I sipped my juice, thinking, afraid of commenting. Alastair made the watch. Vivian was the Mauvais. If Vivian and Alastair were in league together once…
A bright, yet raspy voice called my name from the lobby. Alvin Dodding stood next to the reception desk, waving his arm to signal he was ready.
"Crap, I need to get back. Thanks for the lunch. And the info."
When I stood, Tobey got up as well, then reached out and grabbed my arm. A shock went through me. It startled me to say the least. It felt too much like when Alastair or one of the other Magics dared to touch me, but then I realized his thumb had caught a pressure point in my biceps. He pulled me closer to him. If he dared to kiss me—
I groaned at the thought. Plus, I couldn’t imagine how much ribbing I’d get from Professor Dodding.
Luckily, Tobey only wanted to deliver one more piece of overbearing advice.
"We’ll figure out the building thing together and we’ll go there together. Just don’t do anything stupid, Cassie."
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
Mentally cursing Tobey for being so damn weird, I twisted my arm out of his grasp and hurried over to join the jovial professor.
34 - THAT AFTERNOON
ALVIN DELIVERED ME back to the arena/Tower portal and said to return to my room for my next lesson. I figured if this was a class with Olivia, it would be held in her office; if it was with Mr. T, we’d go to the rooftop or to his room, which I just bet was a massive suite; and if this was a lesson with Alastair…well, I didn’t think they’d be assigning me classes with him any time soon. Thank Merlin for small favors.
Using those brilliant feats of deduction, I decided it had to be a lesson with Banna. As such, once I got back to my room, I set about closing the curtains, unplugging the overly bright digital clock, and even placing my phone face down so it wouldn’t light up if a signal happened to get through to it.
When I answered the knock at the door, I almost cheered my super duper Sherlockian skills. It was indeed Banna, wearing darker than normal sunglasses and sporting an umbrella whose canopy was made of thick canvas. She was in too much shadow for me to see any expression on her face, but she gave a quick nod of approval, stepped in, and pulled down her umbrella once I’d shut the door on the dimly lit hallway.
"You knew I was coming?" Her tone was uncertain as she removed her sunglasses and placed them on the low dresser next to the tea service.
"Lucky guess."
"Very clever," she said appreciatively while conjuring a light orb and propping it up on her umbrella. "Now, personally, I don’t see where background work is going to get you. Practical work is what you need, and practical work is what you’ll get from me. I thought we’d go back to day one. Back to the Solas Charm. Have you been practicing?"
I admitted I hadn’t, then added, "I was told you shouldn’t have taught me that."
"Who said that? Alastair? He just doesn’t like the Solas Charm because he’s not good at it. He’d rather build some contraption to make a light."
Okay, I know I was angry at and confused about Alastair, but I still wanted to think of him as my friend. It should be my job to question and insult him, not hers, and my hackles went up at her harsh tone. But I had a feeling I didn’t want to get on Banna’s bad side, so I played along.
"Or a contraption to kill us all," I said.
"Yes, good point. That was a clever use of his skills," she said admiringly.
Have I mentioned Magics are impossible to figure out? And I thought normal humans were bewildering.
"Right," I said, dragging out the word. "Anyway, Solas Charm?"
"Yes. I think it would be good for you to practice it. You see, the Solas Charm requires concentration, especially when you first start doing it. I can produce a light orb without giving it much thought." She generated a second orb as if to demonstrate her magical prowess. "But I have been doing it for several hundred years. As for you, let’s think of it as a form of meditation, a way to let your magic concentrate on something while also keeping your mind free. We’ve all been debating how to teach you that, but I’d like to give my idea a whirl. If you don’t mind."
"Whatever it takes." I considered bringing up what Professor Dodding had said about what would happen if I didn’t pass my next test, but I didn’t think I could take hearing any false denials. Better to practice and keep these people happy.
"Alright then. You remember how to do it?"
I nodded and pictured a glowing orb the size of a marble. As with the first time I tried this spell, I’d just been smacked upside the head with uncomfortable news, making it difficult to concentrate.
"Focus, Cassie Black. Think of a good memory."
Surprising even myself, the memories that popped into mind were of Alastair kissing me, Alastair handing me that first slice of Sacher Torte, Alastair telling me he cared about me, that he had always done what it took to protect me.
Banna gasped. I opened my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. What I saw made it impossible for me not to smile. A glowing orb. But it wasn’t the greenish hazel of my eyes. Instead, it gave off a warm pink light that throbbed in time like a heartbeat. And it wasn’t the size of a marble. Unless it was a marble for a giant. The light was the size of a bowling ball and I swear I caught the scent of raspberry coming from it.
"Unusual, but we’ll work with it. Now, pull it in," said Banna. "Control it. Don’t just let it wink out."
This took a little ingenuity. As I’ve pointed out before, Magics are great at telling you what to do, but not so great at explaining how to do it. It was up to you to find your way around a spell. I pictured a dimmer switch and slowly turned it until the orb was only a pinprick of light.
"You haven’t been around Alastair, have you?"
"No, when would I have? I’ve been with Professor Dodding all morning."
"Last night? Did you invite him to your room, or go to his?"
Sheesh, was I a promiscuous sixteen-year-old, or something?
"No. What’s the big deal?"
Banna shrugged her shoulders and gave a dismissive toss of her head. She then spoke in a gossipy tone that was a sharp contrast to the accusatory one she’d just been using. "Of course, I don’t mind, but Olivia has her rules and she hates to have them broken. That orb you just made shows signs of you being in love. Or maybe it’s not Alastair. Could it be Tobey Tenpenny?"
"Definitely not. I’m not in love with anyone," I said, a sudden wave of fatigue adding a cranky tone to my words.
"Maybe you just don’t realize it yet. Sometimes the magic knows more than the mind." She watched me for a moment, the eerie blue of her eyes felt like it was drilling straight to the back of my skull. "Regardless. How did you feel when you were doing the Solas Charm."
"Focused." And like I really wanted to be in Alastair’s arms, but I didn’t think that was the best answer at the moment.
"Good. And I felt very little of your magic affecting me. The Solas Spell does seem to rein in your absorbing side."
"But I can’t walk around making light orbs all day."
"No, but if you can find that level of focus you use to make one, you’ll be on the right track. And they are handy things when you need to find your way in the dark."
After a few more demonstrations, Banna concluded the lesson.
"What class do I have next?" I asked as she slid her sunglasses back on.
Banna snapped her fingers and, with a crackling pop, three books appeared on my table.
"It would probably please Olivia to know you’ve studied those for a while. Give it an hour or two, then feel free to explore the Tower. You probably haven’t had much time to just wander." What? Did she think I’d spent every bit of free time holed up in my room practicing spells? Wait, maybe I should have been. "I hear some find it an interesting place," she said, her tone making it clear she couldn’t fathom the idea. Clearly s
he hadn’t done one of Nigel’s tours.
Once Banna left, I opened the curtains and discovered two of the books, both written by Professor Dodding, were on magical history: How the Irish Saved Magic Civilization and The Making of the English Magics. The other was titled The Zen of Membrane Magic and Power That Flows Like Water.
I followed Banna’s advice and, after reading over the sheet Tobey had given me, I perused the history books for a couple hours before heading out. It was a summer day. The sky was clear, the temperature hovered right around perfect degrees Celsius, and by this time of day, while still crowded, the heaviest crush of tourists had left to cram in a few more London sights. I did want to explore; I also wanted to think.
But first, I needed to check my messages and, now that the West Coast would be awake, I could text Mr. Wood to find out exactly how he planned to get his clients ready for their funerals without disgracing the entire funerary business.
I’d had my phone on silent while I’d been at the Museum of London, but turned it back on as I wound my way down the stairs. The moment I’d stepped outside, three messages chimed their way through. Seriously, the Magics had the power to do so many cool things, so why couldn’t they get decent cell service within their little realms? Maybe, I grumbled to myself, that’s what Alastair should have been focusing on instead of building evil watches.
Not surprisingly, one message was from Lola. This time Pablo was dressed in a tuxedo sitting next to a glass of champagne. The message read: Cheers to you!
I wondered if she’d sent it before or after my test and what news had reached the Portland community regarding my results. Apparently none had, otherwise I would imagine she’d have sent something more sympathetic and less congratulatory. Rather than worry her, I merely replied that I hoped Pablo didn’t have a hangover.
The other two messages were from Mr. Wood. No sandwich photos. No crochet creations. Just one with a single line in all caps: WE HAVE ANOTHER FOUR CLIENTS!!! The second message: We’ll show those medical bills who’s boss.
I replied back: Yes, but is Morelli up to the task? Can he really do the make up? How can you handle so much work?? Hope you are well.
A response came before I could return the phone to my pocket.
Mr. Wood: Eugene has found someone to help. He does the heavy lifting. She does the dressing. And I do my usual meet and greet. It’s quite doable. And they don’t even expect to be paid, so all the money is going to my bills.
Oh great, I’d just been pushed out of my job by free labor.
The phone pinged.
Mr. Wood: Don’t worry, I still prefer you. As long as…you know…
Yep, I knew. As long as I could keep his clients from wandering off. I replied with a thumbs up emoji. Then, with my head full of mopey thoughts, I strolled around the Tower grounds.
I knew I should confront Alastair. Ask him about the watch, ask him if he was getting anywhere with the search for information on my parents, tell him what Tobey had found. Banna gave the impression that Alastair was still supposed to be off limits, but I didn’t see what would be wrong with speaking to him since it was highly unlikely he’d be the one testing me again. We were two grown adults and if we wanted to overstep the student-teacher line, that was up to us. Or maybe there was another reason for keeping us apart.
I let out an audible grunt of frustration and annoyance that drew the eye of a cluster of old ladies, all wearing pink visors to shield their eyes. This was ridiculous — both the visors and my roundabout thoughts. I had to talk to Alastair. The air needed cleared.
Of course, you have to know the gods of decision making like to have their laughs. The very moment I resolved to confront Alastair, who did I see heading toward the Tower’s main exit with Rafi? Yep, the watchmaker himself.
Just as I took off toward them, a massive tour group oozed out of the White Tower and stopped right in my path. I worked my way around their sprawling bulk, darting toward the gate, but Alastair and Rafi had already exited. One of the guards watched me, ready to act if I tried to make a break for it, but I knew it was pointless. With the twisting tangle of streets in this area of London, I’d never be able to find them if they turned a block or two. And if they got on the Underground, all bets were off.
So, instead of giving chase, I fell in with the tour group who were doing the Wall Walk next. All the while, I took mental notes of facts I could share with Nigel. But my note taking wasn’t terribly in-depth because the tour members kept asking silly questions, demanding their guide repeat herself, and complaining about the cost of the cafe food.
Nevertheless, I found myself enjoying the ease of being with people who had no clue of the magic all around them. Once the guide regained control, it turned out to be a pretty good tour. In between her explanations I had time to scan the paper Tobey had given me. And to sort out what it meant.
The ravens were the clue. From the area of the wall above where their enclosure stood, I had clear views of several buildings across the river, but only one could be seen on the Tower side of the Thames from this vantage point. A four-story, red brick building that, from its boarded up windows, looked unoccupied.
The only problem was that the building was beyond the walls of the Tower. Walls that proved to be well-guarded.
Obviously, I had to escape my imprisonment in the Tower to get to the building. The Wall Walk had given me good views of where I could possibly get out, but I needed more details. So when I came down the steps from the tour, I headed back to the raven enclosure.
While I waited, another message from Lola came through. It must have been too early in the day for her to come up with a costume since the photo she’d sent showed Pablo dressed only in his usual fur suit. Well, and a toothy cartoon grin where his mouth should be. The caption read: Having a great time. Wish you were here.
I choked up a little at that. I wished I was too. I blinked away the tears as I sent a message back, telling Pablo he did not have to do any chores no matter what Auntie Lola said. There was an immediate reply of a laughing emoji, a winking emoji, and a hands-out shrugging emoji, which convinced me that Pablo was at this very moment pushing a cat-sized mop around Lola’s kitchen.
A light shiver danced up my arms.
"Are you here for another tour?"
I clicked the phone off. Exactly the ghost I’d been waiting for.
35 - SNEAKING OUT
THAT NIGHT, I slipped out of the White Tower, crossed through the archway near Wakefield Tower, then skirted along the space between the inner and outer walls.
During my time with Nigel that afternoon, I had asked questions about where someone could access the top of the outer walls (through a hidden stairway near Cradle Tower) and about who guarded the Tower at night. Proud to an absurd degree over knowing the answers to my questions, Nigel explained in great detail the location of CCTV cameras, how many guards were on duty each night, and the route and timing of the Ceremony of the Keys — the official locking of the Tower’s gates.
Assuming Nigel had his facts straight — and Winston’s head nods seemed to imply he did — I had a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of where and when I could jump from the walls undetected.
Yes, you read that right. I planned to jump. What? Like I was going to tie my bedsheets together and scale the walls?
Professor Dodding’s Floating Charm had given me the idea, and I tested out the spell in my room after dinner. It took a few tries, and Banna would have been proud of the amount of focus I’d employed, but it really did work. Once I made it to the top of the outer wall, marveling for a moment at the view of Tower Bridge at night, I visualized all my cells spreading apart, distancing themselves from one another and making them so wispy that gravity barely affected them.
And then I leapt.
And quickly realized my mistake. Better late than never, right?
Okay, maybe I should have taken more time to perfect the spell and maybe
I should have practiced by jumping from a height greater than my bed. But for a brief moment, I was in the air, floating as if gravity had no hold on me. But it’s just that moment when you begin to enjoy magic that magic comes back and bites you in the butt. Hard.
See, right when I thought of myself as a dainty butterfly floating on the breeze, I noticed I was indeed floating on the breeze. I’d overdone my gravity defying and was at risk of being blown across the Thames. In a panic, I pulled all my cells back into their proper places. As it tends to do, gravity took hold. I plummeted down to the concrete riverside walkway, landing with full force on my knees.
The pain of what felt like both legs shattering shocked up into my brain then plunged back down into the pit of my stomach, doubling me over. The urge to vomit and the urge to scream fought a miniature nuclear war inside me until, shuddering and clamping my hand over my mouth, I forced both into peace talks where a truce was called without any shots being fired.
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