It disappeared. It actually worked.
"What the hell, Cassie!" Tobey yelled, cutting off my whoop of success before it ever reached my lips.
I heard running water and splashing. I whisked away my portal and rushed to the bathroom. Tobey yanked open the door and pointed at the floor where a blackened wad of sodden paper lay smoldering.
And that’s why you run tests.
"Let me give it another go. At least I know how to magically incinerate trash now."
Tobey closed the door again. I tried the spell again. A glowing ring appeared again. I tried another piece of paper.
It went through the ring, but rather than disappearing into the bathroom, the paper merely fell to the floor on the opposite side of the ring. The following attempt had the paper bouncing right off the portal’s surface. On the next try I got the paper to go through. Before any sense of pride could bloom in me, Tobey opened the bathroom door and pointed to the floor. The paper had scattered in a confetti blast of tattered shreds as if Pablo had gone wild on it after too many hits from his bag of catnip. That put a stop to my experiments right there.
"I can’t use one of these things. Even if I could get through, even I could travel farther than one room to another, I do not want to end up shredded for recycling. I’m not going to be able to learn this on my own," I said, staring at the ragged bits of paper and imagining my skin and bones being run through a meat grinder. "I need someone who knows portals."
"Runa knows them, and Banna probably invented them."
"Yeah, but it’s not like they’re going to help me break any rules." Just then, my stomach growled, demanding to be refueled after such an intense use of magic. I was wondering if lunch might appear soon or if Tobey and I should go down to The Keys when my head filled with a picture of Mr. Wood assembling his sandwich. Morelli knew portals. "I need to make another trip to Portland."
"I could—" I think Tobey was about to invite himself, but the pounding at my door stopped his words.
"Cassie. Cassie, are you in there?"
I hurried over to the door. Instinctively, I took a quick sniff before turning the handle. The bergamot scent of Earl Grey tea.
When I pulled open the door, Busby had his fist raised, about to knock again. "Oh good," he said when his eyes caught sight of Tobey, "you’re here as well." Mr. T’s nose then wrinkled. "Has something been burning?"
"What’s going on?" I asked, avoiding his question.
"Another city has been hit," he said, anger ringing through his smooth accent.
"Dublin?" I said, grabbing at the first city that came to mind.
"Yes. St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It just collapsed in on itself like an implosion, and there’s no sign of any seismic activity in the area. How did you know?"
"I told you the next one would start with a D. But this is too soon. Las Vegas was only yesterday. He said every two days," I complained, as if you could really expect an evil wizard to stick to schedule.
"Yes, well," he glanced down to his shoes, took a steadying breath, then met my eyes. "That’s why Olivia has made her decision."
33 - TOBEY APPRECIATION DAY
MR. T WALKED with me back down to Olivia’s office. Tobey trailed close behind, even though Mr. T had told him he wouldn’t be allowed in. It was a silent descent of doom, not only because I knew what was coming, but because what could possibly be said in my defense in the face of the utter destruction the Mauvais was causing? I couldn’t blame Olivia for her choice. If I was a cold-hearted witch faced with such a problem, I might make the same decision. I was a risk. My magic was a danger.
Granted, I would have preferred to find Alastair first. One last goodbye kiss wouldn’t have gone amiss. And it would have been worth everything to see my parents back to health. But that wasn’t in the cards for Cassie Black.
At the door to Olivia’s office, Tobey tugged me aside and pulled me into a tight, completely awkward hug. When he wished me luck, my throat tightened and my eyes burnt with the tears I needed to fight back. I would not let Olivia see me cry.
"Thanks," I said, pushing back from the embrace. Turning quickly on my heels, I followed Mr. Tenpenny into the stony space I’d become too familiar with.
"Have a seat," Olivia offered. Fiona was there, as was Runa. Rafi, whose calming influence I could have used, was absent. Figures.
"Busby has told you of the latest development?" I nodded, afraid to speak. "The Mauvais is showing his strength as well as his impatience, and we have to assume that some of that is due to someone passing him your power. He’s growing stronger as a result of your magic still making its way to him. Because of that, I’ve decided the only way to keep other Magics, and all the world, safe is to extract you. The tribunal does not fully agree with my assessment, but that is the way it is. I know you may find this unfair, you didn’t ask to be—"
"It’s fine. I understand."
I didn’t fully. Not even a week ago, Olivia said it was too dangerous to extract me. That having my power collected into convenient takeaway packages would make it easy for the Mauvais or his traitorous partner to snatch up those packets of Cassie goodness. But there was no point in arguing. If all of Mr. Tenpenny’s, Morelli’s, and Fiona’s pleas couldn’t sway Olivia, there was nothing my tongue could produce that would change her mind.
My acceptance threw the normally unflappable Olivia. She literally did a double take at my response. It was obvious she’d been ready for an argument, for complaints at the very least. As such, she staggered over a few words before saying, "I— that is, I appreciate your cooperation. It will be recorded as part of your character."
I didn’t know or care what this meant. I assumed she was talking about the book that each community kept to note the events that took place within their realm. But I was going to be turned into a magical moron. What did I care what some book said about me?
Almost as if reading my thoughts, Fiona pulled a large hardback from the small, daisy-patterned purse she had on the floor beside her chair. She handed the hefty tome to me. I didn’t need to look at the title. It’s hard to forget a book you’ve flung across the room. The spine had been repaired, but it was the same copy of An Enchanted History of the Portland Community in which I’d first seen an image of my parents. They’d been standing with Devin Kilbride’s arms draped chummily over their shoulders.
"If you’d like to add your own story in there, it would be an honor," said Fiona, her voice raspy with emotion.
"When?" I asked. Fiona started to respond, likely thinking I meant when I should do my scribbling, but I clarified. "When will I be extracted? How long do I have?"
Olivia looked to Runa as if for confirmation. Runa gave a small nod and Olivia said, "Tomorrow morning. The same time we’ll be taking care of Chester. The hour before dawn is the optimal time for such matters. That should also give you time to say your goodbyes."
"My goodbyes wouldn’t only be to people here. I’d like to go home."
"That can’t be allowed. It’s too dangerous."
"I won’t run, if that’s what you’re thinking."
"No, that’s not it. Until we know who the traitor is and where the Mauvais is, we can’t risk you being out in the world unguarded. You will have to make do with phone calls."
This hurt more than the knowledge I’d be extracted. I think I’d pretty much known Olivia or the tribunal would come to that decision, but to not say goodbye in person to Mr. Wood, to Lola, to Pablo. I couldn’t help it, tears burned their way down my cheeks.
"I understand," I said through tight lips, then stood and marched out of the room.
Seeing my face, Tobey was wise enough not to say a word. I didn’t want to sulk in my room. After the following morning, I was sure I’d be confined to tight quarters, perhaps a padded cell, for the rest of my life. I wanted fresh air. I wanted to be away from the White Tower. Tobey followed me outside.
No mes
sages came through my phone. I can’t explain the utter disappointment this drove into me even more strongly than the news of my sentencing. It pulled every ounce of energy from me and I knew I couldn’t walk any farther. Sensing something was wrong, Tobey gripped me by the arm and guided me to the nearest bench.
After a few moments of sitting there in silence, I started thumbing through the book with Tobey watching the pages go by. My brain was too numb to come up with words about myself, but the feel of a book in my hands, the action of turning the pages was somehow familiar and comforting. Tobey pointed out a few images of places from his childhood and a few friends from his youth who had gone on to other communities. His chatter was pointless, but it did provide a distraction and I appreciated him for that.
It wasn’t long before Winston found us. He gave Tobey a calculating glance, then jumped onto my shoulder and rubbed his smooth head against my cheek, which nearly had me sobbing again. The bird then hopped down to the arm of the bench and tilted his head at the book. Crouching down, he wedged his beak into the front pages I’d already flipped through.
"What’s he doing?" asked Tobey.
"Wait, you can see him?"
"Of course I can see him. Why shouldn’t I?"
"Because you’ve never seen him before. Remember when the raven went to stop Rafi?" Tobey gave a single nod, but looked at me like I was nuts. "And you were wondering who I was talking to?" Again, the wary nod. I pointed to Winston. "This is who I was talking to. Tobey meet Winston. Winston meet Tobey." Like mirror images of one another, the two both tilted their heads in greeting. I then explained to Tobey about Winston.
"But why can I see him now if I couldn’t before?"
I thought for a moment. Tobey wasn’t dead like Nigel. He wasn’t undead like Mr. Tenpenny. He was too young and nowhere near clever enough to have become a Yeoman Warder without telling us. It had to be—
"My magic," I said, my misery momentarily pushed aside by magical wonder. "That’s what allows me to be one of the few living people who can see Winston. And since you have my magic—"
"I can see him too. That’s kind of cool." By now, Winston had returned his attention to the book. "Still doesn’t explain what he’s doing."
"Maybe there’s a picture of a girl raven on that page."
Tobey gave me a look that said, Yeah, right. But I turned to the page anyway.
"See," said Tobey when there was nothing but text on the pages. I didn’t even know it was possible for birds to do so, but I would swear Winston scowled at Tobey with a look of pure disdain. He then tapped his beak on the fourth paragraph on the left hand page, looked at me, then tapped the paragraph again.
"Maybe he wants a story read to him?" I scanned the paragraph. I couldn’t stop my mouth from gaping open in surprise. Looking at Winston, I asked, "Are you—? Winston, you are very creepy. Wonderful, but creepy. How could you know that?"
"What are you talking about?" Tobey asked irritably.
I read him the paragraph.
"‘Adneta Walls was arrested today, the fifteenth of March, 1861, for building a person-to-person portal. Adneta, known for her ability to foretell the future, saw a great battle coming. Her brother, Arnold Walls, lives in the Manassas Community in the state of Virginia. Adneta stated she only wanted to get her brother to the safety of Rosaria and that she should not be punished for such an act.’
"And then there’s a side note dated May 1861, stating Arnold was killed following the Battle of Bull Run. Arnold didn’t fight, but Norm locals accused him of collaborating with the north, of using witchcraft to try to thwart the Confederate army."
"But the Confederates won that battle."
I was terrible with my American history, so I took Tobey at his word and pointed to a note in the side margin.
"It’s dated June, 1902, and says person-to-person portals hadn’t been illegal during Adneta’s time. She was posthumously pardoned, but such portals have been banned due to the inability to regulate or register their activity. Don’t you see? This is the key. Build a portal to the Mauvais himself, not to where he is."
"Yeah, but how did Winston know that was there?"
I stroked the bird’s back, "Because he’s a good boy, aren’t you?" Winston held his head even prouder than normal. I shut the book. "I need to go to Portland."
"They said you couldn’t."
"Tobey Tenpenny, were you eavesdropping?" He shrugged. "I don’t care. I’m going anyway. This could be the only way I get to Alastair. I can at least do that before they turn me into a moron."
"Not that that’ll be hard."
"Oh, har har." I started to head back to the White Tower then remembered my last attempt to sneak home. "Damn it!" I nearly threw down the book in frustration.
Tobey was by my side in an instant. "What?" he asked worriedly as he bent over to pick up the book. "What’s happened?"
"Nothing’s happened. And nothing’s going to happen. I can’t get through the portal. They’ve closed it to me." I quickly told him of my earlier attempt to get through the Portland-London portal on my own. "I need another Magic to chaperone me."
I let out a growl of irritation. More than a few heads turned my way, and more than a few tourists scuttled away from me. I swatted the book away when Tobey held it out to me. Then, of all the inappropriate things to do, Tobey grinned, looking stupidly pleased with himself.
"What?" I snapped.
"I’m kind of a Magic now, aren’t I?"
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Then, experiencing a lapse of my normal personality, I threw my arms around Tobey in a delighted hug. I know, two hugs in one day. Just goes to show what stress can do to a person.
"Tobey, for once you are not completely useless."
34 - ILLEGAL PORTALS
DESPITE MY INITIAL joy, reality quickly settled in.
"It’s not going to work," I said and slumped down on a low stone wall.
"Why do you always have to be so negative? Is it because it was my idea?"
"No." I pulled out my phone. "It’s because of that." I showed him the clock on the home screen. "It’s too early. Olivia told me the Portland portal doesn’t open until after dawn unless it’s urgent. Somehow I don’t think she’s going to see my exploring the possibilities of an illegal portal as urgent." My frustration, my feeling of being trapped was made worse by Tobey’s gleeful expression. "And why are you grinning?"
"Because I know things you don’t," he said in the taunting tone of an eight-year-old. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him, feeling very tempted to set his eyebrows on fire. "On Sundays, which would be today, the international portals open early and stay open later than normal. It allows Magics to enjoy a weekend out of town, but to still get back to their home community in time to get their Sunday chores done before the work week begins." He raised his chin, looking immensely proud of himself.
"And what about the troll on duty, Super Genius? Don’t you think they’re going to be told not to let me leave?"
"Nope. There’s no actual troll duty on the portals."
"But Chester," I said, hoping the big oaf was doing okay in his imprisonment.
"Chester just likes to meet people. He does it for fun, not as part of his job. Unless of course, he’s been told to meet someone like he was when he came and got us from the delivery portal that first time."
"So you’re saying this really could work." I stood up, energized by a tiny speck of hope that was growing bigger by the millisecond. "That I could really get to Morelli?"
Tobey patted me on the head. "It’s amazing there’s any room for a brain up there with how thick your skull is. Yes, it’s going to work. Now let’s go."
I went. The closer we got to the London-Portland portal, the more my cynical pessimism took over and the more convinced I became that the scheme wouldn’t work. After all, Tobey had my magic. The portal might not be closed to me personally, but
to my brand of power. By the time we got to the portal, I almost told Tobey not to bother. It might set off alarms, it might bring the wrath of Olivia down on me, it might—
"Hurry up, go through." Tobey stood at a very open and a very no-alarms-going-off portal. "I’ll stay here. They might get suspicious if we’re both gone."
"Thanks, Tobey. I owe you one."
"You already gave me magic. I was the one who owed you."
Before things got too gushy, I rushed through the portal, crossing my fingers that any magical sirens would remain silent.
The Untangled Cassie Black Page 22
