by Amparo Ortiz
“Then I’m tired of being white noise.”
“So am I …” Andrew’s voice drops along with his shoulders. He perks up again in a flash, showing off a toothy smile. “Wait. Did we just talk without wanting to kill each other?”
I’m laughing way louder than I should. “Miracles do happen.” An even bigger miracle would be for Andrew to redirect his energy into stopping the Sire the same way I’m trying to. Not only could I use more help in finding out the Sire’s real plan, I can also keep Andrew from carving a bigger bull’s-eye on his chest by openly protesting again. And if he’s even more focused on stopping the Sire, he’ll have less brain space for the Fade. “You know how you offered me the chance to protest with you? Now it’s my turn to offer you something.”
“What is it?”
“I might have a lead on how to stop the Sire without protesting the Cup. Think of it as a behind-the-scenes mission. Nobody can know about it.” I offer him a half smile. “Are you in?”
He considers me for a moment. “Will it actually work?”
“Maybe. I’m still figuring out the details, but it looks like I’m onto something.”
Andrew nods. “Okay. I’m in.”
There it is. Our second truce. Hopefully, this one lasts way longer. I’m not sure if this qualifies us for official friendship status. Today, Andrew is someone who’s helping me remember how good life can be even when you feel powerless.
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell him. “See you soon, Andrew. And thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” Andrew smirks as he ends our first Live Video Call.
I fall onto the bed like a snow angel, relishing my victories on and off the field, wondering whether I’ll get to have another decent day like this ever again.
AT 8:00 P.M., THE DRAGONS START THEIR SONG AGAIN.
It’s in a more stable pitch now. There are less screechy wails and more streamlined notes delivered with grace. It’s pleasant yet still weepy.
“Aww, man.” I touch my chest, right where my heart is. “This is the worst.”
The longer the dragons sing, the more I crave to console them. Besides, what if their song sounds better because they’re leveling up? Esperanza created something close to an Other Place after their first time singing. Tonight’s song could mean something bigger is coming.
I put on my Adidas slides and head for the elevator. My teammates should either be at the habitat already or on their way. Hopefully, the dragons will now be capable of spilling the beans.
The elevator doors open.
Manny and the whole team barge into the corridor, right behind Headmaster Sykes. He’s in his pajamas, covered in a navy blue silk robe that looks like water when he moves. His blue velvet slippers glide across the corridor until he’s standing before me.
“Good evening. Forgive my intrusion at this hour,” he says breathlessly. There are dry tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. “My husband is demanding your presence at our estate, Ms. Torres. He needs to discuss an important matter with you at once. If you could please follow me, we’ll Transport to London together. I promise to have you back home in no time.”
Whoa. Never saw that one coming. “The president needs me in London?”
“At once, yes.”
“Why won’t you tell me what this is about, Corwin?” Manny asks him.
“Because it’s a private matter between Russell and Ms. Torres.” Headmaster Sykes is on the brink of tears, sniffling and blinking rapidly. “And it needs to be addressed this instant.”
Joaquín says, “Why does it have to be at his home?”
“Exactly,” Génesis chimes in. “Why can’t the president come here instead?”
Headmaster Sykes keeps his desperate gaze on me. “He’s currently indisposed. However, he needs to speak with Ms. Torres right now, and I’m not returning home without her.”
He’s been crying. He’s come to fetch me in his pajamas. And his hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in weeks. Manny’s grim expression confirms something is wrong. The last time he visited the president, he’d witnessed the Sire hurt him through his Anchor Curse. What if what happened in London then is happening again?
What if the Sire is actually in London this time?
“Okay. Take me to him,” I tell Headmaster Sykes. Meeting the Sire could be a good thing. I can squeeze information out of him. I just have to be slick about it.
“I’m going with you,” Manny says.
“No.” Headmaster Sykes puts a hand on his shoulder. “You stay here with your team, Manuel. I will bring her back soon. Just wait for us, all right?”
Manny is about to pop a blood vessel, but he gives him a quick nod.
I peek at him again after getting into the elevator. As the doors close, Manny slips a hand into his jeans’ pocket, which is where he keeps his phone.
HEADMASTER SYKES WAITS UNTIL WE’RE DEEP IN THE COMPOUND outskirts to Transport.
When the white light vanishes, I’m in the middle of a cozy living room. An explosion of gleaming wood furniture hits me. Bookcases, end tables, cabinets, TV, and DVD units have all been carved out of mahogany. There’s a half-empty glass of wine and Harleen Khurana’s A History of Blazewrath Around the World on the sofa, but not a trace of President Turner.
“Right this way. He’s in the library.” Headmaster Sykes gently places a hand on my back, then steers me to the narrow corridor on the left. He’s shaking. His breathing is slowing down. I don’t make a sound as I move forward. Butterflies fling themselves inside me at breakneck speed; they’re even stronger than a Silencing Charm. I might be dying to know what’s going on, but this is the Sire. I’m headed straight toward a murderer. That’s never going to be in my Top Ten Things I Want to Do Before I Die. It’s more like the number-one way to actually die.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Five Dragon Knights stand by the walls.
Three men. Two women. The men and one of the women have Silver wands out. That would mean only one is a Regular, though, and most Dragon Knights are Regulars. Why has the Sire brought more magical bodyguards this time? Is Randall taking a personal day?
“Library’s just a little farther ahead,” Headmaster Sykes says as he pushes me ever so slightly. I’m only moving because he’s moving me. For a split second, I wonder if he’s tricking me at the Sire’s request. Is he putting up a desperate front so that I feel bad and comply with whatever he says? Then I remember how lovingly he’d treated President Turner back at his Other Place. How he’s been trying to help him access the Sire’s thoughts. He’s just as trapped in this dark web as I am, so why would he play mind games with me?
None of the Dragon Knights try to hurt us. I ball my fists as I walk past them, anyway. Headmaster Sykes takes me to the first door on the right, which is wide open. There’s even more mahogany in the shape of bookshelves, wrapping around the entire room.
Takeshi Endo stands near one of the high windows, leaning back into the drawn curtains like he owns the place and boring holes into my skin with his intense gaze.
The boy named Randall is sitting on the very edge of a desk. He’s sucking on a peppermint lollipop and reading the first pages of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander.
President Turner sits behind the desk. He’s also in his black pajamas and a moss-green robe. His eyes are no longer their natural blue. They’re icy silver, mimicking the Sire’s scales.
He’s pressing the tip of Takeshi’s claw dagger to his neck.
“Lana Torres,” the Sire’s voice comes out of the president’s mouth. “We meet at last.”
My insides turn to dust. President Turner’s body has been hijacked. Wherever the Sire’s hiding, he’s too cowardly to be here in the flesh.
“Thank you for being here.” The Sire flashes me a smile on a face that doesn’t belong to him. He props the president’s feet up on the desk. “You have already met Takeshi, but let me introduce Randall. Say hello to our special guest, Randall.”
Randall takes th
e lollipop out of his mouth as he acknowledges me. A burst of peppermint wafts across the room. I wince. Now I’ll never be able to smell peppermint again and picture anything but his stupid face. “Hi, Lana. Welcome to Chateau Turner.” He kicks his dangling leg back and forth, back and forth.
“Why am I here?” I ask the Sire.
“Straight to the heart of the matter! Good.” He sinks the tip of the dagger into the president’s neck, just a few inches above his collarbone, but not enough to prick blood.
Headmaster Sykes squeezes my shoulder. He’s cringing as he watches his husband’s body suffer even the slightest of injuries at the Sire’s hand.
I put a hand on top of his. The headmaster’s grip relaxes, but he’s still holding me tight.
“Tomorrow morning, you will hold a press conference outside of the Blazewrath stadium,” the Sire says. “You will read a speech I have written for you, in which you will extend your support to the International Blazewrath Federation. You will ask the world to do the same.”
He says it with a straight face, too, confident in his cruelty.
But I refuse to bend so easily.
“You’ve been so vocal about canceling the Cup, yet you’re also the one who’s keeping it going. Why is that?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Don’t you have more important things to worry about than choosing who wins the Cup?” I let out a dramatic gasp. “Are you living a double life as a bookie?”
“Keep it up.” The Sire pushes the dagger deeper into President Turner’s neck. He’s a breath away from drawing blood. “People could get hurt.”
I gulp down. “Please leave him alone. I didn’t mean to—”
“Did you hear my instructions?”
Taunting him won’t work. He’ll murder the president before he hints at what he’s really after. “Loud and clear. But why does it have to be me?”
“I need someone to counter Andrew Galloway’s protest. Tomorrow you will stand with my enemies and denounce what Andrew did during the opening ceremonies. You will serve as both his political foil and the world’s distraction.” The Sire glances at Takeshi like a proud parent. “Consider this the alternative to killing you for standing in Takeshi’s way back at the wand shop. You can thank him for the suggestion.”
Takeshi bows his head to me. “You’re welcome.”
Clenching my fists has never hurt this much. Neither has standing in place when I wish desperately to charge the Sire and punch his lights out. But that’s not him. It’s President Turner. Saying no means watching President Turner die. I can’t risk his life so carelessly, much less when his husband is almost in pieces next to me.
“Do you agree to my terms, Lana?” the Sire says.
My mouth tastes like rotten fruit. “Yes … I’ll do it …”
“Excellent. Your speech will be ready in a few minutes.” The Sire rises from his chair. He lowers the dagger at last, leaving it on the desk. He’s walking over to one of the bookshelves.
Randall goes back to reading Outlander.
Takeshi won’t quit staring at me. I can’t read him. He’s a book that was written with broken quills in the dark. I don’t care if he convinced the Sire to keep me alive. He’s still trash.
“Andrew thinks you’re a good person,” I choke out. “That you’re a hero.”
There’s a cold indifference in his once-beautiful eyes. “Do I look like a hero to you?”
BANG!
The library door flies across the room, along with one of the male Dragon Knights.
Headmaster Sykes pulls me to the floor. He shields me from the storm of magic spells flying all over the place, destroying everything they touch. Blown-up bits of book covers and pages are scattered everywhere. “Stay down!” the headmaster yells.
I cover my head but risk a peek at the library’s entrance.
Agent Horowitz is shooting a spell at one of the female Dragon Knights while also kicking a male Dragon Knight square in the jaw. He tumbles into a pile on the floor. Agent Horowitz blocks spell after spell. She punches the female Dragon Knight in the gut and slams her knee into the chick’s head when she doubles over.
She’s out cold immediately.
“Boys, get yourselves out of here at once!” I hear the Sire’s plea, followed by a sudden thud on the floor. President Turner is unconscious a few feet away from me.
“Russell!” Headmaster Sykes tries to get up, but I pull him back down.
Randall and Takeshi abandon their respective corners. Takeshi grabs the claw dagger. Randall takes out his Gold wand. They both stand side by side, even though Randall keeps a little distance. Takeshi reaches for one of the golden orbs attached to his belt.
“Drop your weapons, gentlemen. That’s not a request,” Agent Horowitz says, but she’s aiming her wand at Randall. I get it. He’s a Gold Wand, but Takeshi’s still a legit threat.
“Randall, let’s go,” Takeshi says shakily. If I knew him better, I’d say he’s scared.
Randall stays where he is. “Not. Quite. Yet.”
Director Sandhar charges inside with ragged breaths. “Do what she says.” His voice is shaky, but it doesn’t sound like he’s nervous. More like his rage is eating all of his patience.
He’s pointing his wand at Randall, too.
“Hi, Dad!” a peppy Randall says. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t speak to me. Both of you, drop your weapons now!”
“Haven’t you missed me? Not even a little bit? After everything we’ve been through?”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Director Sandhar fires a spell at him.
SWISH!
Randall Transports himself and Takeshi out of the house.
Director Sandhar’s spell hits a section of the opposite wall, blasting it into pieces.
I let go of Headmaster Sykes. Tearful and deathly pale, he rushes to his husband’s side, while I crumple into nothing where I lie. President Turner was held hostage in his own body.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll be the next hostage.
The Sire might not be able to hijack me, but as soon as the sun rises in Dubai, he’ll be secretly pulling my strings yet again.
Meet me in the forest,
I’ll be cloaked in black,
Hiding in the shadows while you sing.
Meet me in the forest,
You’re never coming back,
Locked away without your precious wings.
—Poem written by Randall Wiggins, age seven
CHAPTER TWENTY
PRESIDENT TURNER IS STILL NOT AWAKE.
It’s been forty-three minutes since the Sire fled. Headmaster Sykes and Director Sandhar are by his side in his bedroom, waiting for him to finally open his eyes. Agent Horowitz has shipped the five captured Dragon Knights back to the bureau with other agents.
I’ve refused to leave until I know President Turner’s okay. I’m sitting in his living room with Agent Horowitz, who now busies herself with a luxury-car magazine. For a woman who’s just kicked major ass, she’s so put together and relaxed, even though her hair’s a bit ruffled and her dress could use a good ironing. She’s the one who told me about Manny. He’d called Director Sandhar the minute I left the Compound. Headmaster Sykes has apologized for not alerting them, but considering his husband’s life was in danger, Director Sandhar let it slide.
“What are you thinking?” Agent Horowitz says, never looking up from her magazine.
“Not much. Just want to know how he’s holding up.”
“Me, too. Hang in there.” She flips the page. “You did amazing, by the way.”
“What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You were calm under pressure. You didn’t endanger yourself or anyone else by acting recklessly. I could see you through the walls. The X-Ray Charm let me witness everything in the building before I Transported inside. Nirek and I are pleased with your poise.”
“Pfft. You’re a force to be reckoned with. Those Dragon
Knights will be sore for weeks.”
She giggles. “Let’s hope so.”
Director Sandhar drags his feet into the living room. He’s clutching a sheet of paper as he sinks into the sofa across from me.
I shoot out of my seat. “Is the president awake?”
“Yes. Drained of energy but stable.” Director Sandhar offers me the paper he’s holding. “He just wrote this for you.”
I snatch the paper and read it at once:
It’s an honor to address you all today. In the wake of recent events, I’ve asked my friend and mentor, President Russell Turner, to let me use my voice for good. To unite our Blazewrath family before one of us shatters what’s left of it. This isn’t the time to stand against one another. This is the time to put our faith in those who seek to protect us. Today I wish to express my complete loyalty to the International Blazewrath Federation. I wish to offer my sincerest gratitude to the heroes in the Department of Magical Investigations. And most important, today I denounce those who doubt and oppose these great groups of people, who all are working tirelessly to ensure our safety. Resistance isn’t the answer. Canceling the Cup isn’t the answer. I don’t believe in bending to the will of a terrorist. I believe in the people who strive to see his reign of terror end once and for all.
The threats posed against our world will be stopped, but if we don’t support the ones risking their lives for us all, we’re giving the Sire what he wants. Support the men and women in badges. Support the men and women of the IBF, as well. Don’t waste your breath on hate, for it accomplishes nothing. Thank you, and I wish you all a blessed day.
I sink back into my seat. This is my speech for tomorrow morning. Nothing in this message feels like me. Well, I do support the IBF and the bureau, but not in this super-fanatical way. I crinkle the paper into a ball. With a harsh shove, it gets buried inside my pants’ pocket.