by Elena Lawson
“Can you show us?” Louie asked, turning back to his sister. “B, make her do it!”
I rolled my eyes playfully and finished the rest of my bourbon in one long, burning swallow. “Your sister is a liar. I can do no such thing.”
Bianca stuck her tongue out at me and shoved her little brothers back toward the edge of the tub. “Now get out! Both of you. And dry your feet before you go walking through my room. Damn heathens.”
22
Harper
We snacked on a platter of fruit, cheeses, and salty meats after we’d finished in the hot tub. We chatted. Changed into pajamas and bathrobes. It took a while, but I started to notice the things in her room that made it more than just a magazine cut-out.
An alternative rock band poster on the back of her closet door.
Chocolate bars in her nightstand.
And some weird creature that looked to be out of some obscure anime as a stuffed animal hidden within the mountain of pillows on her bed.
Which was where she was now, fast asleep. After we’d stuffed ourselves, the bourbon started to drag down her eyelids and I was glad I’d only had the one glass. She was out in the matter of a few minutes, leaving me sitting there, antsy and chewing on the inside of my cheek.
The house had been quiet for a long while. And earlier, Bianca had told me the staff left every evening a few hours after supper. That only Pierre, the bodyguard, remained. And he generally patrolled the grounds so he could sneak cigarettes whenever he liked.
No one would dare launch an attack on a council member, she’d said, and I’d agreed. But wasn’t that exactly what I was planning to do?
Just a quick look. Nobody is around to see me go in or come out. Just a peek, and then I’ll go to sleep. Easy as pie.
Or was it cake?
I shook my head and slipped off the poofy moccasin-like slippers Bianca had given me to wear. They were hard-bottomed and would make too much noise against the hardwood in the hallway. Barefoot would be better.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears and the bourbon soured in my stomach. But I pressed on, looking back at Bianca’s sleeping form. Her half-open eyes and gaping mouth. She wouldn’t wake up.
I slipped out of the room, careful to turn the doorknob so the catch wouldn’t click closed. I eased it in, letting the knob turn slowly in my palm.
Step one, complete, I thought to myself. I’ve exited the room.
Just a few more steps and then you’re done. See? This is so easy.
Step two, creep down the hallway like a panther.
No, not like an elephant. Jesus.
Okay. Step three, figure out which freaking room is Sterling’s office.
There were two doors at the other end of the hallway. One at the very end and one on the left. I tried the one at the very end first, the breath sticking in my throat when the floor creaked beneath my feet.
A door closed somewhere downstairs and I gasped, throwing myself into the room. My hands shook trying to shut the door without a sound. I held my breath, listening for a minute before deciding it must’ve just been Pierre coming in for a drink or something.
He had no reason to suspect I’d be doing anything but sleeping, right?
Unless Sterling told him I was a felon and to keep an eye on me. The thought didn’t help.
The inside of the room was dark and smelled faintly of sweet cigar smoke and musk. I drew the sigil for light in the air over the door, the shape a waving line with a circle at the bottom. “Lucidus,” I whispered, and the sigil glowed brighter, amplified by the incantation.
Step three, complete. I found the office.
Even more ornate than his office at the academy, Sterling’s home office was twice the size. Tall filing cabinets lined the wall to the right, and bookcases lined the wall opposite it. There was a small sitting area, and behind that was a long desk that looked to be at least a hundred years old, if not more. A cold hearth sat empty and gray on the same wall as the cabinets, closer to the door.
I swallowed. Squeezed my hands into fists.
I’d better start looking.
My light sigil followed me as I made my way over to the filing cabinets. I found them all to be locked. Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. I tried to remember the sigil to open locked things. Was it a V-like shape with a cross through it?
No, that wasn’t right.
My stomach knotted. I tried to quiet my mind, remembering back to Ms. Granger’s lessons the week before. We’d gone over this sigil. I could almost picture her drawing it on the board.
Wait, yes, I’d messed it up. It was a diamond with a curving shape inside of it and a line down the middle. That had to be it. And the incantation was...
Think!
My eyes flew open. I scrawled the symbol into the air and it glowed faint green. I channeled more power into it, knowing the spell would need to be strong to break whatever locking magic held the drawers shut.
Pressing my palm against the sigil, I spoke the incantation. “Resigno,” and was rewarded with the falling domino sound of locks clicking open across all the cabinets.
I smiled. He obviously didn’t see the need in using that strong of a spell in his own home. His mistake.
I pulled open the first drawer, my heart sinking at what looked like hundreds of files inside. And that was just one drawer. I called the light sigil to come closer and saw that at the very least, the folders seemed to be categorized in alphabetical order.
Looking under ‘A’ for Alistair, I found nothing. It took me two tries to find the drawer that held the files for ‘H’, but there was nothing there either. Not under ‘Harper’ or ‘Hawkins’.
Frantic, I started looking through all the files, not wanting to come up empty-handed. There had to be something here. I didn’t go through all this, leave Elias alone to deal with Cal and Adrian and lie to my friend, just to find absolutely nothing.
There were files for Arcane Law, and a whole bunch of trials and the official sentencing for each one. There were files on each of the council members. On finances. And even on investigations.
And Manifesto.
That file was thick, the edges worn. I pulled it out and set it atop the others, flipping it open. Inside, at the very top of the pile, was a photo of a man with dark hair and green eyes. He was tall and wore a long pea-coat. I didn’t think he knew the photo was being taken by the way he looked over his shoulder.
A gold ring circled his index finger. The design of a bird with a golden eye.
All the breath whooshed from my body and my hands shook as I lifted the photo up, tilting it into the light. It was him, I was sure of it. My father, Alistair Hawkins. And if I wasn’t sure, when I lifted the photo, beneath it I caught a scribble of red ink that told me so.
I stuffed it into the pocket of my borrowed pajamas. I could agonize over it later, I thought, swallowing down the urge to cry. I had to hurry. I was fairly sure Bianca wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, but I couldn’t be sure.
And Headmaster Sterling hadn’t returned for dinner, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t return at all. Though it was doubtful at this late hour.
I flipped through the documents, finding information on possible hideouts. Possible plans. More pictures of other witches who formed the radical group. But there was nothing to indicate foul play. Unless you counted the word ‘eliminated’ scrawled over a sheet that held my father’s description.
And then I noticed something I hadn’t before; on the same page, in a block of text describing my father’s role in the group, was a blacked-out block of words. The beginning of the sentence read: It’s possible Hawkins attained sensitive information pertaining to—but the rest was completely blacked out.
What had he found out?
I flipped through more pages. More files. But I found nothing. If the clock atop his mantle was to be trusted, I’d already been in his office for an hour. I couldn’t risk staying much longer.
The desk! I hadn’t checked the desk. I snapped my
fingers for my sigil to move faster as I ran over to the large mahogany monstrosity. There were several drawers on each side and I rushed to check each one, checking for trap doors or secret compartments and feeling a bit silly when I didn’t find any.
All that was inside was quills and ink and a half a bottle of brandy and some cigars. Atop the desk were stacks of documents and...
The words appeared on the sheet of parchment before my eyes. My skin tingled and the hair stood up straight on my arms. My breaths came fast and ragged as I watched the message come through from whoever sent it from the parchment’s twin.
Someone else is asking questions now. A man at Sigilante last week, and he was spotted shortly after wandering the halls of the Council building.
The writing paused, and I wracked my brain to remember that Sigilante was a tavern. A witch’s tavern warded against mortals.
Yet another professor from your Academy, I am led to believe.
I gasped. Elias! How did they find out he was asking about my dad? Fuck! Why had I asked him to go digging? Idiot! But why did he go to the Council building? What was there that he would risk being spotted after we’d overheard the conversation about Professor Granger?
Find out who he is. This is your mess, Atticus. Clean it up. We can’t afford any loose ends. He knows something. Either dispose of him, or I’ll have no choice but to resort to my own methods of dealing with this situation.
Dispose of him? I bit my clenched fist to keep from whimpering. From screaming. My chest ached and my stomach heaved. I swallowed back the bile that tried to creep up my throat.
I had to get back to the academy. Now. I had to warn Elias. He had to run. To get as far away from the Council’s reach as he could. Would I ever see him again? The thought made me clutch my chest. My magic rioted in my core.
This is all a bad dream. They couldn’t kill Elias, could they? They’d never get away with it. What was so important that they’d kill someone just for asking questions about it?
Glancing back down at the desk, I noticed a half-drunk glass of amber liquid. And a cigar in an ashtray, only partially smoked.
The floor outside the door to the room creaked. I froze.
The handle turned and I shuddered. A hundred neurons fired in my brain all at once and I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do. Run? Hide? My magic crashed against the shores of my skin, waiting for me to unleash it.
A heartbeat before the door opened, I broke free from the shell of terror rooting me to the spot. I swiped through my light sigil and plunged the room back into darkness. Then, as the door began to yawn open, I snatched the parchment from the top of the desk and threw a ward over myself, thick as a down duvet. Strong as iron.
I willed the ward to stay with me. To move as I did. I’d never had to form a moving ward before and sweat broke out over my brow with the concentration I needed to keep it in place.
The lights flicked on, blinding me, and I clamped my mouth tightly shut and slapped my free hand over it to stop the sounds of my shaking breaths.
Sterling stared straight at me, and I clenched the parchment in my fist tighter, the paper making a crumpling sound that was the loudest thing I thought I’d ever heard.
And then he looked away, sighing. He removed his outer coat to hang it on a rack beside the door.
It’d worked! My ward held. He couldn’t see me. I focused harder, maintaining the steady flow of energy I allowed to leak out from my pores to keep it nice and strong. I had to get out of there. If he paid any closer attention, he would sense my presence, and if I made any sudden movements, he might catch sight of my ward.
I removed my hand from my mouth and licked my lips. The parchment in my grasp felt like a red-hot poker burning into my skin. What would he do when he noticed it was gone?
I mirrored his movements, trying to make my way to the door. For each step he took toward his desk, I took one more toward the door, holding to my ward for dear life. My heart beat wildly, painfully, at the bones of my ribcage like a wrecking ball against brick.
He stepped. I stepped. He moved to the right. I moved to the left.
My ward started to waver and I panicked, stumbling over the coffee table in the sitting area as I tried to move backward through the room. I went down hard against the oriental rug, dragging what remained of the ward down with me.
I flipped over quick as a cat, spinning to face him on all fours. He cocked his head at the space right above where I crouched low between the oversized armchairs. Then he raised his thick dark brows and fell into the chair at his desk.
He was going to notice. He would see the parchment was missing and I would be done for. I scrambled to the door, cursing under my breath.
Now, what, Harper? He’d closed the door behind him, and I couldn’t very well open it. He’d definitely notice that. And my ward would break down any second. I couldn’t hold it much longer. It didn’t matter how strong my magic was if I didn’t have the skill to hold it in place.
Sterling lit his cigar and a cloud of white-gray smoke puffed around his face. My whole body was covered in icy cold sweat and the nausea was starting to come back. I was going to have to open the door. It was the only option.
“Pierre!” Sterling shouted suddenly, and I clamped my hands back over my mouth, inching back away from the door.
Eight agonizing seconds later, the door opened and Pierre stepped into the room.
“Go check on the girls,” he said, and I didn’t dare move. If I did, he’d see the shimmer of my ward, I was certain of it.
I watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to look away. For them both to look away, only for a second. I just needed one damn second. Please.
Please.
“They’re asleep. Have been for a while,” Pierre responded.
Sterling looked at him as though he was the daftest person he’d ever beheld. “Go check on them,” he ordered in an annoyed tone, waving his cigar through the air as though it were a marshaling wand and he was directing a plane. “My niece’s room is that way. Go!” he shouted when Pierre didn’t make a move.
And then Sterling looked back down at his desk, and Pierre turned away.
I bolted out the door, nearly tripping in my haste to make it down the hall, praying neither of the men could hear my thunderous footfalls through the walls of my weakened ward. I slid into Bianca’s room and sealed the door behind me, running for the bed.
I released the ward, tucked the parchment beneath my pillow, and crawled under the covers. Sealed my eyes shut.
The door clicked back open and Pierre stepped inside. The door closed again a minute later, once he was satisfied at having seen us both fast asleep. I waited with bated breath until I heard his footfalls descend the stairs, and the soles of his shiny shoes hit the marble tile.
I whirled on Bianca, shaking her shoulders. Her mouth closed and she squeezed her eyes closed, moaning.
“What?” she whined, trying to turn away from me. “Go back to sleep, dude. I was having such a good dream.”
“Wake up,” I said, and something in my tone must’ve gotten her attention because she slowly rolled back toward me and peeled her eyes open. The only light in the room was from a softly glowing orb hovering above her bedside table. She reached out and touched it, making it glow brighter with the addition of her magic.
When she saw my face, all traces of sleepy, whiny Bianca vanished. She sat up, looking around the room as though there might be monsters crawling on the floor or up her walls. “What is it? Has something happened?”
I didn’t know what to say. Sorry, but your uncle is the Magistrate’s murderous henchman, and he’s after a teacher I may or may not be in love with? Dammit all to hell! She would think I was insane.
“I need you to portal me back to the academy,” I said in a rush, never breaking eye contact with her. “Now.”
She kicked the covers from her legs and stood, pulling her housecoat back on. Her wavy blonde hair stuck up at all angles and her mascara was s
mudged. “What happened? You’re freaking me the fuck out, Harper.”
I had to give her something. “There’s someone in danger at the academy,” I blurted. “I—I can’t say anything else yet. Just please, please portal me back.”
I’d have done it myself if I was confident I remembered the sigil, but even if I did remember it, I didn’t know the portal spots in the house. I knew there was one somewhere around the front door, but we’d never make it down there without being heard or caught.
“You have to tell me what’s going on!” she nearly shouted.
“Shhhhhh!” I threw my hands out, ready to leap on her to keep her quiet if I had to.
“If someone is in danger at the academy, I have to tell my uncle. He can help us.”
“No, he can’t!” I said, my throat feeling as though it was about to close up. The anxiety mounting to something I soon wouldn’t be able to control. “He is the danger.”
Her mouth fell open and she staggered a step back as though I’d struck her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I reached under my pillow and yanked the parchment out, stomping the few steps until I was right in front of her. I thrust it into her stomach, and she fumbled to grab it. “What is th—”
“Read it,” I said, and fifty pounds of fury fell from my body, replaced with something much more ugly. Bianca wouldn’t be able to unsee what she read. I’d explain it all to her. What they were talking about, and what it meant, but first she needed to do as I asked and get me out of here.
Her lips pursed and she glanced from the parchment back up to me. She shoved it back into my hands. “There’s nothing on here.”
I blinked at the page. She was right. The words had vanished. No! Sterling must’ve realized it’d been taken, which meant he’d have the real message by now and could already be on his way to the academy.
My eyes brimmed with tears. “If you won’t help me, then at least show me the sigil. I have to get back.” My voice broke near the end and I saw her resolve waver. “Please, Bianca.”
She shook her head, exasperated, angry, and probably confused. I felt awful for putting her in this position. But I didn’t have a choice. I hoped one day she’d see that, even if I didn’t get the chance to explain it all. I had to believe she wasn’t in danger. He wouldn’t go so far as to hurt his own niece, would he? Maybe it was better if she didn’t know.