by Tara Lain
The female with the tray walked to his small table and placed the tray on it. “He’s been replaced.”
Nardo seemed to be working at keeping his expression neutral. “Well, hello, replacement. What’s your name?”
The tall woman with the streaks of silver in her braids gave him a look that combined disdain, terror, and what? Maybe a hint of awe? “I’m Anastasia.”
“So you’re my new jailer.”
She didn’t reply but looked uncomfortable.
The woman who’d left the tray said, “Leave her alone, Nardo.” She proceeded to the door, and the others backed away from Nardo to join her.
Before they reached the door, the one Nardo’d called Mick said, “Mr. Bopherson, we’re coming to you next. You’re needed for questioning.”
BeBop hissed through his teeth. Didn’t that sound like the lead-in to an episode of CSI?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DASH BOUNCED the little ball of cool flame on the palm of his hand, then threw it in the air and kicked it with his heel like a beanbag. Yes, he was showing off. Asshole Childers Gerd was staring daggers at Dash while he struggled to get even a hint of a flame in his own hand. In fairness, Childers was good at some things like developing poisons, but he was crap at manifestation and transformation. Thank the gods. Who knew what he’d turn Dash into.
As Dash kicked his flame ball between his heels, the door of the classroom opened, and Hillebrand marched in. He glanced toward Dash but strode purposefully to the class’s professor. After a few looks at Dash from both of them, Hillebrand nodded, shook the professor’s hand, and moved toward Dash. He said, “Grab your stuff, stop showing off, and let’s go.” He grinned, which softened his criticism.
Hillebrand made a beeline toward the obstacle course.
As they walked, Dash said, “Sorry about the grandstanding, but Gerd really hates me, and it’s hard not tweaking his nose sometimes.”
Hillebrand paused and put a hand on Dash’s wrist. “I understand that Childers can be a pain in the ass, but you’re a leader, Dash, and I need you to act like one. You’ll be working with all your fellows in the Olympus Club, so find a way to get along with them and earn their respect. I’d prefer that respect not be begrudging, but it’s better than nothing.” He grinned again and resumed his rapid gait.
Dash sped up to keep pace. “Uh, who will I be leading?”
“We’ll pick the best practitioners of manifestation for you to organize.” He was still striding with purpose.
“To do what?”
Hillebrand glanced back over his shoulder. “Remember the test you were given when you first joined the club?”
“Sure.” Dash flashed his dimples to hide the crawlies going up his spine. “I seem to recall we were pretty impressive in that exercise.”
Hillebrand flashed a look at Dash as he held open the door to the locker room. “Don’t be a wiseass. You were tested against newbies and staff who weren’t trying all that hard.” Dash didn’t snort, but it was a near thing. Not trying hard my ass. The good professor had about taken his head off. Hillebrand said, “What’s coming up will be a whole new kind of challenge, but one I feel confident you can rise to.”
Dash leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You want to tell me about it?”
Hillebrand sat on the locker room bench, looking some combo of cagey, uncomfortable, and confident. “For now, let’s just say it will require planning and a breakout, much as your test did. Well, there wasn’t any real planning then, but there will be this time.”
“So we’re breaking someone out of a jail or prison?” Big surprise. Not.
“Yes. Not precisely like the test case, but some similarities.”
Dash’s pulse had quickened, so he tried to look even more relaxed. “Then I’m gonna need more than manifesters and transformers.” He pushed away from the wall. “Remember all the skills we used to escape with that dummy?”
“Good point. So perhaps you want Anastasia on your team? And the other young woman?” He waved a hand like searching for the name.
“Kitty?”
“Oh no.” His hand waved again. “Kitty’s not appropriate. I was thinking of the other girl, Mabel. She has exceptional transformation skills.”
“Limited duration.”
“She’s improved with training.” He leaned back on the bench.
“Why not Kitty? She’s really smart.”
The hand flipped again “But not interested in battling.”
“So, can we work on teleportation?”
Hillebrand turned toward Dash. The look on his face made Dash’s brain scream, Pay attention, and be careful. Hillebrand said, “Actually, I want to work on invisibility.”
Okay, why is he bringing that up? I told him I can’t do invisibility. A niggling worry ate at Dash. Jazz had been invisible. Is there a chance Hillebrand saw him? But if he did see Jazz, why would he ask me? Dash stood. “Okay. I’m game.”
“Good. Good.” Hillebrand rose and led Dash into the obstacle course. There he squared off with Dash, still wearing a weirdly smug expression. “Focus in your chest.”
Dash placed his mind in his chest trying to not become invisible too quickly.
“Don’t you want to close your eyes?”
Dash shook his head.
Hillebrand cocked his head and gave Dash a coy expression. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
Oh hell. Dash released his hold on the energy, it spread out to his limbs, and poof. Or he was pretty sure about the poof. He couldn’t always tell when he was invisible.
Hillebrand clapped his hands together. “I knew it! When you knocked me down in the hall, I figured you didn’t want the other professors to know you have this power. It will certainly enhance your reputation but also the envy others focus on you.”
In the hall? He must have run into Jazz. Dash said, “When you were so disappointed that I didn’t have the skill, I started practicing.”
“Well done. Well done.” He pressed his palms together. “So now we can make our strategy more sophisticated. Wonderful.”
A small movement across the room caught Dash’s eye. He said, “I’m glad I could affirm your faith in me.”
Hillebrand spread his arms. “Yes, yes. You’re a student to be proud of, Dash. I think we’re going to see you at the head of the coming shifts in society.”
He kept talking, but Dash ran on soft feet across the room and peered into the line of showers stalls. Nothing. Maybe I imagined it.
He turned and rushed back to Hillebrand so he wouldn’t know Dash had moved.
Quickly, he released the invisibility. As he took form again, Dash said, “So when do I start planning with my team?”
“Well, you’re anxious.”
Dash shrugged. “We do a lot of talking and training. I look forward to putting it all to work.”
“That’s good. I still have a lot of organizing to do, so practice your skills on your own. Maybe you’ll be able to master teleportation before the operation begins.”
“When will that be?”
Hillebrand gave him a cool glance. “We’ll let you know.”
Dash smiled and nodded, then stared after Hillebrand as he exited the obstacle course. Is he going to come back and check on me?
He stared at the door. The Olympus Club was planning a jailbreak, probably of Nardo, and then following up with gods knew what kind of threat to the world as they knew it, and nobody seemed to be arming themselves to oppose them. Nobody.
Dash rushed to the locker room, peeked inside, then slipped through and out into the hall. Classes must be in session because few people were wandering around. Do I dare? Hell, somebody’s got to take some responsibility around here.
Moving with purpose, he approached the chancellor’s office. There was no one in the outer office, so maybe everyone was gone. He tapped on the chancellor’s door.
“Come.”
His heart slammed. Okay, so maybe he’d kind of been hoping
that the chancellor would be gone. Inhaling, he opened the door.
Master Romanescu sat behind the desk. He looked up with wide eyes. Hell, more like fearful eyes. “Yes, can I help you?”
“Uh, sir, are you aware that the uh, Olympus Club is making plans—”
Romanescu held up a hand, and the look of fear increased. “If you have anything to discuss about the Olympus Club, you need to take it up with Professor Hillebrand, uh, or perhaps with Vice Chancellor Warden.”
“But sir, I can’t, really. I mean, they’re the ones who are planning—”
“Stop, stop.” He rose, waving his arms. “You must leave. I’m not discussing this. Go. Go.” He brushed his hands toward the door.
Dash backed toward the open door. Is this guy serious? There’s a potential takeover of magery and he doesn’t care? Dash wanted to hit something—and he also wanted to cry.
In the outer office, he turned and ran straight into Eustace Hillebrand.
Cold chills ran up his arms. Gods. Think fast.
Since he likely looked stunned anyway, Dash started waving his arms toward the door kind of like Romanescu had. He pressed a finger to his lips and took Hillebrand’s arm, leading him into the hall. When they got there, Dash spoke softly. “Sorry. I didn’t want him to think I was working with you.”
Hillebrand crossed his arms and frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“It suddenly occurred to me that I’ve got no idea what level of opposition we’ll encounter.” He wrinkled his nose and jerked his chin toward the chancellor’s office. “Clearly, that dude’s not going to give us any trouble.”
“You don’t think so?” Hillebrand didn’t look convinced, but whether about Romanescu or Dash wasn’t clear.
“He’s scared witless of you.”
Hillebrand smiled just a little.
“Which is cool considering he’s supposed to be this big master and all.”
“It’s like that old human idea, the Peter Principle. People are promoted to the point of their own incompetence.”
“That’s scary considering this is Arcantaria.”
Hillebrand gave Dash a stern look. “I don’t expect to see you anywhere else except practicing your skills.”
“Yes, sir. Uh, Brand.”
Hillebrand said, “So how’s the boyfriend situation?” His gaze got a lot warmer.
Dash shrugged. “No way to know, right? I mean, we can’t communicate or anything.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s limiting.” He paused. “But realize that when our world changes, the hierarchy of magery will shift significantly.” He snorted. “No more Peter Principle.” He took a couple steps away, then turned dramatically. “The way things are going, you’ll be at the top of the pecking order, Dash. You might be moved to rethink whom you consider a peer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Right after hell freezes over.
Something warm and soft touched Dash’s hand. He jumped.
Hillebrand asked, “Are you okay?”
Dash glanced over his shoulder but said, “Yes. I just got that ‘someone walking on my grave’ feeling.”
“You’re way too young for that.” Hillebrand laughed. “So get to work.”
Dash nodded, trying not to look distracted, and hurried down the hall toward the obstacle course. The soft touch came again and Dash grinned, but he still gave anxious looks around. Things were getting too scary for fun hookups with Jazz.
When they got to the locker room, Dash whispered, “Wait here. The obstacle course may be monitored.”
Being as obvious as possible, Dash stepped onto the obstacle course and battled a few constructs, then he walked to the controls and turned off the program. Next, he stood in the middle of the path, waved his arms a bit, closed his eyes and became invisible. After a minute, he reappeared, took an obvious breath, and became invisible again.
Okay, hopefully they can’t detect invisible mages on the surveillance system. But would they believe he was running around the obstacle course invisible?
Get moving.
He rushed to the obstacle course door. Damn, how can I open it without being seen? Suddenly, the door flew open and a maintenance man in jeans and a cap pulled over his eyes sauntered in carrying a bucket.
Dash rushed through. What were the chances?
Okay, another door. Maybe this door isn’t watched. Cameras were generally frowned on in locker rooms.
But the door to the course opened, and the janitor walked back in, nodded, crossed to the outside door, and pushed it open enough to accommodate him and his bucket. Again, Dash jumped out in time to watch the janitor disappear into a door down the hall, but the door stayed ajar. Odd, do magic schools really need janitors?
Then he forced himself not to snort. Janitor Jazz.
Staring down the hall in his invisible form, he saw Jazz emerge from the door and come toward him. Man, he looked stressed.
Dash hurried to him and gathered Jazz into his arms for a warm hug. Oh gods, it felt so good, so right to have him there. Why in hell had he decided to leave Jazz, to choose Arcantaria and wizardry over this man he loved so much?
Jazz pressed into him and brought his lips close to Dash’s ear. He kissed softly and then whispered, “Dash, I’m pretty sure they’ve got BeBop.”
Dash reared back. “What the hell?”
“Shh,” Jazz shushed him and looked around quickly, then turned invisible, which meant he could see Dash again. Dash flashed a grin. With a yank, Jazz pulled Dash to the room the “janitor” had gone into.
It proved to be a storage room holding stacks of textbooks, since they couldn’t use online resources, and one blue bucket. After they got inside, the door remained partway open—they couldn’t close it while invisible—but no one could see them, only hear them if they were too loud.
Dash grasped Jazz’s hands. “Why do you think someone has BeBop?”
“Two things. I left him at the other portal, he wasn’t there when I got back, and he never showed at his appointment with his adviser.”
“Not like him.”
“Right. Then Carla saw these asshole mages treating a bunch of kids badly, and she followed them. They said something about some human showing up in something she thinks was called the Pentaculum and telling somebody that Nardo was going to be broken out of jail. I asked if they believed him, and she said she thought they threw him in jail.”
“Well damn.” Dash rubbed a hand over his neck. “What could have happened? How on earth could a human kid, even one as smart as BeBop, get into a heavily spelled portal that should have automatically spit out any human like so much week-old fish?”
Jazz shook his head. “He’s pretty ingenious.”
“Yeah, but no amount of brains should be able to overcome magic.”
Jazz shrugged; then they both stared at each other with wide eyes. Jazz said, “He got in there, but how can we? Hell, we don’t even know where ‘there’ is.”
Dash leaned back against the wall. “Gods, what will they do to him? Who are they? If they’ve been holding Nardo in jail, why would they throw BeBop in jail for telling them what’s going to happen?” He banged his head back against the wall.
Jazz leaned against the wall opposite. “I don’t know, and most of all I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.” He folded his arms like he was protecting his heart. “This is bad.”
Dash frowned. “I feel like I dragged all of my friends into this magical mess.”
“That’s crap. Nardo wanted me, so if anyone started this train wreck, it’s me.”
They both stared into space in silence, then Dash raised his head. What if…?
Jazz said, “What?”
“Remember those special lessons I’ve been getting from Hillebrand?”
“Yeah, it looked like he was training you in invisibility, but you already know invisibility.”
“Right. It’s not only invisibility he’s been teaching me.” A thread of excitement mixed with fear wiggl
ed up Dash’s spine. “He’s been teaching me teleportation.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JAZZ ACTUALLY gasped, and his golden eyes got wider. “But that’s perfect, right? I mean, just teleport there and then—” He stopped abruptly, and Dash laughed darkly.
“Yeah, you’ve run into one of the many virtually insurmountable obstacles to this plan. What do I do if I actually find BeBop? I mean, first I have to try to teleport to BeBop while only picturing him, not his surroundings. If that works, I won’t know where I am or how to get out.”
“I guess you can’t teleport while carrying a human?” Jazz’s grin was sheepish.
Dash gave him a look.
“What are the other obstacles?”
Dash hunkered down to a squat, and Jazz mimicked him. Dash said, “We don’t know where BeBop is, or who he’s with. They could be in the middle of interrogating him, and I suddenly show up.” He dropped his head forward then looked up again. “Mostly, I don’t know if I can do it.” He glanced at Jazz. “Because I never have.”
“What?”
Dash smiled tightly and rose. “One time I came to you and the society. You were sitting around eating pizza and talking. I didn’t teleport. I guess I astral projected.”
Jazz sprung up. “Oh man, I remember that! I thought you were there, but I….” He shrugged.
“I don’t know if I can actually teleport so that BeBop can see me and hear me.”
“I’ll bet you can.” He stepped to Jazz, took his hands, and kissed one.
Gods, he loved Jazz. “If I can, then all we have to do is get out of wherever the hell we are.”
Jazz puffed his lips, blew out air, and dropped his head against Dash’s chest. “It’s too dangerous.”
“And I’ve got to do it.”
Dash felt Jazz’s head move against his chest in acceptance. A tiny piece of his brain wished Jazz had talked him out of it—but that was stupid because there was only one course of action. They had to get BeBop out. Hell, Dash had gotten him into this mess, and this seemed like the only possible way to get him free.
Dash kissed Jazz’s forehead and then stepped back. “Nighttime might be safest to do this. Of course, I haven’t got any idea what time it really is.”