Madison was fascinated by the stone in Nick’s hands. Broad flashes of blue and green surfaced as he turned it, like the scales of some brilliantly colored fish surfacing in an exotic tropical sea.
Not that she’d ever seen an exotic tropical sea.
It was more than her usual fascination with shiny things. She was always conscious of the presence of power, drawn to it, in fact, but this beat against her senses and clamored in her ears, impossible to ignore.
Ambushed by a rush of desire, Madison reached out a finger toward the stone. The stone kindled, illuminating the entire church, and a small tongue of flame erupted from the center to lick the surface, as if seeking a connection. She jerked back her hand without making contact and retreated a step, gripping the side of the pew to steady herself.
No. No more. She was done with that. She drew a shaky breath and looked up to see Jason watching her.
“You okay?” he asked, laying a proprietary hand on the stone. Madison nodded mutely.
“I would like to study these objects,” Nick said, frowning. “It would help if Mercedes Foster could take a look at them, as well, since they’re the work of sorcerers, for the most part. Though the more people who know about this, the more difficult it will be to keep it a secret.”
Jason nodded. “Hastings said to hide this stuff somewhere secure. So I thought of the church, because—you know— churches suppress magic. Maybe these things wouldn’t be so obvious to someone who’s looking for them. Seph belongs here, and has a key, so he could go in and out pretty easy.”
“Why? Is someone after you?” Madison asked, trying to shake off the influence of the stone. “Does anyone know about this?”
Jason looked away from her. “As far as I know, I got away clean.” Something told Madison he was lying.
“But there are people in here all the time,” Ellen objected. “What if we need to get to . . . get to these things, and a Mass is going on? Besides, where would we hide it? We can’t just shove it under a pew.”
“There’s the mourner’s chapel,” Seph suggested. “People don’t go in there unless there’s a funeral, and not a lot for that, since it’s tiny. It’s downstairs, next to the crypt. And there’s a secret entrance.”
“There’s dead people in this church?” Madison shivered. She preferred that bodies be buried out in the churchyard, so their spirits could roam free if they liked.
Seph nodded. “It was built by the Presbyterians, but it was taken over by European Catholics more than a hundred and fifty years ago. They liked to be buried out of the weather, I guess. Come on. Bring the stuff. I’ll show you.”
Seph led them through a doorway at the front of the sanctuary and down a narrow, dimly lit flight of stairs.
The crypt lay on one side of the stairs, the chapel on the other. The chapel was just big enough for a family to gather privately. At one end a stone was set into the wall, engraved with the name and dates for one JAMES MCALISTER 1795 TO 1860.
“Seems like a strange resting place for a Presbyterian, but McAlister was also one of the region’s leading abolitionists,” Seph said. “Watch.”
He pushed the stone and it pivoted silently on an invisible hinge, revealing a rough opening the width of a man’s shoulders. Air whistled through, bringing with it the scent of water and stone.
“This was a station on the Underground Railway. There’s a tunnel that runs all the way to the lake. Escaped slaves would hide in the church basement, then meet boats on the shore and travel across to Canada. Not fun to crawl through, these days. If ever.”
The crypt housed several rooms lined with vaults, most of them occupied for more than a century. Jack walked down the row, scanning the names on the vaults in a businesslike fashion until he came to the one he was looking for. “Here we go,” he murmured, pointing at an inscription. “Perfect.”
Madison peered around him to read, J. THOMAS SWIFT, ESQ. There were no dates.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“That’s my dad,” Jack replied. “Or, it will be. This was my dad’s church, on Christmas and Easter, anyway. He bought this vault when he lived in Trinity. Before the divorce.”
Madison eyed it doubtfully. “You’re saying it’s empty?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. I mean, he’s still alive, right? So, unless you think it’s too obvious because he’s related to me, we can stash the stuff in there.”
“And we can get at it pretty much whenever we want, without going through the main church,” Seph added. “People never come down here. Most of the people buried here died a hundred years ago.”
“I’ll keep the Dragonheart with me,” Jason suggested. “Seph’s house is totally warded, so it should be safe.”
He wants the stone, Madison thought jealously, recognizing the same strange lust in herself. Was this like one of those magical objects in stories that people fought and died over?
“All of the items will be safer here, in the sanctuary, with the proper warding,” Nick said, frowning at Jason. “Harder to find, and easier for us all to examine. Once we know more, we can make a decision about their final disposition.”
Jason dropped the subject, though Madison noticed his eyes straying to the Dragonheart as they opened the vault and concealed the jewelry and artifacts inside. Jason, Seph, and Snowbeard made arrangements to meet regularly and examine and experiment with the talismans and amulets in the vault. They seemed almost giddy in their optimism that Jason’s treasure would offer them an advantage in the war that everyone seemed to think was inevitable.
Madison was less enthusiastic. The Dragonheart still glittered enticingly in a corner of her mind, one more thing she’d have to try and ignore. The presence of this treasure in Trinity did not make her feel safer. In fact, she felt like Trinity had become a target that would be noticed, sooner or later, by those who would destroy everything she cared about.
Chapter Six
Passages
Well, thought Jason. Jack is the talk of the town. I’m glad it’s not me.
Jack’s dad, Thomas Swift, had returned to Trinity at the end of January, determined to show off to the locals by throwing the party of the year.
Word on the street was that Daddy had hired a party planner, who’d been working on the thing for months. He called it a Midwinter Solstice party, but it was more of a debutante party for Jack, if they had that kind of thing for guys. Thomas had brought a small contingent of business associates and social climbers and preppy kids from Boston, so Jack could “network,” he said.
The local guest list had started out to be just as exclusive, but Jack had turned it into an open house by passing out invitations at school. In fact, he’d begged all his friends to come, so he wouldn’t be marooned with a crowd of old people and East Coast lawyers.
The Lakeside Club was totally fancy—a huge Victorian palace with a ballroom set next to the lake. Tiny lights embroidered the dock and gazebo, glittered on the snow, and flickered in the winter-stripped trees. There were huge wreaths over the fireplaces, and bells and greenery on all the tables.
It would have been even nicer in the summer, when the party could spill out onto the terrace by the lake and they might have been a little less fussy about the dress code.
Even Hastings had returned from Britain for the party. Jason spotted the wizard several times over the course of the evening, cruising the room with a glittering Linda Downey at his side. Jason had hoped to take him aside and get some news from Britain, but the wizard and enchanter were always the center of a crowd.
Jason felt sorry for Jack. Thomas worked the room like a life insurance salesman at a funeral, towing his reluctant son along. Jack towered over the big shots in his custom-tailored suit, since nothing off the rack would have fit him. His hair was tied back neatly because he’d refused to chop it off for the occasion.
The place was packed, of course—Jack was the hometown Mr. Popular. And the food was incredible—shrimp and little crabmeat pies, fruit towers, and platters of
desserts.
Jason thrust his fingers into his neckline, loosening the tie Linda had inflicted on him. He guessed the spectacle was worth putting on a jacket—temporarily, at least.
He drifted into the bar, thinking he might find it unattended, and found Becka Downey and Thomas Swift, Jack’s parents, nose to nose, arguing.
Battle of the litigators. Jason withdrew into the shadows, but he could still hear everything.
“I have to say, I’m worried about Jack,” Thomas said.
“Really? You’ve hardly spoken to him since Christmas.”
“Well, I assumed you were handling things. With his grades, he shouldn’t have any trouble getting into an Ivy League school. I offered to pull some strings if there’s an issue. And yet, he’s seriously considering going to Trinity?”
“Trinity is one of the best liberal-arts schools in the country. And he can go there for free.”
Thomas waved his hand, dismissing free. “I told you I would finance his education. Maybe his undergraduate school doesn’t matter. But, frankly, he seems totally clueless about what he wants to do. He has to start strong, you know, or he’ll never get into a good law school.”
Becka lifted her chin. “Did he tell you he wants to go to law school?”
Thomas ignored this. “I found him a summer job with a firm in Boston, but he says he’d rather stay around here. Working at the docks is all well and good while you’re in high school. Now it’s time he thought about his future. I mean, he looks like a bodybuilder, for God’s sake.”
At least no one’s fighting over my future, Jason thought. He drifted back out into the main hall, which was packed with Jack’s family and friends, people he didn’t know. He hadn’t been born and raised in Trinity. Although he was (reluctantly) back in school, he tended to hang out with Seph and Jack and Ellen and Madison. Otherwise, he felt like a total outsider.
There were some girls he’d gotten to know, though. Maybe he could make some plans for later on. He passed along the buffet table, loading a small plate with desserts.
“I can’t believe how cold it is,” someone behind him said.
He swung around. It was a girl, small and shapely, with full red lips and masses of dark curls spilling down her back. She carried herself like a rich person. Or a wizard. Or both. He didn’t remember seeing her before.
He studied her with interest. “It tends to be cold here in the winter. So I hear.”
“Well, duh. How could I forget?” She shivered, despite the high-necked sweater she was wearing. Jason was no fashion expert, but it seemed like an odd choice for such a glitzy party.
“I used to go to high school at Trinity,” the girl said. “But I don’t remember you.”
Jason leaned back against the wall. “I’ve only been here a year.”
“I’m Alicia Middleton,” she said, sticking out her hand. “Leesha, I guess.”
“Jason Haley.” Jason took her hand, feeling the power in the grip. A wizard, and she was juiced, compared to him. Her and everybody else.
There was an awkward pause as Leesha no doubt made her own comparisons, and then Jason said, “So you know Jack from school?”
“Actually, I used to go out with him.”
“Really?” Huh, Jason thought. Jack went out with a wizard? She must be pre-Ellen. Nobody with any sense would try and get between those two. “So you moved away or what?”
“We broke up,” she replied, answering his unspoken question. “And then I moved away.”
“Well,” Jason said. “Cool that you’re still friends. I mean, that Jack invited you and all.”
“Oh, he didn’t really invite me,” Leesha said. “I just moved back to town, and I saw the party was an open house, so I came. I figured I’d see a lot of people I know.” She paused, then rushed on. “But I guess the people I hung out with aren’t here.”
“That always happens,” Jason said.
She opened her mouth as if to say more, but then her eyes fixed on something behind him. She went pale to the hairline, her eyes widened and she took a step back, one hand at her throat.
“Leesha! What the hell are you doing here?”
Jason swung around. Jack Swift was bearing down on them like a thunderstorm over the lake. Ellen, Will, and Fitch were right behind him.
“H-hey, Jack.” Leesha continued to backpedal until she bumped up against the wall. “What’s up? I mean—well— look, chill out, will you? I only wanted to say happy birthday.” Her voice rose into a kind of frightened squeak as Jack invaded her space.
“Now, why is it I don’t believe you?” Jack said. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve.”
“The girl must be looking for another hot-fudge shower,” Ellen said. Then she, too, advanced on Leesha.
“Hey,” Jason said, thrusting himself in front of Leesha. “Take it easy.”
Jack glared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I guess you two haven’t been properly introduced,” he growled.
“This is Alicia Middleton, trader and renegade wizard,” Ellen put in. “She used to go to school here, until she and some traders kidnapped Jack, so they could sell him to the highest bidder. So wizards could play him in a tournament.”
“Then she snatched me and Fitch from a train station in Carlisle so Dr. Longbranch could use us as hostages to make Jack fight,” Will added, a frown clouding his usually friendly face.
“The only nice thing she ever did was break up with Jack,” Fitch said. “That was awesome, really.”
Leesha looked around the circle of scowling faces, yanking at the neck of her sweater as if she were suffocating. “We’ve all done things we’d rather forget about. I mean, Ellen came to Trinity to kill Jack.”
“It’s not like I had a choice,” Ellen muttered.
Leesha was definitely playing to a hostile audience. “Look, I know I’ve made some bad decisions.”
Ellen rolled her eyes and mimicked Leesha, fluffing her hair and mouthing I know I’ve made some bad decisions. “So why are you here?”
Leesha hesitated, biting at her lip. “Well, I’ve got both Wizard Houses pissed at me now. A sanctuary seemed like a good idea.”
“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you made so many enemies,” Jack said, looking totally unsympathetic.
“I thought we could—you know—help each other,” Leesha persisted. “I know something about the Roses and D’Orsay and . . .”
“Like we could trust you,” Ellen muttered. “How do we know you’re not here as a spy? Like before?”
Jeez, Jason thought. Give the girl a break.
“Come on,” he said to Leesha. “Let’s get your coat and I’ll walk you out.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the door, feeling Jack’s hot glare between his shoulder blades.
Leesha handed her valet ticket to the attendant and they sheltered in the entryway against the raw northwestern wind. Close to shore, the lake was larded over with ice. Further out, the wind raked it into a dark chop. Jason expended a bit of power to take the edge off the cold.
“Well,” Leesha said. “They didn’t seem glad to see me.”
Jason snorted. “What’d you expect?”
“You make a few teensy mistakes . . .” Leesha said, pouting. “That’s the thing about small towns, they never forget a thing.”
Jason laughed. She had attitude, he had to admit.
“Are you staying with family, or what?” he asked.
“With my great aunt,” she said. “She’s like, half deaf and three-quarters blind. That’s how I ended up here before. My parents are wizards, but they’re sort of always on the move, you know? And really busy.” Her voice trailed off. “So. Whenever they get busy or I get in trouble, I have to come live with my Aunt Millisandra. It’s like the worst punishment they can think of, sending me to live in the Midwest.”
“And is it?”
She shivered. “There’s worse things. I didn’t actually get kicked out of school this time. Jessamine Lo
ngbranch—d’you know her? Warriormaster for the White Rose? She was the one who planned to play Jack in the Game. That thing with Jack at the high school—Longbranch had recruited me to spy on Jack, but I kind of went out on my own.
“So. She has this big grudge against me. It took her a while, she’s been distracted, but anyway, I came home one day to find two assassins waiting in the residence hall.” Leesha stared glumly out at the frozen lake.
“And?” Jason prompted, when he finally caught up and realized she hadn’t finished the story.
“Well, they’re—you know—dead, of course,” she said, shrugging.
Okaayy, Jason thought, studying her with new respect and not a little apprehension.
“But it could happen again, and I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time. So I came here.”
“So how long are you here for?”
“Long as I can stand it, I guess. This town’s really changed. It’s like a fortress. How does the sanctuary work, anyway? Is there really some kind of rule against attack magic?”
“More than a rule,” Jason said, figuring Leesha wasn’t into following rules. “It’s enforced with magic. Hexes, attack magic, curses, black magic sefas—anything stronger than Persuasion—they don’t work in here.”
Leesha stared at him in disbelief. “Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled, pressing her fingers into her neckline. “Cool.” She stepped close and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Who enforces it, anyway? I mean, must be someone with a lot of talent.”
He took a quick step back, remembering who he was talking to. “Must be. Well, here’s your ride, I think.” It was just a guess. The valet had pulled up in an Audi TT. Jason went to turn away.
She gripped his arm, sending a current of Persuasion up into his shoulder. “I really need to stay here. I know I’ve done some bad things in the past, but people change.” She searched his eyes.
“I’m not the one you have to convince,” Jason said. “Maybe you should start with Jack.”
The Heir Chronicles: Books I-III Page 78