by D. R. Perry
"Well, it's not for lack of trying. I think he's avoiding me. Or the topic. Or both." He shrugged. "Whatever. Anyway, where do we sit?"
Before I could answer, Logan waved us over to where he sat with Grace, Kitty, and Eston. "We have lecture all together. And I'm coming with you this afternoon, Aliyah," he said.
"Yeah, DeBeer um, told us," I said. "Thanks."
"Does anyone know what happened?" Kitty asked. "With Hal, I mean. Faith never came home last night."
"No." I shook my head. "Beyond that it's his illness."
"This isn't like his other flares though," Eston pointed out. "Seizures. We're all worried about him."
"Well, Professor DeBeer said we're only joining you for the morning lecture," I replied. "Professor Hawkins is supposed to be back in the afternoon." I gasped when I remembered the mail I'd picked up earlier. "Wait. Maybe there's news."
Everyone waited as I ripped the envelope open. It wasn't from our absent friends or about them. No less important, but more personal than I'd expected.
"What's it say?" Grace leaned forward.
"It's from a trustee." I shook my head. "For Noah."
"Oh." Grace blinked. "I'd forgotten their meeting was last night."
"What's it say?"
"It pertains to a couple of us, so I'll read it." I cleared my throat. "To Mr. Noah Morgenstern, greetings. I write to inform you that Hawthorn Academy has altered its bylaws and now allows nonmagi, enrolled in good faith as magi before a change in registered status, to complete their educations. As this decision affects your situation directly, I thought it proper to send news. Please contact the headmaster to discuss arrangements and accommodations at your earliest convenience. Regards, Andre Gauthier, Esquire."
"Wow." Dylan's mouth dropped open. "He'll be so happy."
"Why don't you take a walk off campus after Lab and deliver it to him? I'll be busy." I passed the note to him.
"Sure." He beamed.
The bell ending breakfast rang. We brought our plates to the dishwashing station and headed to lecture, which passed peacefully enough. Creatives, lunch, gym, and our hour in the library went by. Our section stood outside the lab, waiting, watching, and hoping.
The bell rang so we filed into the room without Professor Hawkins. Only Logan, Dylan, Dorian, and me.
"It's giving me the creeps." Dylan waved a hand at the front of the room.
"Yeah, major goose over grave vibes for me too." Dorian walked toward the perch Julia usually sat on, but she didn't budge from his shoulder. "What gives, lady J?"
"She doesn't like the room being so empty." Logan reached down and scooped Doris up in his arms. "Neither of them do."
"I miss Ember." I sighed.
"It's bad timing, for sure, having our critters off keeping house." Dylan shrugged. "What can we do?"
"Not much."
Someone knocked on the door, and we jumped. Before any of us could answer, it opened and revealed Georgina Dunstable.
"I'm here to audit your class."
"I'd afraid it's a bit sparse at the moment." Dorian bowed his head. "And our professor's running late."
"I'm aware." Instead of settling down in the back of the room as usual for auditing trustees, Miss Dunstable took a seat at the front although not behind the teacher's bench. "I heard you were continuing an examination of faerie artifacts, and that’s my favorite subject."
"That's right." Logan nodded. "We'll have to wait for the professor. He's the one with access to the materials."
"Why not tell me what you learned last time, then?"
"Odd for a trustee." Dylan put his hand over his mouth. "Oops."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Khan, all things considered." Her pale lips turned up at the corners. "Now, what did you look at on Friday?"
Dorian rattled off a list of gnome treasures, mundane items they'd won, and brought back to the Under where they got infused with magical energy.
"The last one we saw, the gnome used as teeth." Dorian pointed at his. "Because they don't have any to begin with. They looked new and old at the same time. It was weird, and I couldn't figure out why."
"I looked that up in the library Friday night." Logan grinned. "It's gnomish time magic. They can move ahead or back, but only tiny amounts of time. It's fascinating."
"And college-level study stuff." Dylan chuckled. "Smartypants."
"What else?" Miss Dunstable asked.
"Do you mind if I draw it?" Logan stood by the magipsychic screen, hand hovering over the stylus. "There’s a replica but I can’t find it in the box."
"Not at all."
Logan drew an old brass oil lamp on the board. Miss Dunstable wore that slight grin the entire time, which reminded me more of Lady with an Ermine than the Mona Lisa.
"Excellent work, Mr. Pierce. Although they aren't all bronze.. Did Professor Hawkins tell you how to identify the genuine article?"
That's a leading question if I ever heard one.
"No." I shook my head. "He said they're extremely difficult to identify. Is it important for us to know?"
"Indubitably." She nodded. "I think you'd have little trouble, Miss Morgenstern. Because—"
"The lamp has a mind attached to it!" Logan dropped the stylus and waved his hands. "And she's got—"
"Exactly." Miss Dunstable put a finger over her lips, then beckoned us all closer. "One other important fact about magic lamps is this. Once a holder makes the last wish, the lamp comes unstuck in space. It's impossible for any psychic, faerie, or even a dragon to know where it is until it lands."
"What about magi?"
"It takes a rare element and an even more obscure talent amongst those to track a lamp with any degree of accuracy. Or previous mastery. But that’s a moot point, because former masters are exempt from taking another round of wishes. I daresay I've got nothing else to speak of on this subject here."
"Oh." Logan put his hand to his cheek. "Wow, Miss Dunstable, that was amazing."
The rest of us nodded. Maybe the odd vibes we'd gotten on arrival had something to do with this because it seemed downright destined, like something Izzy might have read in her cards.
"Well, it looks like my class has been in good hands." Professor Hawkins walked around our little cluster, taking the long way to the business end of his lab bench.
"Your students are quite astute, Hector." She smiled. "They gave me a review of all you taught on Friday."
"Excellent." He clapped his hands, the signal for us all to get back to our benches. The guys did, but I remained.
"Professor?" I swallowed. "I'm sorry, and I don't want to waste time. But we're all worried about Hal—"
"I've got a statement from him to read before we begin."
"Thanks, Professor." I walked back to sit with Logan, hoping my knees didn't wobble too much. I reached into my bag and brought the box with the ear cuffs out, which I was supposed to wear in Lab. Professor Hawkins shook his head, and I put them back.
He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, unfolded it, and cleared his throat.
"Hal writes, ‘I miss panini and beverage roulette. Faith's badgering the nurses so they gave me the good Jell-O. I'll be back in time for dinner on Monday. Dylan, don't eat all the chicken parm. Dorian, don't drink all the root beer. Aliyah, drink a smoothie before running laps. Logan, I want more Ludovico translations so get ready. Tell Lee that Nin needs about ten playdates with Scratch. Tell Grace her blanket's way warmer than anything they've got in this hospital, and I look like a fashion god thanks to her. You all make this illness suck less than it has to. See you soon.’"
The entire room seemed to exhale, including Doris and Julia, who finally went to the familiar's area while I put my earcuffs on. For a while, all we thought about were artifacts from faerie—specifically, the feathers of the three mystical birds. One was the Alkonost, a rainbow-plumed songbird connected to the Queen. The second was the Gamayun, a gray-feathered hunter, neutral and able to act as a go-between for the mon
archs in the Under and this world. Last was the Sirin, a contrary corvid in service to the King. Each feather was unique, and who could use them was extremely limited.
"You'll likely never see the Alkonost's or the Gamayun's feathers." Professor Hawkins gestured at the magipsychic screen displaying images of them in 3D. "Can any of you tell me why that is?"
"They're bonded already," I replied. "The Gamayun since before I was born, and the Alkonost more recently."
"Correct." The professor nodded. "The Sirin's feather is still somewhere in one of the worlds."
"Shouldn't the monarchs be searching for it almost constantly?" Dylan asked. "Now that they're united, I mean. It would have unbalanced power before that."
"You'd think so, Mr. Khan." Professor Hawkins nodded at Miss Dunstable. "I'm not well-versed in how the monarchs operate, but perhaps our guest can do the subject more justice than I?"
"You already gave the correct answer, Hector." She nodded. "It bears repeating. Their usage is extremely limited. The monarchs believe in patterns of coincidence, that it's impossible for the feathers to fall into the wrong hands."
The bell rang. I packed my things up, mentally steeling myself for another mind magic session with Mr. Fairbanks. I paced through the halls with Logan, wishing the whole way there that I had the Faerie Queen's faith in coincidence, that somehow I'd be in the right place at the right time. No matter how risky it seemed at the moment.
Georgina Dunstable managed it. She took her chance to drop information you've sought all year.
Now I've got to keep everything she said out of Mr. Fairbanks' head. Thanks, inside voice.
You're welcome, it sang.
I stopped before turning the corner toward the offices and faced my boyfriend.
"Logan, are you going to be safe in there?" I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.
"Don't worry." He patted his translation notebook, which he'd tucked under one arm. "Ludovico's keeping me company, but not his stuff on extramagi. He went on a tangent about merfolk. Maybe it'll cheer Cadence up at practice this weekend."
"Good idea." I nodded. "Well, let's go then."
Mr. Fairbanks was on the phone when we walked in. The smile on his face was easy, relaxed, and made me profoundly uncomfortable. He spoke to the person on the other end of the line after I put the box with my ear cuffs on his desk.
"No need for that disciplinary hearing, Hiram. She's arrived." I froze, and he chuckled. "No, I don't expect I will call again. Visit your grandson. This campus is in good hands." He hung up.
I dropped into the seat behind me as heavily as the handset on the phone's base. Behind me, the rustling sound of notebook pages shook me loose from shock's vise-grip. Anger ignited in my chest. Mr. Fairbanks had been about to set my expulsion in motion, all because I'd been less than a minute late walking through the door.
"Something wrong, Miss Morgenstern?"
"I wasn't late," I blurted.
"Ten more seconds and you would have been."
He didn't expect you to show at all. Listen and learn.
I narrowed my eyes and focused, staring at his face. I ignored everything else, even something waving on the desk near where I'd rested my hand. Paper? No. I couldn't let whatever it was distract me now. Concentration had rewards if only I could manage it.
For the first time in all our mind magic sessions, I heard something coming from his. A sing-song set of piano chords, tinny and in a minor key. Like a taunt. My anger grew, but I treated it like fire magic, using the same banishing technique as in Lab or on the Bishop's Row court but turned inward. It worked. Although I imagined something crawling over my hand.
Nice job. Go farther.
It felt unusually forceful, and direct compliments weren't usually part of its repertoire. However, I trusted my inside voice as much as any of my friends. So I kept up the work of banishing, thinking back to my first year in the lab, the day I'd banished a literal inferno. I heard something else under that music coming from Mr. Fairbanks. A sound of scattering gravel, how it flies when a bike goes out from under its rider. Knee-jerk fear and confusion. From the bogeyman trustee?
His eyes widened. Instead of rising and insisting I leave or putting on some show of feather-ruffling bravado, Mr. Fairbanks did something much worse.
He smiled. It lit his face, genuine, like a child unwrapping the biggest of his birthday gifts.
The voice spoke in its usual tone instead of the strange one from moments ago. For the first time since its arrival, I couldn't make it out.
Over-banishing with fire chilled me. Over-banishing with mind magic did something similar—a sense of being outside myself, observing this scene from an impossible vantage point. I sat straight as an arrow, back not touching the chair, eyes no longer narrowed or intense. I gazed at Mr. Fairbanks instead, as I might with a solution in Lab. Like he was an inanimate object, not a person, or even an animal, magical or otherwise. Everything in the room seemed matchstick-frail and inconsequential. Like kindling, fuel to burn. Disposable. It reminded me of something. But what?
Like Temperance with Alex last year. Except that girl only copied the father she idolized. She wasn't the genuine article, couldn't be, without mind magic. You, on the other hand... Well. He must have a motive for insisting on these sessions with you of all people.
What if I toppled like the bike I'd imagined? Lost not balance, but empathy? Connecting was easy, but caring went deeper. It was hard. Empathy took work. Practice. And it left me open to pain whenever someone I cared for got hurt.
Just like that, I understood. Detachment, this being above and slightly to the side of everything, felt way too comfortable.
Every extramagus stereotype I'd rebelled against, every personal truth I'd fought to affirm in my first year and struggled to keep hold of in the second, flashed before my eyes. Here I was, about to lose it all and become someone I never wanted to be, just like that.
That slight discordance coming off Mr. Fairbanks moved up and sharpened. Or maybe my frequency flattened. Either way, we began meeting in the middle.
Logan hummed, one of his habits while reading. Not just any random tune, but our song. From the dance.
It pulled me back, almost. That crawling sensation on my hand intensified.
My eyes stung, and I fought to ride the wave of emotion that surged in the heart I'd detached from. Doris leaped into my lap and lay on her side. From above and slightly to the left I watched the tip of her tail flick, sea-green eyes fixed on the desk. On my hand. I couldn't make it out from that detached vantage. I wanted to know what it was.
A familiar shriek sounded outside the door. Something familiar. My familiar.
Ember, who hadn't moved from her nest in months, clawed at the doorknob outside. A futile exercise for a creature without opposable thumbs.
Logan twisted the knob. Mr. Fairbanks glared at him, lip curling up as he barked out a command.
"Stop!"
"No, sir." Logan shook his head. "I won't."
"Your father will hear about this."
"Fine." He pushed the door open while glancing down and to the right.
The next moment, a skinny, stinky dragonet entangled herself in my hair. My hand touched her flank, and we connected. I connected back to myself. Then burst into tears. The insect on my hand scuttled away in a flash of metallic green and blue. I didn't have time to consider the scarab because it hurt.
People sit the wrong way and end up with a foot, hand, even an entire arm or leg falling asleep. Coming back felt like that turned up to eleven, except for brain instead of body. If that makes any sense.
Ember peeped and I sobbed. She needed a bath and oil for her scales, her talons trimmed and filed. Was this typical for nesting dragonets, normal as they waited for eggs to hatch? I couldn't recall, but I untangled her from my hair and cuddled her, stench and all.
"Get out." I looked up to find Mr. Fairbanks out of his seat and pointing at the door. "Find someone else to attend next time, Miss Morgenstern.
Mr. Pierce is no longer welcome in my office."
I stood, Doris launching herself from my lap just in time. Logan and I left in such a hurry that I forgot the ear cuffs in their box on his desk. Doris remembered. When I turned around at the end of the hall, hellbent on walking back into the lion's den to fetch them, I saw the cat trotting after us with the box in her mouth. She dropped it at Logan's feet like it was a mouse she'd killed for him.
"Thanks." He bent to scratch her behind the ears with one hand and pick up the box with the other.
"I should thank all three of you." I wrinkled my nose. "Ember, you want a bath, girl?"
"Peep." She craned her neck, turning her head back toward her nest in the eaves of the lobby.
"Brooding box wasn't your thing, huh?" I chuckled. "I get it. I, too, am no typical nester. Go on, but I'm talking to Dorian. Maybe Julia can bring you a food basket. Thanks for the rescue." I nodded at Doris and Logan. "All three of you."
"Peep!" She rubbed her cheek against mine, then took off, winging up and away.
A moment after she entered the shadows up there, a pair of birds glided out and down. I blinked.
"Are those the Overton's pigeons?"
"Yeah." Logan nodded. "I heard Ember calling them before she got to the door. They, uh, babysat I guess."
"I'd better go thank them, and the twins too."
"Maybe wash up first." He reached toward my hair. As he withdrew his hand, something pulled. "See?"
He held a desiccated scrap of orange peel. At least, I think it came from an orange. It was a little green around the edges.
We walked to the stairs. At dinner, I asked for two slices of German chocolate cake and brought the twins their favorite dessert. Dorian said Julia would send up whatever food I brought in a basket. We sat, most of us picking at our food and watching the door.
Halfway through the meal, Hal's chair glided into the dining hall with Faith pacing slowly alongside. She looked like she hadn't slept. He seemed stretched thin, duller than Ember's scales earlier.
All the third-years got up. Once everyone else noticed, the entire room gave him the same welcome. I'm not sure who started clapping, but it wasn't important because Hal brightened up immediately.