The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1)

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The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) Page 12

by L. Jagi Lamplighter


  “Anyway, if the information is out there, Wally will find it. Also, I asked him to send me a copy of my father’s list—names related to the case he was working on when he disappeared. Maybe there’s a clue there. Meanwhile, I plan to talk to people here. Someone might know something—who that guy was, if nothing else.” She leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “If anyone asks, I’m interviewing people in an effort to find the perfect article—so I can get onto the staff of the Roanoke Glass, the school newspaper.”

  “Great idea!” Rachel grinned. Her grin faded slowly. Sitting down beside the little pool, she asked gently. “Your father died?”

  “No. He…disappeared.” Valerie lowered her head. Her golden hair fell over her eyes.

  “Oh! I am so sorry!” Rachel clutched her books, horrified.

  Valerie tilted her head, until she peeked through her golden locks. “Thank you. People say he ran out on us, but it’s not true. I don’t know where he went. Or where he is now. Or if he is dead. But he would never have run out on Mom and me.”

  Rachel looked into Valerie’s face and believed her. She stated with calm determination, “I am positive he did not.”

  Valerie gave her a tiny, grateful smile.

  The princess had been sitting reading her uber-textbook. Shutting it, she asked, “Do you think the scarab sent to Miss Hunt could have come from a remaining member of the Morthbrood? Even in Magical Australia, we hear rumors of them rising again. Weren’t they known for killing people by sending hexes?”

  Despite the warmth of the day, Rachel shivered. “I…hope not. They were…not nice. After the Terrible Years, my father helped hunt them down. I was not born yet, but from what I have gleaned from my mother and my grandparents, it was very dangerous work. The Morthbrood used the worst kind of magic.”

  “Really?” Salome looped her hand in the air twice, her face forming in an “oh-come-on” expression. “What would my bestie, Valerie, have done to come to the attention of real baddies, like the Morthbrood? Her father was a mundane policeman. He dealt with gangs and mob violence and the like.”

  “None of those people could have followed her here,” Rachel replied slowly. “She must have come to the attention of someone in the World of the Wise. Someone…not good.”

  Sigfried had been lazily tossing pieces of a ham sandwich he brought out of his pocket into the air for Lucky to catch. Hearing Valerie, he straightened and knelt before her on the pebbly mosaics, solemn and sincere, like a statue of some ancient knight.

  “Milady! My heart burns with wrath against those who have offended you!” His eyes blazing with an uncharacteristic seriousness, he looked even more handsome than usual. All the girls sighed. “No maiden so fair should walk beneath the sun in fear of craven murderers! If by my life, or by my death, I can maim or slay or annoy your foe, I need but your favor to put in me the heart of a hero, that I shall not fail to accomplish all that I have said.”

  “Technically,” the princess stated, “It is incorrect to call a commoner milady.”

  “Um…if I said yes, I would be aiding and abetting a crime before the fact. But I am grateful for your offer.” Valerie’s eyes seemed unnaturally bright, as if she was fighting back tears. Flippantly, she added, “If you actually make yourself useful, I may just keep you around.”

  Siggy grinned and gave Lucky a thumbs-up. The dragon flew in a loop.

  Salome asked, “So do you really have a fortune, Sigfried Smith? Did you get it from the dragon you killed? Where do you keep it? Is it in a bank somewhere?”

  “Bank!” Siggy exclaimed, appalled. “Let someone else touch it? Certainly not! I keep it under my bed, except for the part on top of the bed that Lucky and I sleep on.”

  “You…sleep on a bed of gold?” Valerie sounded both disbelieving and amused. “Aren’t you afraid someone will take some of it?”

  “Lucky knows every coin. The first day, I showed my roommates what happened to a book Lucky breathed on. They won’t touch it.”

  “You…destroyed a book?” Rachel and Valerie gasped together, horrified.

  Before Sigfried could answer, three older students walked into the walled gardens. The first was a young woman who was so lovely and glided with such stately grace that Rachel would have thought her the most beautiful creature alive, if she had not been sitting next to the even more beautiful Nastasia Romanov. Gazing at her, Rachel felt as if she were back on holiday at Hot Springs Beach, in Thulehavn, watching the sparkle of sunlight play over the waves. Her flaxen hair gleamed so brightly in the afternoon sun that she seemed to have faint, light-blue highlights.

  Everyone was beautiful and blond here; everyone but her.

  Or except her and the next girl, who had red hair. And what hair! It cascaded in waves to her hips. She had a mischievous, pixy-like smile that matched that of her younger brother Ian. She was Oonagh MacDannan, the daughter of Scarlett Mallory and Finn MacDannan. They knew each other from Wisecraft events. Oonagh winked at Rachel, who smiled back shyly.

  The last member of their group was also someone Rachel recognized. He was a young man with dirty blond hair and intense gray eyes. He dressed in the subfusc style with a silver tie clip shaped like a wolf. An athame was tucked into his boot.

  The statuesque blonde beauty spoke first. “Hello…You’re Sigfried Smith, aren’t you? I’ve heard very good things about you, Mr. Smith. We have come to invite you to a meeting of the YSL, the Young Sorcerer’s League.”

  Rachel had been splashing her fingers in the fountain that spilled from the trumpet in the hands of the little marble, fish-tailed cherub. Upon hearing this, her hand dropped into the pool, forgotten. Oh, she wanted to join, too!

  She knew a great deal about the YSL. The organization was hundreds of years old. All the best sorcerers had been members, including her grandfather and her parents. As Mr. Fisher had just related in Science class, during the Terrible Years, after Simon Magus and his dark allies had slain all the Wisecraft Agents and taken over the school, it had been the YSL who had stopped them. James Darling had been the League’s president that year, and the other members of the Six Musketeers had belonged as well. The entire organization had provided support for the Musketeers and, ultimately, faced the Veltdammerung. Rachel’s uncle, Lord Emrys Griffin, had been a member. He had died in that battle. He had been seventeen years old.

  Rachel gazed longingly at the older students, but they were all looking at Sigfried now.

  Siggy rose to his feet and eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Then he got a good look at the statuesque blonde with her blue highlights. His eyes locked on her chest, as if it was magnetized, and stayed there. He could not seem to tear them away, no matter how hard he tried. His mouth hung open, and he made a gurgling sound. Rachel feared he would drool.

  “Excuse me,” Nastasia asked primly, “Who are you?”

  The stately blonde was clearly amused at Sigfried’s misfortune. “I am Rory Wednesday.”

  Oh. No wonder!

  The Wednesdays were descended from the Rhinemaiden Lorelei and the god Odin. That certainly explained Rory’s extraordinary loveliness. The original Lorelei had been a siren who led men to their deaths with her beauty and singing.

  Valerie kicked Sigfried in the shin. Blinking, he hopped on his other foot and bit his own arm, hard. He stayed that way, eyes bulging, murmuring under his breath. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.”

  Oonagh stepped forward and flashed her pixy smile, undaunted. She spoke with a charming Irish accent. “I am Oonagh MacDannan. I believe me little brother is your roommate, Mr. Smith. Rory and I are classmates. We are both Seniors in the upper school. We live in Dare Hall with you. You may hear me practicing in the dorm. I play the tuba.”

  The thought of someone playing enchantments, casting listeners into sleep or causing them to dance without ceasing, with a tuba was so ridiculous Rachel could not help giggling.

  Sigfried evidently thought biting his arm was insufficient, so he screwed his eyes shut, but nodded his head up and do
wn, making polite gestures with his other hand. Valerie rolled her eyes. Salome giggled, but she looked slightly petulant at not being the center of attention.

  The young man put his foot on the bench next to Nastasia and leaned his elbow on his knee, the knife in his boot jingling. He gazed down at her with piercing gray eyes. “Your prowess at your studies has also preceded you, your highness. We would be honored to have your company as well.” He stepped back and bowed. “I believe our fathers are friends. My name is Joshua March.”

  A shiver of anticipation ran through Rachel. She glanced sidelong at Nastasia. A tiny spark of rebellion gleamed in the princess’s eyes. She looked at Rachel and arched one eyebrow. Rachel gave her a tiny encouraging nod.

  The princess rose gracefully to her feet, a vision of loveliness. She extended her arm. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Joshua March. As you know, I am Nastasia Romanov. I am well acquainted with your father, an admirable man.”

  Joshua casually took her outstretched hand in his larger grip and shook it. All the blood rushed out of Nastasia’s face. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she fainted.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Lopsided Encounters

  Joshua shouted and caught the princess. Rory and Oonagh rushed to her side, as did Siggy. Rachel hovered nearby, uncertain how to help. Guilt gnawed at her.

  Why had she encouraged Nastasia to disobey Xandra Black’s prophecy?

  A young man ran into the walled garden and slugged Joshua in the face. Joshua looked extraordinarily surprised. He fell backward, dropping Nastasia. Siggy caught her, slinging her into his arms.

  “What did you do to my sister!” shouted the newcomer.

  “Whoa, Alex! Whoa!” Joshua cried, throwing his arms in front of his face. He lay on the pebbly stones, his head suspended over the pool. “I didn’t do anything. I swear. Stop now, and I won’t tell my father.”

  Alex Romanov kept his fists up, but he took a nervous step back.

  “Infirmary,” Siggy shouted.

  He ran off carrying Nastasia, with Alex Romanov close on his heels. Rachel hurried after them, but Nastasia did not wake up. Her sister Alexis and her older brother, Ivan, the Crown Prince of Magical Australia soon arrived. Alex and Alexis were twins, though he had dark brown hair, and she was blonde. Rachel guessed them to be about Peter’s age. Ivan was older, definitely a college student. He was tall and lanky with spiky brown hair and a well-formed chin. With so many siblings hovering around, the nurse sent the other children away.

  Rachel crept up to her private hallway and sat down against the wall, next to the suit of armor. She sat for about a minute in absolute silence, her limbs trembling. Then, shakily, she rose to her feet and began practicing with the door stop, knocking it off and floating it up again. Better to focus on practicing than to sit doing nothing. The latter just made her feel worse, and it didn’t help Nastasia.

  She had encouraged the princess to disobey Xandra Black’s prediction, and something terrible had occurred. She felt so bad for her friend, so worried, so guilty. On top of the attack on Valerie, the princess’s visions, and the teacher who hated her father, this was hard to take.

  That was before she considered the smaller things: having her breakfast knocked from her hands, or having her broom mocked, or not having been invited to join the YSL. Any one of those, by itself, might have ruined her day.

  Next to the bigger things, however, they now seemed inconsequential.

  Finally the class bell rang. Reluctantly, she returned downstairs and found Siggy and Joy. Joy’s eyes were red, and she kept blowing her nose. She reported that Nastasia had been moved to the Halls of Healing run by the Order of Asclepius, in New York City. Rachel was touched by how upset Miss O’Keefe was on Nastasia’s behalf.

  • • •

  Dinner was a quiet affair, except for Siggy, who vowed loudly to avenge the princess, if he could only identify the offending party. He repeated his offer to Valerie to avenge her, and asked Rachel if she needed avenging. Should they wish his help to burn off anyone’s face, he assured them, they need only say the word.

  After dinner, Rachel practiced in the empty hallway again. Being by herself and concentrating on something concrete brought a sense of peace. Also, the work was paying off. She could now whistle the doorstop off the table and float it up again with ease. She searched around the unused tower rooms until she found a dusty tome much larger and heavier than the doorstop and began practicing with that.

  On her way back to her dormitory, Rachel ran across Gaius Valiant. He stood in the hallway, studying the same painting he had been gazing at that morning. When he heard her footsteps, he turned and smiled at her.

  “Ah, Miss Griffin. How are you this evening?”

  “Just fine,” she spoke cheerfully, “and you?”

  Rachel stopped beside him and examined the painting, too. It was a picture of a windblown field. In the distance were windmills and a farm house. A crest had been painted above the barn door. She peered at the pastoral scene, wondering what he saw in it.

  Gaius said, “I am well. Did you have a good second day?”

  Rachel answered flippantly. It was easier than sharing her true feelings with a stranger. “Very eventful. I’ve only been here two days and already my friends have been targeted for murder, fainted in the walled garden, and all number of other things.”

  “Yes, it has been an eventful couple of days,” he said. “We must remain vigilant in times such as these and be sure that we watch out for our own.”

  “Yeah. It would be a bummer if we accidentally watched out for someone else’s,” she replied with an intense seriousness available only to thirteen-year-old girls. It took her mother’s dissembling skills to keep herself from smirking.

  He smiled at her comment. Rachel found herself suddenly smiling, too, but she shifted her weight nervously. His phrasing struck her as mildly sinister. And yet, something about this young man brought out a frivolity in her that she ordinarily kept contained.

  His face became serious. “Tell me, do you know what a geas is?”

  Rachel nodded. “Sure. A compulsion that makes you do something, like go on a quest. Or buy margarine instead of butter.”

  Stepping a bit closer, he lowered his voice. “A geas is a type of ensorcellment that causes someone to lose their free will for a time. It’s very dangerous, but one of the good things is that people know they are under a spell. If the geas breaks, they remember they were being controlled. They can tell someone.”

  He glanced cautiously in both directions, but there was no one in the hallway. “I have heard, from a reliable source, that a certain group has improved upon that spell. They have a new geas that doesn’t even leave you aware that you were controlled. I am not sure how exactly it works, but, if it’s true, it’s very dangerous. Extremely dangerous. There are geas-breakers among the Agents. They can release someone from a geas relatively quickly. If this new geas exists, they might not be able to break it. Or, if they do, the person won’t even know what happened.”

  “That’s terrible!” Rachel blurted out.

  “There are whispers that forces thought long vanquished are growing in power. If they can control the Parliament of the Wise with almost no trace, those of us who support law and order are at a severe disadvantage,” drawled Gaius.

  Rachel’s eyes got bigger as he spoke, though she kept them trained on the painting. Who was this boy? From the look of him, she guessed he was a poor student, struggling with his classes like her classmates Remington Blake and Zachary Duff, both of whom, rumor had it, had not yet managed to pull off a single spell. Had this gotten him into some kind of trouble? Was he part of some very bad crowd from which he wanted to escape? Why was he telling this to her, the youngest child at the school?

  He finished with, “It might behoove you to warn your father.”

  Oh. She nodded decisively, like a soldier receiving orders. “I will!”

  Gaius added, “I would have told your brother
Peter, but he doesn’t like me very much. I am not sure if it’s because I’m in Drake, or, more likely, because he’s jealous that I am so extremely handsome.” He winked at her and turned to leave.

  The boy was rather good-looking, though not nearly as handsome as Peter, who—Rachel had it on good authority from girls who lived in Gryphon-on-Dart—was spectacularly attractive, almost as good-looking as their father. Still, the sheer arrogance of Gaius’s response amused her.

  Keeping her voice deadpan, despite the mockery behind her words, she tapped her finger against her cheek, as if thinking.

  “Yeah, I can see how that might daunt him,” she intoned sadly, “Poor Peter.”

  Skipping away as the older boy snorted with amusement, she headed downstairs to the mail room. She managed not to start giggling until she was in the cellar with her paper out, starting to write.

  Then, she giggled a lot.

  • • •

  When she eventually recovered from her giggle-fit, she composed a letter to her father recording what Gaius had told her. She included a report about Nastasia, complete with a description of her visions and Xandra Black’s prediction. She told her father everything. With all the strange and disorienting things going on, it made her feel sane to have someone to report to. Some of this information might be crucial to the security of the World of the Wise, and there was no one her Father could get it from except her. That made her feel both happy and significant. Smiling, she prepared an envelope and slipped the letter into the outgoing mail slot.

  • • •

  As she headed upstairs again, the wavering note of a flute sounded. Blue sparkles danced over Rachel’s body accompanied by the scent of pine. Her limbs locked up. She could neither move nor speak.

  Cydney Graves, Charybdis Nott, and an older girl with dark skin who looked a great deal like a toad stood on the staircase, gazing down at her. Cydney put her hand over her mouth, as if very concerned.

 

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