To Sir, with Love: An Unofficial Legend of The Secret World (Unofficial Legends of The Secret World Book 1)

by Blodwedd Mallory

  “Which part are you interested in, dear?” said Ms. Usher mildly, her brogue back in hiding.

  “How about the Peacock King part?” I said. “Is this wraith really some kind of divine retribution for the Headmaster?”

  Headmaster Montag looked at me a moment, then walked to the south window with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Analytically, I predicted an event like this sooner,” he responded. “This was never a simple fishing community. Well-suited to the Illuminated Order's love of ciphers and symbology, the island...is a triangle. A meeting of three lines of power. The ambition of mortal magic, the hunger of the Hell Dimensions...and something beyond the scope of understanding. An old and deep power, older than aeons. Most sources choose not to name it, lest in the naming it gains strength.”

  He turned back to us. “It is only logical that the wraith would seek me here.”

  “So why send us out to find the wraith?” Gypcie asked. “Are we cannon fodder?”

  “Oh no, no, girls,” Ms. Usher assured us. “Despite his, eccentricities and...cynical—ach, he'll appreciate the honesty—downright unpleasant personality, Mr. Montag, H.J., does more for the safety and development of his students than he lets on.”

  “I thought it a proper challenge for your skills,” he said with a firm nod of his head, then added. “Miss Mallory, you have been resting on the laurels of your chaos magic skills for months and have not even begun to explore your blood magic heritage. Miss McCullough, on the other hand, lacks confidence in her elemental skills. Pairing the two of you and sending you out into some mild danger was almost guaranteed to bring out the best in both. At least I could be certain you would do something reckless, Miss Mallory, and require assistance to get out of it. What I did not expect is that it would be of a sufficient quality that Ms. Usher’s talents would be required.”

  “Never mind that,” Ms. Usher said with a wave of her hand. “H.J., Wedd did a brilliant spontaneous spell eruption. She manifested a sanguine coalescence.”

  Headmaster Montag lifted an imaginary glass in a toast to Gypcie and me. “To those awaiting valuable lessons towards their future enlightened success. I should think that capturing and disposing of the wraith would push you quite a bit further down that path. Now, did you find the book?”

  Gypcie and I rapidly told the story of holing up in the library, bringing everyone up to speed on what we’d found.

  “You’ll need a means of locating the wraith,” Headmaster Montag said, handing Gypcie the vial of his blood. “The occult spectrometer from the Magical Theory classroom should do fine for that. Once you retrieve it, it should just be a matter of summoning the wraith, defeating it, and trapping it in a mirror.”

  “If it’s that simple, why aren’t you doing it?” I scowled.

  “The wraith has been sent to exact revenge on me,” he explained. “That makes leaving this warded room undesirable. But time is of the essence. The wards of this school, hundreds of years old, are violated. It is unthinkable, but we... handle the unthinkable every day. Now things are slipping through. Both ways. I'm not sure which is worse for the general health of the island.”

  “So, this could get worse? Before it gets better?” said Ms. Usher.

  “Oh, no. I shouldn't think it would get any better,” Montag responded.

  Leaving Montag staring out the window in the front office, Gypcie and I motioned Carter and Ms. Usher into the back. We had been without significant updates on the situation around Solomon Island and the rest of the world while we’d been chasing down the wraith.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t just text me,” Carter said. “Luckily I was chatting with Danny, so I had Twitter open on the computer and the notification popped up.”

  Ms. Usher chuckled. “This is the point where school policy states that I’m supposed to remind you that the school’s computers are not for checking social media. There, that’s done. What news from Danny?”

  Danny Dufresne lived in Kingsmouth proper and had been the source of much of our news about what was happening there. There was speculation as to whether he and Carter were dating, but at the very least, they were good friends.

  “He’s been camping out at the skate park north of the Solomon Bridge,” Carter said. At our looks of alarm, she was quick to reassure us that was as safe as other places he could be in town because he’d rigged a bunch of traps and barbed wire to keep the monsters out.

  I’d met Danny a couple of times, and while—like us—he was just a teenager, he was also streetwise, resourceful, and the current leader of the Savage Coast League of Monster Slayers. If anyone could survive alone in the skate park, it was him. He went missing for a while at the start of the zombie invasion so now Carter made sure he checked in regularly.

  “Don’t worry. Sheriff Bannerman makes him come back to the Sheriff’s Office by curfew each night,” she added. “He says the draugr have totally taken over the Fletcher Bay harbor area and King’s Strait, and that the streets of Kingsmouth are full of zombies.”

  Carter motioned us back to her computer and showed us a message he’d sent.

  It read: “So this is not your average, everyday zombie outbreak. Sure, we got your basic shamblers and runners, but they don’t just bite, they do other stuff, like…special effects stuff. And then there’s the tanks – like, you know, bug hulk zombies, not zombie tanks with wheels. That would just be goofy. But…kinda cool. We also got zombies rising from the ground, not just ocean. Some of them must be, like, fifty years old. Older. I mean, this isn’t a big town. If it was just living folks turning, you couldn’t even call it an army of darkness. It’d be a scout patrol of darkness. But the weirdest thing? No matter how you bust them up, they keep coming back.”

  “So even the dead in the graveyards are rising?” Gypcie asked, with horror, “I thought it was just the newly dead that had risen.”

  Ms. Usher gestured for us to walk back to the other room while nodding her head. “That’s why the headmaster has been a stickler…has been so intent on the schedule for the ward renewals on campus. It might be stifling for us here inside the academy walls, but we’re far better off than those in town.”

  “I still don’t see why we have to have a curfew though,” Carter complained. “I know how to stay away from a graveyard after dark.”

  Ms. Usher got a look of consternation on her face. “Not all o’ the graveyards on this island have… headstones, dear.” she explained, then shrugged with resignation. “Solomon Island has a history that rivals Scotland for murder and treachery. You all are safer here.”

  “I just hate feeling so helpless,” Carter blew out a breath. “You and Headmaster Montag know I can take care of myself.”

  “We do,” Ms. Usher assured her, “but we would worry about you, and that would keep the headmaster and me from doing what we can to support the island. It takes most of our concentration to keep the magical protections from bleeding out of the walls.”

  Carter ran a hand through her hair. “OK, but can we talk some more about the basement? I really think I could help deal with the familiars left over from Practical Alchemy down there. I want to step up to bat. I mean, I want to help out. I can use my powers. The really freaky ones.”

  Carter turned to Gypcie and me. “You know they warded the school from the inside because of me? I'm tired of being scared of it, being made sick by it. Maybe that's how my powers want to be used. For me to just say the words and tear it all down.”

  Gypcie nodded her head knowingly. I was torn. It would be good to know we weren’t on the threshold of another familiar stampede from the basement, and yet, Carter’s powers were almost as much of a danger to life and limb as the herd.

  Ms. Usher pursed her lips. “I’ll talk some more to H.J. about it. But right now, we need to focus on what Wedd and Gypcie are planning.”

  I quickly ran down our next steps: Find a spectrometer and a mirror and attempt to summon the wraith, then figure out a way to defeat and banish it back
to its own hellish reality.

  Ms. Usher seemed uneasy about the last portion of that plan, but she agreed that until we were able actually to confront the wraith, we couldn’t know what else might be required. I thought about asking Carter to elaborate on the book of spells she had read but thought better of it. Cutting myself to access blood magic was terrible enough. I wanted nothing to do with a spell that required me to make a pentagram out of my own entrails.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Building the Perfect Mouse Trap

  The primary function of a mundane spectrometer is to split light into a spectrum to measure the components. In theory, an occult spectrometer worked on many of the same principles except the measurements it produced were not of light, but rather of the wavelengths that were occulted, or hidden. It took that information, digitized it, and spit it out on the device’s display. It followed that we would be able to take measurements around the campus to track the wraith’s movements.

  I remembered using it in Magical Theory in my sophomore year. Retrieving the device from that classroom was unlikely to be too big a challenge at the moment since most of the familiars roaming the halls had been cleared—the classroom was directly northwest of the north exit of the library.

  Gypcie and I decided to stop off at the Faculty Lounge first to check out what the Council of Venice had done to the place. As soon as we entered the room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit our noses. My heart sang at the thought of a hot cup. Two soldiers in crisp white uniforms with the blue berets—apparently they brought along some clean ones—were positioned to the right and left of the inside door, their assault rifles at the ready. They waved us past, and we made our way to the back room.

  After weeks of living in dirty clothes eating sucky food, this looked like paradise indeed. The coffeemaker and a large box of pastries were set up on a low side table. Gypcie located a power outlet and immediately plugged her phone in to charge it. At the southern end of the room, couches had been pushed aside, and a screened area had been set up. That hinted at washroom facilities. The blue-gloved commander, whom we had seen on the walkie-talkie on the front step an hour or so ago, was staring out the east side windows at the gate when we approached.

  He turned and greeted us, introducing himself as Lt. John Smith. Gypcie and I shared a skeptical look at his name but returned his greeting happily nonetheless.

  “We’ve set up a temporary base here,” he said, “to support Montag and Usher in the Academy’s magical containment efforts on Solomon Island. I don’t know how much news you girls have gotten since the end of October, but things are SNAFUed out there. Your teachers have been helping keep a lid on the bigger problems on the island, so command dispatched the five of us here to help out.”

  “We are definitely glad you’re here!” Gypcie gushed. I nodded in agreement.

  He looked at me directly. “That was quite a performance earlier.”

  “Thank you for protecting me when I fell,” I said with chagrin. “My plan didn’t go off quite as well as I’d hoped.”

  He grinned and saluted. “All in the line of duty, Miss.”

  We inquired about the details of the washroom facilities and Lt. Smith encouraged us to make use of them. Unfortunately, as I had no desire to investigate the Rec Center locker room, I didn’t have any spare clothes to change into, but I was plenty glad for the chance to use the facilities to wash up.

  Gypcie went first while I grabbed a Styrofoam cup of black coffee and a bear claw from the side table. Holding the sides of the pastry gingerly since my hands weren’t particularly clean, I took a big bite, sinking my teeth into the crusty, sugary goodness. It was heaven after fish pie. The coffee was scaldingly hot and thick enough to stand a spoon up in, but it too was a welcome reprieve. I smacked my lips with contentment, as Lt. Smith watched me and chuckled.

  In short order, Gypcie returned from behind the screen, shaking excess water off her hands, her hair combed, and face washed and made her way to the side table for refreshment. I finished up the last bite of the bear claw with a gulp and set my coffee down before heading back.

  The screened-off area contained a port-o-john and a camp sink with a small water reservoir. Someone had used the top of the screen to hang a modest mirror as well. I used the john, the relief I felt at having a restroom more than overcoming any embarrassment I felt at the close quarters and made my way to the sink.

  I looked in the mirror for the first time in days and gasped aloud in horror. What had happened to my face? A deep gouge ran across the bridge of my nose, black with clotted blood and beginning to scab. A red line of dried blood traveled down the left side of my nose, combining with blood that had seeped out of my nostrils. The gouge was definitely big enough to scar.

  Why hadn’t I just healed it earlier? I shook my head, angry with myself. I’d been too distracted by the action. Now the blood had coagulated, and the wound had begun to heal itself. Tears welled up in my eyes. This was going to leave a mark. I wasn’t particularly vain, but Gypcie would definitely be the prettiest of the two of us now.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked further. My green eyes were bloodshot, and the last vestiges of eyeliner and mascara darkened underneath my eyes. My hair was entirely torn out of its neat bun, and weird locks were laying across my shoulders. Dirt smudges covered my cheeks and forehead. I looked like something the cat dragged in.

  Thankfully, there was a container of fresh wipes sitting next to the sink. I undid the remnants of my bun and tucked my hair back up neatly. Then, I washed my hands thoroughly in the sink, grabbed a wipe and started cleaning the wound. My eyes watered again, this time from the pain. The deep scratch was puffy and red and had clearly needed some attention for a while. Ultimately I tipped my head over the sink and let the water from the hose run over it until blood started to flow from the wound again.

  Once I had fresh blood flowing, I inspected the bite on my neck and various cuts and scratches I’d received from the familiars. Healing them was a simple matter of casting the blood magic mend spell on myself. I took extra care on my face, which healed it up quickly, but as I suspected, the wound had been there too long and left a deep, permanent groove across the bridge of my nose. My bottom lip quivered as I looked at the scar, but it was too late now. What was done, was done. And, after using the healing spell, I definitely felt better.

  Grabbing a fresh wipe, I cleaned up the old makeup under my eyes and wiped off the remaining dirt on my face. Giving my cheeks a pinch, I pasted on a smile, crumpled the used wipes in my pocket to be burned later, and made my way back out into the central part of the room.

  “Feel better?” Lt. Smith asked. I nodded, but Gypcie gave me a knowing smile. She wasn’t fooled by the false cheer I wore like a mask.

  Carter and Ms. Usher had come over to meet with the Council soldiers to discuss the plan to defend the Academy from the external threats. They huddled in discussion with Lt. Smith. Since we’d gotten what we’d come for and weren’t needed, we decided to get to our task and find the Occult Spectrometer. Gypcie checked her phone and found it charged up, so she grabbed it and we left the lounge.

  We decided to make our way to Magical Theory via the library again, although that wasn’t strictly necessary. There was access to that classroom from a hallway directly north of the library, but we were both feeling a little cautious after the events of the past day.

  The Magical Theory classroom was one of two on the northern-most side of the building. It was long and thin, with an exit on the south side, visible from the north exit to the library, with another door on the west side at the back end of the room. It had the same wooden plank floors and wooden wainscoting as most of the rest of the classrooms, with blackboards along the west wall. The Media Lab was directly to the east, a mirror to the Magical Theory room, but with an exit at the back of the room on the east side instead.

  The Magical Theory room, thankfully, was empty, although it was clear the same disruption had happened here as most of the re
st of the classrooms. There were four light-colored, two-student desks along the west wall, but the desks and chairs that should have been on the other side instead were piled in a sort of makeshift bunker. Apparently, someone had attempted to weather the first attack here. A backpack and some cans of Bingo cola stashed behind the blockade testified that someone was most likely a student. I shuddered and resisted the urge to look for a name on the backpack because a large blood stain near the opening of the barrier reported that things had not gone well for him or her.

  On the last of the desks on the west side was a metal box. That was what we were here for, the Occult Spectrometer. I stepped over to the desk, opened the box and examined the hand-held spectrometer. I flipped a dial on the left and heard a low hum as it began to warm up.

  “T-minus 15 minutes and counting,” I said.

  “That’s right, I remember that thing took forever to warm up,” Gypcie said, looking over my shoulder. “What wavelength do we need to choose?”

  “Heck if I know. There’s no handy ‘wraith’ setting on top, oddly enough.”

  She chuckled. “I guess we should look for a mirror then. Any ideas?”

  “Well, we could go steal the one from the Council of Venice powder room. I know I wouldn’t mind stomping on it.”

  “I’m really sorry about your nose,” Gypcie said. “That sucks.”

  “I guess the boys will just have to love me for my fabulous mind instead of my flawless beauty,” I quipped. “Now you get to be the pretty one.”

  Gypcie gave me a playful punch, then put an arm around me and leaned on my shoulder. “You did good, Wedd. I’m sorry this had to happen.”

  I sighed deeply. “Thanks. It’ll be okay. I’m just trying to get used to it now, is all. Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

  After some deliberation, we decided to look in the supply closet next to the Faculty Lounge, which still housed a cluster of four Anatomical Specimens that had escaped notice since they were trapped behind a closed door. Gypcie and I flipped them the bird and took off running for the lounge room ward.