“Miss Griffin,” the dean said severely, “you have been summoned by your own father. An Agent of the Wisecraft is here to escort you. Do you believe he is not who he claims he is? Do you believe you are being led into a trap?”
“No. I believe him,” Rachel began eagerly. “But—”
The dean held up her hand. “Miss Griffin, if you believe that going with this man is going to put you in danger, you must tell me now.”
“No.” Rachel’s voice sounded flat in her ears. “I don’t think Agent Bridges will put me into danger.”
Rising to her feet, the dean came around the desk and put her hand on Rachel’s arm. “Then we must let him take you to your father.”
Rachel blinked in shock. She had finally decided to confess everything, and her chosen adult would not even listen? The animation drained from her, leaving a Rachel-shaped husk.
“If my father doesn’t let me return,” she said in a small voice, “thank you. For everything.”
“Excuse me?” Dean Moth’s eyebrows leapt upward.
On his perch, the golden eagle shifted its weight and cocked its head, regarding Rachel.
Rachel attempted to swallow, but her throat was too dry. “Agent Bridges says that my father may pull me from school and have me tutored at home.”
The dean was short, but she was still taller than Rachel. She stooped over and fixed Rachel with her hawk-like gaze. “Miss Griffin, if your father says you cannot return, I will personally go speak to him. Your father is a reasonable man and would not pull you from this school, unless he thought something terrible was going to occur. Were that the case, he would have warned me first, I would think.”
A spark of hope attempted to rekindle inside of Rachel, but it sputtered in the emptiness of her despair. She nodded, not quite looking up.
“Thank you, Dean.”
“Speaking of gratitude, I wanted to say thank you, Rachel. I know that you must have your reasons for not wanting people to know about your part in saving the school from that aeroplane.” The dean pronounced the word carefully.
Rachel’s pupils expanded into black pools. It took her a moment to find her voice again. “How did you…?”
“I learned about your part from Mr. Chanson, who can see very well. He could tell you and Sigfried were both on the broom, defending the school. I hope that you understand just how important that was. How many people you saved. And how your hard work and obvious practice with the sorcery you are learning made it possible,” she added dryly, “And I will be sure to tell your father how much you are learning here and what good you are doing with it, if he persists in attempting to remove you.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know about the plane,” Rachel’s voice dropped to a whisper. She glanced toward where Bridges stood in the hallway. He had pulled out papers from an interior pocket of his cloak and was reviewing them. He could have been faking, but he looked as if he were not paying attention to her conversation. “Because, among other things, I was hoping my father wouldn’t find out. But you are welcome. I am so glad that I could help the school.”
Dean Moth nodded.
“And glad that Siggy was able to take the credit. It makes him happy, and he really did his part. More…” Her voice broke, as she remembered how bravely Sigfried had supported her foolish plan that would have killed them both. “More than you know.”
Dean Moth frowned but did not ask.
The dean gestured and her golden eagle glided silently from the perch to her shoulder. Leading the way, she brought Rachel back to Agent Bridges. The three of them walked down the hall, past the library, and up the stairs to Mrs. MacDannan’s classroom. Rachel hurried to keep up with them, but her heart was so heavy that she found it hard to lift her feet. A terrible foreboding settled over her. She wished bitterly that she had heeded the little inner voice that had warned her not to involve her father in the matter of helping Zoë.
The bell rang as they went up the stairs, announcing the end of the previous period. Suddenly, the hallways were full of students rushing to and from classes. As they rounded a corner, a sudden clatter startled Rachel. Glancing down the hall, she saw an embarrassed Astrid Hollywell stooping to pick up her school books, which had tumbled to the ground. Had someone knocked into Astrid? Was it the same mean kids from Drake who often picked on Rachel? She looked around but could not see anyone who might have been at fault. Embarrassed, Astrid ducked her head and hurried off.
By the time they reached Mrs. MacDannan’s classroom, the previous period’s students had departed and the next period had not yet arrived. Scarlett MacDannan and Templeton Bridges whispered to each other in the corner of the empty classroom. The math teacher’s rat ran and hid under his mistress’s hair to avoid the sharp-eyed gaze of the eagle. Some type of exchange took place, as if Mrs. MacDannan had passed the Agent something, and he handed it back to her. They came back over to where Rachel and the dean waited.
“He has verified that he is who he says he is,” said Scarlett MacDannan. “I will join them and escort Miss Griffin to Scotland Yard, if you don’t mind, Jacinda.”
Dean Moth nodded. “I will personally oversee your classes until you get back, Scarlett.”
Scarlett MacDannan handed her an extremely detailed lesson plan, drawn up in three colors. Dean Moth blinked at it as she accepted it.
The dean turned to Rachel. “We are trying to protect you, Miss Griffin, but, unfortunately, we are only human. We can only do what we think best with the information we have. Remember that when speaking to your father. And remind your father, for me, that he got into plenty of trouble his freshman year as well.”
“Did he?” Rachel’s voice squeaked, surprised. “I had no idea.”
Dean Moth smiled a tight, wry smile. “I expect you back for classes tomorrow, or I will come looking for you myself.”
The dean wished them well. Rachel, Bridges, and MacDannan began walking back toward the front door of Roanoke Hall. Rachel’s footsteps rang on the marble floor, her gaze taking in the familiar hallways, the great oak doors, the cheerful noise of the dining room behind them. Would this be the last time she ever walked these halls?
No, that was foolish. Even if her father did not allow her to come back now, she would come back at some point, for college, if nothing else. Still, she wished she could grab her broom.
They stepped out into the biting cold of the January afternoon, crossing the bridge over the reflecting lake. Skaters twirled to their left, and three hockey players slammed a puck around to her right. Rachel gazed longingly at the icy lake, the snowy commons, the lampposts, and benches. Everything seemed so beautiful, so familiar. She loved the school so much, yet, once again, grown-ups had let her down. She felt as if she were being ripped away from a dear friend.
Friends! Rachel nonchalantly brushed her fingers against her black bracelet and casually sighed aloud, “I wish I could have told my friends, Gaius and Vladimir, that I was leaving school grounds to go to London and see my father.”
She carefully pronounced the names of both boys clearly, intending to call them. The bracelet vibrated. Both Gaius and Vlad responded instantly.
“Are you okay, Rach?”
“Do you need assistance?”
Vlad’s voice spoke again in her ear, “If you are able, you can sub-vocalize. Unfortunately, you will have to speak at least slightly. The bracelets will pick up soft sounds but not thoughts, other than your intention to activate or deactivate them.”
There was a pause. William Locke’s voice sounded in her ear, “I’ve asked them to be ready to rescue Miss Griffin from the Wisecraft. They’re ready.”
Jenny Dare’s cheerful voice sounded next. “Rachel, sweetie, we’ve got your back. Don’t be scared. Just be careful with the Wisecraft. If this is something like before—when they were all crazy—we have people in there who we know are not corrupted. They’ll get you out safely.”
Bridges and MacDannan continued escorting Rachel across the snowy campus toward the
path that led toward the docks. As they passed the gymnasium, before they reached the frozen lily pond, Gaius and Von Dread came strolling around the corner of the gym. Seeing her, Gaius crossed the snow with a big smile and gave her a hug.
“Hi, Rachel.” Gaius looked up at Bridges. “Who’s your friend?”
Rachel hugged him back, hard.
“This is my father’s friend, Templeton Bridges,” she murmured, still hugging him. The look she gave Gaius said: I’ve been betrayed by adults once again. Or that was what she wished it to convey. She acknowledged to herself that the chances Gaius would be able to decipher her exact meaning were slim. “The one I told you about. He says my father wants to talk to me. Could…could you tell Siggy and my girlfriends?”
“Definitely.” Gaius squeezed her one more time. Then he stepped back and addressed the Agent. “Um, Mr. Bridges, I had thought you were here to speak to someone else—about an issue we wanted addressed. Are you leaving now, before talking to the person you came to see?”
As Gaius addressed the adults, Rachel threw Vlad a wan smile. To her surprise, Dread no longer stood by the gym. He had moved forward, until he was directly on the path before her. He stood with his hands at his side, one black dueling glove quite close to where his teak and gold wand, with its sapphire tip, hung at his side. He looked deadly serious.
Rachel glanced around at the snowy campus. Jenny Dare and Topher approached near the icy lily pond, skates in hand. To her right, over near the Memorial Gardens, William Locke leaned casually against the shrine of Mars, speaking with Naomi Coils.
Such a feeling of joy suffused Rachel that she felt as if she were too light to stay on the ground. These friends of Gaius’s—these people she barely knew—they had come to protect her.
Agent Bridges was saying, “I’ll be back to speak to Miss Forrest. This matter shouldn’t take long, but it took precedence over the original issue.”
Bridges seemed relaxed, but Scarlett MacDannan was glancing back and forth between Dread and Locke. She looked puzzled and the slightest bit nervous.
Rachel stepped forward and squeezed Gaius one more time. She spoke very softly, knowing her voice would be carried over the bracelets. “The Dean has promised to come get me, if I’m not back by tomorrow. If that doesn’t work…well, you can write me at home.”
Gaius smiled confidently down at her. “I will see you soon.”
He hugged her one last time and then stepped back.
Vladimir Von Dread was still standing directly in their path. Dread looked at Agent Bridges. Bridges looked back at him. Bridges was exceptionally tall, but Dread, though more slender, matched him inch for inch. The two stared eye to eye. To her right, she saw William grow alert and move to the balls of his feet. His hand casually rested in his sleeve, where Rachel knew he kept his wand in a spring-loaded sheath.
Rachel’s lips parted in awe. Templeton Bridges was a member of the Shadow Agency, the most elite Agents of the whole Wisecraft, and, not only had Scarlet MacDannan been one of the Six Musketeers who defeated the Terrible Five, but she also had served as an Agent of the Wisecraft for many years, before recently joining the staff of Roanoke Academy. These were two of the most dangerous people alive upon the earth.
And yet…
Vladimir Von Dread and his people were offering to fight them, for her.
Rachel looked at Gaius and his friends, gazing from one to another. They were all so much bigger than she and so confident. It made her feel both safe and strangely beautiful—as if she were a precious child, safe in their care. It struck her that it should have annoyed her to feel this way, but it did not. It was a surprisingly happy feeling.
Dread glanced at Rachel. Rachel gazed back at him, her lips still parted. He arched an eyebrow a quarter of an inch, inquiringly.
Rachel felt so tempted to accept his offer and let him fight the Agents for her. The feeling of betrayal, the fear of her upcoming interview with her father, was so great that she almost felt that whatever came next would be worth it. But that was foolishness. Even if Von Dread and his group won, what would they all do next? Go on the run? She could imagine how well that would go over with the young prince’s father, King Ludwig IV of Bavaria.
Meeting his gaze evenly, Rachel gave the barest perceivable shake of her head.
Dread gave a nigh imperceptive nod in return and stepped aside, slowly. Mrs. MacDannan and Agent Bridges briskly walked Rachel past him, and past William and Naomi, and then around the lily pond, where Jenny waved gaily.
Only after Dread and his group fell far behind did the tension drain from the shoulders of the two Agents.
Chapter Twenty-Five:
A Difficult Interview with the Duke
Agent Bridges and Mrs. MacDannan led Rachel down the tree-lined path and through the ruins of Bannerman’s Castle to the docks. A solemn foreboding still held Rachel in its grip, whispering in her mind that this trip was a bad idea; however, there was now a tiny bounce to her step. The support of Gaius and his friends had lifted her spirits.
At the docks, the Pollepel II, the school’s gold and green ferry, was waiting. As they boarded, Captain Zephyr, known to all as Zephy, doffed his captain’s cap to the ladies. He was a white-bearded old man dressed in a black and gold uniform. Rachel, who had met him on her first crossing, back in September, returned his greeting with a smile.
The good captain took them to the shore near the base of Storm King, just south of a small marina. The Roanoke Glass Hall was nestled in the a copse of trees that stood between the river and the train tracks. The inside of the small stone cottage was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Agent Bridges led them past several blue travel glasses to the same large glass through which Rachel had first arrived last September. The three of them stepped through into a much larger room, handsomely appointed with wood paneling and a red velvet carpet. This, Rachel knew, was the Glass Hall in New York City. Crossing a corridor to a blue-carpeted room, they stepped through another travel glass into a similar hall in Victoria Station, London.
Agent Bridges led them down the hall to a locked door, which he opened with a key. Inside was a small room containing a single walking glass. This one came out in another small, well-appointed locked room. A second key opened that door from the inside, and they stepped into the busy foyer of the Wisecraft’s offices in Great Scotland Yard.
Once in the reception area, Mrs. MacDannan nodded to the receptionist and turned to take her leave. The receptionist glanced wide-eyed from the short, red-headed tutor to the wall of the main hall, where Scarlett MacDannan’s bushy-haired younger self gazed down from a huge portrait of the Six Musketeers, commemorating the victory of the six Roanoke students over the Terrible Five. The starry-eyed young receptionist asked in a hushed voice whether she might get Agent MacDannan’s autograph. Scarlett snapped back that she was retired but then relented and, with a sigh, signed the young lady’s comic book.
Agent Bridges took Rachel down a hallway she had not previously visited. He led her to a liftwell. His deep voice echoed in the cylindrical opening before them.
“Shadow Agency.”
Taking her hand, he stepped off the platform into the open air. Rachel jumped into the well beside him. Normally, when she visited her father’s office, this liftwell wafted them upward. This time, they plunged down, rather quickly, causing her stomach to flip-flop.
They passed four parcels traveling upward, accompanied by a bored-looking bellhop. Then there was no one else in the well. Still giddy from the exhilaration of Gaius and his friends coming out to protect her, Rachel tucked her legs and turned somersaults in mid-air.
Spreading her limbs, she slowed until she was floating on her back. Descending in a liftwell always felt a bit like wearing a flying harness. There was the same odd, floating sensation toward the bottom, as one slowed until merely drifting. As they continued downward, an idea occurred to the slowly twirling Rachel that altered her entire outlook.
She was going to see her fa
ther! Finally, she could tell him about how she saved him, and the world, from the demon Azrael.
Humming, she spun again, until her feet were beneath her, ready to land. As she neared the bottom of the well, it occurred to her that the spells that created the lifting effect must work similarly to tiathelu. She could even picture a number of ways that a lift-creating talisman could be made. She felt obscurely pleased that she had learned enough in her four months at school to figure out the basic principles of a liftwell.
They landed on the very lowest level of Great Scotland Yard and set off on foot. After passing through a series of locked gates and magical protections, similar to some of those she had seen at Ouroboros Industries, Rachel found herself in a hallway full of identical, unmarked doors. Bridges stopped at the fifth door on the right and knocked.
“Come in,” called the voice of Ambrose Griffin, the Duke of Devon.
Bridges opened the door and motioned her inside. Rachel’s father sat behind a large desk. He raised an eyebrow at Bridges, who shrugged and said, “She wouldn’t say it.”
Agent Griffin frowned. “Thank you, Templeton. If you could leave us for a bit.”
Bridges nodded and started to depart. Then, he paused and crossed the office to lean over beside where the duke sat at his desk. Bridges spoke quietly, but Rachel, who inched closer, was able to make out most of his words.
“About the other matter,” whispered Bridges, “the King of Transylvania denied us entrance. Again.”
“Did he?” Ambrose Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “I will speak to him. He will change his mind. Have the team ready to leave in the morning.”
Bridges nodded and departed, closing the door behind him.
Rachel walked into the center of the room and turned slowly in a circle. The office of the head of the Shadow Agency was a large chamber with exposed brick walls and polished rosewood furniture including a large main desk, roll-topped filing cabinet, china cabinets, bookshelves, desks at which secretaries could take dictation—though no one was seated there now—and a leather couch. The shelves held an unusual mix of sorcerous equipment—astrolabe, cinqfoil, magnifying glass, an essence glass in an oak casing—and mundane devices, many of which Rachel did not recognize. There were also things that she could not makes heads or tails of: a cone of shiny gold, a squat black rock that glowed with points of starlight. Knowing that the Shadow Agency dealt with magic from Outside, she wondered if any of the unfamiliar items might be from other worlds.
The Awful Truth About Forgetting (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 4) Page 28