The Uncanny Raven Winston

by Tammie Painter

"Says the guy who I can hear farting from an entire floor away."

  "The documents, Black."

  I tried again. I wasn’t about to talk to the papers, but I smelled each sheet and made a pile of possible forgeries with Morelli rumbling out exaggerated sighs of impatience. Then I hovered my fingers over each line of these possible positives. Something like, but much fainter than, the tingle of static you sometimes get when you take off a sweater danced up my middle finger as I ran it over a certificate of completion for someone’s day-long training in Microsoft Word. I drifted my finger over the lines for the date, the course title, and the person’s name.

  "This one," I said. "The name’s been changed."

  "Good. Slow, but good. It’s rare for someone to get that precise on a first try."

  "So, I pass? We’re done?" I asked hopefully.

  "You’re sufficient, but a snail would seem fast compared to your detection speed. If you had a file drawer full of paperwork, it would take you weeks to get through it all. I could do it in about ten minutes."

  "So, no magical secretarial work for me. Let me tell you," I said, coating my words with sarcasm, "that’s really heartbreaking."

  "It’s an important skill," Morelli said defensively. "I’ll mark down that this isn’t something you need intensive training in, and that you have some natural aptitude for it. But you need to work at it, so don’t think I won’t throw a pop quiz at you now and then."

  "Speaking of important skills, what’s with all these clients Mr. Wood has gotten? Or, more to the point, who’s this interloper doing the cosmetics?"

  "Daisy."

  "Tobey’s girlfriend?"

  "Yeah, you’ve seen her. She’s a whiz with magicking up some beauty. Even on dead people."

  "I knew that perfect hair and skin couldn’t be natural."

  Morelli made a snide comment about green-eyed monsters. After explaining a few other principles of forgery detection, he declared we were done for the day, and that he was supposed to take me down to Olivia’s office.

  As we circled our way down the stairs and through the myriad of corridors the White Tower seemed to grow each night, Morelli made small talk centered on the latest news about Portland. When we entered Olivia’s office, it was empty, but Morelli still didn’t leave. Was he worried I was going to run off or something?

  "So, how is Mr. Wood?" I asked to break the silence. "Cholesterol levels out the roof yet?"

  "He’s doing remarkably well and his cholesterol levels are well within the normal range." I wondered if it was some sort of magic, cholesterol-free bacon my landlord used for his BLTs. "Oh, and he told me to give you this." Morelli pulled a wad of purple and pink yarn from his envelope. He gave it a shake, then handed it over.

  I turned it around a few times. It wasn’t squared off, it wasn’t round, it was just sort of a…shape.

  "What’s it supposed to be?"

  "I think it’s supposed to be a cat. Turn it just so and you can see the tail."

  I did, and if I squinted my eyes, I could see the vague shape of a cat. Okay, a cat who had possibly lost all nine lives in a tragic car accident, but cat-like nonetheless. As Morelli was relating Mr. Wood’s crochet enthusiasm, someone knocked on the office’s door.

  39 - OFFICE MEETINGS

  MORELLI AND I both tensed. Olivia would not knock on her own office door. He gave me a stern stay-put stare and went to answer it. It turned out to be Alastair who strode toward me with Morelli close by his side.

  "Finished?" Alastair asked us. "I don’t want to intrude."

  "She’s all yours," Morelli said with a grin as he gathered up his envelope. He then headed back to the door, pausing at the threshold to add, "Or at least that’s what I hear."

  "You are not amusing," I said, to which my lovely landlord responded by displaying the single finger he probably used to tally his IQ.

  Alastair came over and we were close enough to touch. I wanted to reach out for his hand — a strange desire for me since I did not make first moves. Too much of a chance of rejection. But that fear of making a fool of myself wasn’t what forced me to jam my hands into my pockets. I was resolved to be a student and not to be distracted. I took a step back and asked what we were working on today.

  "Olivia and I were going to try some new membrane tactics with you, but I just found out I have another lecture to attend. I can’t believe how many talks these London Magics sit through on a weekly basis, and half of them seem spontaneous. A lecture’s announced and we’re expected to go. It’s annoying." He darted a glance at me, a sparkling light in his eyes. "For more reasons than one."

  Don’t be distracted. Don’t be distracted. Damn, his eyes were blue. Stop it, Cassie!

  "Yeah, I’ve noticed Magics aren’t big on schedules. It’s a wonder Runa is so stringent about her appointment keeping."

  "Well, at least this one should be interesting."

  "What’s the topic?"

  "Prophecies: What to Believe and What to Ignore."

  "It does sound good, but don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll find some way to make it boring."

  "Look, Cass," he said in a whisper as he glanced to the door, "I’m not supposed to say anything, but I’m tired of keeping secrets from you."

  "This doesn’t sound good. What is it?"

  "Your next test?" I nodded. "It’s this Sunday."

  "Sunday? But—" It was already Wednesday afternoon. Olivia had said the test would be within the week, but I’d just assumed, with so much at stake, I’d be given the full seven days. "Are you giving me the test?" I asked, then chided myself for being so stupidly hopeful. Of course they wouldn’t allow Alastair to test me again.

  "No, and I swear I don’t know who you’re going up against, so don’t ask me." He took my hands, but lightly enough that we could jerk apart if anyone walked in.

  "I thought you and Busby were working on something to get me out of this. I’m not a criminal." He arched an eyebrow as if to say, You kind of are. "Okay, I stole the watch from Runa’s, but it was for the greater good."

  "I know. We still have a few days, but this isn’t Portland where things are a bit more lax. This is HQ."

  HQ, the place that had once planned to destroy the watch at the risk of Alastair’s life without even telling him.

  "That’s why they were so angry about you kissing me. They knew you knew what the test was really for."

  "Yes, and I swear to you I did not throw that test in your favor. I’m sure they’ll be putting you up against someone stronger than me to make sure. But you proved yourself once; you’ll prove yourself again."

  I released Alastair’s hands and slumped down on the edge of Olivia’s desk.

  "Can’t I just toss the extra magic into a freezer bag?"

  "Magic isn’t like storing leftover Thanksgiving turkey. If it worked like that, I would have insisted you do so a long time ago. Unfortunately, the strength of the magic in you is why you can’t just be drained."

  "Why not? Runa drained me."

  Well, she tried, but a breakfast of donuts had thrown a wrench in her efforts.

  "Before, you could be. Now, with the watch’s magic in you, if even a scrap of power is left in you, it— How do I put this?" He pondered for a moment, searching for the right words. "It will refill itself within you. It’s why, for the most part, you no longer get tired during your training. The magic you use just pops back up."

  I thought back to my first days of trying to do magic, back when it was only my magic inside me. Those efforts left me exhausted. But ever since taking on the watch’s power, sure I’d felt hungry after doing hard spells, I’d felt like I needed a break on occasion, but I hadn’t felt wiped out by using magic. Except, of course, for those first couple trips to the file room, but that had probably just been jet/portal lag since it hadn’t exactly required any magic to thumb through drawers full of paperwork.

  "And th
at’s why I’d need to be extracted." I stood up from the desk. "Because they can’t risk any of the Mauvais’s magic growing in me."

  Alastair nodded solemnly. "And if the Mauvais gets even a small amount of your power transferred to him, it will grow there too. He wouldn’t need much to gain strength once again."

  "Here’s an idea," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "You build a magic centrifuge, then we give my blood a spin and separate out the Mauvais’s magic from mine."

  "I’ll look into that," he said, and his eyes brightened with his smile. "But for now, let’s get you through the test. After that, we’ll work on more subtle aspects of separating out your magic. We will get the watch’s power out of you, and if we can’t, we’ll make sure you know exactly how to use it."

  My hands again in his, Alastair leaned forward. Heat surged from my fingertips to my toes. I reminded myself I was supposed to be his student, nothing more. But it was getting a little difficult to stick to my resolve as his breath brushed against my lips. Then, from the hallway, came the click clack of heels on stone flooring. We both jumped back at the sound, and I conjured a Shield Spell just as the door creaked open.

  "That’s exactly right, Cassie. Good job," Alastair said, far too stiffly. Like a bad actor reciting his lines.

  "Cassie, I’ve got other matters to attend to, but Busby is ready for you," Olivia said, her eyes narrowing as she cast a skeptical glance over me and Alastair. "He’s in the practice room down the hall, if you’re done here," she added in a tone that indicated, You most definitely are done here.

  "Yep," I said, taking down the Shield Spell. "Only so many shields you can whip up in one day. Enjoy your lecture," I said as I hurried toward the door.

  "Yes, our lecture," Olivia said coyly, but it wasn’t directed toward me. She’d already turned toward Alastair. A familiar pang of worry bit into my gut.

  40 - BETRAYAL

  TELLING MYSELF I was being a paranoid and jealous lunkhead, I headed down the hallway. Several rooms lined the dim corridor, and Olivia hadn’t told me which one I was supposed to go to. I decided it must be the one at the end farthest from her office. Not because I’d suddenly become psychic or anything, but because it was the only room whose door Tobey was loitering in front of. When he turned to face me, his look was so stony, I jerked to a stop and tripped back a pace or two.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing," I said casually. "I’m supposed to have a lesson with your grandfather. Is he in there?"

  "No, he’s got a thing to go to. You’ve got a lesson with Rafi in an hour. Rooftop. I told him I’d let you know."

  "Okay, thanks."

  Annoyed with everyone’s inability to stick to a schedule, I figured I’d go out to get some fresh air. Clouds had crept in during Morelli’s lesson and I wanted to stretch my legs before a rain storm kicked up. I moved to step past Tobey, but he blocked my path.

  "Did you hear everyone talking about that building blowing up?" he asked.

  "Kind of hard to miss." Especially when you’ve been tricked into standing right next to it. "That information you gave me from Olivia’s files was fake, did you know that? The whole file might have been."

  "Sorry, I didn’t know," he said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "Wait, you didn’t go there, did you?"

  I was glad to see Tobey wasn’t burnt to a crisp, but something made me hesitant to tell him about the previous night. Both the sneaking out, and the conversation I’d had with Alastair.

  "No. I was wiped out from all the training and went to bed early."

  "Right. Look, I wanted to ask you something." He gestured down the hall in the direction I’d just tried to go. With the looming clouds closing in outside and only one window to light the long space, the hallway was as dark as twilight. "Come on, let’s talk down there."

  "That’s not a question," I said. He sighed in a way that said he wasn’t in the mood for my smart comments. "Fine," I relented. "Off we go."

  "Look," he said, stopping and turning toward me even though we’d only gotten about halfway down the hall, "I was wondering if maybe we could go out sometime. I hear the galleries around here are open late on certain nights."

  Tobey. Asking me out? What in Merlin’s beard was going on? And then, to make the situation even weirder, he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers along my right cheek.

  "Like a date?" I scoffed, flicking his hand away as if swatting aside an annoying fruit fly. "I thought you had a girlfriend." And what would Daisy do if she found out Tobey was two-timing on her with me? Would she exact her revenge with cosmetics, making Mr. Wood’s clients look like something akin to drunken mimes?

  "No, not like a date," he said, cramming his hands into his pockets and sounding flustered. "Why do you have to be so impossible?"

  "Everyone’s got a talent."

  "I shouldn’t have asked." He stopped walking and stared at me. "I should have known you’d be a jerk about it. You do know it’s a lost cause with Alastair, right?"

  "You know nothing about it."

  "Don’t I?" He pointed to the door we’d stopped in front of. It was Olivia’s office, and the door was partially open, providing a clear view of her desk. The desk Olivia was leaning against as Alastair pressed against her. Her fingers tugged on the back of his shirt. His face was buried in her neck. Her head tilted back and a soft moan escaped her lips.

  I wanted to barge in. I wanted to shout at Alastair, rip him off of her, and ask them what the hell they were doing. I wanted to tear Olivia’s braids out by the roots. But I couldn’t.

  I’d been right all along. Alastair had been using me, he was playing me, he was not to be trusted. It would have been better if he’d just snatched out my heart and fed it to the ravens. I stormed off to the window at the end of the hall, crossing my arms over my chest and staring blindly out at the cloud-darkened grounds. Tobey followed close on my heels.

  "You’re a jerk, Tobey Tenpenny," I said and slugged him in the biceps. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to him. Then his lips were on mine, and his arms were around my waist. My first thought was to knee him in the groin, but my next jumbled thoughts were, "Wow, he is an amazing kisser. He won’t get weakened by me. Alastair can go straight to hell." With my mouth clamped on his, the only way to breathe was to inhale. There was no scent. Only that clean, soapy smell.

  A shadow crossed before my closed eyes. Then something scratched and scraped against the window. I ignored it. Team Brain and Team Heart had been completely stunned into silence, both by what I’d just seen and what was happening.

  Wanting Tobey to press himself against me, wanting pleasure and anticipation to drive away the anger and the hurt, I pulled him closer. He slipped one hand under my shirt. His lips moved to my neck. In one ear he whispered my name, in the other came the scrambling of claws trying to find purchase and the batting of wings against glass. The noise made me think we needed to find somewhere private.

  I opened my eyes to see Winston practically attacking the window. He cried and cawed and crashed his beak against the pane. I pulled back, dizzy from the kiss, confused over what I’d just been doing, over what I had just seen, over what the hell I’d just wanted to do with Tobey Bloody Tenpenny. The bird relented his attack and gripped onto the window ledge, but he didn’t stop watching us. I suddenly felt very tired.

  "I need to go," I blurted. I then darted into the stairwell and sprinted on burning legs back to my room.

  Once inside, I bolted the door. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to go to my lesson with Rafi. I wanted to go home. I wanted to cuddle up with Pablo, to have an IPA, and to lose myself in a library book.

  Instead, I was in London. Alone. Both betrayed and a betrayer. And, glancing at the clock, it would appear I’d even missed my magically-appearing tea time.

  Exhaustion like I hadn’t felt since my first days of training overwhelmed me. I wanted nothing more than t
o throw myself onto the bed, to fall asleep and forget about the rest of this day. But before I could flop properly, Winston showed up at my window. I let him in and he hopped onto the stiff back of one of the chairs. I broke open a packet of cookies, handed him one, then nibbled half-heartedly on my own.

  After we’d eaten our way through the entire package of treats, I was still bone-tired, but my head felt much less loopy. I still had time to kill before Rafi’s lesson and I needed something to do. I needed to not think about Alastair. I needed to not think about Tobey. Of course, this was impossible as these were the only two subjects rampaging through my brain.

  Like a gift from the gods of stationery, distraction then appeared. On the dark carpet just in front of my door was a square, cream-colored envelope. In my rush to lock myself away from everyone, I must have missed it when I’d come back.