by Sarah Kleck
“Yes.” Professor Mayflower nodded. “Write it down,” she said and asked the brownnoser in the first row to repeat his definition for the record before she read out the second term.
“Compensation.” She raised her eyebrows in anticipation and looked into the crowd. Again several hands were raised.
“Hmm . . . Miss Lakewood,” Karen Mayflower suddenly called out without taking note of the raised hands in the front rows. I instantly froze. “Would you please explain what the term compensation means?” An arrogant grin took over her face. I felt as if I was being throttled, and my heart pounded in my neck. Jared’s grip on my hand became firmer. He, too, appeared surprised and did not seem to approve of what was happening.
Okay, let’s see. I desperately attempted to focus. How did that go? I’ve read something about it somewhere . . . Compensation . . . To compensate for something . . . What was that supposed to mean . . . ? To make up for something one lacked with something else, wasn’t it? I had no choice but to try and hope I’d get it right. Once again all eyes, including Karen Mayflower’s, were on me and stared in anticipation.
“Um . . . ,” I started, uncertain.
“Yes?” Karen said in an overbearing tone. I blinked. She was trying to embarrass me. In front of all my classmates and, worse yet, in front of Jared. Suddenly, I felt enraged, which seemed to kick-start my brain, and I had the definition as clearly before my eyes as if I were reading it from a piece of paper.
“Compensation is behavior that attempts to make up for psychological deficiencies such as feelings of inferiority. This results in actions that are supposed to demonstrate full worthiness, but the ego somewhat exceeds the goal and overcompensates for the deficiency,” I heard myself say.
Jared leaned back, relaxed, and gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Well done,” he mouthed. I also got approving looks from the other students. Some had already started scribbling my definition on their notepads.
“Yes,” Karen Mayflower said, somewhat confused. “Good . . . Please write that down,” she added, suddenly casting me an appraising look, in which I believed I saw something soft. As if she recognized that she’d underestimated me.
Since I felt sure I wouldn’t be called on again, I was able to lean back and relax for the remainder of the lecture. But I did sit up straight as a post when it was Jared’s turn to define sublimation, which he did so sovereignly that I immediately sank back down again.
We didn’t get through all the defense mechanisms, which is why Karen promised we’d continue next week where we’d left off. Still, I did it, I thought when she packed her things, and I sighed with relief.
“Hungry?” Jared asked me, beaming, and extended his hand to pull me up from the chair.
“Yes,” I said, smiling. As if to confirm it, my stomach growled loudly, which made Jared’s grin widen even more.
“Do you want to go to the dining hall or somewhere else? A place we can talk undisturbed?”
“Undisturbed sounds good,” I said, following him outside. Considering the almost two-hour lunch break we had to ourselves, I felt a happy expectation. Even though Jared and I were officially—there was a tingling inside my stomach when I thought of it—together and he had let me in on his greatest secret, there still was much I didn’t know about him.
“How old are you actually?” I asked while we were walking to the old town. It seemed a fitting initial question.
“Twenty-one,” he said and grinned when he understood what I was up to. “And you?”
“Nineteen,” I said without being able to rid myself of the feeling that he already knew.
“Did you start school late?” I followed up when my brain registered that he was two years older but in the same year as me.
“I studied physics after finishing high school and only started psychology last October.”
“Didn’t you like physics?”
“I did, why?” He seemed confused.
“Because you changed subjects?”
“But I didn’t,” he said, frowning. “I graduated and then started on psychology.”
“You completed a bachelor’s in physics in two years?” I asked, impressed.
“Actually, I’ve got a master’s degree,” he said, embarrassed. “But it took two and a half years,” he added.
I looked at him almost in awe and attempted to push aside the question of what someone like him wanted with me. “Why those subjects?” They didn’t entirely fit together in my mind.
“Well, physics examines the phenomena and laws of nature while psychology deals with the experience and behavior of humans. Together with biology they form the pillars of magic,” he explained.
I thought for a moment. “So, essentially, you’re trying to understand yourself better?”
“Yes, I think you could look at it that way,” he said.
“That makes sense, of course.” I smiled.
“Where did you grow up?” he asked, and again I had the sneaking suspicion that this was an alibi question.
“In Fleetwood. Do you know where that is?” A small test.
“North of Liverpool, isn’t it?” he said. Now I was certain he’d already known where I’d grown up. For a flash, the image of a manila folder full of information shot through my mind: my date of birth, CV, report cards, blood type, police report . . . The thought made me grin. A file on me—that would be taking it too far. But what if it was true? Strangely, I didn’t care. On the contrary, I almost felt a little flattered that Jared knew so much about me. After all, this meant he’d been interested in me for a while. You don’t inform yourself about someone you don’t care about, do you?
Jared suddenly smiled. “Right by the water—how . . . fitting. Did you like it there?”
“Yes, my sister Zara and I had a small apartment . . .” I stopped. I had to swallow when a deep sadness for which I was completely unprepared overcame me. It had been a few weeks since I’d last talked to anyone about my sister. Jared walked more slowly and, when I couldn’t speak, he finally stopped and took me into his arms.
“You miss her, don’t you?” he whispered in my ear. His words were filled with empathy.
“Every day,” I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I miss my family, too,” he said quietly, moving closer to me. “I had a sister, too. Her name was Laura.” We stood there for a moment, in the middle of the path in this wonderfully comforting embrace and shared our pain. It felt so good. Then he bent down and gave me a gentle kiss on my closed lips.
“Do you feel like Indian? Chicken curry?” he asked, suddenly switching the topic but somehow at the right moment.
“Yes,” I said, his great timing forcing me to smile before he gently kissed my forehead.
A little later we entered a cozy Indian restaurant from which loud voices escaped as soon as we opened the door. They were speaking in English, Hindi, and a strange mixture of the two. We ordered two portions of chicken curry with rice and two Cokes.
“No, we’ll eat here,” Jared said, answering a startlingly beautiful Indian waitress when she asked whether it was for here or to go. She shyly smiled at him as her golden-brown skin tone took on a noticeable red shimmer. She looked only about sixteen; otherwise, I might have been jealous.
Jared paid, ignoring my protests. He gave the young beauty a generous tip and a friendly smile, which seemed to completely turn her head.
“I’ll . . . bring it to your t-table,” she stammered and disappeared, embarrassed, into the kitchen. Oh man, only Jared was capable of confounding someone like that with a single glance—no one knew that better than I did.
We sat down at the last free table. Though the noise forced us to bend toward each other over the table to talk, I was fine with it being loud. No one would be able to listen in on our conversation.
“I think the little lady fell in love with
you,” I said with a smile and nodded toward the kitchen door.
Jared frowned. “The waitress?”
I nodded.
“I think she just wants to be polite,” he said, shrugging, and reached for my hand. I decided not to pursue the topic but to continue our question-and-answer game.
“Who were those two women who joined us yesterday in the woods? They came with Professor Martin.”
“The one in riding boots was Enid Speakerman. She’s a doctor and number two in the Order after Karen.”
When the Indian beauty, still slightly blushing, brought our meal, Jared stopped talking. Only when I had to lean back so she could place the plate on the table did I notice how far we had leaned forward.
“Thank you,” Jared and I said in unison, whereupon she smiled back shyly and perhaps even a little apologetically. I returned her smile. I couldn’t hold it against her that she liked Jared.
“This means Karen is something like the head of the Order?” I asked.
Jared nodded. “She is the high priestess and Enid is her deputy, basically,” he said. “Personally, I’d prefer if it were the other way around.”
“And who was the redhead?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
“Claire McAdams, Madison’s mother.”
“I thought so.”
“The resemblance is hard to miss,” he said with a chuckle.
“And what does she do?” I asked, pushing a forkful of food into my mouth.
“She’s also a member of the High Council,” Jared said as he started to eat.
“High Council?” That rang a bell. Didn’t Colin inform me through Sally that a certain High Council had to decide something, and until then she was supposed to stay with me in public?
Jared nodded while he chewed, then swallowed. “The High Council of the Order consists of seven members. Five of them you already know.”
I was startled. “Five?” I asked, starting to count. “Karen Mayflower, Professor Martin, Enid—what was her last name again?”
“Speakerman,” Jared said before popping another forkful of curry into his mouth.
“Oh yes, Enid Speakerman and Madison’s mother, Claire, right?”
Jared nodded.
“That’s only four.”
“You forgot me,” he said, winking.
“You’re part of the High Council?”
“Yes.”
“And who are the other two?”
“Judith McHallern and Montgomery Grey,” Jared said, eating another forkful.
“Ah. And what does the Council do?”
“Protects Merlin’s legacy,” Jared said and swallowed. “The High Council decides, in a manner of speaking, what is to be done when danger looms.”
“What danger?”
“Any kind of danger to my family and the Order,” he said, then quietly added, “or, rather, myself and the Order.”
Uncertain, I turned away from him. “When I arrived at Oxford, the High Council also made a decision, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” Jared said, his voice suddenly hardening.
“What was it?”
He hesitated. “That they will not . . . take action against you.” This reluctance wasn’t at all like him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
When I noticed Jared’s look, I would have preferred to retract the question. Oh!
“I understand,” I said, subdued and looked at my hands.
After a pause, I asked, “How does this work with these decisions? Do you vote by raising hands, or what?” I couldn’t resist laughing at the thought.
“Yes, that’s pretty much what we do.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded while an amused grin spread across his face.
“And how did the vote about me go?”
His smile disappeared. “It was close,” he said.
I suddenly felt a chill. I had a fairly good idea who voted against me. Karen and Claire would certainly not have been on my side. I no longer felt hungry and pushed my half-finished plate aside.
Jared, who had finished eating, looked at me earnestly. “Whatever the High Council would have decided, I would never have allowed any harm to come to you,” he said, taking me by the hand. I only managed a nod as my response. We sat across from each other silently while I sipped my Coke.
“Does the Order have other members than those seven? What about Colin and Aiden and the other guys you run with?” I asked to distract myself.
“The Order consists of three levels,” Jared said, suddenly appearing much less subdued. “The High Council forms the core and is in turn surrounded by the Circle. That’s a kind of inner group that currently consists of twenty people. That includes Colin, Aiden, and the others. Every seven years, the members of the Council are elected from the ranks of the Circle.”
I couldn’t help a surprised snort.
“What’s the matter?” Jared asked, amused by my reaction.
“Well, I didn’t expect this club to be something like a democracy.”
“Club?” Jared said and then laughed.
Damn, did I just say that out loud? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jared said, laughing, and brushed the hair out of my face.
“And what’s the third level?” I asked.
“All those who are not members of the Circle but still belong to the Order. An outer group, in a manner of speaking.”
“And how many of them are there?”
“More than five hundred.”
“Five hundred? Wow.”
Jared nodded. “Yes, but only the Circle is initiated into all secrets. The members of the outer group act in the background. They only know what they need to know to fulfill their duties.” He suddenly laughed. “You’d be surprised if you knew how many people in public life belong to Legatum Merlini or did during their lifetime.”
“People in public life?”
“Scientists, politicians, musicians, artists, actors, authors, CEOs . . . The list is long.” Jared bent a little farther across the table and whispered. “The members are dispersed throughout the world. The Order has a safe house in almost every country.”
I was shocked.
“Of course, Oxford is the base and hub. There’s no better place to hide a secret as effectively as in this tradition-rich university town.” He smiled wide. “For example, we keep most of the Order’s literature collection in the college library. A collection like that is hardly noticeable among scholarly works on all conceivable subjects.”
I blinked. So I was right: the Calmburry book, the carvings on the shelves, the books on the witch trials, herbal lore . . .
“I know you were there,” Jared said as if he had read my thoughts. “Karen even convened the Council because of it.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. “Since you showed up, she’s called a Council meeting nearly every week. I’m starting to think she’s turning paranoid.”
I swallowed. Karen really did believe I was a danger to Jared and might even wish to harm him. But that was so ridiculous! For my money, she was definitely paranoid. All this talk about danger and safety . . . Suddenly, something Jared had just said registered.
“How did you mean that?” I asked. “What exactly are you safe from in these safe houses?”
“These houses, and especially the headquarters here in Oxford, have protective spells cast on them that prevent anyone from being found as long as they stay there.”
Protective spells? “And who would they be hiding from?”
Jared looked down and was silent for a moment. “All those who are not welcome in the house but especially . . . Morgana,” he whispered bitterly.
“Morgana?” I repeated just as quietly. “The Morgana from Arthurian legend? She
’s real?” I’d heard it before, but it had never really entered my consciousness.
Only then did I notice I’d leaned so far over the table that my torso was almost completely on top of the table. Jared had also come forward so far our noses almost touched.
“Wait a second,” I said, frowning. “Are we talking about Morgana’s descendants or the Morgana from the fifth century?”
“It’s still the same one,” Jared said in a muffled voice. Still the same one? But how . . . ? I couldn’t bring myself to follow the thought to its conclusion because of the painful expression on Jared’s face. “She killed my entire family,” he said with lowered eyes and suddenly spoke so softly I could barely understand him. “And Colin’s. And . . .” He stopped, closed his eyes, then opened them again after a deep breath and looked at me with empathy. “Yours.”
I felt my face go as pale as a ghost. “M—mine? Morgana killed my family?”
Jared grasped my hand, nodding. A painful expression of empathy—no, pity—in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I managed to blink a few seconds later. “But . . . they caught Zara’s murderer . . . ,” I said numbly. I was totally confused. Did they convict an innocent man for my sister’s murder? I remembered when Christopher, Zara’s partner in the police department, had appeared unexpectedly at my door. It was soon after Zara’s funeral. I could still see the look on his face.
“We got him,” he’d said through clenched teeth. “I beat the shit out of him!” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. My eyes stopped at his hands. The knuckles were blood-encrusted and raw in some spots.
Did he ever tell Zara that he loved her?
“How do you know it was Morgana?” I asked Jared. My voice broke.
“From Karen. She told me a few days ago.” He hesitated before he continued. “Evelyn, what do you know about how your family died?”
Nothing was more difficult for me than talking about this. I breathed in deeply while trying not to focus on my tightening throat.
“Mom and Dad”—I coughed—“died in a car accident.” There it was again—the lump in my throat that told me I was just about to break down in tears. I swallowed with difficulty. “They were squeezed off the road. Their car rolled over four times and hit a tree. They were killed instantly.” My voice trembled while my eyes filled with tears.