by S. W. Clarke
“Yeah?” I croaked through a veil of hair.
Paper crinkled in her hand. “Aidan left this note for you. He writes, on account of your guardian celebration, you can meet at seven-thirty this morning.”
I took the note, but my vision was too blurry to read it. “What time is it?”
“Seven-twenty.”
“You’re a liar—it’s the middle of the night,” I groaned half into my pillow.
At my head, Loki grumbled and stretched.
“It’s seven-twenty in the morning.” Eva grabbed her satchel from her chair. “And I suggest you at least brush your teeth before you go.”
“Is it that bad?” I called after her as she went out the door, a blinding rectangle of daylight searing into my vision. All at once, a banging headache formed.
“Yes,” she said, and then the door shut.
Evanora Whitewillow was maybe the only person in the world who could be that blamelessly blunt with me. And the worst part—I breathed into my hand, sniffed—was that she was always right about these things.
My breath was rank.
Twenty minutes later, I came into the library with a minty mouth, wild hair, and lidded eyes.
“Clementine Cole,” Professor Milonakis said from the circulation desk, lowering her spectacles to wind up for some passive aggression, most likely. “Congratulations.”
I stopped in front of her desk, my head throbbing with the suddenness of it. “What have I done wrong?”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “I’m not aware of what you’ve done wrong, though I imagine there is something. I was congratulating you on your induction.”
As a guardian. I was a guardian now.
She was being sincere.
“Well, I, uh… Thanks.”
Her spectacles dropped another degree. “No books from the Room of the Ancients may leave the library.”
There was the Milonakis I knew.
“Right.” I passed on through. “I remember.”
She was reciting another rule when I came into the library proper. Inside, only a few students occupied tables on the first and second stories. We’d always met at this time of morning; it was easier to talk about illicit things, which it seemed like was all we ever talked about nowadays.
Aidan had taken our usual table on the second story, a trail of steam coming from the teapot on the table. When I took the seat across from him, he pressed a plate of biscotti toward me. “You played Human Human Werewolf, didn’t you?” he said without preamble.
I bit into a biscotti. “You’ve heard of it?”
“I’m a mage. Of course I’ve heard of it.”
“How’d you know we played?”
He half-smiled. “I’ve heard it’s a guardian tradition.”
“Not like I can remember much of it.” I poured myself a careful cup of tea, gripping that mofo like it was his mom’s finest china. “Though I do have a vague recollection of someone’s shirt getting blown off.”
His arms folded. “Male or female?”
“Don’t be a dude.” I set the teapot down. “Let’s talk prophecies.”
“There’s another order of business. Drink your tea; I don’t want that hangover I know you’ve got at present interfering with this.”
I did so. When I’d finished the cup, Aidan tapped the screen of his phone. “Remember when I recorded the GPS coordinates after we passed through the leyline into that tundra?”
“Of course.”
“I looked them up.” He leaned closer. “We were in Siberia, Clementine. Near the Arctic Circle.”
Chapter Nine
I sat back, which set my head into fresh pounding. “No kidding. Now I can take Russia off my bucket list.”
Aidan raised one eyebrow. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
I plucked another biscotti from the tray. “I know you’ve got some theory as to why the leyline brought us there.” I dipped it into my tea, waited.
At first, he didn’t speak. And then, with a sigh, “Yes, I have a theory.”
I took a bite. Kept watching him.
He patted one of several books on the table. “I was reading about leylines. Seems if you’re a powerful enough mage, you can manipulate them. Infuse them with your magic.”
“So that noise we heard before we passed through. You think someone was manipulating the leyline.”
“I think so.”
“To bring us to Siberia.”
He nodded.
I set my cup down. Snapped my fingers, conjuring a plate of steaming fae rolls. “And now the question is who.”
Aidan pulled one fae roll apart from the others, took a bite. “These are good. Better than last year by a long sight.”
“God knows I practiced,” I murmured, picking at a piece of roll. “Any theories as to who it was?”
“None as yet.”
I bit into a raisin, considering. “What if we come at it from a different angle—why this mage wanted us to end up in Siberia. What’s in Siberia?”
“Practically nothing,” Aidan said. “It’s one of the least inhabited places on the planet, besides maybe Namibia and the poles.”
“That could be relevant.”
“The lack of habitation?”
“Sure. We humans are so human-centric. What if it had nothing at all to do with who was there?”
A slender hand reached between us, yanked off a roll from the plate. “Every fae mother would be so proud.” Circe Petalfleck leaned against the table as she bit into the roll. “Delicious.”
Aidan sat back, our brainstorming session interrupted.
When we broke eye contact, Circe was beaming down at me, blue eyes shining. “Hello, Clementine. Care to come with me?”
I gestured to Aidan. “This is my friend. Aidan North.”
Circe whipped around, extended a hand. “Circe Petalfleck. Fifth-year guardian.”
“I know who you are,” Aidan said. “You’ve come to get her for training, haven’t you?”
Circe gave a deep nod. She was the most theatrical fae I’d met. “Unless what you’ve got going here takes precedence.” She circled a finger over our spread of tea and goodies.
“Actually—” I began.
“It doesn’t,” Aidan cut in. “Guardianship always takes precedence. But think about what we talked about, Clem. All right? And meet back here tomorrow at seven.”
Circe had already picked up my satchel. “I’ll carry this for you.”
I stood, eyes still on Aidan. “Tomorrow.” Then I grabbed one of the books on leylines. The cover read, Fae Customs and Culture, which sounded like something I ought to read now that I was taking a class with Frostwish. “Can I borrow this?”
He gestured for me to have it.
Circe’s strong hand took mine, and she led me toward the staircase. “Toodaloo, Aidan North.”
It was rare I allowed myself to be led like a child. Only in moments of extreme discombobulation. Like right now.
When we arrived at the staircase, I slid my hand out from hers. “I won’t call that rude, but I won’t call that polite, either.”
Circe glanced back at me as she floated the rest of the way down. “What, taking a roll? I’ll conjure up ten more if you like. Hotter and spicier.”
She’d known what I meant. “Brushing off Aidan.”
“He’s a mage—he knows about these guardian things.”
I followed her down to the first floor and through the maze of tables. “We could schedule a training, you know.”
“All right.” Circe handed me my satchel. “How about seven-thirty on Tuesday mornings?”
“Aidan and I meet in the library at seven. Like we were just doing.”
We came through the circulation room, and Circe clicked her tongue and made finger guns at Milonakis.
And in the biggest shock of my life, Milonakis just smiled back at her. “Good morning, Ms. Petalfleck.”
As we came out of the library, I gestured over my shoulder. “Did Mi
lonakis get body-snatched?”
“Nah. She just adores guardians. There’s a reason she teaches rescue. Dreamt of being a guardian herself back in the day, but never passed the trials.”
My eyes widened. “That explains her obsession with tests.”
Milonakis had once wanted to be a guardian. That must have been around the time the Shade’s army began to emerge, started snatching people from their homes at night. No wonder she’d become mingy and shrink-wrapped—she’d never achieved her goal.
I both pitied and respected her more.
Circe laughed. “Good observation, witch.”
Meanwhile, Circe was guiding us toward a part of the grounds I’d rarely thought to head toward. This was mostly faculty housing, but there was one particularly fat tree I’d always wondered about, and that was the one we were headed toward.
Beside me, her blue hair shone with almost glaring brilliance under the sunlight. She walked with a smile I couldn’t quite explain; maybe that was always present.
“What’s this training for, anyway?” I asked.
“We’re getting you on the right page with protocol. What to do when the horn sounds or when Umbra talks in our heads.” She twirled a finger through the air. “You know, to make a tight unit. You’ll be part of the mounted unit, of course.”
“Mounted unit?”
“Sure. I saw you riding that big stallion in the first trial—I don’t imagine after all that time practicing on him you want to go and learn to ride a broom.”
“Noir,” I said. “His name’s Noir.”
“He’s a hellbeast is what he is. And he’s perfect.”
We came to the enormous tree in the midst of the faculty housing, and Circe led me around to the far side. “You see a door here?”
It looked like an unbroken trunk. I shook my head.
She tilted her head. “So you don’t believe you’re a proper guardian, then.”
Oh, it was one of those things.
“I believe it,” I said with more insistence than necessary.
“Sure. Except you still don’t see it.” She shrugged. “So we’re going to have to wait out here until you can convince your brain otherwise.” She folded her arms, staring at me.
I set a hand to the trunk, ran my fingers over it. No door. But she was telling me one existed, and I believed her.
I did believe I was a guardian. Didn’t I?
Except guardians and good witches don’t cheat to pass the third trial, that small voice whispered.
“Listen, Clementine—” she began.
She was cut off by the sound of the horn, low in the distance, rising in pitch as our eyes met. A moment later, it reached an unmistakable crescendo, bellowing through the grounds.
Umbra was calling on the guardians. All of us.
Circe’s smile dropped. “It’s too soon.”
“I’ll get Loki—”
She set both hands on my shoulders. “No time. Get your horse, meet me by the leyline outside the grounds. The others won’t wait for you, but I will. Stay with me during this mission, all right?”
A tremor ran up the length of my body, her sapphire eyes like gems gleaming back at me. Full of anticipation. Uncertainty.
This was what I had signed up for. This was my job.
My fingers curled to fists. I nodded.
She whirled around, took off into the air. A moment later she had disappeared into the canopy, and I was alone.
I took off at a run toward the stables. The quartermistress would have fed Noir his first meal an hour ago, which couldn’t be better timing. He wouldn’t be full or sluggish, and he wouldn’t be peckish yet.
I didn’t have to saddle him. I didn’t have to bridle him.
I only had to get him and go.
When I came to the half-door of the stables, I nearly ran into a first-year hauling a saddle. “Sorry!” she exclaimed as she wheeled around to catch the swinging stirrups.
I half-turned, waved a hand, completing my turn as I reached Noir’s door. He was idling in the corner of his stall, his head at half-height.
Quartermistress Farrow’s voice rang down the aisleway. “Clear it out! Guardians massing.”
I glanced in her direction. So far, I was the only one who had arrived—and just when another class was starting.
That was a good thing for Fi and Akelan. They needed saddled horses.
“Go on, then,” Farrow said to me as she strode past, entering one of the other stalls. “Time’s of the essence, Clementine.”
I flashed her a smile.When I undid the latch, Noir’s head jerked up. “Hey, buddy,” I murmured, followed by a click of the tongue. I only clicked at him when it was go-time. “I’ve got a surprise for you this morning. We’re going out into the world.”
He nickered as I approached him, running one hand down the length of his muscled, silky neck. With my hand at his shoulder, I urged him through the door and into the aisle.
He trotted onto the cement with a flick of the tail, turned toward the open back of the stables toward the paddock.
By now, Fi, Mishka, and Akelan had come in through the half-door. None of them even acknowledged me, if they’d noticed me at all. Their eyes were glazed, all business.
“Got the stirrups at your length, Waters,” I heard Farrow say from one of the stalls. “Siren’s ready for you.”
I came into the aisle, and with a click, Noir followed me out into the back paddock. Out there on the hardpack, I took hold of his mane halfway up his neck and at his withers. With two steps and a jump, I threw my leg up, hooked it over his back.
By the time I was mounted and turning Noir back toward the stables, I could already hear the sounds of Fi, Mishka, and Akelan’s horses leaving their stalls, their hooves clicking over the cement aisle.
They were impossibly fast. How were they so fast?
Out they came—Fi on Siren, Mishka on Minibar, and Akelan on the gelding quarterhorse—one horse’s nose nearly on the other’s rump. That was how close they rode as they tore past me and out through the gate, which Farrow had jogged to open.
I spun Noir toward the gate, and Farrow threw a hand out. “Well, what are you waiting for? A mailed invitation?”
I grabbed up Noir’s mane at the withers, pressed my thighs into his ribcage. He fell into a trot, and then a canter through the gate.
That was when I heard Umbra’s voice in my head.
Chiang Mai. One girl, seventeen. They’re headed north to the river.
And in a blossoming explosion at the center of my vision, I saw the place. Three-forty five in the morning, the neighborhood street quiet and dim, the moon a great lantern in the sky.
I blinked, and the vision was gone.
So that was how the guardians knew where to go. When Umbra felt the magical disturbance, she could tap into it with her vision. Maeve Umbra was a far more powerful wizard than I’d ever known.
Noir and I passed the stables, cutting past the clearing and the amphitheater. I caught a glimpse of the central grounds, where all activity had stopped. Fae hovered in the air, students stood with bags held tight.
I had stood that way more than once. I had watched the guardians ride.
The horn had that effect. On it went, long and low and insistent.
By the time we hit the path, I couldn’t see Fi and Akelan through the trees. They’d pulled away, disappeared.
But Circe had said she would wait. That remained to be seen.
I pressed Noir into a gallop, and we left the academy grounds, thundered toward the leyline in the woods. What would be a twenty-minute walk became a two-minute ride.
The trees kept appearing in front of me, but no Circe to be seen.
When I arrived at the leyline, we came to a hard stop. I spun in a circle on Noir, found myself alone.
“You were too slow,” a voice said from above. Circe flew to the ground, eyes flicking over the two of us. “Everyone’s already through. I nearly left you here.”
It wasn’t
worth the breath it would take to make excuses. I only nodded.
Circe flew up to the height of Noir’s head, began cutting the veil straight to the earth. “When I open this, you go straight through. I’ll be just behind you. You heard Umbra’s directions, right?”
“One girl being taken north to the river.”
“Right. When you’re through, you’ll be on the street Umbra showed us. Head to the river—it’s possible we can catch up.” She stepped aside, pulling the veil open. “Good luck, Clementine.”
Chapter Ten
Before us lay a large triangle of darkness, warm air wafting over my face.
I pressed Noir through the veil, and though I expected some resistance from him, he didn’t hesitate. He walked us straight into the night, into the humid warmth of northern Thailand.
Around me lay the same street I had seen in my mind, the moon the only light above, cars and tuktuks parked alongside.
North. We had to head north.
I stared up into the sky, seeking out the brightest star. I used to imagine, not long after I’d lost my family and I still believed in magic, that my mother and sister had merged with the North Star. Like my mom, it was a constant in the sky, a source of guidance.
Those things were still true.
I spotted it east of me, overtop a row of two-story homes. I spun Noir toward it, pressing my heels into his sides.
It was only when I used my heels he knew I meant business.
With a snort, he started into a canter, then a gallop. We headed down a cross-street directly toward the North Star, toward where I assumed the river lay. Noir’s hooves clattered across the asphalt, the noise breaking the silent peace of the night.
Of course, that peace was an illusion. This was the witching hour.
Chilly recognition clawed up my spine. I hadn’t been outside the safety of the academy during the witching hour in years.
We’d gone one block when a voice sounded above and to my left. “How’d you know this way was north?” Circe asked, flying alongside me.
“The North Star,” I called back, low over Noir’s neck.
“Well done, newbie.” She pulled ahead a few paces. “I can hear Fi and Akelan’s horses. They’ve got about a quarter mile on us, and they’re moving fast in pursuit.”