Ezra washed cups at the end of the horseshoe-shaped counter. A black bartender apron and purple collared shirt had replaced the wizard costume from the night before, and his dark hair was slicked back in a low ponytail. He flashed her a worried smile.
Diego rose from the center stool beside the soulmancer at the bar.
“We’re mates. Be reasonable.” Basil clutched his Bloody Mary, twisting to face his friend. The lime green fur coat and oversized sunglasses perched on his head like a tiara gave him the aura of a grand dame of the theater hiding from the paparazzi. He slapped on the faux English charm thick. “Fancy a drink? We can talk this out.”
Diego slung his satin jacket over his shoulders, linen sleeves rolling down his hairy wrists. A wild lock of hair escaped the shiny gelled hold of his pompadour. “I was friends with Phillip. I don’t know who you are now.”
Red pivoted from her direct course to Basil to linger at the end of the bar. She looked away from the brewing scene, sharing a universal glance of ‘oh, geez this is awkward’ with Ezra.
Fingers fanning as he pressed his heart, Basil insisted, “I’m the same person.”
“Then you’re the same person that screwed me over.”
“Come now. Yes, I ended things badly with Neville…”
“We were all working together on that project when you left! I nearly lost my place on the Synod in the ranking that year.” Diego’s voice rose, but he jerked his volume down with the force of a whip. The quiet tone cut as much as if he’d yelled. “I thought you were dead. You could have said goodbye. It’s not like I didn’t know your condition, but I didn’t get a word.”
Basil pleaded, “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t trust you to stick around, not even for something important. Want to stay here? Show me things will be different.” Diego whisked past Red, out of the Nostradamus Lounge.
Basil slumped his elbows against the counter, tipping his sunglasses down to hide his eyes. He stirred his Bloody Mary, his mouth straining to fall into his usual counterfeit British stiff upper lip.
“We’re stellar examples of how to make friends and influence people.” Red climbed onto a stool next to him at the bar. “Your day’s starting off well too, I see.”
“It wasn’t the best night either. You were there for it.” His sigh rattled his sunglasses. “I was stress-eating discount shrimp at 3 a.m.”
“And here you are, up and dressed for a fancy liquid brunch. I’m impressed.”
“It’s called self-care, and I earned it. You’re welcome, all and sundry, for my many contributions to the common good and my near mortal sacrifice for humanity.” Basil addressed the empty bar, arms wide and drink raised. “Not that anyone acknowledges it.”
“Is this where I say thank you or just ask Red if she wants to order?” Ezra called from the far sink.
Basil harrumphed.
“I’m good for now.” Red flipped him a quick thumbs up. “Better than my friend here.”
“You know it. As for the story with Diego, I need to drink more before I can tell you that saga of friendship soured.” Basil pursed his lips, flapping his hand like a southern matron going through the womanly change in July. He tilted his head at her, hand dropping as he let his sunglasses slip down his nose. “Red, you little minx, are you a singleton as eager to mingle as Vic? You added color to your wardrobe.”
“A run-in with a crow took out my last shirt.” Red looked down at the green V-neck top. The teenager was her height and build, but it was a shade too small for her. “I borrowed it from Hannah.”
“Oh, that one.” Basil sipped his drink. The dark lenses might have hidden his eyes, but his expressive lips slackened in apathy. “Diego regaled me with her tale of woe. Is she driving you bonkers yet?”
“It’s not her. I just had a run in with her Bard.” Red told the story while Basil peppered the retelling with eyerolls and comments (“You know we’re going to find Vic drinking and cry-singing Auld Lang Syne wrong for Quinn because he thinks its Irish.”) Venting helped to take the edge off her worry, but she still wanted a Bloody Mary by the end of it. “So, I managed to piss off a teacher before I even started a class.”
“You have the Immortal Alchemist’s attention at least.” Basil lifted an eyebrow at her. He spun on the stool to face her dead on. “Grease some wheels on my behalf! Have her stop Diego from tormenting me!”
“What’s he doing? It was pretty heated when I walked in.” Red steeled herself to break it to him that a first-name basis with Perenelle didn’t mean she got special favors.
“He offered me a job.” Basil rubbed his forehead, cheek twitching. “He’s making me teach a guest lecture and inviting the whole school!”
“That’s fantastic!” Red didn’t get it. She’d half expected them to be kicked out. “You can hide in the academy now, safe as houses. Magical houses.”
“No, it’s not! I thought I could help in a laboratory or do research and well, hide. Not announce that I am a…” Basil looked around the bar, nervous like a rat smelling a terrier. Even inside mystical wards in a loud supernatural casino, he couldn’t say the word soulmancer. “He’s doing this to get under my skin. I never told anyone here besides him and Neville what I am. Now…”
“You’re freaking, huh?”
“I know I can give them a show. You’ve seen my shaman act. But this is different. This is about what I can really do. And it must be excellent because I didn’t quite get the job yet, per se. It’s like an audition! Diego will be watching to decide if I can stay on or jog on. Hell, even if I do well, you saw the fellow. He’s likely to tell me to get stuffed even if I received an ovation.”
“Maybe I can help.” Red shrugged. “I need at least one teacher on my side.”
“I know just the way you can suck up!”
“What do I have to do?” Red crossed her arms, not liking the wild desperate cast to his thin face. They might have freed him from captivity by rogue vampires, but he still had a pinched, underfed look. She would do whatever he asked, but she had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t like it.
“I need to make this not just entertaining but informative. These alchemists aren’t easy to please. This is the closest to hard science that magic gets, and soulmancy sounds like New Age gobbledygook at its most intelligible. I need to hook them in the beginning. That is where you, my beautiful assistant, come into the picture.”
“I am not wearing a showgirl costume while you saw me in half.” Red quipped, but her lungs tightened at the idea of being on a lecture stage in front of the school. That’s not what she’d meant by help. She’d already shared too much with Hannah about her past. The emotional night had made her sappy. She didn’t need everyone knowing about her amnesia. It had been used against her enough.
“Like I would do anything so gauche. I shan’t say anything personal either.” Basil sniffed, lime coat ruffling as if it too were offended by the implication. “You just have to stand there while I talk and serve these alchemists a riveting lecture. You’re a unique case study with your memory gaps. It’s a fabulous example of the Tabula Rasa principle.” He held his hand out. “Please. It won’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
Red shook it. “Deal. I did promise to protect you. I guess that can include making sure you’re gainfully employed.”
“That’s the ticket.”
Ezra moseyed to their side of the bar, a clean towel over his shoulder. Gold symbols decorated the pocket of his purple collared work shirt. An easy smile spread across his long face, reaching his deep-set hazel eyes. “Can I break up the negotiation? It seems high stakes, but if you’re thirsty, let me know.”
“A water bottle for the road would be nice.” Red leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her palm to inspect him. He had his mother’s eyes and angular good looks, but his straight, nearly shoulder-length brown hair and easygoing vibe had to have come from his father. “Is Trudy really your mom?”
“She accepts my Mother’s Day cards, so
unless she’s been too embarrassed to correct me all these years…” Ezra bent over and pulled an icy bottle from a mini fridge. He opened it and set it on the counter. “She probably already gave you homework.”
Red presented the syllabus from her purse. A few of the titles were familiar, but she doubted alchemists used the Dewey Decimal system. “Reading list. I just need to find the library.”
“I’m not a student. Mom’s the magic one, but after a few years of getting drunk alchemists back to their rooms, I know the place well enough. Now, if it were my break, I’d show you myself. Hopefully, this is easier than Latin.” Ezra dropped a napkin on the table, whipped out a pen, and began to sketch a rough blueprint. “You’ll walk into the Pyramid, right? Once you get to the swan pond by the banyan go toward…”
Red bent her head close to his, following his pen movements as he described the directions. “So, there are roses carved on the library door?”
“You can’t miss it. They still haven’t figured out how to fix the giant hole Hannah made in that hallway, so watch your step.” Ezra put the finishing touches on his sketch. His gaze swept up to hers, their heads suddenly too close together. His hazel eyes twinkled.
Warmth spread down her neck. He was awfully cute up close. Or far away.
“Did everyone forget I’m here?” Basil rattled his ice cubes in the glass and peered at them over his oversized sunglasses. “She’s just taking a class. I have to teach one. I need sympathy and a refill, por favor.”
Ezra chuckled, ducking his head. “Coming right up.”
“Thanks, Ezra.” Red’s cheek twitched as she repressed a grin. She rose from the stool and picked up the napkin. Walking past Basil, she patted his furry coat. “Take care of this one.”
Ezra waved. “I’ll try to get some solids in him.”
“Celery doesn’t count.”
Red raked over his directions, navigating between gamblers on the casino floor to find the hidden entrance to the academy near the nursing mothers’ room. Rubbing the golden poker chip with her thumb, she lodged it in her palm. Hannah said she just had to have it on her to walk into the academy, but Red wasn’t taking any chances. She turned the knob of the double doors and slipped inside, not certain if everyone could see the Pyramid in its depths.
She rolled her shoulders, finally getting used to the strange extending sensation of the portal doors, but she still hadn’t gotten over her awe at the expansive banyan tree. The clouds had lightened into a fiery pink display over its canopy. She passed a group of teenagers on her way to the first landmark in her quest for the library, but the crowds had cleared out. The place felt like a mall in the morning, quiet and waiting for the next rush. The sellers checked their phones, leaning on their kiosks and carts. Buffet staff were wiping down the tables. Even the swans slept in beds of heather by the pond.
Red followed Ezra’s directions down a grand arched concourse. Marble statuary of wizened men with staffs competed with tapestries of Hindu gods woven into vivid still life. The pantheon changed to Romans in togas as she walked. The muffled sound of an amplified speech drifted through the marble corridor.
A man in black, bowler hat tipped low, leaned against a wide set of closed doors. An onyx-studded harness was strapped over shoulders built to play defensive tackle. Thumbing to the next page in his book, he peeped over the cover. Pointing up at an illuminated plaque reading Auditorium, he shrugged at her. “If you want to get in, the lecture is already full. Diego Blanco knows how to bring them in.”
“Of course these lectures would be popular.” Red eyed the big doors. The bigger the doors, the bigger the stage. “I’m going to have to be in one of them. I don’t suppose I can plead that you just don’t let anyone inside come the day.”
He closed his book and tucked it under his arm, propping a hand on his hip. “I’m not a hall monitor, Red.”
“You know my name. Slow day for school gossip then.” Word could travel fast, but she had just arrived. She turned up her spirit gaze. The onyx on his shoulder harness glimmered with mystical energy.
His face was round and beige like a boxing mitt, and the crooked cartilage in his nose gave him a pugilist’s profile. He tipped his bowler up, and the edges of his dark crew cut peeked out. Blunt eyelashes surrounded serious eyes. “Of course I do. I’m in the Gendarme, the academy police force. I’m just here because Proctor is in there.”
“I’m glad she has protection.” Red strove for a neutral, nonsuspicious calm, putting out her hand to shake his. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she had been on the wrong side of the law enough to step lightly. Cops and hunters didn’t mix well.
“The academy is her protection. I’m just waiting to get another testimony from her.” He shook her hand, balancing his book in his elbow. “I’m Ian Keli’i. You’re welcome here, but you need to play by our rules. Your friend attracted some notice last night, stumbling across an undercover op.”
Red forced back a sassy reply. Her arms itched to cross her chest. She knew what this was about: territory. Vic had bumbled into their investigation without realizing. Hopefully before the strip club. It wasn’t a great idea for him to go out into the field without getting the down low from the alchemists, but she wouldn’t admit it. “We hunt werewolves. It’s what we do.”
“You’re not the only ones.” Ian matched her gaze. His presence loomed even if he hadn’t budged from his lean. “You came here to study. He can catch a few shows in the meantime.”
“It’s a big school. Couldn’t hurt to have some more eyes on the kid. I saw some shoppers in the Pyramid bazaar that definitely weren’t alchemists.”
“This isn’t some fly-by-night operation, Red.” Ian tossed her a superior glance. “We got a system for that. Every visitor must apply for a silver poker chip to get in. Wards keep most in the Pyramid. We monitor and collect each one at closing time. Even the golden keys like yours are tracked. Unless you are on the Synod, we know when you come in and out. And with who.”
“But what if someone—"
“This city already has defenders.”
Red pursed her lips and nodded. It wasn’t the first time she and Vic had rolled into a hunt claimed by another. “I’ll tell Vic, then. Enjoy your story, Ian.” She pointed down the corridor. “The library is that way, right?”
He nodded, face once more hidden behind the book.
Waiting until she was out of sight, she tilted her head back and put her hand on her forehead. What was next? Being sent to the principal’s office?
Smoke damage dusted the stone ceiling overhead. The film grew thicker as she walked. Cracks in the marble floor deepened and splintered. A dark abyss split a wide, charred entryway. Half covered with particle board and ringed with orange cones, the hole stretched a yard into the hall. Red lifted her eyebrows, gauging the depth as she sidestepped the crater. Hannah had to be bringing the heat to blast that far into the floor.
Red checked the napkin again before she spotted the roses and scrolls carved into a grand wooden entrance. Heaving the thick door open, she made her way to a busy library desk. A sweating adept pleaded with the librarian for help. Red leaned on the desk, readying her list, as the two disappeared into the stacks. The shelves stood at attention, like a waiting battalion in the spacious chamber. Puny tables and desks lay in their shadows.
Perenelle strode past the librarian’s desk, doubling back when they made eye contact. In a flowing empire-waisted velvet dress, black hair loose over her tattooed shoulders, she had the sorceress aesthetic down. “Red.”
“Madam Flamel.” Red tried to smile and not look panicked. She had been two for two in getting warnings from authority figures this morning. “I’m waiting to get my schoolbooks.”
“May I?” Perenelle took the list and peered at it. She nodded, releasing a satisfied hmmm. “I have some additions, but this will do. I assume Ms. Fox is trying to spare you from our alchemy texts which can be more… esoteric. Some may say coded.” She led them to a nearby shelf. “How do
you find the academy library?”
“It sounds stupid, but I had no idea there were this many occult books. They were always so hard to find on the road. You’d think the internet would make research easier, but not for demonology and real lore.” Red hovered her palm over the books’ spines, careful not to touch them. “Most of the search results are just D&D manuals.”
“You’re a truth seeker, an explorer. You’ll find new horizons behind these covers.” Perenelle reached up to pull a book out and handed it to Red. “This is not on Ms. Fox’s list, but I think you will find it interesting.”
Red ran her hand over the cover. Crispin’s Genealogy of American Witches. She pressed it to her chest, heart thumping against the book. Her throat tightened. She didn’t trust herself to speak. This was exactly the kind of book she had been seeking.
“It was written by a Bard with too much time on his hands and a propensity for gossip that he regretted in the end. More than fifty years out of date, it still makes for an illuminating read. Not every family listed has survived. Hannah Proctor’s family isn’t the first lost in a witch hunt.”
“It’s not only my clan that will be wiped off the map to ensure their victory.” Red said the words absently as she remembered them. She flushed at Perenelle’s confused stare, realizing that she sounded like a nut. “It’s something John Proctor’s spirit told me. Probably about the vampires who killed him. It’s a long story, probably boring to you.” She shifted on her feet, rubbing her arm. “Sorry to be morbid. I had an intense conversation with Hannah last night. I don’t know if you have any empaths on staff for students, but that might be one to send to the guidance counselor.”
“She’s fortunate to have you thinking of her.” Perenelle regarded her, pointed chin raising, generous mouth curling into a smile.
Witch On The Run: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 4) Page 7
