The Uncanny Raven Winston

by Tammie Painter

  When I’d come back from…

  I groaned as the image of me smashing my lips against Tobey’s flashed into my mind.

  "That didn’t happen. That just did not happen," I muttered as I crossed the room. I bent over to pick up the envelope, feeling ready to keep lowering myself until I reached the floor where I would sleep for at least a dozen hours. But curiosity kept my eyelids propped open.

  Taking the envelope back to the table, I felt none of the tingling I’d felt on the forged certificate. I glanced around, you know, like someone might be in the room with me, then asked, "Are you a test from Morelli?"

  The envelope said nothing in reply.

  I think the stress was getting to me.

  Winston hopped from the chair over to the envelope and cocked his head as if questioning it himself.

  "What do you think? Safe to touch?"

  He chattered his heavy black beak and bobbed his head. This was the point I’d gotten to: I was talking to envelopes and taking advice from a bird.

  I peeled open the flap. Inside was a sheet of paper, the top third of which had been torn off. What was left had a series of lines like an order form, then a large box at the bottom to write in details. I sniffed the sheet and ran my fingers over it, but detected nothing other than your standard-issue cheap paper and low-quality ink.

  But this wasn’t an ordinary form for supplies. It was an intake report. For people.

  Two people.

  41 - REPORTS AND UNICORNS

  THE NAME "SIMON Starling" had been typed on one of the lines. Poorly centered on the line below was "Chloe Starling".

  But it was the detail box that turned my stomach:

  Subjects collected and questioned without remorse regarding the news they’d obtained at the—

  (here the ink was smudged)

  Subjects have given up no information. A full draining was undertaken to see if we could extract any lingering knowledge from their magic, but none could be found.

  A sharp, feminine hand writing in purple ink, had added:

  However, after the annoying and inconvenient deaths of so many test subjects, we finally discovered our technique is on the right track. Subjects were kept alive. They’re to be stored here until further notice.

  Along the bottom of the sheet, next to a black "HQ" stamp, someone else had written:

  This sheet was found by one of our agents. We have visited the above address. The building was empty. The Starlings are officially presumed dead.

  "What address?" I shouted at the paper.

  I would have gone straight there that very night if I had the stupid address. Maybe HQ had missed a room in their search. My parents were still in that building. I was sure of it. Or at least, I wanted to be sure. And I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t need any help from the lying, deceitful, evil watch-making Alastair, nor from the confusion-inducing Tobey. I could get my parents. I would get them. But where the hell was this damn building?

  My phone’s timer trilled out an alarm. I fumbled the device out of my back pocket and stabbed the screen to silence it. I’d have to plot later. For now, it was time to trudge up to the roof and pretend nothing was on my mind.

  In the desperate hope that I wouldn’t run into Tobey or Alastair, and especially not Olivia, I skulked my way up staircases and peered around every corner before racing down hallways. As such, I felt more than a little rattled when I met Rafi on the rooftop of the White Tower.

  The two of us were the same height and I’d guess the same weight, but somehow his slim frame came across as greyhound sleek, whereas mine was more Gawky Teenager, like my limbs still didn’t quite fit. He was a racing hound, whereas I was a gangling moose.

  "What are we working on this time?" I asked, as he handed me a vest. From the flags whipping, the trees rustling, and the white caps cresting on the Thames, I could tell the dark clouds were indeed going to bring an umbrella-breaking storm. But thanks to the charmed netting around the rooftop, as I donned the vest, I detected only a light breeze across my arms.

  "The membrane, defense, offense, whatever I feel like putting you through." He put on a menacing tone, but smiled at me, his dark eyes warm and friendly. Even though I knew Rafi would make me work hard, I needed a little friendliness right about then and some of the tension eased from my shoulders.

  We went through the polite bowing motions then set to sparring. It wasn’t a full-on battle, more like Rafi tossing slow-moving Stunning and Binding Spells my way then advising me on how to deflect them, which charms would be most effective, and how to switch between spells efficiently.

  Actually, he was a really good teacher and I wondered why he was in administration. When we took a break — lemon tarts were being magically served up that afternoon — I asked him.

  "We all teach. No matter what our main job is, any Magic can be called in to instruct. There’s some who do make careers of teaching." I thought of Fiona. "But for the most part, we’re all substitute teachers. I suppose it helps keep us on our toes. I mean, I can’t recall the last time I whipped up a good Binding Spell or really thought through the whole membrane thing. Teaching refreshes our own knowledge, it doesn’t just add to yours."

  "Glad I could be such a good public servant and help you all out like this."

  Rafi laughed and finished off his piece of tart, then served us each another slice.

  "But what about other defensive tactics?" I asked.

  "How do you mean?"

  "Besides the physical stuff. In Portland, there was this guy who had been under the BrainSweeping Charm—"

  "You don’t have to worry about that," Rafi said, cutting me off. "That spell can only be done on non-magics."

  "Oh, right." I took a bite of my tart, feeling a little dumb.

  "But you’re not far off the mark. There’s the Confounding Charm. It can affect Magics and Norms, makes them see things that aren’t there, not see things that are there, or make them do what you want them to. It’s a vile spell, and I think the Council is considering banishing it. Of course, the Mauvais loved it."

  "So I’ve been told. But how would you fight it?"

  "You have to have a strong mind." Rafi arched an eyebrow. "You have to trust your own instincts. You have to trust those closest to you and know in your own heart what they would and wouldn’t do." He pushed his plate away. "Want to give it a go?"

  "Sure," I said hesitantly, trust and confidence not being my strong suit. "Just don’t break my brain."

  "You won’t even know I’m there. That’s the scary part. You can’t feel it."

  "So how the hell do I fight it."

  "Think happy thoughts?"

  "Not my specialty."

  "Come on," Rafi said, his eyes glinting playfully. "Stand up and let’s try. I’m not quite sure how to do this, but the tart should help." I stood in front of him while he tapped his index finger on his pointed chin, thinking, plotting. "Okay, I’m going to make it so you see a unicorn standing next to me. You’re going to make that unicorn vanish by telling yourself the unicorn is not there, that Rafi Singha is highly allergic to unicorns."

  "Are you?"

  "All elves are allergic to those horny bastards. So, if there really was a unicorn there, I’d be sneezing and wheezing. Ready?"

  "Not really."

  "Too bad. Now, don’t try to resist it. I want you to see how unnoticeable this really is. Keep your mind open and let me in. Once you see it, once you get a good feel for it, then I want you to try to fight it."

  Rafi closed his eyes. His face tightened with concentration. It took some time and at first it faded in and out, but after a few minutes there appeared a solid unicorn standing next to him.

  It was gorgeous. Really, I felt like some medieval maiden wanting to touch its horn, stroke its hide, let it rest its head in my lap. It was that real.

  No, it isn’t.

  I stared
at the unicorn, resolutely telling myself it wasn’t there. Insisting to myself it was only Rafi tricking me. A shock of pain pierced through a point somewhere in the center of my head. If I ended up with brain damage from this…

  The pain eased back. Perhaps I was being too intentional. I relaxed my mind, concentrated on the unicorn, and asked it to go away.

  The unicorn started to fade. I fought the urge to cheer my success and kept my focus. I hated to see it go. It was so delicate and I swear it was smiling at me. No, it had to go. I couldn’t let another Magic play mind games with me.

  The unicorn popped out of existence.

  And then, just as Rafi opened his eyes with happy surprise, the unicorn popped back into existence.

  "Close your eyes again," I said. "Let me—"

  Suddenly, Rafi’s wide open eyes flamed red. He backed away from the animal, sneezing over and over. The unicorn itself — the alluring beast that was supposed to be nothing more than a planted figment of my imagination — began running around the rooftop in a panic. If not for the sturdy mesh surrounding the rec area, the creature would have gone over the edge.

  Meanwhile, Rafi gasped for air. He grabbed at his throat in the universal signal of choking. His airways had shut.

  I threw a Stunning Spell at the unicorn. It collapsed in the center of the tennis court. I screamed for help, then, thanks to the CPR lessons Mr. Wood required me to take, I started mouth-to-mouth on Rafi.

  Thankfully, the magical medic office was adjacent to the rooftop court. Someone arrived within seconds of my cries, pushed me back, and conjured a Clearing Charm to instantly flush the allergens from Rafi’s system, followed by a Reduction Spell to open his airways. Rafi shuddered. Then, like a vacuum on overdrive, he sucked in great gasps of air.

  I wanted to stay and make sure he was okay, but before I knew what was happening, someone grabbed hold of my upper arm. I was hit with the spicy scent of spruce as Olivia led me away. She didn’t say a word as she practically dragged me to her office.

  I knew I was in deep trouble when no desserts appeared on her desk. Well, and the fact that she was looming over me, her arms crossed over her chest.

  "I’m sorry," I said, a questioning tone in my voice. What else could I say? Well, besides demand she tell me what she’d been doing with Alastair.

  "Sorry does not cut it, Ms. Black. You nearly killed him." She took several deep breaths, taming her voice that had risen to a shout, nearly a scream. As for me, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. "Explain what happened."

  I did, making sure to add that it was Rafi’s idea. Not to throw him under the double decker bus or anything, but he could have warned me what might happen.

  "This is another example of your magic being too far out of control. You are really not showing any signs of improvement and it is worrying."

  "I am improving."

  "I have an assistant who almost died and a unicorn that will need to be relocated because of your magical power. Power that you can’t seem to rein in."

  "Are you kidding me?" I snapped. All the anger, all the hurt over seeing her with Alastair combined with my overall frustration at their refusal to see that I was trying, that I was doing my best. "I followed your stupid rules and didn’t absorb one molecule of magic during my test. I performed a Floating Charm without any instruction." I didn’t bother to add I almost blew away. "And I was able to do a Solas Charm last night with barely a second thought. Yes, I screw up now and then, but I am learning."

  "Solas Charm?" Olivia asked, abruptly changing to a tone and expression of worried concern.

  "Yes."

  "Last night?"

  Was her fury with me blocking her ears?

  "Yes."

  "That’s how he knew you were there."

  "Who knew I was where?"

  "The Mauvais. At the building. Yes, I know about your little escape." I wondered if Alastair the Betrayer had told her, but she didn’t give me a chance to butt in. "The light generated by a Solas Charm has a trace on it. It’s often used as a way to alert other Magics if you get into trouble, but it can also be used to track a Magic. This should have been explained to you."

  "Yes, it should have." I bit back my sniping tone. A little. "You want me to learn so much in so little time, but you seem to offer only half instructions. You tell me to do things, but not how. You teach me things, but leave off the important, this-could-be-dangerous bits. It’s a little frustrating."

  "I can imagine so, but you have to see you are a risk. To yourself. To us. I’m sorry to tell you this," she said in a cold way that implied she wasn’t sorry at all, that she was just relaying news she had no vested interest in, "but your next test must take place Friday."

  "Friday? I thought I had until Sunday," I protested, as if forty-eight extra hours would really make any difference.

  "When he was here, Morelli detected that more than one forgery had made its way to my desk. It’s a huge breech of security." Olivia’s voice changed as she said this, less detached and far more critical. "And some feel it only compounds the problem you present. As such, a tribunal decided that if you made one more error, no more training time would be allowed. The test would have to take place at the earliest chance." She paused, her strong shoulders slumping almost as if she truly regretted what had been decided. "And I do worry about your ability to pass that test."

  "You and me both. Are we done?" I didn’t wait for her answer. I got up and headed toward the door.

  "Ms. Black," Olivia called, "please understand. This isn’t my—"

  I shut the door behind me before she could finish making her excuses.

  42 - SILENCING SPELLS

  BY THE TIME I got back to my room, my head swooned. So much for the theory that my high-octane magic could keep me from getting worn out. But apparently the stress of knowing I’d soon be literally fighting for my sanity, the gut-wrenching hurt over Alastair’s betrayal, the disgust with myself for kissing Tobey, and the self-hatred over nearly killing Rafi had gotten hold of me and was squeezing every bit of energy from my cells.

  I looked at the intake report I’d left on the table.

  The file Olivia had stashed in her desk may have been fake, but this paper…I had no doubt it was real.

  In my earlier bravado that afternoon I had told myself I would act that very night, but at the moment I could barely raise my arms. There was no way I had the brain power to determine where this building was, nor the energy to fend off an evil wizard in his evil lair.

  I would sleep. Tomorrow I would go through the motions of my pointless lessons while taking every chance I could to uncover the address for the intake form. Then tomorrow night, possibly my last night as a thinking human, I would rescue my parents.

  Tomorrow, not tonight. My mom and dad might be suffering somewhere, but they would just have to wait.

  I felt like a real lowlife for the cold thought, but it was true. Even in top form, I’d be risking my neck to get to them. Going in the state I was would have been suicide and would do them no good. They’d waited this long for their freedom. They could wait one more night. Plus, they were magical morons. Did they even have a concept of time anymore?

  A plate of food soon appeared on the table. I ate it without tasting a thing. I think it was spaghetti, I can’t recall. The plate filled again and I cleared half of it, leaving my window open in case Winston wanted to stop by for a meatball. I then cast a Silencing Spell around my room before falling into the deepest sleep I’d had since arriving in London.

  * * *

  I slept straight through the night, I slept past dawn, and I probably would have slept until noon if someone hadn’t been blaring a trumpet outside my window. After a few creative, albeit sleep-mumbled curses, I got up and marched over to the window, noticing the plate was empty except for one tiny piece of tomato. Clever Winston.

  Busby was down in the lawn below doing a horrible rendition
of the Reveille. But given that he was dead and could barely speak a few weeks ago, his producing sound from any wind instrument was a pretty impressive feat. Still, it was far too early for so much noise.

  "Shut up!" I shouted. Mr. Tenpenny lowered the offending horn and squinted up at me.

  "You didn’t respond to my knocking at your door."

  "I did a Silencing Spell," I called, kind of hoping this would impress him. No control, indeed.

  "Well, because of that, you missed the news that you’re—" He stopped to suck in a couple deep breaths. Not so alive, after all, I thought smugly. "I can’t keep shouting like this. I’m coming up."