"Oh, beans," the impatient witch grumbled, unfurling the rolled and ribboned parchment that had been tacked to her cottage door. "Now what?" She read the document, then let it curl back up like a snapped window shade. "It's bad enough you've been barking at me since I landed, now Lady Potato wants a go at me, too."
"Ileana!" Karsh scolded, setting her bags down next to Boris, who was napping on the slate doorstep.
"Oh, all right. Lady Rhianna, then. But for goodness' sake, Karsh, she's round, lumpy, and brown—and clearly she has eyes everywhere. Or should I say spies everywhere?" Ileana plopped herself onto the big cosmetics case, crossed her delicate arms, and breathed an exaggerated sigh.
"Anyway, I didn't choose the pizza place," she declared after a pause. "They did, Apolla and Artemis—"
"Camryn and Alexandra," he reminded her.
"Whatever! They chose the place, your headstrong little fledglings. I tried to get their attention outside—"
"By pulling Camryn's hair and pinching her friend's bottom?" Biting his lip to keep from smiling, Karsh shook his head gravely.
"By any means necessary," Ileana shot back. "Why should I be cautious when Thantos will not be? They needed to be warned about Thantos's messenger."
"Ileana, you interfered with the lives of three innocents. Four, counting the mother who was driving—"
"Innocents?" she argued. "It was just a flat tire. And did you see how they behaved when I was gone? Shrieking, stuffing their mouths, spitting straw wrappers at their peers—"
"We don't do that!" Karsh cut her short. "It is forbidden. We don't enchant, cast spells upon, or otherwise meddle in the lives of others—except for their good, not ours."
"Well, two of my charges were in grave danger. Two who are worth more than all the others combined—"
"Never," Karsh exclaimed, shocked. "Such a notion is unworthy of a true witch. It is totally against our beliefs. All life is sacred—"
A flapping of wings overhead startled Ileana. She tumbled off her perch, landing on Boris's tail. The sleeping cat screeched. Scrambling wildly, he dashed into the woods.
"Ah, there you are. Punctual as ever!" Lady Rhianna dipped low over the cottage. "To the Justice Dome—now!—if you please," she ordered.
"I'm as punctual as you are patient," Ileana grumbled, getting to her feet and swatting leaves and twigs from her silk cape. "I just arrived and found your summons."
Karsh hooded his eyes with one raw-knuckled white hand. With the other, he waved warmly to Rhianna. Soaring above them, she looked like a beautiful blimp, he thought, admiring her dimpled, bronze face and sparkling black eyes, her wiry gray hair, which smelled of almond oil. Most of all, he admired her glorious wings. Only a few years younger than he, and she could still manage those stunning appendages—each of which weighed nearly as much as Karsh did.
Lady Rhianna smiled at him. "I'll see you—both," she emphasized, "in my chambers. Karsh, old friend, you look weary."
"I wish he was," Ileana sulked.
Rhianna's head snapped toward the young witch. Her eyes darkened; her wings flapped once, threateningly.
"I merely meant I wish he were weary of lecturing me," Ileana quickly explained. "Of course, he could have taught me to transmutate. I'd almost talked him into it—"
"Transmutation?" Rhianna roared.
Karsh flinched. "But I didn't," he pointed out.
Rhianna studied him for a moment, then wheeling abruptly, flew off.
"You're in trouble, aren't you?" Ileana laughed.
"Not as much as if I'd given you your way." His knees creaking uncomfortably, the old warlock lowered himself onto the warm doorstep. "You're a guardian, Ileana—quicker and more talented than most, a truly gifted practitioner of magick. Still, you had no right to alter—"
"Alter, shmalter! I flattened a tire on that red gas guzzler. No one got hurt. That big show-off can wait. I'm going to rinse the stench of tomatoes and garlic off me. Then I'll give you a lift to the Justice Dome. Rest awhile," Ileana suggested. Moving past him into her cottage, she let her hand play delicately over his cottony hair.
Karsh smiled, surprised. The reckless young witch he'd pledged to safeguard had touched him—not just with her hand, but with her heart as well.
Her gentle gesture and kind instinct gladdened him. For too long Karsh had feared Ileana was her father's child. He closed his wind-stung eyes now—just for a moment.
He was jarred awake when Ileana cried out, "Last stop!" and, opening her arms, let him fall to the frost-crisp ground in front of the Justice Dome.
Karsh landed upright on his spindly legs. Ileana had seen to that. She'd also made sure that Lady Rhianna and her deputy, Lord Grivveniss, had witnessed their arrival—and noted how very talented she was.
Not many guardians her age could levitate, let alone fly. But Karsh had encouraged Ileana to try her wings earlier than most. Naturally, Ileana's wings were not as showy or grand as Lady Rhianna's. Still, they were adorable and tastefully dusted with gold.
The esteemed elders were waiting before the purple, red, and gold dome. Grivveniss, with his wispy goatee and bottle-thick glasses, hobbled toward her, applauding. "A remarkable landing for one so young, especially in such gusty weather," he congratulated Ileana.
She smiled at the old man. "I'm glad it pleases you," she said with enough sweet cream in her voice to set his cholesterol soaring. "It is my desire to become a tracker, my lord, as wise and skilled as you."
Lady Rhianna exchanged a skeptical look with Karsh, then loudly cleared her throat. "Yes, well, shall we get on with it?"
"By all means," Grivveniss agreed, offering Ileana his arm.
It was all she could do not to stick out her tongue as she glided past Karsh and his frumpy friend.
"I summoned you to find out why the innocents in Massachusetts were endangered," Rhianna began, once they were all seated in her chambers. "I understand they were friends of Apolla and Artemis."
Ileana grinned gleefully at Karsh.
"They're called Camryn and Alexandra now," he gently informed the head of the Unity Council.
"Thank you," she said shortly. "But now I want to hear about this flat-tire business. Whose bright idea was that?"
"Mine," Ileana confessed with no shame. "You and the Council wanted me to take more responsibility for the twins, wanted a more hands-on approach—"
"Esteemed elder," Karsh cut in. "The method was Ileana's, but the instructions were mine. I am but an aged servant—"
"Karsh, my dear, there are no servants among us. We are all lords and ladies, people with special gifts meant for the great good of humankind."
"Of course. And it is in that spirit, Rhianna, that I allowed Ileana to go alone to Marble Bay and, by any means necessary, warn the fledglings of imminent danger. I am very old and she is young and strong—"
"Strong-willed."
"Did you not see how she carried Lord Karsh in her arms?" Grivveniss asked, smiling adoringly at Ileana.
"Indeed I did. As I was meant to. But why," Rhianna demanded, easing her silk-swaddled bulk from the chair, "did you have to create a hazardous accident?"
"The visit was to warn the girls that Lord Thantos would likely send someone to lure them. Someone who looked and acted like an ordinary being. And I approached them on their way to the restaurant, Large Lady, but even then they were with a friend. They're very popular, you know—"
"Large Lady?" Rhianna's wings ruffled menacingly but did not fly open.
"Did I say 'large'? I meant 'great.'"
Rhianna glanced at Karsh, then began to pace, her gold cape flaring, her little red
shoes clacking loudly on the marble floor. "You aren't seriously considering teaching the child transmutation, old friend?"
Karsh did not answer immediately. He could not say what he felt in his
bones. That age was claiming him, dulling his senses and robbing him of strength far faster than he had expected. He felt a desire to pass along what he knew. N
o, not a desire, an urgent need. If Ileana was to take up her true guardianship of the twins she'd have to learn more of the trackers' art. Much more—and more quickly.
"I see." Rhianna had, of course, heard his musings. Her gaze softened. Her eyes glistened, as if with tears, as they took in Karsh's feeble but familiar form. Then, remembering her rank, she cleared her throat and continued. "I can't believe you considered for even a moment teaching this rash and reckless young witch a tracker's secret. Now that I know, what am I to do?"
"What you must," Karsh offered. "Whatever you think best."
"Good Karsh." Lady Rhianna's booming voice broke, lowered to a whisper. "I cannot... I will not punish you for wanting to speed this vain and impatient guardian's education. But causing a blowout? A burst tire? No, no, no. We are dealing with human beings here—which requires maturity, honor, good sense—"
"All of Lord Thantos's fine qualities," Ileana said insolently.
"Child," Grivveniss said kindly, "while many share your belief that Lord Thantos was responsible for the death of Aron, the twins' father—"
"Who was," Lady Rhianna reminded her, "Thantos's own brother."
"His brother... as if that made his evil act less possible! Also his business partner," Ileana added emphatically, "creator of a computer empire worth billions of dollars in the world beyond this speck of an island. Might not such riches be motive enough for murder?"
"Indeed," Grivveniss agreed. "But Lord Thantos had an alibi. An alibi sworn to by Miranda—Aron's wife, the twins' own mother—before she was destroyed by grief."
"Wait!" Knowing what Ileana was about to point out, Karsh stopped her. "Yes, there is every chance that Thantos forced Miranda into giving him that alibi, tricked her into saying what she did—but she is no longer able to tell her story."
"And, if Thantos has his way, he will do the same to Miranda's children!" Ileana declared. "They are Aron's true heirs. Camryn and Alexandra! With their father dead, his share of CompUmage belongs to them. And you know as well as I do," she confidently predicted, "that Thantos will sway them to his side or destroy them."
Chapter 7 – A Bad Influence
The dozen or so kids who showed up for orientation were sitting at the front of the auditorium when Alex and Madison entered. Cade Richman was sitting alone at the back.
Alex didn't notice him right away. She was halfway down the aisle, feeling overwhelmed by Madison's endless chatter.
Suddenly, a waft of soap and leather drifted toward her, making her almost dizzy with delight. She tried to pick up Cade's thoughts, but all she could hear was Madison rattling on.
"So I was, like, really terrified. I thought, Omigosh, this can't be happening. On my very first day at school. First day? Excuse me, first hour! And I totally never saw that toadhead before in my life. So I was like, omigosh, I'm gonna, like, totally die. Of embarrassment, I mean. And then I saw you guys. So I said, like, those girls. They're not gonna let—"
With Madison chirping nonstop at her side, Alex looked over her shoulder at Cade.
He gave her a huge smile, nothing held back.
"Madison," she said. "Save me a seat, okay? I'll catch up with you in a minute."
Alex started back up the aisle toward Cade. Madison followed, her gum-soled shoes squeaking on the wooden floor. "I mean, I just looked at you guys and I knew you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. And omigosh, I was sooo right, right?"
"Hey," Cade said, standing slowly. "I figured if I sat back here I'd see you coming in."
Alex opened her mouth, but it was Madison's high-pitched voice that shrilled, "Oh, hi! You're the one who gave me back my wallet. I'm Madison Knudnick. The K is silent." She extended her hand—her small paw, Alex couldn't help thinking—and Cade, grinning good-naturedly, shook it.
Madison didn't take a breath or skip a beat. "Wow, I was so hoping I'd see you again. I mean, omigosh, I just wanted to say thanks, you know. But by the time I pulled myself together you were gone—"
"Good morning. Good morning, people, and welcome!" a grating voice called out. It belonged to a heavy-set man in a rumpled khaki suit who had stepped out onto the stage. "You there, with the long hair, boy or girl, whatever you are, face front, please." The man's nylon shirt was too tight; it pulled across his pot-belly. His jacket fairly rattled with pens, which explained the ink stain on his pocket. "All right, let's sit down and be quiet, everyone."
Cade moved in and Alex took the seat next to him. Madison lost no time shooing them over, then plunking down into the aisle seat on the other side of Alex.
"Good morning, people. Like you, I'm new to Marble Bay High. My name is Mr. Shnorer, and some of you lucky tenth graders will get to know me better in English—"
"Guess who?" Alex whispered to Cade, showing him her class schedule.
"I've got English with someone named Woolsey," he responded softly.
"So does Cam, I think—" she said, with a quick stab of envy.
"Omigosh," Madison burst out in her screechy squeal. "Me, too. Ms. Woolsey. Yuck. I was like, so hoping we'd be in the same classes, Alex. I know how much it would mean to you. Getting to know me and all. Oh, wow, you must be really bummed!"
"Oh, wow, yeah. To the max." Trying to keep a straight face, Alex glanced at Cade. They had to quickly turn away from each other to keep from laughing aloud.
"Private conversation?" Mr. Shnorer called out, smiling coldly at them. He'd taken out one of his pens and was impatiently tapping it against his palm.
Alex shrunk down in her seat. Madison jumped up. "We were just saying how cool it is that my friend Alex is in your class."
"Alex? Alex who?"
"Fielding," Alex mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Mr. Shnorer said, exaggeratedly cupping a hand to his ear. "A little while ago I could hear every word you said. Don't be shy now."
Most of the kids down front had turned to stare at her. A few sniggered nervously.
"Fielding," Madison piped up.
"Fielding." The English teacher narrowed his eyes, focusing on Alex as if he was memorizing her face. "I'm sure we're all delighted to meet you, Alex Fielding. And now, with Miss Fielding's permission, of course, I'd like to continue telling those who care to listen a few things about Marble Bay High School that may make their first term here—and mine—more enjoyable."
Madison sat at last. "Wow, what an old grouch," she said too loudly.
Alex scooched farther down in her seat. Her only comfort was that she was sitting next to Cade. As the orientation droned on, she inhaled again his sweet soapy scent, spiced with the salty tang of leather. How could she have thought he had some weird secret? He seemed so open to her now.
Mr. Shnorer might just as well have been named Snore-er, she thought. His boring voice and Cade's nearness lulled her almost to sleep. In the stuffy auditorium, she closed her eyes for a moment.
And heard:
A terrible screech of tires. Two voices, both female, one screaming in horror; the other gasping, "No!" Then, worst of all, a sickening thud.
To steady herself, to hold on to something solid, Alex grabbed for the wooden armrests of her seat. What her hands found instead were Cade's arm and Madison's—one of which sent a shock through her, an electric bristle of energy. The same sharp tingling she'd felt the first time she'd brushed Doc's sleeve. And his hand when he was the old policeman Karsh. And the uniform of his beautiful blond partner, Officer Ileana.
Alex's eyes flew open. Whose arm had given her the shock—Cade's or Madison's? Whose sleeve or hand had she accidentally touched?
She looked down at the armrests on either side of her. They were empty now. Both Cade and Madison were unenthusiastically clapping at something Mr. Shnorer had said.
That afternoon, Alex sat in class, listening again to the chunky English teacher's monotonous voice.
Dylan, who was sitting directly behind her, passed her a note. You weren't kidding about this guy, it said. What a snore.
Although Dyl was ten months
younger than Camryn, Emily had wanted her children to start school together. Which was why Cam's baby brother was in the tenth grade. Hooray for Emily, Alex thought, grateful to have a friendly face in English, even if the friendly face was wearing blue streaks in his blond hair and practically everyone in class had something to say or whisper about that. Including Mr. Shnorer, of course, who'd welcomed Dylan by asking if he and "Miss Fielding" went to the same hairdresser.
The scruffy teacher was tapping one of his pens again, this time against his cheek—which irritated Alex almost as much as the fact that he wasn't actually teaching anything. He was lazily delivering a classroom version of his orientation speech. It was a double drag since, one, Alex had already suffered through the boring lecture once and, two, English was one of her favorite subjects, a class she ordinarily looked forward to.
T*Witches: Building a Mystery Page 4
