Diego turned to Hannah, putting his hands behind his back. Disappointment deepened the lines around his mouth. The room grew silent and heavy like they were all going to be sent to the principal’s office. “And we have to find a place for the last Proctor even with all the trouble you caused. The school sent out a search party.”
Hannah bowed her head, pulling off the wig and twisting it in her hands. “I’m sorry.”
Red stepped up beside the teen and put a hand on her shoulder. The kid knew she had screwed up. Hormones and trauma had made her panic. She deserved a reprimand, but Red didn’t want her to feel alone.
“If you were my apprentice…” Diego let the implication sink in the air. “Report to your Bard.” The baritone order invited no arguments.
“Does that mean…” Red gaped at the girl. The Brotherhood of Bards and Heroes were an ancient society of scholars who mentored supernatural champions for the good side. Hence the Hero part of the name. There was a whole division of psychics in the organization who sought rare fae hybrids, demigods or physics marked for destiny. “You’re a Hero?”
Sniffing, Hannah fled from the room through an archway in a cackle of green energy.
Diego pinched the bridge of his nose. “That girl… blows up a laboratory accidentally and flees just when the Immortal Alchemist is in residence. The entire Synod has been on duty putting out metaphorical fires. We didn’t need a literal one.”
“Ah, so the boss is in from headquarters.” Vic nodded. He shifted around, looking at archways in each wall. “No one will know we’re here. We’ll throw a tarp over the van, or you can tell me where the portal to the parking lot is…” Words fading, Vic snapped his gaze from Diego.
A stately woman materialized in violet sparkles in the eastern archway. Thin cords of silver, copper, platinum, and gold hung around her pale neck. A dark mane framed her regal features. A white linen dress flowed around her striding legs as she glided toward them. Her esoteric black arm and chest tattoos glittered with energy.
Diego bowed. “Madam, you grace us with your presence.”
“Good evening, Diego. Who are your guests? The bullet hole in the vehicle tells me that it hasn’t been an easy journey to our haven.” Her accent sounded as if she had learned English as a second language in the United Kingdom, but the only clue to her origin was the faint trace of a dropped H. Interest flowered on the mysterious woman’s ethereally smooth features as she stepped closer. Her kohl-lined eyes were a startling lilac.
Vic crossed his arms. “It was fine until the werewolves attacked.”
Diego elbowed Vic, eyes wide as he jerked his head toward the newcomer. “I have the honor of introducing the Immortal Alchemist.”
“Perenelle Flamel?” Red coughed, choking on her tongue as excitement surged. She had heard of the Philosopher’s Stone and Nicholas Flamel like every other geek, thanks to J.K. Rowling. Few beyond the supernatural world knew of his wife, however. “You’re the Perenelle Flamel? The founder of all the alchemy academies? Oh my god!”
“Dial it back,” Vic muttered to Red.
The Immortal Alchemist demurred. “There were other hands in this undertaking, even if I am the only one that remains.”
Red couldn’t stop her enthusiasm. This was like meeting the magical Marie Curie. “It’s so cool to meet you, Madam Flamel! Wow!”
Madam Flamel reached out for a handshake. Uncut gems glittered on each long finger. “Likewise, my dear. And please, call me Perenelle. What do you call yourself?”
“Red.” She shook the offered hand and toed the ground, sheepish embarrassment cascading over her. She cringed over her entire lack of chill.
Perenelle touched Red’s upper arm, sincere kindness radiated from her phoenix-colored aura. “The academy of alchemists provides sanctuary to mages of any discipline or coven. You will be safe here.”
“Thank you—especially since we dropped in rather suddenly.”
Diego gestured to Vic. “She comes seeking instruction, accompanied by a Bard and friend to alchemists, Victor Park Constantine.”
“Whassup, my lady?” Vic bowed, doffing his cap.
“Another Bard mentoring a witch, Diego?” Perenelle pursed her lips, thoughtfully. “The Brotherhood has increased recruitment for their Heroes among our fellow mages, I see.”
“Pardon?” Red rubbed her ear, wondering if all the hearing damage had caught up to her. She definitely wasn’t a Hero in the eyes of the Brotherhood. They wouldn’t even let her take the Hunter’s Challenge before pushing her out. She looked down. “Um, no, we’re just traveling together. I’m a hunter. Unlicensed… kinda like an intern. Nobody really.”
“I very much doubt that, Red. I am curious to learn more about you… and your compatriots.” Perenelle stepped closer to the van. “I sense a soulmancer. It has been too long since this academy has seen a talent like yourself.”
“I could be your new headliner.” Basil popped up from his hiding place in the bean bag nest. He massaged his temple. “After some sleep and a good English breakfast.”
“I’ll put you in the chorus and see how you work out.” Diego folded his arms. “Madam, I know you’ve been busy with attending the latest school ranking exams. Thank you for welcoming my guests. As you can see, I need to find them rooms, then I will formally request the Synod to assess Red’s abilities tomorrow. You can continue your evening knowing that the academy is secure. In fact, Hannah Proctor should be in her room, thanks to our Bard and his apprentice here.”
“Ah, yes, she had the good fortune to find them. I am satisfied on her account. Carry on with your arrangements. I’ll make myself more useful and assess Red in my office with her Bard present.” Perenelle didn’t wait for Diego to answer before striding toward the archway she came from. “Now, if you please.”
Red and Vic looked at each other. He motioned forward. “Witches first.”
Closing one eye, she stepped under the arch. Blue lightening crackled in her wake. Her body stretched, tension popping from her joints as the chaotic lights swirled around her. Unknown energy seemed to slip between the very fabric of her being like water through a sieve. The laws of gravity snapped back into place with her next step. Her foot landed heavy as she wavered, getting her balance. Her vertebrae floated in her neck as if she had just visited a great chiropractor.
The electrical storm of the portal door gave way to overstuffed lavender chairs and spindly brass bookshelves in the white parlor. Natural light shone over the desk and wood floors under the wide window. The view wasn’t Las Vegas, judging by the red roofs shining in the sun. It was night in Nevada.
“You may take a seat. There should be a pinch of tea in the cups already.” Perenelle went to an ornately carved chest by the wall and opened it. “I imagine that this all must be strange to you, Red. Even as a hunter. I do promise that I will answer your questions after the assessment.”
Red settled into a plush cushion in the circle of cozy chairs around a copper tea service on a round table. Steam shot out of the teapot’s spout. She studied the emerald green ceramic handle and matching tray. How did Perenelle do that?
Vic leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. “I’m not officially her Bard, Madam Flamel, but I’m not dropping her off here either. She needs a touch of schooling, not enough to spoil her, then we must be moving on.”
Lifting an eyebrow at his “parent at a teacher conference” tone, Red still felt comforted. She knew it was the paranoia talking, but he had a lot of reasons to bail and find an intern with less baggage. He loved the full use of his legs, but not how he got it.
“I’m sure that the Synod will be flexible on the curriculum. The Las Vegas academy is less orthodox than other campuses. I am merely going to advise based on my observations. Now where is that…?” Leaning over, Perenelle stuck her head surprisingly deep in the chest. Her entire arm sunk into it to the shoulder. She lifted out a large wicker basket and set it at her feet, then flapped a hospitable hand at them. “Drink, drink.�
�
Red picked up the teapot and poured into a ceramic cup. The hot water hit the loose-leaf tea and released curls of Earl Grey steam. It darkened to the right color instantly. She sipped it to find it the perfect temperature, wondering how the alchemists had figured out speed-steeping.
Perenelle gathered a feather, a mirror, a stick of chewing gum, a seashell, something wood, and a gold nugget. She placed each item into the basket with equal care before finally tucking a rubber duck inside. Rising with the strange collection, her quick steps to the desk under the window made her skirt hem flutter.
“Huh.” Vic said, chin doubling, mouth flapping open as if straining for a smartass remark. His eyes narrowed, brain wheels visibly spinning underneath his mullet.
Red didn’t like it when he was confused. He was the one who had double majored in computer science and demonology. She didn’t even know if she had finished high school. “So, I’ve never been assessed before. When does the rubber duck come into play?”
“Later.” Perenelle said cheerfully before arranging the objects on a desktop. She came back to them, holding the black crow feather. She laid it on the table, sitting across from Red. “Can you read the symbol on the feather? Or at least describe it to me?”
Red raised her eyebrow at the unmarked feather. She opened her third eye. The glimmering dot encased in a circle appeared as if she had switched on a photography filter. “It’s the alchemy sign for gold.”
“You know our symbols?”
“I learned some so I could better understand old demonology texts and hunter’s journals.” Red shrugged, embarrassment heating up her neck. This wasn’t something to brag about. It was like telling Shakespeare that you knew how to write your name. “Vic and I have to do research in a rush sometimes.”
“You’re correct.” Perenelle rested her chin on her knuckles, shifting forward in her chair. “How did you learn to harness your spirit gaze?”
“It came to me in a dream.” Red shrugged. That was the short version. The long version included the Bell Witch, a vengeful warlock, and a coma. Beyond learning the trick to see magic, she hadn’t gotten much out the experience besides a chip on her shoulder about being a witch. It had nearly gotten her killed fighting the Dague. She glossed over the details. “Gotta admit, I don’t know much about witchcraft.”
“Tell me about yourself. Does magic run in your family or was it awakened by other means? How old are you? Have you gone through your witch bloom?” Perenelle’s quick gaze scoured Red’s face for answers. She paused, lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Pardon my barrage of questions. That last one was quite personal. This isn’t an inquisition.”
Red had asked herself these questions more than once. The witch bloom was a new concept, but she couldn’t focus on it as a familiar sadness fell over her. She had seen soulmancers, psychics, and even recklessly let a vampire try to mesmerize the truth out of her. Nothing had shaken the truth loose. The Blood Alliance’s version of the CIA hadn’t found anything on her either. The question mark in her memories could feel like a knife. Even banal small talk could trigger the wound sometimes.
“You’re a busy woman. I can save you some time. If you have a question about my life before last year, I can’t answer it. Even my age,” Red said, looking down.
“Not because she’s stubborn either. Has amnesia—soap opera style.” Vic poured himself some tea and blew on it, crossing his leg. “I found her by the side of the road like this. It’s not just her backstory. She has like a ten-year pop culture dead zone in her memory banks. Hadn’t even seen the Avengers before I came along.” A geeky cinephile’s pity haunted his gaze as he sipped.
Red shot Vic a look, lips thinning. “Er, yeah, I’m still catching up on movies and magic. I figured the witch stuff out when some vamp was taking a bite out of me in Utah. Managed to spook the both of us.” She breathed out slowly, wishing the hot flush to her cheeks away, trying to figure out the best way to say it. “I’m not much of a witch. I wasted a lot of time fighting this gift, in fact. You talked about mages of any discipline being welcome. That’s the thing—I don’t know what kind of mage I am. I learned some tricks from being a hunter, but that is it. I’m still thrashed from my last job, but even on a regular day, I couldn’t light a candle.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I am asking you to levitate this feather.” Perenelle commented. “I will not put a stipulation on how you do it.”
Red straightened, shooting for a cleansing deep breath, but it came out ragged. Her nerves had been pumped with adrenaline and then wrung out. Magic required focus. Her brain might as while have been bouncing around in her skull. Rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles, she concentrated on the crow feather. Time to shine, Red. Don’t blow it!
Some mages traced sigils in the air or set up a grand ritual while others called on the power of old gods and spirits. She more or less magically poked at the air and wheedled it into doing her a favor. Which it might… if it felt like it. She turned her third eye on the ball of energy behind her belly button, tapping the strength chakra at her polar plexus to drum up some juice. Remembering an old grimoire, she tried to visualize it as a sunny yellow sphere encircling a fiery triangle ringed by petals the dark blue of pregnant storm clouds. Her chakras blazed like road flares from her crown to her waist, then immediately dimmed. Fuck.
Forging ahead, she touched her energy, coaxing it to her. It stretched like taffy as she drew it back. A wild thrill coursed through her. The connection between herself and the universe deepened. Her strands of magic felt weak, but the energy pulsed with life.
Magic was simple—want something and make it happen. She pushed what little she had into her intention. Sweat beaded on her brow as she tried to channel her power to will the bustling air molecules. Float the damn feather!
Nothing.
Avoiding Vic’s face and the judgmental eyes of the rubber duck on the desk, she lifted her hand up like she was leading a slow dog to a thrown stick. Sometimes movement helped. Harnessing an element meant infusing herself in awareness of it, then igniting her will with magic. Right now, it felt like slapping two wet flints together and expecting a spark. She yanked as much energy into her mystical hand to toss at the air as she could. Her hair fluttered around her face.
The feather stayed put.
“You’re looking paler than usual, Red.” Vic pushed the teacup at her. “Maybe you need a snack or something.”
Red leaned back in her chair, wiping her forehead. Fatigue made her muscles droop. Her cheeks burned like the fresh onset of a fever. Magic took a toll on its user without the help of relics and other objects. “I tried a thingy with the air, but I gotta have more juice to make it work.”
“You sent a guy crashing through a window once,” Vic pointed out cheerfully.
“Once. Then for the next month, I couldn’t do anything magical without it being scared out of me at the point of death.”
Perenelle twisted a ring on her finger as she pondered. “Elemental magic. That was your first instinct. Unconventional. I can see by your chakras that you are depleted. Energy regulation is a challenge for you.”
Red covered up her torso with her hands as she psychically curtained her multicolored chakras. “Saw those, huh.”
“You conceal yourself well when you will it, I see.” Perenelle frowned as if puzzled by a riddle. She rose from her chair and walked to the brass plated desk. “You are certainly a natural witch. Let us continue before I get ahead of myself and share more of my observations.”
The rubber duck stared up at Red from the green ink blotter as she approached.
“I would like you to select an object.” Perenelle waved her hand over the random assemblage. “Don’t overthink it. Clear your mind then pick up the one that calls out to you. There is no wrong choice.”
Red closed her eyes, imagining herself vacuuming the extra thoughts out of her brain. The pressing question of what was up with the duck was the hardest to tug loose. She took a few
slow deep breaths then opened her eyes.
Sunlight sparkled on a golden nugget and the long-handled mirror. A seashell and silver-wrapped stick of chewing gum lay opposite on the desk. The yellow duck judged her, lying next to a small harp-like instrument. She had seen Perenelle put it in the basket but hadn’t quite made out what the wooden thing had been. It was a lyre. She peered closer at the antique, examining the strings and curved teak body. Her eyes darted to the duck. She reached down, holding her breath for a second wondering if she should change her mind. She touched the lyre. “I choose this.”
“Fascinating choice,” Perenelle murmured.
Vic sighed, looking over her shoulder. “Not the duckie?”
“This is just like my tattoo.” Red chuckled. Her chuckle faded at the look of realization on Perenelle’s face. “You’re looking at me like I just got into Slytherin. This is a Sorting Hat or Myers-Briggs kind of a thing, right?”
“A personality test? Not as such, but it has given me much to think about. You have potential that I would like to see cultivated. I will recommend that the Alchemical Synod permit you to learn with us.” Perenelle tilted her head. “What do you hope to achieve with our knowledge?”
“I want to explore who I am, all of me, and magic is a part of that. My job is fighting monsters, but I can’t do that if I’m fighting myself. I was afraid of what I could be. So many people told me what I was, and I almost believed them. I know who I am now. I’m not afraid of it.” Red fidgeted and twisted the ends of her black shirt. The frank honesty left her lightheaded. She didn’t like admitting that she had amnesia to strangers, let alone the existential crisis that dogged her even before she found out about her checkered past life as Juniper St. James.
“I am keen to see where this journey leads you.” The immortal’s scrutiny focused on Red like a scientist refocusing a microscope. She smiled, relaxing her stare. “I don’t need to be a seer to know that there is a comfortable bed in your future. Once you have rested, we can speak further about your education.” Perenelle turned, walking to the white door. She revealed a stone hallway lit with torches. “Follow the gold symbols to the lobby. You’ll be taken care of there.”
Witch On The Run: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 4) Page 3
