He cast a sidelong glance at me. "Didn't she? Perhaps that was her plan all along. How was it that you happened upon her?"
My fingers grasped the arms of the chair. The vampire was determined to pin this on me.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Tipperary,” she said firmly. “When I have more information for you, I shall pass it along. For now, you are dismissed.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but seemed to think better of it. He strode out of the room with a scowl on his face. I had a feeling that was close to his usual expression.
“Now, let's have a chat, shall we?" She twirled the tip of her staff in the air, and the door to the office closed.
“I thought that's what we were doing," I said.
“Mr. Tipperary is right about one thing,” she said. “You’re hiding something. I sense it, too.”
Were they all walking lie detectors? No wonder the students were all so well behaved. No one could get away with anything.
“It's nothing to do with the sword or Mr. Motley," I said. "It's personal."
“I take it this personal secret is the reason you were in the library in the first place."
I shrugged the blanket off my shoulders. "I was telling the truth about my insomnia. I really did take a walk because I couldn't sleep."
"I often read when I'm struggling to sleep," the chancellor said. "Tell me, child. Which book did you choose?"
“I didn't make it that far," I said.
“Because you decided to prowl around in a restricted area.”
"I wasn't prowling," I huffed. "I was in a daze."
She regarded me carefully. "It should be apparent to you, Miss Morrow, that I have taken a chance in bringing you here. Mr. Tipperary is right. The circumstances are suspect.”
“You don't believe me?"
“I believe that you are hiding something important," she said. "If you tell me what it is, I may be able to help you."
I buried my face in my hands. If I could trust anyone at the academy, it was Chancellor Tilkin. She’d taken a chance on me. Now it was time for me to take one on her.
“It's about my father,” I said.
"The father you never knew," she said. No surprise that she had a good memory.
"Yes. I wanted to research him in the library because I know very little about him."
The chancellor chuckled softly. "Our records are excellent, but we certainly don't keep books on every magical being that ever existed, not in the academy.”
“You would have information about this one," I said. "His name was Volans Moldark.”
The chancellor recoiled as though I'd struck her. “Impossible. There is no record of a child."
"And I had no record of his death," I said. "I've spent my whole life hiding from him. My mother was convinced that he’d hunt us down and kill us one day. I found out tonight that he died before she did. That we’d hidden all those years for nothing. I was in shock and I wandered downstairs. I couldn’t think straight.”
“No, I imagine not,” the chancellor said softly.
I plucked at a loose thread on the blanket. If I pulled hard enough, maybe the material would unravel, same as my life.
Chancellor Tilkin continued to digest the information. “And your mother was human, you said?"
I nodded. "She was an emergency room doctor. My father had been gravely injured and she treated him. She was surprised by his rapid recovery. She’d been certain he wasn’t going to make it when they’d brought him in.”
“How old are you?" she asked.
“Twenty,” I replied.
She nodded vaguely, as though confirming something in her mind. “And you never met him?"
"No," I said. "My mother never told him she was pregnant with me. He confessed to her one night, told her about all his evil deeds. He told her that she deserved better, and that he had to go back to his world where he belonged. She was so horrified by what he told her that she packed up and left the next day."
She peered at me. "Even though he said he was leaving?"
"Whatever he told her, it was awful. She never shared the details with me, only that he was evil and she worried that he would decide to come for us one day, especially if he ever found out about me."
The chancellor swallowed hard. "Your mother was quite right, child. Your father would likely have sought you out had he known of your existence. She was smart to hide you away. To hide herself away. He had a way of poisoning everything he touched."
"You knew him, then?"
Her expression darkened. "I wish I could say no." She placed her palms flat on the desk. "I can see why you endeavored to keep this a secret. It is no small burden to share his DNA. Now I better understand the extent of your power."
“Am I really that powerful?” I asked. It seemed impossible, given that I was in an academy full of talented magical students.
Chancellor Tilkin’s gaze was steady. “You are. Your magic is in a raw state, however. With proper training and guidance, you could achieve full magus status at a very young age.”
“I’m not interested in being some kind of all-powerful genie,” I said.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a genie then,” she said, with a trace of amusement.
I balked. “Wait. Genies are real, too?”
She inclined her head slightly. “They are, indeed.”
“So, who else has magic in this world?” I asked.
The chancellor’s expression was kind and patient. She reminded me a little of my mother in that regard. My mother had endless patience, a necessity in her line of work.
“Fairies, pixies, genies, witches, wizards, sorceresses like yourself.” She paused. “There are many paranormals with talents that fall into the category of magic.”
“What about shifters and vampires?” I asked.
“No magic, but special skills all their own. Speed, senses, strength, agility. Some have telepathy, like you do with your familiar. You’ll find out soon enough, I imagine.”
I tried to picture all these fantastical beings in my everyday life.
"I don't want anyone to know about my father,” I said. “They’ll hate me just for being his daughter. Even though he's dead, he must’ve had a lot of enemies. What if they want to take out their revenge on me? I also worry about…" I trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud.
The chancellor seemed to grasp my dilemma. "On the bridge, you told me that you tried not to use magic, even though you didn’t know it was illegal. Your father was the reason why, wasn’t he?”
“I thought too much magic might trigger some kind of supernatural alarm,” I said. “If I used any at all, I kept it to a minimum.”
“Your big burst of magic did have consequences, although not the consequences you expected.” She pressed her lips together, waiting. “That wasn’t the only reason, though, was it?”
I raised my chin a fraction. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The chancellor pushed back her chair and went to stand at the window. Moonlight filtered in behind her, casting her in a muted glow.
“Your father was a sorcerer who refused formal training despite being wooed by various agencies and organizations. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. “Is that why he wasn’t a wizard?”
“He would’ve been, had he chosen formal training. I have no doubt he would have become a renowned magus in time.”
“Why did he object to formal training?” I asked. It would have been like my mother trying to practice medicine without going to medical school.
“His hubris, I suspect,” the chancellor replied. “Eventually, he turned to the darker elements of magic and succumbed to their power. It is a difficult calling to resist. Darkness has a way of being seductive. Moldark could have been one of the best in the world had he opted to train, but he chose a different path.”
I drew my knees to my chest. “Like I said, evil.”
“And that is the real reason you’ve resisted the call o
f magic, isn’t it?” The chancellor turned away from the window and fixed me with a penetrating stare. “You worry that if you use his magic—your magic—that you will become like him.”
I said nothing.
“I can see from your expression that I’m correct in my assumption.” She crossed the room and settled in the chair beside me. “Let me make this point for you, Bryn Morrow. When given the choice, you chose to come here to Spellslingers Academy of Magic and train.”
I shrugged. “It was the academy or prison, not much of a choice.”
She squeezed my hand. “You have nothing to fear, child. You are not like him. Just by virtue of being here, you have already chosen a different path. Use your magic, Miss Morrow, and use it well.”
“You believe me…about the sword and the…?”
“I do.” A look of concern swept over her smooth features. “If we are to keep your secret, however, we shall have to find another way of proving your innocence. We have an investigative team, but you will remain under suspicion, I’m afraid. Not the ideal way to begin your academic career.”
“I’m not like him, Chancellor,” I said. “I don’t want anyone to ever think I’m capable of the awful things he’s done.”
She gave a quiet nod. “I understand. You should return to your room now and rest while you can. You have a full schedule on the horizon.”
“Yes, Chancellor,” I said, rising to my feet. I had no intention of resting, however. I knew exactly what I had to do.
I had to solve the mystery and clear my name, or I’d end up in prison either way.
Chapter Seven
The next morning brought me to the prefect’s door. If anyone could offer insight as to where to start with an investigation of my own, it would be Nerdy McTweed.
He seemed surprised to see me. “Yes, Miss Morrow? Were you hoping to schedule the rest of your tour?” He took in my haggard appearance. “Is everything quite all right? I suppose you’ve heard about Calvin Motley.”
I gulped. “Yes, it’s terrible.” Thankfully, Robin hadn’t heard of my alleged involvement yet, or I had no doubt he’d be shutting the door in my face.
“He was an excellent Master at Arms,” Robin said. “You would have learned a great deal from him.” He frowned. “Are you here to ask about Mr. Motley?”
“Um, no.” Not exactly. “I have a few questions and I figured you’re the most knowledgeable student here, so…” Inwardly, I hoped flattery worked on guys who wore tweed. I didn’t exactly have experience in this area.
He cracked the door open and invited me in.
“I’m working on my term paper for independent study, but I’d be happy to take a break,” Robin said. “How can I help?” He fumbled around the room, straightening knickknacks like he’d never had a guest in his dorm room before. Maybe he hadn’t.
“I’m trying to understand the different roles in the AMF.” I paused. “What does that stand for again?”
“Agency of Magical Forces,” Robin said.
I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. And I know there are four quadrants. So, will we all do the same jobs in the different quadrants? For example, if Dani is a Sentry of the South, will she and I perform the same job, only in different places?”
“Not necessarily.” He appeared relieved this was a question he could answer.
“There are different classes of agents, ranging from Class A to Class F,” he explained. His tweed jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and he seemed more relaxed in his own space. “The letters are no reflection on ability. They’re merely a guide as to the category an agent falls under. A Warden of the West, Class A, is responsible for apprehending criminals in the paranormal world in the Western Quadrant. Class B is responsible for retrieving stolen artifacts or dark objects that have fallen into the wrong hands. Class C involves staving off particularly egregious crimes, such as causing the next apocalypse.”
Wow. The system was more intricate than I realized. “Do I get to decide which category I want to be in?”
“Eventually, you’ll choose a track,” he said. “Or the academy will decide which position best suits your skills and encourage you in that direction.”
“The AMF is global, right?”
“Yes. Spellslingers is a feeder school to the AMF, but there are others like the Sentinel near Savannah for vampires and The Fae School in Ireland. There are also academies of magic throughout Europe.”
“What about criminal investigations?” I queried. “Would that be part of Class A’s job description?”
“Depends on the crime,” he said. He moved to his bookshelf. “This might help you. A Guide to the AMF.” He handed it to me and smiled. “Not all good resources are located in the library, it seems.”
He offered a toothy smile, and something clicked in my brain.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Robin asked. He retrieved a white cloth from his shirt pocket and began to dust the top edges of his picture frames.
“I feel like I recognize you from somewhere,” I said. As hard as I tried to make the mental connection, it refused to come.
“I don’t see how,” Robin said. “You’ve only just arrived here.”
“It’s been bugging me, though.” I continued to stare at him, hoping to spark my memory.
Robin turned his back to me and focused on his cleaning. “I have one of those garden variety faces. White male. Bland features. Hard to identify in a line-up. You know the type.”
“That’s not it.” I began to explore the contents of his room. A framed photograph rested on his bedside table of a young Robin in a seersucker suit flanked by a man and a woman. “Are these your parents?”
Robin swooped in and removed the photograph from my view. “Yes. Right before they divorced. I keep it as a reminder of happier times.”
“You don’t want me to look at it?” I couldn’t imagine why. He looked ridiculously adorable in that outfit…
A light bulb switched on.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath.
Robin clutched the framed photograph, eyeing me intently. “What?”
“You’re him!”
He slid the frame into a desk drawer and closed it quickly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do,” I insisted. “You’re Magic Robbie. I remember you now.” And here I’d been resisting the urge to call him ‘Boy Wonder,’ thanks to Batman.
The bright red of his cheeks gave him away. “I’ve never heard of Magic Robbie.”
“Liar.” I laughed. “My mom and I used to watch you on that show.” I clapped my hands. “Talented Kids of America.”
Robin rushed behind me and slammed the door closed. He leaned against it and shot me a pleading look. “You cannot tell anyone. I beg you.”
“I didn’t know you lived in the human world,” I said.
“We didn’t,” he replied. “Not really.” His whole body sagged. “My parents were going through a divorce and my mother needed money. She’d always wanted to be a performer, but she gave up her dreams when she got married.”
“And then tried to live them vicariously through you?”
He nodded. “She was the ultimate stage mother.”
I burst into more laughter, remembering a smaller version of Robin performing magic tricks on television.
“You were the cutest kid,” I said. “We always wondered what happened to you.”
“My father happened,” he said. “He wasn’t thrilled with the attention in the human world. He worried about our secret getting out, so he threatened to take my mother to court for full custody if she didn’t stop taking me to the human world.”
I plopped on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry, Robin. That had to be rough.”
“I felt like I was crushing my mother’s dreams,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “She’d been unhappy with the divorce, and then suddenly she was happy again with me on television. When it all came to an abrupt end, I fe
lt like it was my fault.”
“You know it wasn’t, though, right? You were only a little boy. You weren’t in charge.”
“I know that on an intellectual level,” he said, trailing off. “Marian Chambers is a wonderful witch, albeit with a huge personality, probably too much for my father to handle.”
If he was anything like Robin, that was understandable. “Wait. Your mother’s name is Marian and she named you Robin?”
Robin heaved a sigh. “She was a huge Robin Hood fan. After the divorce, she referred to my father as the Sheriff of Nottingham.” He gave me a pointed look. “It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I guess it’s good she didn’t call you Little John. That might’ve made dating difficult.”
He chuckled, despite his distressed expression.
“I can’t believe Magic Robbie was an actual wizard. I never would’ve imagined.” If I’d known the truth, maybe I would’ve felt less alone in the world. It wasn’t easy running from your evil father and hiding your true nature from everyone you ever met.
Robin stepped away from the door. “Please don’t tell anyone. If word ever got out, it could compromise my entire future.”
“Why?” I queried. “You were so cute.” I pictured young Magic Robbie on stage, producing not one, but ten rabbits out of a hat. The crowd adored him.
“It’s not about that,” he said. “Technically, we were in violation of several paranormal regulations. It could jeopardize my chances of moving up in rank once I graduate, not to mention the relentless teasing that would be sure to follow.”
“You’re right,” I said. “That would be a huge hurdle.” I smelled an opportunity. “I’ll tell you what—you help me and I promise to keep your secret.”
Robin’s throat tightened. “Help you how?”
I told him about my role in the discovery of Calvin Motley’s body and the missing sword.
He gaped at me. “Miss Morrow, this must be so distressing for you. A new home and now this.”
“I need to clear my name before Craig Tipperary drags it through the mud. That means finding out who killed Calvin Motley and stole the sword,” I said. “I don’t know anything about this world. I have no clue where to begin.”
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