by Tara Lain
When he made it all the way across the wide space, he took a breath. Ollie oxen free! He rounded the corner and—Bam!—ran straight into three men—males—walking side by side.
Jazz staggered back, trying to keep his feet, and slammed against the wall. “Oof.” One of the mages seemed to have taken the brunt of the collision since he now lay on the floor. The two other men were helping him back to his feet. Jazz drew a breath. It was redheaded loverboy—Hillebrand.
Hillebrand looked around angrily.
One of the mages said, “Eustace, are you all right?”
Hillebrand brushed himself off. “Yes, sorry. My foot seems to have slipped.” But his expression reeked of suspicion.
Jazz pressed into a small divot in the wall and tried not to breathe.
Finally, after what felt like an hour, the three mages moved on, but Hillebrand glanced back over his shoulder.
Just in case someone was about to raise the alarm, Jazz broke into a full run and tore down the hall and into the office with the portal closet. A piece of his brain wanted to wait to see if someone came after him, but that would be so foolhardy. They could catch him; change the password. Hell, who knows what they can do? They’re magic.
He sailed through the portal and out into the bright sun of New York at midday. A couple of young guys carrying skateboards stared at him like they weren’t sure they’d seen him appear. He put his hands on his knees like he was recovering from a run and waited for them to lose interest.
Wait. Where’s BeBop?
He trotted across the street and circumnavigated the arch. No BeBop.
Probably he got coffee and went to class.
Jazz didn’t take any classes from BeBop, but he did have courses scheduled that were taught in the mathematics building. He trotted back across the street, dodging cars, then ran up the stairs and walked through the doors.
Kids came and went, but an older guy who looked professorish ambled down the stairs.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for Mr. Bopherson. Benjamin Bopherson.”
He nodded. “I think he was scheduled with his adviser this morning. I’m not sure where he’d be now, but you can check with Professor Jenkins. Room 2211.” He pointed up the stairs.
“Thank you.” Jazz bounded up, taking the stairs two at a time. The itchy, weird sense of anxiety still nibbled at him.
On the second floor, he checked the room numbers and found the office he’d been directed to. The door was closed, so he knocked.
A voice came from inside. It was a woman who sounded concerned. “BeBop, is that you?”
Jazz stopped. That was so not a good sign. He opened the door. “Uh, no ma’am. I’m looking for him too.”
A good-looking woman probably in her forties sat behind a large, old-fashioned wooden desk. She frowned. “It’s not like him to be late. He’s eccentric but not erratic.”
“Great description.” Jazz closed the door and walked across the room extending his hand. “I’m Jazz Vanessen, a friend of BeBop’s.”
“Yes of course, Jazz. I’ve heard BeBop speak of you and your friends—”
A bang on the door preceded it flying open and Carla hanging on the doorframe. “Hi, is BeBop here?”
The professor looked surprised and glanced at Jazz. “This seems to be a trend. Do we have a reason to believe that BeBop is in some trouble or jeopardy?”
Jazz’s turn to exchange a significant glance with Carla. He looked back at the professor. “No, ma’am. But like you, we know he’s not usually one to miss an appointment. I was supposed to meet him, and he wasn’t there. I mean, he didn’t arrive.”
Carla gave Jazz another look but said a little too quickly, “Right. Me too.”
Jazz said, “This is Carla Mendes, by the way.”
The professor nodded. “Oh yes, Ms. Mendes. Good to meet you. So you’re worried about BeBop?”
Carla’s eyes widened a little, but she shook her head. “Not exactly, ma’am. He probably had to go help his uncle or something. I just thought he might be here.”
The professor frowned. “So you don’t think BeBop’s in trouble?”
Jazz jumped in and shrugged with his arms wide. “What kind of trouble?”
“This is New York, Jazz.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am, but I don’t think we should start actively worrying yet.”
She sat back in her chair. “Well, you know him better than I do. But it’s odd to have three people inquiring about someone within an hour of each other when you’ve never had a question about him before.”
Jazz tried not to frown. “Three?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said three. Who besides me and Carla?”
“Oh, a tall man with an odd name.” She glanced around her desktop. “I wrote it down.” She tapped a finger on a piece of paper. “Yes, here it is. Micel. The man’s name was Micel.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MICEL? GODS! Jazz swallowed hard and stared at BeBop’s doctoral adviser. “Oh right. He’s a friend of our neighbor.” Damn, I need to get out of here. “So we’ll go check some of his other friends and call his uncle.”
“Will you let me know what you learn?”
“Okay.”
“Give me your phone.” He handed it over and she input a number. “Just text me when you know he’s all right.”
“Yes ma’am.” Jazz powered toward the hall, grabbed Carla by the arm, and pulled her after him, closing the professor’s door as he went.
Outside the office, Carla opened her mouth to speak, and Jazz shushed her. “Let’s get to the street.”
When he finally decided that the mass of tourists rushing around on the sidewalks gave them some anonymity, Jazz said, “What happened?”
She looked freaked. “I came over to look around and make sure I know where I’m going.” She shook her head like to clear it. “So I was walking along the sidewalk over there behind the art department, and this group of people came toward me. Four of them. Two men and two women. But they definitely weren’t human, you know?”
Jazz nodded. He sure as hell did know.
“So this bunch of kids were walking toward this group and they were ragging on each other and flipping popcorn in each other’s faces. I’ll be the first to admit, they were kind of obnoxious and not paying any attention to anybody except each other. So two of the kids collide with two of these not-humans. One kid fell on his butt and another one spilled popcorn all over the shiny female. The kids laughed, but the not-humans got all up in themselves and one of the males spits on the sidewalk beside the kid who fell and says something like ‘The day’s coming when your worthless kind will finally get what you deserve and no longer plague your superiors,’ or some crap like that.”
“Wow.”
“So one of the girls makes a rude noise, and the other not-human male turns and flicks his hand, you know, like Dash, and the kid falls to the ground unconscious.” Carla pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m pretty sure she wasn’t dead or anything, but her eyes were closed. That freaked the other kids, and they all gathered around the girl who fell. One of the boys starts yelling, ‘Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m calling the cops.’ The not-humans looked a little worried at that and walked off fast. I followed them, and they were talking about not being stupid and rushing their move. But then one of the females says she heard that some human kid broke into the—” Carla stopped and made a face. “She used some word like Pentaculum or something. Anyway, she says this kid tried to convince the council that someone was going to attempt to break out Nardo.”
“Holy crap. That means….”
Carla nodded. “Somehow BeBop managed to get through that portal.”
“How did you know they were talking about BeBop and not me?”
She shrugged. “You’re not even close to human. Unless they’re rocks, they’d know that.”
“Okay, so BeBop.” He believed that in his bones. That would explain the weird feelings and itchiness. “
Did they believe BeBop? About Nardo, I mean?” Jazz’s heart slammed like he’d been running.
“I’m not sure, but probably they didn’t believe him because I sure as hellfire got the feeling that they’ve put BeBop in jail.”
Jazz stared at her. “That means he’s in jail with Nardo.”
THE SOFT laugh gave BeBop the creeps. It was strangely fun pretending like it didn’t bother him.
BeBop sat cross-legged on the cot that stood against the wall in his cell. Sort of cell. Cell with no bars or barriers. Across from him in another sort of cell sat Nardo, tall, lean, and magey. Also, sadly, one of the most powerful mages in the world.
BeBop knew that because Dash said so and so did Lysandra. BeBop didn’t have a lot of basis for comparison except that he’d watched Dash and Lysandra, with a little magic help from Jazz, try to take Nardo out with no success. Nardo likely would have killed all of them, but Jazz had surprised him by shifting to wolf and almost ripping Nardo’s throat out. Werewolf power. Not wizardry.
And now here he was sitting opposite Nardo, the mage’s mane of golden-streaked brown hair falling around his shoulders. El creepo.
Nardo leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, little human, we meet again. How in the name of the gods did you get here?”
“Just lucky I guess.”
“How have you been keeping yourself since last we met?”
“Well, thanks. You?”
Nardo spread his hands gracefully. “As you see.”
“Tough.”
“And yet you’re here too. I’m fascinated by how this could have happened.”
BeBop shrugged.
“What’s your skin in this game, Mr. Bopherson?”
“I don’t like my friends being threatened.”
“Your friends like….” He made a rolling motion with his long-fingered hand.
“Jazz, Carla, Dash.”
“Ah yes, I remember them.” He absently ran a hand over his neck.
“You should.”
“And yet I never completely understood the reason for their antipathy.”
BeBop waved an arm. “You’re serious? I mean, come on. You kidnapped me and Jazz and threatened his grandfather, probably the person he loves best in the world.”
Nardo got an odd expression at that. Almost like jealousy or envy. “Umm. Yes. There’s no accounting for the greed and foolishness of minions.”
BeBop flashed a frown. “No minion tried to wipe out Dash. It was you. That’s the other thing guaranteed to piss off Jazz. Dash is his boyfriend, and werewolves are protective.”
“Um, yes. I remember their touching scene. So had I not let my frustration at being thwarted too many times rule me, then your friends, uh, Jazz would not have taken the actions he did?”
“Why would he? Why would any of us? We’d never heard of you until that asshole minion of yours started threatening Jazz’s pack. Jeez.” He shook his head then glanced at Nardo. “Hell, we’ve got better things to do than battle mages.” Would Nardo buy that line?
Nardo got a small, amused smile on his lips. “Like what?”
BeBop shrugged. “Like hanging out, studying, eating pizza, going to werewolf movies, planning a future. Lots of stuff.” He neglected to mention saving the world.
“Aren’t you an instructor in higher mathematics at NYU?”
“So I’m a genius, but hell, I’m fifteen. When I met Jazz and the others, it was the first time I ever got to have fun with other kids. That’s valuable.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” Nardo leaned back. It was easy to understand how he attracted followers. Charming, manipulative, and charismatic. It was a hard combo to resist for the weak-minded. “How did you get in here, BeBop?”
So Nardo knew his nickname. What do you bet he knew a whole helluva lot more? How much to tell him? “A door opened, and I went through it.”
“A door?” His arched eyebrows soared up.
“Yep. It just appeared, and I walked right through.”
“A portal?”
“I guess you could call it that. Somebody must have been asleep at the portal controls.” He laughed but watched Nardo closely.
Nardo’s golden eyes narrowed. “Portals don’t work that way. Even if the mage casting the portal made a huge error, the portal still would not admit a human.”
“And yet, here I sit.”
“You weren’t accompanied by a mage when you passed through? Perhaps it happened so fast you didn’t see him.”
“Nope. It was four in the morning. Nobody was there except the bunch of wizards sitting around a table that I crashed into the middle of.”
“Wizards around a table?” His eyes got wider, and his voice rose. “Surely the portal to this prison doesn’t feed into a meeting room.”
“That’s where I wound up.”
“And they threw you into this cell.” He stood and paced a few steps like maybe he was trying to figure something out and moving helped.
“Yep. Wouldn’t you if some strange human barged into the center of your middle-of-the-night meeting?”
He stopped and faced BeBop. “No. I’d immediately try to discover what about this human made it possible for him to do the impossible.”
BeBop flashed teeth. “I’m really talented.”
“Obviously.” Nardo paced to the invisible force field that separated the two cells. “Would you be willing to come closer?”
Okay, that was really creepy, but he sure would like to know how he’d been able to get through the portal. BeBop rose, walked to the force field, and stood in front of Nardo.
Nardo leaned in closer and the force field made a little zapping sound, which pushed him back a couple of inches. For a second he scowled as if the field had dared to thwart him. Not hard to believe this dude had a hair-trigger temper. Then his face relaxed. He said, “Who are your parents?”
“They died, but they were like me. Humans. Smart humans.”
“You’re sure of that?” Nardo cocked his head as he stared holes into BeBop. BeBop wanted to open his mouth and go ahh.
“Yep. I mean, I’ve found out a lot of new stuff over the last few months, so I know there’s more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy, but if they weren’t human, they sure never showed it. I mean, my mom wore practical shoes, was a great cook, and saved plastic bags for like years. What wizard does that?” Funny how thinking of his mom made him sad and happy at the same time.
“I wish I could smell you.”
BeBop backed up. “Hey, you’ve got to buy me dinner first.”
Nardo chuckled. “You’re an enigma, Mr. Bopherson.” He started pacing. “Since your friends are so important to you and you’re very intelligent, I’d like you to consider the state of the world for those friends who are supernatural.”
“Okay.” BeBop sat back on his cot. Wonder what his pitch is?
Nardo waved his hands. “Jazz became angry because one of my minions threatened to reveal his pack to the world.”
“Yeah, so?”
He turned to BeBop dramatically. “Imagine the constant jeopardy that Jazz and his kind are in from the humans of the planet. If they’re discovered, they could be used for experiments or hunted like animals. The same danger exists for mages. While we have more power than humans, the far greater numbers of the human population make them a constant threat.”
“Okay.” BeBop tried not to look totally skeptical.
Nardo started pacing again. “That’s why it’s important for the supernatural among us to consolidate power and establish more bulwarks against the human threat.”
“Uh, what exactly does a bulwark look like?”
“Placing mages in more positions of power throughout societies for a start. That’s one of the reasons I was so interested in Jazz. He already has such a position.”
“Well, then, it was pretty stupid to threaten to reveal him to those dangerous humans, wasn’t it?”
A flash of anger moved like lightnin
g across Nardo’s face, but then he smiled. “You have a point.”
“But don’t forget that his mom and grandfather are human, so he’s not going to be interested in doing anything that threatens them.”
“Yes, well, they are intertwined in supernatural society, as are you and your little friend Carla, so you represent no threat to us.”
BeBop crossed his arms. “How come you tried to kill other mages if you’re so into protecting the supes?”
His eyes flashed, but his voice stayed low and syrupy. “Excellent question. As you’ll remember, I offered to let them go with no jeopardy. I only wanted to, shall we say, negotiate with Jazz. But that foolish young mage stepped up as some sacrificial champion and then the great Lysandra joined him, and I had no choice but to fight. I was loath to do it.”
As if. BeBop didn’t say that.
Nardo raised his hands toward the high ceiling. “But now Dashiell is at Arcantaria and shows immense promise, so I’m very happy I didn’t damage him permanently. He’ll be a great asset to the future of magery.”
BeBop bit his tongue to keep from asking how Nardo knew that about Dash. He did say, “You make it sound like you’re going to play a role in the future of magery. Like you’re not going to be stuck in here for the rest of your life.”
Nardo gazed at BeBop. “Oh. Did I make it sound that way?”
Suddenly a female voice said, “I have your food, Nardo. Step to the back of your cell, please.”
BeBop looked toward the entrance to the cellblock where a female stood with two other women—uh, females—and two males.
Nardo took on a supercilious expression. “Oh, hello, Mick.” Slowly he sauntered to the back wall. The four accompanying the woman he called Mick entered the cell first, all carrying wands. Weird. BeBop had never seen a mage use a wand, except in movies. Neither Dash nor Lysandra had, and neither did Nardo.
Nardo looked at the other mages with a sneer until his eyes rested on one of the females, then a crease appeared between his brows. “Where’s Odan?”