by Emery Belle
“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a tentative step toward him; then, upon seeing the gray pallor of his face, which was quickly spreading to his limbs and even his luxurious coat, I let my mop clatter to the floor and ran toward him. The crossword puzzle and pen landed on the floor as the centaur reared forward, gasping for breath, clutching at his chest and shuddering as panic set in.
“Help!” I called, dashing into the hallway and waving my arms in the air wildly. Dale, who had been leaning over the nurses’ station chatting to a pretty fairy batting her eyelashes up at him adoringly, swung around and, catching sight of my face, ran toward the centaur’s room, accidentally elbowing me out of the way in his rush to get inside.
I hit the wall and tumbled over, my foot catching the bucket of cleaning potion on the way down. The shimmering, gelatinous pink liquid began flowing down the hallway, and the doctors and nurses sprinting toward the alarm now blaring from the centaur’s room began slipping and sliding, windmilling their arms frantically in a vain attempt to regain their balance. They fell over each other in a heap, and the patients in the adjacent rooms, no doubt drawn by the commotion, began creeping toward their doorways and staring at us with a level of interest that made me distinctly uncomfortable.
One of them, a man about my age with horns growing out of his head and eyes that gleamed red in the overhead lights, dropped to his hands and knees, unnoticed in the hubbub around him, and began slithering along the floor toward the cleaning potion. When he reached it, he darted his red eyes this way and that, then unfurled a long, forked tongue and dipped it into the potion tentatively before moaning with pleasure and lapping it up faster than my eyes could process.
By the time the doctors and nurses climbed back to their feet, potion dripping from their uniforms, the alarm had stopped blaring and Dale was emerging from the centaur’s room, looking shaken but relieved. “He’s stabilized,” he announced to the gathered hospital staff, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief and began wandering away, a few shooting me dirty looks as they passed.
“Sorry,” I mumbled to Dale, shame-faced, as I bent down and began scooping what was left of the cleaning potion back into the bucket with my hands. The man with the horns was now leaning against the wall, patting his stomach and looking as satisfied as Pierre did after gobbling up an entire platter of sausages, though he did open his eyes long enough to growl at the nurse who began herding him back into his hospital room with her wand.
“Don’t mention it,” Dale said, brandishing his own wand to help me clean up the rest of the mess. “Everyone gets cut a little bit of slack on their first day. Just don’t let it happen again.”
Though his voice remained as pleasant as ever, the finality of his tone wasn’t lost on me. Then, seeing me lower my eyes to the ground, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “But thanks to you, Orion is on the mend. Again.” He frowned, and I gave him a puzzled look.
“I take it Orion is the centaur,” I said, nodding toward his room, where I could see that his eyes were closed and he appeared to be resting peacefully. Then, lowering my voice, I added, “What’s wrong with him? And…”
I hesitated, remembering the centaur’s unsettling words to me. You are not what you appear to be. What did he mean by that? Swallowing hard, I added, “And does he really have the gift of sight?”
“Oh yes,” Dale said casually, heading back toward the nurses’ station with me on his heels, my housekeeping job all but forgotten. “He’s the most respected seer the island—and maybe even the entire magical community—has ever seen. People travel from the farthest corners of the world to seek his counsel, so it’s a shame that he’s been rotting in that hospital bed for so long.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Came in with a routine case of the weasel pox four months ago, and every time it seems like he’s getting better, he has these strange relapses where he can’t catch his breath. The doctors think his age just might be weakening him past the point of recovery—he’s coming up on…” He squinted, his lips moving silently as he counted. “His 1,001th birthday. There was a huge party when he hit his first millennium.”
I gawked at Dale, unable to process someone being alive for such a long time. It seemed so… exhausting. “Wow,” was all I could murmur, trying to remember from my childhood history classes what had been happening in the world a thousand years ago. Forget about empires falling and new worlds being discovered—the real question was, had chocolate even been discovered yet?
Lost in thought, I barely registered the alarm as it began wailing again, and by the time I looked around, what seemed like every nurse and doctor on the floor were making a beeline for Orion’s room. Craning my neck to see past them, I could just make out Orion thrashing violently on his bed, his trusty crossword puzzle book and filigree pen once more lying on the floor.
“Code red! Code red!” I heard Dale yell from the centaur’s bedside, and almost instantaneously, a team of witches and wizards wearing medical scrubs appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the hallway and surged toward Orion’s room, their wands outstretched. Over the frantic shouted instructions and the blasts of light from multiple wands that lit up the room, I could just see the kindly old centaur convulsing on top of his covers, his hooves in the air, his magnificent body exposed as the hospital staff tried desperately to stabilize him.
Eventually, as the minutes stretched on, the voices began to fade, the wands were lowered at their owners’ sides, and the room gradually fell into silence. The staff turned, heads bowed, and traipsed out of the room, their faces pinched and tired, leaving behind the silent, still body of the magnificent centaur who would see no more.
Chapter 6
Hunter, Garnet, and I stood impatiently in Sparrow Manor’s open-air courtyard, watching the coven members enjoying drinks on the patio, conducting business near a breathtaking garden complete with a babbling brook and frogs croaking gently on lily pads, and sending messages via the sparrows twittering around the trees whose branches were swaying in a soft wind.
Sparrow Manor, the coven’s headquarters, was a magnificent gabled mansion protected by two dragon guards and set deep in the jungle that made up the northernmost tip of the island. Some of the coven’s senior members called the manor home, but today, my friends and I were there for just a few hours, though it was a significant moment for all three of us. I’d been so focused on getting to the headquarters that I’d barely minded the trek through the jungle, a vast, gloomy place whose air shimmered with magic and, if rumors were to be believed, housed all sorts of terrifying creatures.
As I stood on my tiptoes and peered around the courtyard for Lady Winthrop, who would be escorting us through the manor to our wand selection ceremony, Sebastian chuckled and rested a hand on my arm. “She’ll be here soon,” he assured me, exchanging smiles with Garnet’s boyfriend Calvin, who’d also joined us for the event. Though each of us were permitted to bring a coven member to witness this important step in our journey to becoming full witches and wizards, Hunter, who’d also recently moved to the island from the human world, had come alone. He pretended not to mind, though he kept darting glances Garnet’s way, and if his face fell any further when Calvin kissed Garnet’s cheek softly, it would be splattered on the ground.
“Sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice called behind us, and I swung around, a wide grin spreading across my face at the sight of Glenn hurrying across the courtyard toward us, breathing heavily and trying to hitch up the pants of his electric-blue tuxedo. When he saw my look of surprise and delight, he pulled me into a tight hug and whispered, “You didn’t think I’d miss my favorite hatchling’s wand selection ceremony, did you?”
I pulled away from him and studied his face. I hadn’t seen him since the morning we’d sent a surprise brownie cleaning crew to his house, and though he still looked a little thinner than usual, some of the trademark sparkle had returned to his bright green eyes. As I gazed into them, my own eyes su
ddenly clouded over with tears, and he clasped my hand fiercely before bringing it up to his mouth for a tender kiss.
“I’m okay,” he said with a small wink, answering my unspoken question, and only then did I feel myself start to relax. I would do anything in the world to keep a smile on my guide’s face—he was like a grandfather to me, the only true family I’d ever had, and he deserved nothing less than a lifetime filled with the sunniest of days.
When I turned away from him, dabbing at my eyes with the sleeve of my dress, I saw Lady Winthrop making her way toward us through the crowd, her normally tight features lit up with a proud smile. “Good, good, you’re all here,” she said, clapping her hands together as she took in our little group. “If everyone is ready, let’s go ahead and begin the selection process. We don’t want to keep Lady Amabelle and Lord Macon waiting.”
I stopped in my tracks, my feet feeling like they were welded to the ground. “What did she say?” I asked Sebastian in a panicky voice as my heartbeat sped up.
I must have misheard; surely Lord Macon, the coven’s highest and most esteemed member, would have nothing to do with a group of lowly level one witches and wizards. My stomach twisted into knots of anxiety at the thought of coming face-to-face with him yet again. Forget about the mystery surrounding the gargoyle he’d sent to protect me… that was nothing in comparison to the way he made me feel whenever I was around him—like a piece of old chewing gum stuck to his shoe that he’d do anything, anything, to get rid of. Though he’d tried his hardest to get me banished from the island, I’d managed to thwart him at every turn… which certainly didn’t bump me up any higher on his Christmas card list.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Glenn said, catching the fear in my tone. He, too, had faced off against Lord Macon on my behalf, refusing to allow him to send me back on the ferry to the mainland the very same day I’d stepped onto the island. “He’s mostly just there for pomp and circumstance. He has nothing to do with the wand selection process itself.”
That made me relax—but only slightly. As we climbed several flights of steps toward a black and silver door carved with two outstretched sparrow wings, I found myself reaching for Sebastian’s hand and holding on tight. He gave me a small smile, and together we walked through the door and entered the manor’s stately foyer.
Lady Winthrop led us down one of the many hallways draped in shimmering black, stopping when we reached a small auditorium with a circle of plush red chairs surrounding a black dais. The dais was completely empty other than a small wooden table in the very center. At Lady Winthrop’s invitation, we seated ourselves on the chairs and waited in silence for the wand selection process to begin.
By now, my nerves were frayed, and I spent the next few minutes twisting my fingers together and cracking my knuckles so loudly and frequently that Glenn finally froze me in place with an idle wave of his hand. As I fought in vain against the magic binding me, a door to the left of the dais opened and three figures strode out, their black velvet robes billowing behind them. I recognized the first two as Lord Macon and Lady Amabelle—her bright red beehive hairdo was hard to mistake—but the third, a wispy woman with a hook nose and thinning black hair, was unfamiliar.
Three regal chairs appeared on the dais as the trio ascended the steps, and while Lord Macon and Lady Amabelle settled themselves side-by-side—though I noted that Lady Amabelle did her best to avoid even the tip of her sleeve touching Lord Macon—the other woman stood before the wooden table and folded her hands over her stomach.
“Welcome,” she said to our little group, giving us a friendly smile and extending her hands in greeting. “My name is Cordelia Wright, and I am the wand custodian for the Sparrow Coven. Today, you will be taking your first step toward becoming true members of this esteemed coven, and let me be the first to congratulate you on this achievement.”
I glanced toward Garnet, who was positively beaming, and then Hunter, whose eyes were locked on Garnet, a wistful smile on his face. “With this great achievement, however, comes great responsibility,” Cordelia continued, and I turned my attention back to the dais. I felt Lord Macon’s eyes on me, but I resisted the urge to meet his gaze—I was afraid the knowledge that he’d tried to protect me would be written all over my face, and I couldn’t betray Cole like that. I hadn’t seen the gargoyle for weeks now, and with each passing day I grew more and more uneasy.
“…so let the three of you rise,” Cordelia was saying, and the sound of Garnet and Hunter getting to their feet drew me back to the present. I hurried to join them, and when Cordelia instructed us to hold up our right hands for the oath of the wands, I looked back and saw Glenn and Sebastian both grinning at me. A burst of pride ran through me in that moment, and I had to blink back the tears of happiness that sprang to my eyes unexpectedly. After a lifetime of searching, I had finally found in Magic Island what I’d spent countless nights dreaming of—a true home. This marked the first day of the rest of my life, and hopefully much happiness to come.
“Repeat after me,” Cordelia said, smiling down at the three of us and pausing after each sentence. “I solemnly swear that I will uphold the honor of the Sparrow Coven in my words and deeds. I will wield my wand with care and consideration, and I will strive to do no harm to others. I will respect the magical advancements of the esteemed witches and wizards in whose steps I follow, and I will kneel before the ancient grimoire, the foundation of our magical community.”
When we were finished with the oath, everyone in the auditorium clapped—even Lord Macon managed to look mildly enthusiastic, though Lady Amabelle jumped to her feet in a standing ovation. Then, Cordelia invited us up to the dais one by one to begin the wand selection process, starting with me. I approached the empty wooden table in the middle of the dais apprehensively, unsure of what would be expected of me.
As I positioned myself in front of the table, my eyes inadvertently flicked to Lord Macon, seated directly beside it, and a jolt ran through me as I realized he was staring at me intently, his cold gaze locked on my face, his angular jaw rigid. In fact, his entire body was rigid, his hands clenching the armrests of his chair so hard they were quivering.
“Miss Winters?” Cordelia said, frowning at me, and I swung back toward her, realizing that she must have been trying to get my attention.
I swallowed hard and mumbled, “Sorry.”
She gave me a warm smile. “It’s perfectly natural to feel nervous right now, but I assure you, Wren, there is nothing to fear.” She reached for me. “Now stretch out your arms.”
When I complied, she grabbed me lightly by the wrists and, holding onto them, closed her eyes and began humming softly under her breath. I kept my gaze trained on her face, studying the freckles dotting her nose and the smile lines etched beside her mouth, my stomach turning over with nerves as Orion the centaur’s words came back to me.
You are not what you appear to be… an imposter… imposter… imposter…
What did he mean by that? Was I not really a witch? What if Cordelia couldn’t find a wand for me? Would they send me packing back to Oregon, back to my lonely existence, back to a world where I no longer belonged? Perhaps never belonged. Panic seized my chest, and I forced myself to control my breathing. In… two… three… out… two… three. I heard a rustle of robes beside me as Lord Macon shifted in his chair. He, at least, wouldn’t be sorry to see the last of me.
“Juniper.” Cordelia’s eyes popped open, her pupils strangely unfocused as she released my wrists. She blinked a few times, as if forcing herself out of a trance, and smiled at me. “A superb wand wood. Courageous yet sweet; unyielding in the face of danger; a powerhouse wrapped in an unassuming package. You, Miss Winters, will be a force to be reckoned with.” She held her hands over the empty table in front of us and said, “Facere.”
A block of wood appeared in the center of the table. At the same time, a pair of ghostly hands wearing white gloves and holding a rather dangerous-looking carving knife fluttered into existence, hovering
over the wood. “You may begin,” Cordelia said to the hands, and they immediately got to work, expertly carving out a long, thin wand, working so quickly that curls of wood were flying all over the dais. After a few minutes, the gloved hands presented the wand to me, holding it out reverently for me to take.
The moment my fingers grazed it, the wand began thrumming, then reared back on its own and emitted a burst of sparkling purple light that illuminated the entire room. Cordelia began clapping, and everyone else in the auditorium followed suit—although Lord Macon only drew his hands together once before resuming his death grip on the armrests.
“Splendid,” Lady Amabelle said, rising from her chair and sweeping over to me. She stroked her finger down the length of the wand. “My own wand is made of juniper. It is a fine wood, and it makes for an even finer wand. May it aid you in discovering and enhancing your magical abilities for a lifetime to come.”
“Thank you,” I said, pressing the wand to my chest. I was dying to test it out, but Cordelia indicated that I should wait until Hunter and Garnet received their wands, so I returned to my seat, practically skipping down the dais steps, my body feeling as light as a feather.
“Congratulations,” Sebastian said, kissing my cheek as I settled into the chair beside him. Glenn reached over and squeezed my hand, and though they both turned their attention back to the dais, where Hunter was now standing before Cordelia with his arms outstretched, I was too excited to pay attention. Instead, I examined every inch of my wand, enjoying the feeling of warmth in my hand as I held it and—I looked around covertly to make sure no one was paying attention to me—gave it a little practice wave.
With a bang that reverberated all the way down to my core, the wand shot out of my hand, aiming straight for the magnificent black and red chandelier hanging over the dais, and began flying around it in dizzying circles, faster and faster until it was little more than a blur.
