Penworthy took a step back, swallowed, and seemed to shrink even further. “I don’t know where he is. He might be helping with some of the exams. The intercom’s still broken, so you’ll have to look for him.”
“Who were those men and where were they going with Jack?” Will demanded.
“They’re police officers. They’re taking him to the restroom. He’s not feeling well.”
“If you see Mr. Hastings, tell him Jack Swift needs his help.” Will spun on his heel and charged out of the office.
It seemed like a hopeless task. The building was huge, and Hastings could be in any of a hundred classrooms. Because the classroom doors lacked windows, that meant opening a hundred doors. He went down the hallway at a trot, throwing open doors, startling proctors and test takers, asking everyone he saw if they knew Hastings’s whereabouts. Finally, he rounded a corner and practically ran into Fitch.
“Whoa, watch it, Will. If you run over someone, there could be casualties.” Fitch stopped laughing when he saw Will’s face.
Will explained the situation in a rush. Time was passing, and he was getting nowhere.
“Look,” he said to Fitch. “You keep looking for Hastings. I’m going to call Linda. She gave me her cell phone number.”
He sprinted to the bank of phones outside the cafeteria and dialed. She answered almost immediately. From the background noise, it sounded like she was in her car.
“Ms. Downey, this is Will. Jack’s in some kind of trouble. He sent me to look for Mr. Hastings, but I can’t find him.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Linda’s voice snapped over the phone. “Where’s Jack now?”
“The last I saw, he was leaving the principal’s office with two men.”
“Will, listen to me. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Find Hastings.” And she clicked off.
Jack’s two captors kept a tight grip on him. Their hands burned his skin through his shirt. He thought they might try to force him outside right then and there, but the hallway was crowded with students, and Jack doubled over, complaining loudly about feeling sick. Somebody—Jack didn’t know who—called after him. Jack didn’t look back. The two wizards headed for the restroom, apparently taking Jack at his word.
Hansford was still playing his mind games. You feel fine, Jack, the voice inside his head said. Just cooperate, and everything will be all right. Once in the restroom, Jack locked himself in a stall and made a great noise of retching. He had no idea what Will would do with his message. What if he couldn’t find Hastings? Jack had made up his mind he wasn’t going anywhere with Hansford and Sowicky. It just didn’t seem that there was any future in it.
The wizards were growing impatient. “Come on,” Sowicky said, pounding on the cubicle door. “Let’s not prolong this.”
“Give me a minute,” Jack said through the door. “I don’t want to puke in your car.”
“We don’t care, Jack,” Hansford said. “It’s time to go. Your parents will be wondering where you are.”
“Listen,” Jack said weakly. “Maybe I could come down with my parents a little later. After my exam. They’ll want to call their lawyer anyway.”
“You won’t need a lawyer,” Sowicky said bluntly, then added hastily, “because this is very informal. Now come out now, or we’re coming in after you.”
Jack considered his options. A restroom stall door wouldn’t keep the two wizards at bay for long. He debated trying one of the attack charms Nick had taught him. Only, he knew he wasn’t terribly powerful in wizardry, and he had no idea what he was up against. He decided it might be better to continue to play dumb until they got outside, then try to take them by surprise where there was less risk to other people and a better chance of escape.
He flushed and unlocked the door. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, Sowicky slammed a hand against his throat, pinning him against the frame of the stall, cutting off his air supply and effectively silencing him. He heard Hansford speak a charm, and it was as if hot metal had been flushed through his veins. All his limbs were suddenly too heavy to lift. An immobilization charm, if he read it right. Too late.
And then Sowicky jerked him away from the wall and slammed him facedown on the floor; somebody’s knee was in his back, and one arm was being twisted back painfully behind him until he thought his shoulder would give way. Then the other arm, and something was being clamped over his wrists, binding them tightly together.
Time moved slowly now, and all of his senses were on full alert. The familiar school restroom stench was in his nose, the ceramic cold against his bruised face. There was dirt in the grout between the gray and burgundy tiles on the floor, Trinity High School colors. He had a split second to wonder if that would be the last thing he would ever see, if they would kill him then and there. Then he realized that they probably wouldn’t bind his hands if they meant to kill him.
“Playtime’s over, Jack,” someone hissed. It was Hansford. The nice one. They rolled him over so he was lying uncomfortably on his bound arms, looking up into their faces, one on either side. Sowicky slid Jack’s T-shirt and vest up to expose his chest.
Hansford fished a silver cone from the neckline of his sweatshirt, similar to the one Dr. Longbranch used, only smaller. He placed it against Jack’s skin, held it there a moment, nodded briskly to his partner, and then replaced it under his shirt. Jack tried desperately to roll away, but didn’t even manage a twitch.
“Listen close,” Sowicky said. “We’re taking you out of here alive, since you’re worth a fortune as you are, and nothing to us dead. Come with us quietly, and no one gets hurt. But we’ll kill anyone who gets in our way. I want you to think about that before you make a scene on our way out.”
Just then Jack heard the restroom door open. He looked up to see Leesha Middleton framed in the doorway.
He wanted to cry out, to warn her to get away.
Then he wondered what she was doing in the men’s room.
But she shut the door behind her and came toward them, knelt next to him on the tile floor. She smiled and ruffled his hair in a proprietary manner. “So you got him,” she said.
Jack opened and closed his mouth like a landed bass.
“I thought you said he was untrained,” Hansford said. “We couldn’t detect any leaking magic at all. We had to take your word for it.”
“Which should be good enough for you.” Leesha slid her fingertips under Jack’s shirt, peeling it away from the vest. “What have we here?” She fingered the vest. “Untold secrets? You think you know a person.”
Jack was thinking pretty much the same thing.
Leesha sat down on the floor next to him and cradled his head in her lap, gently stroking his cheek. “You’re not as pretty as when I last saw you. Looks like my boyfriend beat you up. Serves you right for ditching my party.” She sighed theatrically. “Oh, Jack, what a fool I’ve been.”
Me, too. “Who are you?” Jack whispered. He wished he could squirm, even a little, to relieve the stress on his arms. “Who do you work for?” Each question was worth a little more time.
“Me? I’m a wizard. Dr. Longbranch hired me to keep an eye on you last fall. I couldn’t understand why Longbranch considered you worth watching, so I decided to find out. I worked so hard on you, Jack. I ferreted out all your boring secrets, but my timing was all wrong. At the time, you were totally ignorant, and you had nothing to tell me. And Longbranch had you doped up on Weirsbane, so your body didn’t leak magic, either.”
Jack could remember little about his dates with Leesha. A rather pleasant blur, nothing more.
“Now I work for myself,” Leesha went on. “And I’ve earned whatever I get, this time, believe me—stuck in this podunk town, making nice with hicks and idiots. Though I must say, it wasn’t all unpleasant.” She leaned over and kissed him.
“Which reminds me.” She rummaged one-handed in her purse and produced a small bottle. She uncorked it with her teeth. Gripping his jaw, she forced his mouth open and
dumped the contents in, stroking his throat so he swallowed most of it. It seemed to be something she’d had practice at.
The taste was familiar, and Leesha confirmed it. “Weirsbane. To prevent any nasty warrior surprises. A few minutes to let that take effect, and we’ll be on our way.”
“How did you . . . how did you find out?”
“Well, I must say, the change in your physical attributes sparked an interest. And then Leander Hastings shows up in Trinity, which told me something was up.”
“You know Hastings?”
Leesha actually shivered. “That bleeding-heart traitor? We all know him. After he arrived, it seemed like you were always together. So I figured I’d slip you something at the party, take you into a back room, and see what I could find out. When you didn’t show, I went out looking for you. And wasn’t I surprised to see you blow poor Garrett clear across the parking lot.” She tapped herself on the forehead. “I mean, duh!”
Hansford cleared his throat. “Speaking of Hastings, maybe we should get going.”
“What are you going to do with me?” Jack asked quickly. Leesha was having a good time proving how stupid he’d been. Perhaps he could delay the inevitable a little longer.
“That depends. Both Houses are eager—make that desperate to get their hands on you. That should drive the price up.”
“You’re traders,” Jack said, finally understanding. “You mean to . . . to sell me.” His stomach contracted, and he thought he really would be sick. Only, flat on his back as he was, unable to move, he would probably drown in it. He forced the thought away.
“That’s right, Jack. One deal like this and we’re set for life,” Sowicky said. “You’re what we call a one-of-a-kind item. No more hours spent in dusty libraries and small-town courthouses, no more digging two-bit soothsayers and sorcerers out of their hidey holes to sell for a pittance.”
“I think he’s ready.” Leesha stood and dusted off the back of her skirt. “Gotta go, Jack. Alicia Middleton wants nothing to do with a suspected drug dealer. But I’ll see you later. Promise.” She looked in the mirror, corrected her lipstick, pushed through the doorway, and was gone.
Hansford and Sowicky each gripped an arm and hauled Jack upright, so he dangled between them, helpless.
“Now, we’re going to walk out of here, quickly and quietly,” Sowicky said. He spoke a charm, and strength flooded back into Jack. He gave it about a second, then put his head down and plowed into Sowicky’s midsection. The wizard fell hard, banging his head against the wall with a satisfying thump. Jack twisted and jumped high, slamming his right foot into Hansford’s groin. Only, with his hands tied, Jack couldn’t break his fall, and slammed painfully into the edge of the sink. The Weirsbane was working, dulling his reflexes, throwing his physical instincts into disarray.
Someone, Sowicky, he supposed it was, gripped him by the hair, forcing his head back into the bowl. The wizard turned the water on full blast, and Jack was drowning, spluttering and gasping, taking in water instead of air. Sowicky drove his fingers into Jack’s midsection, sending power and pain ripping through him. When he tried to scream, he only sucked in more water. He twisted and turned, but could not avoid the wizard’s touch.
After what seemed like an eternity, they lifted his head out of the sink and shoved him down to his knees on the floor. Sowicky gave him a sharp blow to the back, and Jack spewed water onto the tiles from his nose and mouth. But the wizards’ hands under his arms kept him from falling forward onto his face.
“Amazing, isn’t it, how much you can hurt a person without doing any real damage,” Hansford said softly. “That’s just a crude demonstration, Jack. We know how to make you real sorry in ways you’ve never thought of. Don’t mess with us.”
They lifted Jack to his feet again. Keeping a hold on each arm, they practically carried him out of the rest-room. Jack noticed with some small satisfaction that Hansford was limping badly.
Jack scanned the corridor as best he could, his eyes streaming from the assault of the water, unable to wipe his face. There were still quite a few students around. The buzz of conversation stopped gradually, as those loitering in the hallway noticed the trio making their way to the door, the two men dragging their prisoner between them, Jack with his hair plastered down and dripping, his hands tied behind his back. The crowd in the hallway parted before them, the students backing up against the lockers on either side as if they wished they could crawl inside. Someone said, “Jack?” in a small and frightened voice. He didn’t see who it was.
Then he saw Will and Penworthy standing by the door of the office. Jack wondered what Will was doing there, if he’d managed to find Hastings, but he didn’t want to ask in front of the traders. Penworthy’s mouth was hanging open. The two wizards spotted the principal, and Hansford seemed to be debating whether to offer an explanation or not. Finally, he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Sorry. He kind of went crazy in there. Must’ve been the drugs. It’s okay now.”
Will took a step toward them. “Jack, what’s going on?” His voice was quiet, but he had his fists clenched, and looked ready to jump at a word.
“No, Will.” Jack shook his head, acutely conscious of the wizards’ promise in the restroom. “It’s okay. I’ll be all right. I need to go with them.”
Will took another step forward, as if to block their path. The outside door opened, and in strode his mother with Aunt Linda close behind. Jack swore softly. What were they doing here? Becka looked from Penworthy to the scene of Jack being dragged out by the two wizards. The expression on her face was dangerous. But it was Linda who spoke.
“Stop right there!” she commanded the traders. They came to a halt, staring, as if they were too surprised to do anything but obey.
Becka turned to the principal. “Leotis, I think you have some explaining to do.”
Leotis Penworthy looked more nervous than ever. He motioned to the two men in turn. “Becka, this is Mr. Hansford and Mr. Sowicky from the police department They need to ask Jack some questions. I thought you were going to meet them down at the police station.”
“I knew nothing about this until Will Childers called us fifteen minutes ago.” Jack recognized her lawyer voice. “I want to know what’s going on here.”
Jack’s heart sank. His mother would not be intimidated by the police. She would never allow them to walk out with him unchallenged. Becka might be an adversary to be reckoned with in a courtroom, but she was no match for wizards. And Linda was standing beside her sister, the full knowledge of the danger in her face, trying to decide what move to make. Please, God, Jack prayed. Not this. It was up to him to stop it.
He focused on his mother. “Mom. Listen to me. These men are not the police.”
She looked at Jack, then shifted her gaze to the two wizards. Sowicky tightened his grip on Jack’s arm, a warning. Becka would brush aside any concerns about her own safety, so he used the argument that he knew would convince her. “They’ll kill me if you interfere. They can do it in a heartbeat. The only way I have a chance is if you let me go with them. I’m serious.”
She gasped. “Jack,” she whispered, her voice breaking over the single syllable. “Please. This has to be some kind of mistake. You have the wrong person. Don’t hurt him.” Jack was aware of movement behind him, the slight shifting of bodies that told him there were still students in the hallway.
“Please, Mom. Aunt Linda. Let us go. Do this for me.” His eyes slid to Linda, willing her to stay in place as well.
She was studying the two wizards, sizing them up.
“Take me instead,” Linda suggested. “I ought to be worth something to the Trade.” The voice alone was enough to melt hearts, and now she glowed, as if illuminated from within. Jack felt a sudden push of power directed at the two wizards. The traders practically staggered under it.
Hansford thrust his free hand at Linda, and she flew backward and hit the wall, hard. She must have lost focus with the impact, because the effect of the spell
was blunted momentarily. She lay there, dazed, for a moment.
“Let’s take her with us,” Sowicky pleaded with Hansford, who seemed to be in charge. “We’ll trade the boy and keep the enchanter for ourselves. No one else needs to know.”
Becka looked at Sowicky, then at Linda, frowning.
Hansford shook his head. “No. I don’t deal in enchanters anymore. Before you know it, she’ll have us cutting each other’s throats. We’ll have our hands full as it is. Let’s get out of here before she starts in again.”
Both men were looking edgy, as if they might lose control at any moment. “Let’s go,” Jack said urgently, hoping to get them out of there before they changed their minds about Linda.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to be reasonable,” Hansford muttered, shoving him toward the front doors.
At least until I get into the parking lot, Jack thought. The idea of being auctioned off to the Roses made him shudder. I’ll make them kill me first, he swore silently.
When they came through the doors to the outside, the heat and light of the summer day hit Jack like a physical blow, disorienting him for a moment. Someone shouted, “Down, Jack!”
With a kind of war cry, he wrenched himself away from the wizards and flung himself backward onto the pavement, landing painfully on his bound arms, scraping his hands along the rough concrete. In the same instant, something shrieked through the air, just above his head, something that carried the scent of fireworks and ozone. Someone screamed. Hansford or Sowicky. Both, he hoped. He lifted his head.
Hansford lay facedown on the concrete in front of the door. He was ripped nearly in half, his body contorted in a way that was inconsistent with life. Blood was spreading in a pool around him. Sowicky stood next to him, legs braced apart, looking wildly about for the source of the attack. The trader flung out his arm in a flat arc, launching flames in all directions, muttering charms desperately. He bent slightly, reaching for Jack where he lay on the ground, clutching the front of his shirt, preparing to haul him to his feet, to use him as a shield.
Then there was a hard concussion, like a sonic boom, that set Jack’s ears ringing. Sowicky went flying, spreadeagled, taking the front of Jack’s shirt with him. He collided with a car halfway across the parking lot with a sickening crunch. Sowicky lay unmoving, draped across the hood of the car.
The Heir Chronicles: Books I-III Page 19