I walked over to Dash and offered a shy smile, reminding myself of Braden’s advice. It was okay that I wasn’t immediately head over heels about Dash. Dating was just about getting to know someone, and if I took his aunt’s threats out of the equation, he was someone I would like to get to know.
“Dash—”
“Meena—”
We both stopped and laughed.
“Thank you for the flowers,” I said. “And the sweet card.”
He scuffed a shoe against the sidewalk. “I got ahead of myself, didn’t I?”
“A little bit. Okay, no, it was a lot, actually. I need to be honest.”
His face twisted into a pained cringe. “I’m sorry. I think all the kissing confused me into feeling like we’d been on five dates. And I felt so guilty over you losing your... you know what. And then the other you know what...” He shrugged, referring to the body he made disappear, but I didn’t get the sense that he meant to hold that over my head. “What I’m saying is we lived a lifetime in one night, and I was acting accordingly, but in the light of day, I realized the experience might have been misleading.”
“Oh,” I said, surprising myself with the disappointed drop in my stomach. “Right. Yes. That’s what it was. And I was feeling so vulnerable...”
Dash moved closer. “I fear I may have taken advantage of that. It wasn’t my intention to. I was just... overeager.”
“It was very flattering,” I admitted. “But also confusing. And then your aunt...”
“Oh, no,” he groaned. “If she said something crazy... When she’s had too much to drink, anything can come out of her mouth.”
“It’s okay,” I said, not wanting to drive a wedge between family by telling him the whole truth. “I just left feeling like we’d gotten betrothed. And then that scene today... I know Braden was out of line, and I appreciate you defending me, but he’s my friend. My very grouchy friend. And we have to study together sometimes, so if you want to date me, you’ll have to be okay with that.”
Dash’s shoulders lifted and his face brightened. “Does that mean we aren’t breaking up?”
I rolled my eyes. “That means we might start dating now. In a low-key, mostly-just-friends-for-now sort of way.”
Dash took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height. “I’d like that. A lot.”
“One more thing.” I closed the gap between us so we were literally eye to eye. “I know you were using a glamour last night. I don’t want to date someone who thinks I didn’t notice.”
“Oh.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he stared at the ground. “I... well... the thing is...” He heaved a very tired sounding sigh. “I’m sorry. I guess I was trying to be more like...” He trailed off into a mumble, but I could guess who he meant.
“So not necessary,” I said. “I thought you were handsome the first time we met. So just... leave yourself alone, okay? I don’t want to be kissing an illusion.”
His head jerked up, a smile creeping over his full lips. “So the kissing is still on?”
I laughed, suddenly feeling shy about the whole thing. “Maybe let’s let some anticipation build up first, okay?”
“Okay.” He reached out a hand. “Can we start with dinner tonight?”
I slipped my hand into his and felt a surge of warmth. “Only if you’ll sit with my friends.”
Chapter 11
“I’m going to puke,” Oliver whimpered, coming to an abrupt halt with one hand on the golden railing to our left and the other splayed flat against the curving stone wall to our right.
We were halfway up the narrow stairway that spiraled around Callisto Observatory’s inner walls. The unique layout made it hard to measure our progress in stories, but looking over the railing at the tower’s opposite wall, I counted three revolutions of the stairwell between our current level and the exquisite floor of the ballroom below. Golden tiles set into swirled, deep blue marble depicted the twelve astrological signs and their symbols radiating from a massive golden sun, sparkling under the candle-lit chandelier suspended three more stairway revolutions above us.
Leia reached up and patted Oliver on the back. “You’re fine, honey. Just breathe.”
“Noooo,” Oliver wailed, starting to turn. “I’m going back down. I’m a historian. I don’t want to see the future anyway.”
Leia caught him by both arms and pointed him upward again. “You don’t have a choice. I saw it in your stars.” She giggled at her own joke and gave him a little push. “Just stop looking down.”
“I’m obviously supposed to look down.” Oliver gestured at the floor mural.
“Not while you walk!” I chimed in. “Eyes up!”
Oliver moaned pitifully and shook his head. Behind me, people started to either snicker or grumble. I threw a quick glare over my shoulder, but it didn’t silence anyone.
“Oh, for goddess’ sake!” Leia cried. “Here, get behind me.”
He couldn’t even manage that movement, so Leia edge in front of him.
Reaching behind her, she grabbed his hands and dragged them to her hips. “There. Just close your eyes, and step when you feel me step.”
Oliver squeaked as his hands made contact with her body, and I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing. It might have been more merciful to just throw the poor boy over the railing and let him splat somewhere between Libra and Virgo. But after he got over his initial shock, Leia’s plan worked, and we were able to slowly—very slowly—make our way up the stairs, past the three blazing tiers of the chandeliers, and through the circular hole in the ceiling that led to the observation deck.
Half of our class was already there, scattered around the large, round room in friend clumps, gawking at the massive wood-paneled dome over our heads or pressing their faces against the windows that showed a 360-degree view of the campus and surrounding forest. Others were gathered around the base of the giant telescope that took up the center of the room. Unlike the high-tech telescopes I had always seen in pictures of non-magical observatories, ours was made of wood and gold and looked exactly like an enormous pirate’s spy glass.
“Oliver, open your eyes,” Leia whispered, grasping his hands still on her waist and giving them a shake.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes!” we both hissed.
As soon as his eyes cracked open, his mouth fell almost to his chest. With a strangled cry of joy, he rushed forward, practically falling to his knees in worship before the old-timey-looking contraption.
“Well, that’s the last we’ll see of him,” Leia sighed, shaking her head.
I patted her shoulder. “Actually, we’ll still see him every Friday night.”
“Clear the center!” a brusque female voice shouted over the din of our classmates’ chatter. “All of you! Against the walls, now!”
Footsteps thudded across the plank floor as we all hurried to obey. Glancing around for the source of the voice and not seeing any likely professorial candidates, I asked Leia, “What’s happening? Are we in trouble?”
“Beats me,” she answered with a shrug, looking over her shoulder. She let out a sudden sigh. “Oh, goddess, that boy. Oliver! Over here!” She waved her arms, and her cloak’s baggy sleeves made her look like an emerald green bat.
Oliver remained at the base of the telescope, transfixed. Only one other person was left in the center of the room—a slender young woman sporting a messy, boyish hairstyle, a brown leather jacket over a white poet’s shirt, and a pair of pants that could only be described as breeches. Her high boots had way more brass hooks than necessary.
Leia clucked her tongue. “I don’t know who that is, but you’re about to see them get in big trouble. Cloaks in class are mandatory.”
The girl sauntered around the telescope until she towered over Oliver, where he knelt examining a series of gears. She plunked one boot down on the machinery, forcing him to yank back his hand.
“I said clear the center, kid. Did I stutter?”
Oliver jump
ed up, stammering nonsense. She glared and pointed at the wall. He rushed over, wiggling himself between Leia and I as though we could protect him from the big bad steampunk fan. Meanwhile, the girl had begun circling the telescope, peering intently at the students lined around the room’s perimeter. Finally, she climbed the steps leading up to the telescope’s eyepiece and leaned confidently against the device, arms folded over her chest and one boot crossing over the other at the ankle.
“My name is Professor Castle.” Her strong voice echoed off the domed ceiling. “Yes, I am young. The youngest professor in Broken Wand history. Were they reticent about hiring me? Hell, yes. But in the end, they had no choice.” She smirked. “I foretold it myself.”
A smattering of nervous snickers went up around the room, but then one meaty guy in a bright orange cloak stepped away from the wall and asked, “Since you’re so young, can we just call you by your first name?”
Her eyes snapped toward him, narrow as knives. “Sure. My first name is Professor. You can call me by it anytime you have a relevant question. Unlike that one.”
She got more laughs that time, and she seemed pleased. Her gaze roamed over our faces, appraising each of us in turn.
“Gotta be honest,” she drawled. “None of you are striking me as particularly gifted in this field, but some of you might yet prove me wrong.” She heaved herself away from the telescope and gripped the steps’ railing with both hands. “So, you best prepare yourselves for a long, boring semester of mind-straining theory and mind-numbing rituals that won’t ever go anywhere. If we’re lucky, a few of you might pick up an insight or two along the way.” She shrugged and pushed away from the railing. “But you probably won’t.”
“Then what’s the point?” the guy in the orange cloak asked. “It’s Friday night.”
“Thank you for that astute observation, Pumpkin.” Professor Castle rolled her eyes. “Maybe I was wrong about you being a dud after all.”
“Hey!” the guy protested, but several of his buddies had the good sense to shush him.
Castle whipped her wand out of the holster hidden beneath her jacket and seemed to be drawing with in the air. A low rumble filled the room, and a moment later, ten rows of theater-style chairs appeared in concentric circles around the telescope.
“You may be seated,” she said, holstering her wand.
Shoes clopped over the wooden planks once more as we all sought out seats. Oliver dragged Leia and I to the front row, presumably so he could continue inspecting the intricate details of the giant spy glass with his eyes at least. I wasn’t thrilled because it sounded like this class was going to be a sleeper, and I would have preferred to sit a few rows back where I could better zone out.
“It’s not right,” Leia hissed at me under her breath. “She should be wearing a cloak. Professors wear cloaks. Who does she think she is?”
Two brass and brown boots stomped the planks directly in front of us. We followed the long legs up to the muscular torso and finally to the sharply angled face. “Cloaks are stupid,” the professor said with a sneer. “Just because they came in jewel tones these days doesn’t make them any less constricting of individuality. They serve no purpose to magic. They’re only old-fashioned pageantry.”
And with that, she stomped away.
“Well, I like mine,” Leia sniffed, caressing the folds of fabric draped across her lap.
“Me, too,” Oliver said quickly, smiling at her.
I gave a non-committal shrug. They were cool, as far as completing the whole witchy aesthetic of attending school here, but honestly, they were kind of cumbersome. It did seem a little silly that we were forced to wear them to every class, now that Castle mentioned it.
Once everyone was seated, Castle planted herself at the base of the telescope’s steps and said, “Before we dive into this semester’s oh-so-interesting topics of Tarot and Star Charts, tea leaves and crystal balls, I thought I’d make it up to you tonight by giving everyone a chance to look through Scry Baby here.” She cut her eyes up at the telescope. “Most of you will just see stars, planets if you’re lucky, but it’s theoretically possible that some of you might get a little glimpse of something more.”
A murmur of excitement rippled around the room, indicating most people had higher hopes for their abilities than Castle had. I just felt a ripple of nerves in my stomach. As a Proteus, I was likely to possess at least some talent for this task, but I wasn’t looking forward to maybe being the only one.
“Where are all the students who got chosen for this department?” I whispered to my friends.
“This is the class for everyone who didn’t get picked, I guess,” Leia answered.
“You got it,” Castle muttered, pausing in front of us. Then, to the rest of the class, she announced, “The purpose of this course isn’t so much to teach you to do things you’ll never be any good at it. It is to teach you the basics needed to protect yourself against those who are good at it... or claim to be.” She pointed to the boy in the orange cloak. “You first, Pumpkin.”
He lumbered up the aisle to stand at her side, shoulders slumping as he pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak. She slapped him on the back, shoving him toward the steps. He made the short, winding climb to the top and then stared dumbly down at Scry Baby’s eyepiece.
“Well, go on. We’ve only three hours to waste on this. Smash your favorite eye up against that and tell us what you see. Don’t bother lying. I’ll know.”
With a heavy sigh, ‘Pumpkin’ obeyed while the rest of us watched with suspended breaths. After a few moments, he asked, “How long do I keep trying?”
“Until you realize I didn’t even open the hatch and you’re just staring at wood grain,” Castle said with a bored yawn and a flick of her hand toward the ceiling.
The lights dimmed to the faintest glow as a vertical, rectangular hole appeared in the roof, directly above the telescope’s lens. Blue-black sky appeared, dotted with far away stars. A collective ooooh of appreciation whooshed around the room. Leia grasped my and Oliver’s nearest knees.
“Now try,” Castle said.
‘Pumpkin’ peered through the glass once again, and this time he emitted a wondrous cry. His head shot up and he exclaimed, “I saw Jupiter’s storm!”
Castle made a ‘not bad’ face and motioned for him to come down.
“But I want to see it again!”
She shook her head. “Nope. One look each.”
Deflated, he made his way back down the steps. One by one, my classmates took their turns at the magnificent telescope. Everyone came down beaming with delight after witnessing some incredible astronomical sight. The variety of the sightings was so wide that I realized there must be more magic to Scry Baby than met the eye because it was impossible for any telescope to observe so many different things without changing its position.
As I waited for my turn, I distracted myself from the fear of what I might see with memories of dinner. When Dash and I walked in, the first thing I noticed was a fully human Serenity, surrounded by the three girls who’d helped her terrorize me. The group seemed unusually subdued, and none of them even glanced our way as Dash and I joined the food line. After we had our trays piled high, we went in search of Leia and Oliver, but first we found Braden. I felt a pang in my heart remembering how forlorn he looked, sitting all by himself at one end of a long table, shoveling food into his face as though he was in a hurry to be somewhere else. His bloodshot eyes told me he’d been imbibing more ‘pain medication’, and I wondered if he had normally eaten meals with Lucas. I invited him to join us, but he just grunted and shook his head without ever really looking at us.
But I was also annoyed with him. He was supposed to sober up so we could open the breach and go look for Rhea and my wand in the clearing later, but that had obviously not happened, which threw the whole plan into question. He wasn’t taking this very seriously. I needed to talk to Rhea again. I needed to know why my mother’s best friend had wound up being Phor
m’s ‘beloved pet.’ I needed to know why no one had ever told me my mother was also a witch. Did Braden really think being drunk was more important than that?
Well, one good thing to come of it was that it made me feel a lot better about defining our relationship as strictly friendly. Dash had made for a perfectly charming dinner companion, something Braden obviously wasn’t up to offering.
“Your turn, Eggplant,” Castle barked.
I wouldn’t have known she was talking to me, calling me by the color of my cloak, if Leia hadn’t poked me in the arm with her elbow. Startled out of my thoughts, I climbed warily to my feet and stared at the steps directly in front of me.
“Hmmm.” Castle tapped her chin as she looked at me. “A drifter in our midst. This night may not be a total waste after all.”
Ice water dribbled through my veins, freezing my feet to the wooden planks.
Castle’s lips quirked into a grin. “Afraid to see what your future holds, huh?”
I swallowed the brick in my throat. “No.”
She laughed. “Then get your butt up there, Eggplant.”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep, settling breath, and put one foot after the other until I was winding my way up the steps. As I drew closer to Scry Baby’s eyepiece, my hands began to tingle with energy. A warm sensation moved through my arms and into the rest of my body until even my organs seemed to vibrate. Trembling, I glanced down at my friends, who both offered me excited thumbs-up. Leia had seen the rings of Saturn, and Oliver had glimpsed the horse nebula hidden within the Orion constellation. Crossing my fingers, I pressed my eye to the eyepiece and prayed for a shooting star.
A white glow filled my vision.
I started to pull back to check the settings—maybe someone else had bumped it out of focus—but then a series of craters became clear. I was looking at the moon.
That’s it?
I wasn’t sure if I was feeling relief or disappointment as I drew away from the eyepiece, but I never had the chance to find out. Because when I straightened up, I was standing in the middle of a glistening black highway with rain pelting my eyes. A strange hissing sound at my back made me whirl around.
Broken Wand Academy Page 29
