “My father seemed to recognize our P.E. teacher.”
Suddenly alert, Rachel asked, “How so?”
“When we passed Mr. Chanson last night, Father looked extremely surprised to see him.”
“Surprised worried or surprised happy?” Valerie paused between bites.
“Happy surprised,” replied Nastasia. “Father clasped
him on the shoulder and cried, ‘Roland Saint-Michael! You’re alive.’ Mr. Chanson explained that Father must have mistaken him for another. Father nodded and apologized, but he just kept smiling. When Mr. Chanson left, he murmured something like, ‘He must have been here all along. Who would have thought?’”
“What does this mean?” Joy bounced nervously on her chair.
Siggy said, “It means that the King of Smagical Mosstralia recognized Memory Lass’s boss from Outside. It means our P.E. tutor is a Metaplutonian.”
Valerie rolled her eyes at Siggy’s mispronunciation of the princess’s homeland.
“We knew that,” Rachel said. “He was in the princess’s vision. He is from the same world as Von Dread and the amazing building.” She paused and then added wryly. “We also knew that when he survived being thrown through a stone wall and fifty yards of dirt.”
“He did…what?” Salome leaned forward, her luminous eyes even wider than normal. “Our hunky gym tutor? And to think I thought he was just eye candy!”
“And it means my boss’s proper name isn’t Chanson.” Rachel’s mind raced, trying to put everything together. “It’s Saint-Michael.” She searched the dictionaries and name books in the library of her memory. “Does anybody know what Saint means?”
“I’ve never heard the word before, outside of the dog breed, St. Bernard,” the princess said. “I tried to ask Father—about his being from Outside. He said some sort of foolish nonsense that didn’t answer the question. Something like: ‘“Have a radish” said the kookaburra to the emu.’” Nastasia sighed. “Which is about what I expected.”
“Your father didn’t look foolish,” mused Rachel. “Rather he looked very much like someone who was having a joke at the expense of the rest of us.”
“Do you think his foolishness has to do with his being from Outside?” Joy asked.
“When the Raven flies by, I go dumb.” Lucky wiggled his long flame-red whiskers. “If it flew past the princess’s father, would he stop being goofy and insist on using real money?”
That made everyone laugh, but it was nervous laughter.
The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel (A Book of Unexpected Enlightenment 2) Page 20
