“Get out of my way,” sneered Eunice, “and get out of these ladies’ way. It’s physically sickening to see Valiant dating a worm like you.”
“I do have this to thank you for,” Tess held her full tray with one hand and slipped her free arm around Colleen’s waist, giving the other girl a friendly hug. “I can’t think of anything else that might have made the two of us get along. Now we have a mutual foe to hate.”
Colleen laughed gaily, but she looked faintly uncomfortable, as if she was not exactly sure where she stood on the matter of hating one of her cousin’s friends, even if that friend were dating the boy Colleen fancied.
Tess released Colleen and sauntered forward until she stood beside Eunice. She leaned toward Rachel and drawled, “You know Valiant is only playing up to you in hopes of getting an in with your father and the Wisecraft.”
Colleen burst into gales of laughter. “Fat lot of good that’ll do him. My uncle says Agent Griffin is the most tight-lipped man in the Wisecraft, after Templeton Bridges, of course. They used to be partners—Agent Griffin and my uncle, I mean.”
“By your uncle, you mean James Darling, Agent, right?” asked Eunice, her eye twitching.
“You don’t like Agent Darling, do you?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Because he forced you to confess how badly you treat your little sister?”
Eunice’s face grew pale. “H-how do you know that?”
Oops. Wasn’t it secret that she knew this?
“Maybe Agent Griffin blabs after all,” chuckled Tess.
Eunice raised her cup of tomato juice threateningly over Rachel’s head. “Whatcha gonna do, baby girl? Gonna to go running to Dread?” She looked around. “Oh, wait. He’s not here.”
Rachel crossed her arms, careful not to spill the apple juice. “I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.”
Eunice snorted derisively. “Fight? You might be able to beat First-Week Cydney but against me? You wouldn’t last five seconds.”
“Do pour, Eunice,” purred Tess. “I so enjoy the sight of Miss Griffin covered with juice.”
Rachel’s face remained calm, despite her desire to clench her teeth. Tess was the girl who had been clinging to Gaius’s arm the day Rachel had run by, covered with orange juice.
“Maybe I will,” replied Eunice. “Or maybe I’ll go pour it over my sister Magdalene.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Rachel replied calmly in a voice reminiscent of Dread’s. She recalled Eunice’s face when Vlad had first spoke in Rachel’s defense at the Knight’s meeting. “You might talk big here, but you are afraid of Von Dread. He’s protecting Magdalene.”
Eunice’s face turned bright red. “H-how did you know that? Did Gaius blab?”
Oops again. She probably should not have mentioned that either.
“No,” Rachel replied archly. “Gaius does not even know that I know.”
“It’s no use trying to protect him,” hissed Eunice, waving the tomato juice back and forth above Rachel’s head. “It has to be him. Who else could have told you about private Drake matters? I’m going to tell on him!” she cried excitedly. “People need to know that he’s a snitch!”
No! Now she was going to get Gaius into trouble, and it was not even his fault! Out of loyalty to her boyfriend, Rachel blurted out the truth.
“Not so. I know because…” she paused, took a breath, and blurted out, “I’m the person who asked Vlad to stop you from hitting her.”
An angry, high-pitched sound issued from Eunice. Her face grew blotchy and purple. She jerked her arm, dashing her cup of juice into Rachel’s face. Bright, red, liquid tomato flew through the air. Without hesitating, Rachel repeated the words and gestures that Gaius had used to remove the orange juice from her robes, during the first week of school.
“Silu varenga. Taflu!”
The first drops spattered against her skin and robes. She cringed, but nothing more struck her. The cantrip had worked!
Only, she had neglected to consider the glass in her own hand. Both liquids, the tomato juice that had been in mid-flight toward her and the apple juice in the glass for Valerie, flew away from her and splashed across the faces and trays of the three older girls.
All three howled in outrage.
For the second time in as many days, Rachel ran.
Chapter Ten:
Playing Hooky With Ogres
“Psst! Siggy,” Rachel called from where she crouched, hiding, as Siggy came out of the dining hall after breakfast.
It was the next morning. The sky was cloudy and gray. A brisk, icy wind blew across the campus. Wet slush covered the ground, squelching beneath students’ feet, as they tromped across the bridge that spanned the reflecting lake on their way to class or back to their dorms. Rachel squatted beside the stone wall of the bridge, clutching her broom. She was trying to stay out of sight of the dining hall, shivering despite her red wool coat and her snowman hat.
“Rachel, why are you hiding behind the bridge?” Sigfried peered over the stone wall. “Lucky, look sharp! Something is alarming our blood sister! Threats could be anywhere!”
“I see a short, humanoid, student-person in a bulky green parka and a professor-like tutor person wearing red and black robes. They are walking at five o’clock,” Lucky called back from where he snaked through the air above Siggy’s head. “Should I burninate them?”
“Hmm,” Siggy stroked his imaginary beard. “Difficult call. Better hold off until we are sure. We just finished with detention. I would hate to have to start again, if it turned out that we burninated an innocent bystander. When would I have time to practice with Seth for our new band, the Punk Magicians—or should we go with Dragonsmiths?—if I were spending all my free periods weeding gardens and mopping floors?”
“Probably wise,” nodded Lucky, but he gazed longingly after the moving targets.
“Could you possibly spare a vial of your super chameleon potion?” whispered Rachel.
Sigfried pulled out a crystal vial and handed it to her. “Whatcha want it for?”
Lucky blurted out. “You have to tell the boss, so he can be Implicated.”
Rachel gestured with her broom. “I want to go into the kitchen and get some breakfast.”
Siggy stared at her as if she had misplaced her head.
“Rachel,” he said very slowly, “in this crazy school, the kitchens are a cornucopia of endless food. Even students are allowed to take food. You don’t even have to steal it. But if you are really hungry, I saved some spaghetti from dinner last night. It’s a little cold, but still good.” He started to reach into his pocket.
“That’s okay!” squeaked Rachel, waving her hands back and forth in the hope of not having to start the morning with a glimpse, or worse a whiff, of day-old spaghetti. “I’m hiding from some upperclassmen who are angry with me.”
“And they want to hurt you?” Siggy forgot the spaghetti, suddenly alert.
“Um…they might. That’s why I’m hiding.”
He grinned and struck his palm with his fist. “Point me at them.”
“They’re girls.”
“Yooooowwwww!” Siggy threw his head back and howled in despair. “Why does it always have to be girls? Why can’t it ever be a boy? King Arthur will never forgive me if I punch a girl, or smash her against a wall with an air blast, or use her to practice the one-two kidney punch and upper cut combo Seth’s been teaching me, or if Lucky lit her hair on fire! Why must it always be girls?”
Rachel straightened up and smoothed her robe, leaning the steeplechaser against the wall. “I don’t think it will ever be boys. The boys are smart enough to be afraid of Valiant and Dread.”
“Wise on their parts.” Siggy nodded sagely. “Wise.”
Lucky asked, “Why aren’t the girls afraid?”
Rachel shrugged. “Maybe they think they’re safe because they’re girls. Or maybe it is because two of them are in love with Gaius. I guess they think that if they can get him away from me, Dread won’t defend me a
ny more. So, the risk is worth it.”
Siggy blinked rapidly and put his arms out, as if he were feeling around, blind. “Wha…were you saying something? Words were coming out of your mouth, but they were so excruciatingly boring that I think my ears are bleeding.”
Rachel did not know whether to laugh or sigh.
“Hey,” she cried excitedly, “Could you spy on them for me? Tess Dauntless and Colleen MacDannan, I mean? Find out if they’re plotting to steal my boyfriend?”
Sigfried puffed out his chest and stared at Rachel as if she had asked him to commit some abomination. “Miss Griffin, I am to use my vast powers only for pranks, petty crimes, gathering gold, self-aggrandizement and/or saving the world—but not for girly stuff! I do have some standards. Besides, what would Valerie say, if she found out I was staring all day at the luscious yet pouty-lipped Tess Dauntless?”
“Oh.” Rachel wilted. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“But, if it will help,” Siggy continued, “I can use my MacDannan contacts to find out if Colleen MacDannan talks about Valiant. And I am willing to give you a vial of my souped-up, Elf-Herb, Chameleon Juice Elixir, so you can sneak up and eavesdrop on them.”
“No, never mind. I was just curious,” Rachel said quickly, hiding her disappointment. She felt embarrassed to have voiced aloud such a petty desire. “I’ve already asked Ian about Colleen and Gaius. He said one of his brothers insisted they were seriously in love, and the other said they were just friends.” She rolled her eyes.
Sigfried stated, “Random spying at random times on random conversations is unlikely to yield useful information. I suggest we study harder and learn how to cast the Spell of True Recitation. Then you can mug your rivals and force them to talk Valiant does not seem the type to play the two-timer. If I were you, I would forget this matter and turn my vast mental prowess to a problem of greater significance, such as how to use your superior Broom Goddess talents so that Lucky and I can make money through an off-track betting ring.”
“I’m not worried about Gaius!” Rachel cried, offended at the very notion. “I was just curious about the two girls: what they were like. Whether they were plotting against me.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Siggy thrust the vial of chameleon elixir into Rachel’s hand and yanked out another one.
“Quick! Drink this!” He pulled out the stopper of his vial and downed the liquid.
Rachel drank hers as well. The sweetness of it was pleasing, but the slithery aftertaste of chameleon made her shiver. She took a step toward the dining hall.
“Wait! Where are you going? If you go in there, the doors will lock, and we’ll never get out. I told you, you can have my spaghetti.” Sigfried sounded slightly wistful, as if parting with yesterday’s dinner was difficult.
“Er…no thanks,” Rachel replied politely. “But why shouldn’t I go inside? It looks like it might storm and—”
“Take me up!” Siggy grabbed her arm, which was only partially visible to Rachel. She could see blotches of snow and stone where her elbow should be. However, she knew that Sigfried’s superior sorcery power allowed him to see them, at least a little, even when the elixir fully took effect.
“Up?”
“I want to see the storm goblin in action.”
“But he throws lightning!”
“I missed my chance to see another world.” Sigfried scowled savagely. “She betrayed us. First, she fired a knight. Second, she made us wait instead of going right away. And then, she had the gall to go without us! That’s three betrayals!”
“I’m upset, too, Siggy, but that doesn’t mean I want to be fricasseed in midair.”
“But how else are we going to save Wheels?”
Rachel shook her head, as if to shake away her confusion. “How does getting fried alive have anything to do with Zoë?”
“We can’t get into dreamland to rescue Zoë without her sandals, right?” asked Siggy.
Rachel nodded. It was eerie knowing that Siggy, with his superior magical talents, could see her nod when she could not make him out at all.
We need someone who can go into dreamland,” Siggy continued, “like the storm goblin. If we follow him, maybe we can figure out how he goes back and forth.” When Rachel stared at him, puzzled, he added, “In Art class, didn’t Mrs. Heelis tell us that the fey realm and the place where humans dream are the same? One is just ‘deeper in,’ whatever that means.”
“Sigfried!” cried Rachel. “That’s brilliant!”
Siggy crowed, “See, Lucky, sometimes, even I have good ideas.”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Lucky replied, gazing proudly at his master. Apparently, Lucky could see them, too.
“But…” Rachel hesitated, “even if we found our way into the Heer’s mountain hall—and lived—how would we find Zoë? We don’t have Nastasia’s magic travel power, and Nastasia didn’t even tell us where she lost her. Zoë might not even be on earth. She might have fallen off one of those silvery paths of the princess’s on another world.”
“Lucky her,” muttered Siggy.
Rachel sighed.
Lightning split the gray morning sky. The bells began to ring in a ring-ring, pause, ring-ring pattern. Wooden shutters formed out of puffs of mist that appeared in front of the windows Rachel could see: Roanoke Hall, the dorm towers, the infirmary, and the gym. Rachel wondered obscurely why no one had thought to place shutters over the skylights in the gymnasium. Or, at least, none had appeared up there the day she was locked in the gym.
“What are those? They came out of nowhere!” cried Sigfried, startled.
Rachel sighed. “That’s conjuration, Siggy. Looks just like when we conjure in class.”
“Oh, right,” muttered Siggy, adding, “Here. Take this.”
Rachel could not see him, but a hard, ridged object with a cord dangling from it was thrust into her hand.
“Put this around your neck and eat this,” continued Sigfried’s voice.
The hard object that felt like a key was followed by something soft and springy.
“What is this?” Rachel sniffed dubiously. The spongy substance had a lemony scent.
“Nettle cake,” Siggy explained. “Protects against lightning. And the other thing is an oak amulet. Oak also protects against lighting.”
“You’ve put a great deal of thought into this!” Rachel exclaimed. “How did you…?”
“I’ve been asking around. Ian told me about these things. Apparently, his grandfather had a trick for redirecting lightning, and his father used to have to protect himself from it. Not clear on whether the grandfather and father were fighting each other—like Marvel heroes—or if the father just had to make sure he was safe when the grandfather threw lightning. Either way, I talked our Alchemy teacher into teaching me how to make them. Well, he gave me the cakes, but he taught me how to make the protective amulets.”
“Really?” Rachel took a bite of the nettle cake. It tasted sweet and lemony. “That was awfully nice of him!”
Siggy coughed slightly. “He might possibly be under the false impression that the storm goblin makes me nervous.”
Rachel giggled. “But he doesn’t, I gather. The Heer, I mean.”
“Are you kidding?” Siggy cried. “I’ve been after him since the day I arrived.”
“Come to think of it, that’s how we met, wasn’t it?” Rachel mused. “You and I flew out to Stony Tor because you wanted to find the Heer’s prison.”
“Exactly! Let’s go up now and have a look! I want to see where he lives.”
“Fly across the river to Storm King Mountain?” Rachel’s voice rose. “Is that wise?”
“We’re protected from lightning, and we’re invisible.”
The last students visible on the commons ran into Roanoke Hall. As they passed through the portal, the great oak doors shut with a reverberating bang. Rachel looked up at the quickly-darkening sky and then at the rounded peak of the pyramidal Storm King Mountain, rising in t
he distance. She hopped on her broom, which vanished once she sat upon it, and patted the back of the long seat for Sigfried to climb on behind her.
“Mission a go, then?” ask Sigfried.
“Quite,” replied Rachel with a brisk nod, as she launched into the air.
• • •
Rachel and Siggy soared across the commons and down the tree-lined path to the docks, following the same path she and Gaius had taken on their way to visit O.I.. Lucky flew along beside them. He, too, was invisible, using his own natural methods. Rachel had to glance in his direction and then think back in order to have any notion of the dragon’s whereabouts. Alas, that technique did not work against chameleon elixir. She could not see Sigfried at all.
“So, what about this boy-eating ogre?” asked Siggy.
“The ogre?” Rachel straightened up. “I don’t know. According to Larger Than Life: Trolls, Ogres, Jotuns, and Giants, by my hero, Daring Northwest, ogres have a number of origins. Some were thought to be fey creatures, like pixies or trolls or leprechauns; others the offspring of giants and trolls. Still others were thought to have once been sorcerers who had practiced alchemy directly upon their own bodies. There was an ogre in the book named Mambres who had been given a charmed life by Baba Yaga, so that neither sword nor arrow could harm him. Another from France, who was turned back into a handsome prince when a girl fell in love with him, and a second French one who was eaten by an unusually clever cat. And yet another, not French this time, whose seven-league boots were stolen by a boy named Hop-o’-My-Thumb, which strikes me as a ridiculous name to call a baby.”
“They probably called him Hop for short,” opined Sigfried. He thought for a moment. “When Mr. Fisher warned us in Science class that bad things would happen if we put influences directly into our bodies, he didn’t explain that by ‘bad’ he meant ‘turn into an ogre.’ Does that mean if I stop using elixirs for my alchemy, I can turn into an ogre? That would be wicked!”
The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 12