Max awoke suddenly as something bumped him. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was sandwiched between two shiny, rippling mounds. He yelped and jumped high into the air before racing away from two twenty-foot seals that had slid up on either side of him. He heard a giggle and whirled to see a girl snapping photos. She lowered the camera, revealing the prettiest face he had ever seen, with long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and faint freckles dotting each sunburned cheek.
Max was horrified.
“Gotcha!” she crowed. “Was wondering when you’d wake up! That’ll make the newspaper for sure. Yearbook, too, probably.”
“Awful, Julie. Shame on you,” chastised one of the seals, rolling over on its side. “We three very peaceful, just now.”
“Oh, I couldn’t resist,” the girl said with a shrug. Max blinked at her dumbly. “How often do you get a First Year surrounded by two selkies during his midmorning nap?”
“Apologize, you should,” sniffed the other seal with an agitated ripple.
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry…eh, what’s your name?” She paused, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
“Max. Max McDaniels. It’s okay. It just startled me.” He turned and raised a hand to the two seals, which were now blinking at him. “Sorry.”
“Understandable,” rumbled the selkie. “You were sleeping. We give you shock. I’m Helga and this is my sister, Frigga. Scandinavian selkies. You look so comfortable, we thought we join you and sun our blubber.” She smacked her flippers on her belly with a loud slap.
“Well, I’m Julie Teller,” offered the girl, putting away her camera. “I’m a Stage One Mystic and head photographer for the paper—a Third Year,” she added, seeing the look of confusion on Max’s face. He had no idea what to say. All he knew was that he wanted her to keep talking.
“Is it okay with you if I use this in the paper?” she asked.
“Uh, sure. I guess so,” said Max, reaching for his shirt and suddenly feeling very young and scrawny.
“Thanks,” she said brightly. “Where are you from?”
“Chicago.”
“Ooh! Cool city. My family and I visited there once a couple years ago. I’m from Melbourne.”
Max gaped at her.
“That’s in Australia,” she added.
Max nodded, feeling stupid. They looked at each other for several moments.
“Well,” Julie chirped. “Got my shot for the morning. Good to meet you, Max. I’ll see you later.”
Before he could speak, Julie was gone, walking quickly toward the hedge tunnel and pausing to greet Hannah the goose, who was waddling with her goslings toward Max. Max’s attention was interrupted by a solid thump on the ground nearby.
“I go get a bite. Nice to meet you, Max,” rumbled Frigga, turning to shimmy down to the water.
“Frigga!” Helga exclaimed, rippling after her sister. “We fed one hour ago. This must stop; you getting huge!”
The two erupted in a series of angry seal barks before disappearing smoothly below the surface. Max felt a peck on his calf and turned to see Hannah and her goslings crowded around him.
“Hello again,” said Hannah, sounding very flustered. “Word around the Sanctuary is that you’re free for a little babysitting. Is this true?”
“Oh. Well, I guess so,” said Max. “Lymrills are nocturnal and—”
“Wonderful! I’ve got to get my down fluffed properly and one of the dryads offered to do it for a song. You can watch them for a couple of hours, can’t you?”
Hannah turned and swept a wing over the goslings, who honked and bopped into one another.
“This is Susie, Bobbie, Willie, Millie, Hank, Honk, Nina, Tina, Macy, Lillian, Mac, and Little Baby Ray. Goslings, you behave yourselves for Max. Be back in a few, dear.”
Buffeting Max’s leg appreciatively with her wing, Hannah waddled back toward the forest. Max’s eyes followed her helplessly as the goslings hopped onto his feet and began pecking his shins with their sharp little bills.
He spent two hours with the goslings, letting them jump up and down and run on his body as he lay in the grass and tried unsuccessfully to read his booklet. Every half hour, he would take them down to the lagoon, wading in and playing with them as they swam about the reeds in happy little circles. The water was warm, but every several seconds Max could feel a strong, cool current hint at greater depths. Older students waved and laughed when they saw Max had been drafted into babysitting service. The goslings demanded constant attention, and Max was relieved to see Hannah return.
“I feel like a new goose!” she exclaimed as the goslings clamored around their mother. “Hmmm. Seems like someone here made himself a dozen new fans. Thank you, Max, you’re a dear. The children would love it if you could visit sometime. We live in a little nest by the orchard, just behind the Class of 1840 Tree. Come by anytime.”
“Sure thing,” said Max, grabbing his booklet. He said farewell and headed for the hedge tunnel. One of the goslings (Max thought it might be Lillian) tottered after him until Hannah herded her back with the rest.
That evening, hundreds of students streamed into the great dining hall, which was now golden with the light of many tapered candles lit among the chandeliers. Max fiddled with his tie as he and his classmates were directed to tables strewn with wildflowers and set with crystal glasses and horn-handled cutlery. Full-grown fauns with curling hair plucked at lyres, the music strange and soothing as more students filed in.
Seated between Cynthia and Lucia, Max studied the faces around him. The candlelight and formal uniforms made the students look much older. Across the hall, Max saw Jason Barrett seated with the Sixth Years, chatting with the girl on his right. Ms. Richter and the faculty sat in blue robes at the head table. They engaged in quiet conversation, giving an occasional nod to an older student or an inquisitive glance at the new arrivals. The music came to a gentle close, and Ms. Richter stood to address them, her voice clear and strong. “Please stand.”
Max looked at the others and stood, uncertain of what was next. Ms. Richter’s voice filled the hall.
“This is a House of Learning and today is the Day of Return, when teacher and pupil reforge their bonds and resume their progress on the path.”
The faculty and students raised their glasses in a silent toast. Ms. Richter continued.
“This is a House of Learning and today is a Day of Remembrance, when we gather to honor our past, embracing both its joys and sorrows.”
Again, the glasses were lifted in salute.
“This is a House of Learning and today is a Day of Renewal, when Rowan welcomes a new class bringing with them life and promise to grace these halls and grounds.”
Max jumped as the dining hall erupted in a chorus.
“We welcome them with open arms. We will help them on the way.”
The students and faculty raised their glasses toward the First Years’ tables and promptly drained them. Lucia did the same, but Max wrinkled his nose and took only hesitant sips of his wine.
Ms. Richter took her seat. The dining hall burst into a chorus of cheery conversations as dozens of students streamed in from the kitchens bearing heavy silver serving trays.
The feast was extraordinary and soon the table was engrossed in Cynthia’s story of how she had come to receive her letter from Rowan. With a blaring voice and dramatic sweeps of her arms, Cynthia reenacted how she had been visiting the aquarium when a school of tropical fish began to swim in hypnotizing patterns. After concluding that it was all “very freaky,” Cynthia yielded the floor to other classmates, who began to share their stories. Max did not share his, choosing instead to feast on roast pheasant stuffed with wild rice, miniature lamb chops, mountains of fresh vegetables, and little dishes of assorted sweets and chocolates. Periodically, older students and faculty wandered over to say a quick hello between courses. At the meal’s conclusion, a great clamor swept the dining hall.
Max grinned as Mum and Bob were dragged from the kitchens by a gaggle of students i
nsisting they take a bow for their efforts. Bob, wearing a starched blue shirt and clean white apron, hastily wiped away a tear and waved before ducking back through the swinging door. Mum capered to and fro, clapping her hands and issuing curtsy after dramatic curtsy until the very same students politely, but firmly, escorted her away. This drew a final round of hearty applause until Ms. Richter rang her spoon against her glass and stood once again. The candlelight cast an enormous shadow on the wall behind her. A smile spread across her face.
“Welcome home, students. As Director, I declare the school year officially in session!”
A raucous cheer erupted from the students, accompanied by enthusiastic banging on the tables and the stamping of many feet. Max was stamping away with the others when several Second Years strolled over and sat down at the table.
“Hey there,” said an olive-skinned boy with jet-black hair. “I’m Alex Muñoz.”
“Yeah, I’m Anna Lundgren,” said a pretty girl with short blond hair.
“Welcome, guys. I’m Sasha Ivanovich,” said a boy with shaggy brown hair.
Several of the First Years enthusiastically introduced themselves while finishing off the last of the sweets. Jesse looked miserable, groaning as he held his stomach and leaned against Omar.
“Are you guys excited for the big campout?” whispered Alex, twisting his finger around a wildflower stem.
“What campout?” Cynthia inquired, pushing away her plate.
“The one tonight,” said Anna, “out on the Kestrel. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No,” said Connor, leaning closer. “What’s it all about?”
“It’s kind of a First Year tradition, for class bonding,” answered Sasha. “The First Years sneak out and spend the night on the Kestrel. Out by midnight, back by sunrise.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?” asked Omar, wide-eyed.
“Yes and no,” answered Alex. “According to ‘the rules,’ the Kestrel ’s off-limits, but the tradition’s been around a long time. As long as you’re careful and quiet, the faculty looks the other way.”
“I don’t know,” murmured Cynthia, looking nervous.
“It’s your decision,” Anna said, shrugging. “We had a great time last year. If you want to be the first class not to do it, though…”
“We didn’t say that,” said Connor, his eyes flashing. “C’mon, guys, let’s do it. It’ll be fun.”
Connor’s smile was contagious, and soon the others were grinning, too. They looked from one to another and nodded.
“Okay,” muttered Rolf. “I’ll bring some snacks.”
“I’ve got a radio,” volunteered Lucia.
“Everybody bring a sleeping bag or some blankets, a pillow, and a flashlight if you have one,” whispered Connor. “Pass it on to the other tables. We’ll meet near the stairs down to the beach at midnight. Go in ones or twos and don’t get caught!”
Turning to Alex and Anna, Connor continued.
“Can we just get aboard the Kestrel? Isn’t it locked or something?”
“Nope,” said Alex. “Just tiptoe down the dock and climb the rope ladder on the side. It’s a really cool ship and it’s pretty warm tonight. You guys are lucky; it rained on us last year.”
“But it was still fun!” chirped Anna, smiling and standing up. “Nice to meet you all. Can’t wait to hear about it tomorrow.” She and the others rejoined the table of Second Years.
Max was excited at the prospect of a secret sneak-out. He spent several minutes planning with the group before he saw Mr. Vincenti making a beeline for him from the faculty table.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said the elderly man with a smile. “Max, could I speak with you?”
“Sure,” said Max, fearful that their planning had been overheard. Mr. Vincenti ushered him away from the table to a nearby pillar.
“Max, the Director would like to have a word with you,” said Mr. Vincenti, “concerning certain events…events that happened before you arrived at Rowan.”
“Oh,” said Max. “But I have to go to the Sanctuary—my charge is nocturnal.”
“This is more important,” said Mr. Vincenti. “I’ll see that your charge is cared for. You’d best get going—she’s expecting you.”
Ms. Richter’s office was located off the foyer, at the end of a hallway decorated by glistening portraits of past Directors. The door was slightly ajar, letting a sliver of warm yellow light into the hall. Max’s heart beat quickly as he knocked.
“Come in.” Max entered and saw Ms. Richter hanging up her blue robes. She still wore a business suit, although she had removed her shoes and stood in stocking feet. She offered Max a tired smile and gestured toward a polished armchair across from an enormous desk. Max was surprised by the relative modesty of the room. Other than the desk, it had a small couch and a coffee table with several small chairs. French doors led out to some gardens near the orchard. A small hearth stood cold and quiet in the corner.
Max seated himself as Ms. Richter arranged some wildflowers from the feast in a crystal vase. She eased into a leather chair and leaned forward to extend her hand, her bright silver eyes snapping Max to attention. Her hand was warm and dry and strong.
“Hello, Max. It’s nice to meet you and chat one on one.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” he said.
Ms. Richter rested her elbows on the desk, her eyes assuming a deadly seriousness.
“Max, it is unacceptable that the Enemy knew who you were and how to find you. You represent a new generation at Rowan, and I shudder to think of the consequences should the Enemy find the means to identify and target our Potentials.”
Max nodded, trying not to betray that he knew seventeen Potentials and a student were already missing.
“I want you to tell me everything that has happened starting with the day you had your vision. Anything you can remember. Spare no detail, no matter how trivial you think it may be.”
Max told Ms. Richter everything he knew. Her questions came quickly, forcing him to search his memory and recall details he had forgotten. When he had concluded, Ms. Richter picked up a folder and opened it. She glanced quickly at its contents before selecting a photograph and holding it up for Max to see.
“Is this the man that has been following you?” she asked.
Max squinted at the picture and recoiled in shock. The figure was indeed the strange man from the train and the museum, although he looked younger and less haggard in the photograph. He was sitting at a sidewalk café holding a newspaper, but his gaze was directed at the camera. The man’s good eye displayed a mixture of alarm and rage as he had evidently just spied the photographer, who, from the look of the photo, was in a moving car. Max shut his eyes and nodded. Ms. Richter put the photograph away.
“I’m sorry to frighten you, Max,” she said, her features softening, “but I needed to confirm Nigel’s account. That’s all I need at present. I’d ask you not to speak of this matter with anyone until we have more information. Okay?”
“Okay. Can I go now?”
“You can go, but, Max, I need you to remember something.”
“Yes, Ms. Richter?”
The Director’s expression became deadly serious again. She spoke in tight, urgent tones.
“If you ever see that man again, I want you to run and call for help as loudly as you can. Do not answer or speak to him; it could be very dangerous. Do you understand?”
Max nodded mutely, his insides frozen. Ms. Richter got up from her chair and ushered him out the door, suggesting that he swing by the kitchen for some cocoa. But as soon as she closed the door, Max ran down the hall and up to his room.
David was dead asleep when Max and Connor began to shake him. He blinked several times before flipping over and burying his head under a pillow. Max hissed between his teeth.
“David! C’mon, David. Wake up! We’re camping out on the Kestrel. Remember?” “No need to whisper, Max,” laughed Connor. “You’re still in your room!”
C
onnor jumped up and landed on David, who gave a muffled groan.
“C’mon, Davie! It’ll be fun. Ladies and adventure on the high seas, eh!”
“Okay, okay. Get off of me,” pleaded David’s voice from beneath the pillow.
Max clutched several blankets and a flashlight as the three stole down the hallway. Reaching the foyer, they nearly bumped into Cynthia and Lucia, who were tiptoeing toward the door. Connor motioned for them to go first, and the pair slipped quietly outside. Several moments later, Connor turned to Max and David, his grin visible in the dark.
“You boys ready?” he whispered. “Stick close to the Manse and stay low until we’re beyond the lights. When you have to leave the house, crawl—you’ll cast a smaller shadow. When we reach the grass, we’ll run the rest of the way.”
Max nodded and moved past Connor to the door. Sticking his head outside, he turned and motioned for them to follow. The three hugged the perimeter of the Manse, crouching below the windows, and crawled to the grass. Max found it hard going while carrying their blankets and the flashlight. One by one, they rose and ran into the darkness.
The night air felt cool as Max raced along. Old Tom and Maggie were given a wide berth; several of their upper windows were lit with a pale green light.
As they reached the steps, they saw many silhouettes moving against the moonlit ocean. A few dozen students were already there, whispering excitedly and tallying the goodies that had been brought. Omar and Jesse came panting up a few minutes later. Connor scanned the group and furrowed his brow.
“Where’s everyone else?”
“A bunch of people aren’t coming,” said a girl. “They don’t want to get in trouble.”
Connor rolled his eyes and made a noise in his throat before starting down the stone steps. Max swatted a mosquito and hefted his pack, laughing with Cynthia as they followed along.
The Hound of Rowan Page 11