Help! he beckoned. He could only pray that the chief constable could see he was in trouble from Present Time and disconnect the magic before it was too late. Diego had never been trapped in the past. Before that moment, he did not even think it was possible.
Get me out, please!
White bursts of pain inside his head intensified. His muscles writhed and twitched, jolted by some sort of electrical current. Numbness crept up his legs and into his torso. All around him, the scene erupted into cyclonic madness while the heavy fog threatened to suck the air from his lungs.
“Mr. Montreal!”
Abruptly, the roar of activity around him faded. When his limbs relaxed and he opened his eyes, Diego found himself on his back against the floor of Norman’s office. Judging by the constable’s horrified expressions, Diego had a feeling that once the shock wore off, he’d soon find himself in a firing squad of questions.
“Are you all right, kid?” Norman asked, just as breathless. “What happened?”
Diego propped himself up on his elbows. “Dios,” he whispered once the feeling came back into his legs. “I actually wet myself.”
The chief constable’s facial features did not lighten whatsoever. “You were having a fit. I was about to call for the medics.”
“No need,” Diego grumbled. He tossed his pocket watch and wand onto a nearby chair. His palms traversed his face and pushed back the matted hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead. “Just as I suspected, we’re not dealing with anything...ordinary.”
Norman gaped at him, baffled.
Diego fought the urge to roll his eyes. Usually, the constable was not this thick.
“People with Gifts,” Diego stressed, articulating every syllable. “Magical abilities.”
The chief constable moved his mouth as if he were struggling to find the right words. “Are—are you absolutely positive you’re all right?”
“What? Yes!”
“It’s just...you’ve never done something like that before. Had a proper seizure. In my office.”
“I promise you, Chief Constable, I will not die on your watch,” Diego insisted. “Now listen to me: We are dealing with dangerous criminals. Masterminds with foul intent as well as experience with magic.”
“I see,” Norman answered. Thankfully, the colour began to seep back into his face. He lent a hand to help Diego off the floor. “So, one of your kind?”
Diego scrunched up his nose. “You could say that. Nevertheless, this falls into the jurisdiction of the Magi Administration.”
“They’ve got their hands full with this one. I will file the reports with their Investigative Division; you go on home and get some rest.”
Drawing in a breath, Diego decided to abandon his retort when Norman glared daggers, clearly intent on his order. Instead, he collected his hat, coat, and trinkets, and nodded to his boss on the way out.
“Buenas noches, Chief Constable Norman.”
“Good night, Mr. Montreal. Take care of yourself.”
As soon as he left the station, Diego buried his hands deep into his tweed jacket pockets and bowed his head against the bone-chilling wind. Visual echoes of the mysterious trio ricocheted throughout his mind. Even the rustling bushes along the sidewalk made his heart flutter just a little more rapidly.
In the last few minutes, two things had become inherently clear: The Legerdemain Brotherhood had returned. And while they’d gone to great lengths to cover their tracks, their one-word message spoke volumes to its intended audience, which Diego could only assume were the Magi.
On the political stage, the Legerdemain Brotherhood had lingered in the wings far too long. Grasping at velvet curtains, eagerly observing their Dark Watchers in action. But whatever they had brewing behind the scenes, they weren’t playing by the rules of their old game.
This was a new game entirely.
Perhaps Jonas was right: The Magi weren’t prepared for a situation like this. Most in their society would not even see it coming. Nevertheless, Diego knew he needed to hightail it back to Elysium and give Jonas a detailed overview of what he’d gathered from the Time Excursion.
Diego stood at the corner of Victoria and High Street, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The Emporium of Exotic Trinkets sat two blocks away, but something kept him from advancing further. Hesitating, he turned his eyes skyward. While the glow from the streetlamps vied against the stars for brilliance, the stars always won. Rising in the east, just beyond Albert Memorial Clock Tower, Virgo carried the moon under her arm. Wispy clouds draped over the maiden’s alluring figure, inducing a hunger within Diego.
At this hour, Jonas would be deep into his training with Aja and Oliver. And honestly, Diego wasn’t pining for another stiff conversation with him.
Dismissing responsibility, Diego set his course toward Cathedral Quarter. At least Stella would bring some relief and satiate the stirring within him.
Jonas could wait.
Chapter Sixteen
Lessons and Revelations
A bright blast of energy reverberated across the room, causing the lampshades to tremble.
“Excellent,” Jonas commended, watching as his two apprentices squared off against each other in the Elysium common room. Sunday evening training sessions had always been a favourite of his, especially now when carefree moments came at a premium. “Remember: When channelling the Celestial Lifeforce to earth, Magi must be respectful of its power. Magi must also be respectful of their opponent and the environment, aiming only to disarm.”
“Ah, but that takes all the fun out of it!” joked seventeen-year-old Aja Burman. Her long, dark braid whipped around her shoulders as she edged around the furniture, wand raised at attention. “What if I want to get back at Little Ollie for setting my star logbook on fire?”
“Oh, for the love of the Famed Three! It was an accident!” insisted fourteen-year-old Oliver Abberton in his posh London accent. A look of annoyance blazed behind his spectacles. “And don’t call me little!”
Jonas shook his head at their banter. “Focus, now. Oliver, I have yet to see a decent shield from you this evening.”
“That is because Aja keeps sending a barrage of blasts at me,” the boy whined, “and she’s being a distraction.”
Aja laughed maniacally and aimed another orb of energy in his direction. The blast exploded light across his face. “Then come get me, Little One!”
“Argh, that’s it!” replied Oliver. He stumbled over the bohemian rug, chasing her around the couch.
The Indian girl squealed with amusement as she dashed toward the row of potted plants decorating the south wall. Abandoning the defensive properties of the Celestial Lifeforce altogether, she held out her hands and closed her eyes. Without warning, the ferns began to grow at a voracious pace, their tendrils reaching out for the boy’s ankles. Before Oliver could react, he had been knocked clean off his feet, hopelessly tangled in the foliage.
“Aja!” Oliver groaned. “That’s not fair!”
Jonas stifled a laugh at his students’ antics. “Unfortunately, Oliver, Gifts are not off limits when it comes to real life situations. Magi have the opportunity to use the physical energy of the Celestial Lifeforce alongside their natural abilities as Miss Burman so adequately demonstrated.”
“Thank you, Jonas,” Aja beamed and curtsied.
“Hmph,” grumbled Oliver as he lifted himself to a seated position. The boy adjusted his spectacles back to their proper angle on his face. “It is still not fair. Aja can use her Gifts to manipulate plants. I can only see auras. What good does that even do?”
“Every Gift can be used for good,” Jonas reminded him. “Maybe not so much for defence purposes, but you are still able to see things she cannot.” He walked around the couch and held out his hand to assist Oliver in returning to his feet. “As someone who can see life signatures, you can detect locations of trapped or missing individuals, whereas Aja could not.”
“Besides,” Aja began, “I’ve had three m
ore years of training than you. That does give me a bit of an advantage.”
“And you’ll go through the Rites of the Magi and get your pin before me,” Oliver sighed.
Jonas smiled kindly at his student’s enthusiasm. “The path of the Magi is not a race. Thank the Universe it isn’t because there is much to learn. Even I am still learning.”
“Yes, but you are a Magi Master,” Oliver articulated. “Not an apprentice. Not a Magi Insigne. Not even a Magi Adept, like most. You’re the highest rank of them all.”
“And perhaps the most eligible of them all,” Aja spoke boldly, twirling about the room in a frolicsome flurry. “Miss Irene from the flower shop down the street often gushes over you.”
Blood tingled in Jonas’ cheeks when his apprentice’s words caught him off guard. “Aja—” he said at the same time Oliver said, “Ugh!”
“She really fancies you, Jonas,” Aja smirked.
“Well, I am flattered but if she enquires about it again, tell her I am not interested.”
Nor would he ever be.
Aja giggled. “You should tell her that yourself.”
“And I shall.”
“Or just tell her you are more interested in Diego,” Oliver said in all seriousness.
“All right, this conversation is quite improper,” reprimanded Jonas, hoping his face wasn’t flushed beyond measure. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “And I am not interested in that, either.”
“Mmhmm,” Aja murmured with a grin, sharing a knowing look with Oliver.
“Perhaps I should remind you how dangerous distractions can be for young apprentices,” Jonas cut them off. Just as he was about to delve into a detailed morality tale about Marcellus, the one-eyed Magus of ancient Rome, Aja gasped and hurried across the room to rummage through her school bag.
“Speaking of distractions,” she said, unfurling a recent edition of The Daily Telegraph. “From time to time, my mum sends me newspapers from back home in London. This one caught my interest, and I thought you might like to have a look.” Aja presented the publication to Jonas, who snatched his reading spectacles from the mantel and eagerly devoured the front page:
“Well, what do you think?” Aja prodded, bouncing on the front edge of her shoes with excitement.
“Curious,” Jonas whispered, lowering the paper. Desperately, he rifled through his recollections to determine why the text seemed so familiar. But as seconds faded, so did the hope of pinpointing anything helpful.
“It seems very reminiscent of Magi history, if you ask me,” Aja replied.
Oliver—who had been reading the article around Jonas’ shoulder—immediately perked up. “It sounds like a prophecy,” he stated. “Would that have been written around the time of Balasi and Labynetus?”
“500 B.C.,” Jonas said to himself, removing his spectacles. “Yes, that would be the correct timing.”
Every student who had been trained in the ways of the Celestial Lifeforce knew about the two youngest Magi in King Nebuchadnezzar’s royal court. While Balasi and Labynetus began their lives as friends, they ended them as bitter enemies, ravaged by the king’s newest decree: The Order of Babylon.
It was not enough that Nebuchadnezzar’s staff of dream interpreters and astrologists could provide intellectual guidance. Now, if his Magi wished for continued employment, they had to also fulfil other whims of the king: Revenge. Political coups. Murder plots. The only way to do so was by embracing sorcery—the unnatural enhancement of the Celestial Lifeforce. Conflicted by the predicament, half turned against the Magi Code to acquiesce to the King’s wishes. The other half, led by a defiant Balasi, resisted.
While Labynetus had chosen the way of the newly established sorcerous faction, the Legerdemain Brotherhood, Balasi had chosen the way of the Light. Their actions carved the path of both societies, setting the stage for centuries of discord.
“Do you think Balasi wrote it?” Oliver theorised.
“Mm. No, I do not believe so,” Jonas replied. “The Magi Administration keeps extensive records of his writings. I have read them multiple times and never once came across that passage.”
“Ooh, mysterious!” Aja exclaimed, rubbing her palms together. “Well, what do you think it means?”
Jonas drew in a cautious breath. “I am not sure. But let’s not get too distracted; we have other matters to worry about in the present.”
Aja’s shoulders fell. Oliver scrunched his nose in disappointment.
“In the meantime, I will reach out to the Administration to get their take on it but until then, I have a proposition for you both that will provide beneficial training experience,” Jonas swiftly added, folding the newspaper and setting it alongside his spectacles on the mantel.
“A proposition?” asked Aja, her eyes widening with intrigue.
“A very important mission,” Jonas confirmed, looking both of his students in the eyes. “Are you up for the task?”
The Magi Apprentices jumped up and down in unbridled excitement.
“I need you to help Kierra in keeping watch over a student at Belfast Royal Academy,” Jonas explained. “While I have yet to confirm, I strongly believe he is a Magus.”
“Oh, Miss McLarney mentioned that,” Aja responded. “She said three Dark Watchers attacked him when he was off school grounds. The whole thing sounded dreadful.”
“It certainly was,” said Jonas. “Ezra Newport needs us right now. His life depends on it.”
Oliver stood at attention and saluted Jonas. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Jonas chuckled. “At ease, cadet. You are both dismissed for this evening. Kierra will be wanting to get you both back to the academy at a decent hour.”
The students retrieved their school bags and waved cordially as they departed through the red door of Elysium.
“Goodbye, Jonas!” called Oliver.
“Don’t let Miss Irene fluster you into a corner!” shouted Aja.
“I won’t,” laughed Jonas.
Waiting until the door latch had clicked into place, Jonas frowned and retreated to the fireplace. The typeset words and high contrast photograph of the cuneiform artifact taunted him from the mantel. Whispers from the past tickled his ears as he traced a fingertip over the newspaper ink.
This was not the first translation to be unearthed from archaeological digs. If anything, the startling amount of insight that had been gleaned from artifacts over the last few decades bordered on the imbecilic. And, like every cuneiform tablet translated before it, the words painted stories of an ancient history once unknown to modern society. While intriguing, that’s all they were. Stories.
This was just another artifact. Just another translation. Just another article in the paper.
Disregarding the fleeting curiosity as foolish, Jonas folded the newspaper and shelved it with the rest of his books in the Elysium common room.
Chapter Seventeen
An Unlikely Ally
The grandfather clock in the academy library had a way of taunting Ezra for always being up so early.
With every swing of the pendulum, a mounting restlessness accompanied the strokes of the mop as he attended to his morning cleaning duties. The otherwise sterile silence in the hours before classes did not help. For the quieter his surroundings, the more Ezra’s thoughts could run rampant.
More than anything, Ezra missed his parents. He longed to hear his mother’s laughter just one more time. He yearned to feel his father’s embrace and bask in his encouraging words. He wanted them to come alongside him and promise that everything would shift back into normalcy. To offer explanations for every answer left unsaid. To tell him why they had stayed silent on so many things.
Anne might be gone, but Baba is still out there, Ezra concluded as he moved across the library’s expanse. I know it. I feel it.
Ezra had always heard that time possessed healing powers. Beyond the abilities of doctors, beyond the likes of ordinary medicine. But in the days following the events that nearly claimed his life, he
doubted time could do much more than strengthen his fears. It had been two days of incessant mental torture. Of why more Dark Watchers had not appeared. Of the supposed existence of magic. Of the fact that his parents might not have been who he once thought. Nevertheless, Ezra carried on. Or at least, attempted to go about his life as normally as one could after learning such things.
If only magic were like dust, Ezra thought to himself as he traversed the library with the mop. If only it could be swept under a rug. Out of sight and forgotten.
If only it were that simple.
Satisfied with the now gleaming floors, Ezra picked up the water bucket in his free hand and lumbered along in a sleepy haze. With dawn approaching, Ezra wanted nothing more than to spend the last peaceful minutes in prayer before the morning bell. As Ezra rounded the corner into the corridor, he collided with another body, sending them both—along with the mop and water bucket—tumbling to the ground.
“Ah! Just the bloke we were looking for!”
No. Not again.
Ezra hauled himself up into a seated position, watching as the outer banks of the indoor lake expanded across the library. While Dennis recovered his menacing stance, Martin and John loomed over Ezra, disturbing grins setting their eyes ablaze.
“I’m surprised you’re not chanting your little Islamic prayers yet,” sneered Martin. “We were really hoping to ambush you during them.”
Ezra scooted backward but the boys pinned him down against the frigid, wet floors. A twinge of pain sparked the nerves in his thigh into life. “Honestly, you three need to find something better to occupy your time!”
“Why?” Dennis said, pressing his shoe into Ezra’s belly while Martin and John held down his arms, “when it gives me so much pleasure to torture you?”
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