by Hadley Holt
“Uhhh…that doesn’t sound too good,” Rory observed.
“No, it doesn’t exactly leave me feeling warm and fuzzy,” Izzy agreed.
“Oh! Gosh!” Hugo slapped his forehead three times in succession.
“Hugo!” I surged to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
“I recognize that!” He stood and started pacing. “Crap!” He slapped his head again. “I’ve heard that. Queen of Chaos,” he said. “It’s on the tip of my tongue!” Slap!
“Stop hitting yourself, Hugo!” Izzy ordered.
Which Hugo completely ignored as he slapped his head again. “Why can’t I remember? Queen of Chaos.” Slap! “Queen of Chaos!” Slap!
Cheeva did that confused-canine back and forth head-tilt thing.
“Okay, Hugs, you’re creeping me out,” Izzy said, trying a kinder, gentler approach.
“Me too,” I said. “I probably need to know what you’ve heard, seeing as I’m supposedly the actual Queen of Chaos and all, but please stop hitting yourself.” Not knowing what else to do, I sat back down and let Hugo do the pacing and slapping for both of us.
“Okay, I’ve got it! It’s that ancient prophecy…” Hugo ran both hands through his hair. “I researched the Wizard Queen thing before the party, and by the way, I’m pretty sure that’s you. And this has something to do with the prophecy.”
“Oo-kaay. Check, and check,” I added unhelpfully, to which Rory responded with a silly lopsided grin that made my heart take a lopsided beat.
Hugo barked out a self-deprecating laugh. “Of course it has to do with the Wizard Queen.” Slap!
“Stop that!” I yelled as I shot to my feet.
Rory sent me a your-friends-are-crazy look.
Ignoring me, Hugo continued, “We also studied this in my first year of intermediate wizardry. It’s THE prophecy.”
“What’s the prophecy?” Rory asked.
Hugo closed his eyes in concentration as he recited, “And in the modern age of humankind, a Wizard Queen shall rise. She shall bring forth the downfall of the wizard-kin. In league with one whose blood runs with both wizardry and sorcery, they shall split open the Tree of Justice, releasing chaos upon the earth, and the death of all we know.”
“Um, ah, speaking as the potential wizard queen, that sounds totally horrible!” It was my turn to pace. “I mean, I’m never going to do anything like that. I can’t. I couldn’t.” I noticed that Cheeva watched me walk back and forth. “By Prospero’s perfidy, maybe I should just turn myself in now and—”
“So,” Izzy interrupted my rant, “where does the Queen of Chaos come into the prophecy?”
“I didn’t see it at all in my research today when I memorized the prophecy, but when I heard it, I knew I’d read it before,” Hugo explained. “Two years ago, when I studied the prophecy for the first time, it was a footnote at the bottom of the text. It said that the Wizard Queen is also known as the Queen of Chaos.”
“Pretty amazing memory,” Rory told Hugo. “Maybe next time you can manage it without concussing yourself.” He grinned at Hugo.
“Back on topic, guys,” Izzy ordered.
I sat down.
“Addie,” she said, “I’m sure it’s all some kind of…a translation thing?” Her smile was more of a grimace.
“That’s always a possibility with any prophecy from an ancient text,” Hugo agreed absently. “Things are definitely lost in translation, and there is always a bias based on who was translating the prophecy. For instance, chaos might mean something like a social upheaval.” Hugo sat back down next to Izzy. “We need to start digging into that possibility. I volunteer to get that party started.”
Cheeva stood and barked. If I knew how to listen to him, I’m sure he would have had something really vital to share with us.
“Okay, then.” Rory stood up. “It’s time to activate Operation Oblivious.” His teasing grin made me laugh in spite of everything.
Laughter really was the best medicine. “Okay. I think I know my part. I’ve only practiced for it my whole life.”
“You sure have.” Izzy smirked and patted me on the back. “I’ll be your acting coach. I’ll let you know if you drift out of character.”
Hugo stood up, too. “And I’ll start digging into the various translations of the prophecy.”
I held up both my hands, showing my crossed fingers. “I hope this works. Cross your fingers!” And everyone held up their crossed fingers.
As we left the bower, I was no less anxious and afraid, but I didn’t feel alone. Today, the world I’d known had tumbled down on top of me. I knew I could never go back to who I’d been only yesterday, but I had amazing friends, and that was more than a lot of people had.
As we walked back toward the keep, I remembered I’d wanted to tell Hugo something. “Hugo, I saw Zarius use his powers today.”
Hugo’s wide grin split across his face like he knew what I’d say. “Do tell, Addie. What color was it?” He feigned polite interest, but his eyes glinted with mischievous glee.
“Why, it was the palest of pale greens, Hugo,” I said with a little more enjoyment than I’d intended.
“I just adore the new spunky you, Adriana Evangelista!” Hugo smiled all the way back to the keep.
And at that moment, I did, too.
CHAPTER 11
Operation Oblivious
The party was over; my friends all went home. I managed to sneak off to my room without running into any family, which was a major accomplishment. With several generations and branches of the family living in the keep with us, it was nothing short of miraculous to get to my room without a single encounter. My immediate family was the patriarchal family, with my father as the patriarch of the entire clan, or the Head of the House of Nostradamus.
The keep was like a large luxury apartment complex with numerous wings, kitchens, and dining halls. In recent years, we’d added several workout rooms with saunas, and indoor swimming pools, and more.
Our media rooms combined the latest audio-video technology with enchantments to create 3D movies and interactive games which produced an ultra-authentic virtual reality experience.
A few years back, after one of our older wizards had a heart attack while gaming, the council initiated a requirement to possess an up-to-date health certification to participate in the more adventurous, rigorous, or violent movies and games.
Many of the keep’s inhabitants utilized the other magical conveniences of the keep as well. The shortcut doors led to dimensional folds, providing near-instantaneous passage to various parts of the massive keep. The falling sensation of the folds made me queasy, so I tended to avoid those. The main kitchen had enchanted food dispensers imbued with inherent magic that allowed the user to order up a variety of meals, drinks, and treats.
My father preferred traditional multi-course meals prepared by our chef, Christophe, and served by the norm staff in our family’s personal dining room.
In typical wizard fashion, there were machines which provided custom-designed clothing. Through a complex combination of mechanical engineering and magical properties, the machines utilized floating probes to take body measurements, and then cut and sewed clothing to the desired specifications.
In addition to my father’s library, the keep had a central wizard library to which women were prohibited entry. There were a few other ceremonial rooms in the Nostradamus keep that were also off-limits to any female. I had no idea what transpired in those rooms.
As astronomy was an important foundation of wizardry, the Nostradamus keep boasted its own observatory. Luckily, its use was open to everyone. I’d spent many a night stargazing in that room when no one else was in the observatory. Other than my bedroom, it was hard to find alone time in a keep so full of people.
I couldn’t even keep track of the number of inhabitants. Between immediate family, extended family, and staff members, there were over three hundred people in the keep on any given day. Of course, only some of the staff permanently lived wi
thin the walls of the keep. Other staff members came and went on the transport pads each day.
The norm staff came in from several of the surrounding small towns of Phoenicia, Boiceville, Hunter, Tannersville, Catskill, and even Woodstock. Most of the staff members were descendants of families that had been working at the stronghold for generations. Each human was enchanted by a spell that prevented them from revealing anything about wizards or the stronghold to any outsider. They literally couldn’t speak, or write, gesture, or communicate in any way that would divulge information about our existence. In the hundreds of years the keep and the stronghold had existed, no staff member had ever revealed the secrets of the wizard-kin.
On the way to my room, I had encountered at least ten of the household staff, but fortunately they left me alone. I usually said hello or asked about their family, but tonight I made a beeline for my room.
When I walked into my room, I watched Cheeva look around and I wondered what he thought of it. I tried to see it like he would. I guessed it was a little girl’s room, full of pinks, purples, dolls, lace, and frills.
I walked over to my shelves and studied my fairy figurines. Each one was intricately designed and handcrafted, and each had its own unique enchantment. When I tapped the head of my rose fairy, she peeked out from under the brim of her rose blossom hat and the sweet scent of roses filled the air. When I ran a finger over the head of my water fairy, she thrust her arms into the air and a holographic spray of water burst into the air above her like shimmering opalescent fireworks. I had twelve fairies in all, gifts from my parents on each Yule celebration. It was our tradition, one of the few times each year when I felt a sentimental connection to something my parents did for me. Usually, their attention was on the running of the keep, the stronghold, wizard politics, entertaining, and preparing Zarius for his future.
Aside from my fairies, which I could never part with, I realized I’d grown out of this little girl’s room. It wasn’t really me anymore—not that I actually knew who I was after today.
Nope, I didn’t know who or, for that matter, what I was now.
I went to my desk to check my iPad for emails on the highly secure wizard intranet. In this huge house, it wasn’t unusual for my mother or father to communicate with me through emails. Sure enough, I had an email waiting from my mother that read, “Addie, email me when you are back in your room and ready for bed.”
I replied, “I’m in my room, safe and sound, and getting ready for bed.”
I received an immediate reply. “Good. I’ll see you at breakfast, eight-thirty a.m. and don’t be late. It will only be the four of us.”
I sighed. Usually after a big party, we had guests or extended family members at breakfast the next day. Since this was limited to immediate family only, that meant I had a family meeting in the morning. It would be the first skirmish in Operation Oblivious. But for the moment, all I wanted to do was take a shower and fall into my bed. At least tomorrow was Saturday and we didn’t have school. I set my alarm so I wouldn’t be late for breakfast.
Suddenly, exhaustion caught up with me, weighing me down all the way to my muscles and bones. So much had happened today. It felt like a week had gone by since I woke up this morning. I trudged into the bathroom, took my shower, and brushed my teeth. Changing into a soft cotton nightshirt and my favorite Hello Kitty pajama pants, I stepped out of my bathroom.
Cheeva walked straight to the shower door and waited there.
I blinked, and then rubbed my eyes. “Cheeva, do you want a shower?” I asked, slightly incredulous. I opened the shower door. Sure enough, Cheeva walked into my shower, which had large slate tiles and a built-in bench. He sat down and waited for me.
“Okay.” I thought about the logistics of giving Cheeva a shower. I pulled out an extra towel and then walked into my long closet and dug my bathing suit out of a drawer. “Just a minute,” I called to Cheeva. Closing the closet door, I put on my bathing suit. Then, I helped Cheeva shower. I dried him off and then I rinsed off, again. I put my pajamas back on and dried my hair.
Finally, a half hour later, and well on my way to a state of zombieness, I practically fell onto my bed. I tucked my teddy bear, Cuddles, into the crook of my arm and rolled onto my side. I didn’t even blink an eye when Cheeva hopped onto the bed and lay down beside me, with his head on the other pillow. I held up my teddy bear to Cheeva. “Cheeva, this is Cuddles and he’s not a chew toy. Cuddles, this is Cheeva and I guess he’ll be sleeping with us every night.” I didn’t even comment on the perplexed tilt of Cheeva’s head. I just closed my eyes and fell to sleep, feeling safe for the first time that day because Cheeva was with me.
* * *
BOOM!
I sprang up to a sitting position on my bed, my heart racing frantically inside my chest. Cheeva leapt out of the bed, growling as he searched for the threat in my room.
Through my window, I watched as lightning branched out, illuminating the sky.
I counted silently: one-thousand, two-thousand, three-thousand—
BOOM!
I flinched. Perspiration beaded on my upper lip.
Cheeva stepped over and peered at me, his head tilting to the side.
Embarrassed, I sighed. “I’m afraid of thunderstorms,” I admitted to my familiar. Electricity exploded wildly across the sky once more. “One-thousand, two-thousand—”
BOOM!
I started breathing in and out too fast. I began to see stars hovering in front of my eyes. I was hyperventilating. I tried to breathe slowly in and slowly out, covering my head with a pillow. Although I tried to ignore the storm and think of something else, my mind went to the memory of where my fear of storms began. I’d been five years old, and in my bedroom, this very room, huddled in bed, staring out the same window during a thunderstorm. The lightning had come too close to the keep and finally, a flash of lightning was so bright that it blinded me, and the boom of thunder shook my room like an earthquake. A groaning crack split through the night and glass shattered as a huge tree branch crashed through my window and landed on top of me, pressing me down. Rain blew in through the window and soaked me. I tried to cry out for help, but I couldn’t breathe. The weight of the branch was suffocating me, and the pain—I remembered the pain-laced panic.
Even at five years of age, I knew the keep was a massive structure and I was terrified that no one would get to me in time to save me. I struggled to suck in air, but my world began to fade to black. In the haziest part of the memory, I saw my father burst through the door and use his magic to pull the branch off of my body.
* * *
The alarm blared way too early. I could have easily slept a couple more hours, especially with the warm fuzzy furnace sleeping next to me, making me feel extra cozy. Since I wasn’t going outside of the keep or our wing, I didn’t have to wear my cloak. I slipped on black slacks and a conservative shirt of cornflower-blue silk. It had an attached sash at the neck that I tied into a loose bow.
I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, knowing it made me look a couple of years younger, and also that my father would be pleased with that overall look.
I noticed Cheeva pacing back and forth. “Oh no! I’m sorry, Cheeva. You need to take care of business, don’t you?” I glanced at my clock. Already feeling guilty for not thinking about Cheeva’s needs, I heaped more guilt on myself with my next words. “I sorry, but I hope you can, ummm…hurry.” And we both jogged to the closest outside door. I let Cheeva outside to answer nature’s call and waited.
My foot tapped with nervous energy as I stared at my wristwatch. This wasn’t a morning to be late. My father absolutely loathed it if one of us was late to a family breakfast, and the last thing I wanted this morning was to make him mad. Luckily, Cheeva trotted back inside in less than a minute.
We made it to the private dining room with two minutes to spare. Zarius hadn’t arrived yet.
Minor victory.
My parents both gave me a curt nod.
“Good morning,
Adriana,” my mother said, giving me a slight smile. She was dressed in an elegant pantsuit, her unglamoured white-blond hair swept into a bun, her eyes their normal shade of blue.
“Good morning, Mother,” I said to her, and then turned to my father. “Good morning, Father.”
“To you, too,” he replied in a distant tone that made me wonder if the source of his displeasure stemmed from the Bart disagreement or if it was the disaster of Cheeva choosing me, or perhaps both.
My parents took their plates and selected breakfast food from the sideboard. Learning from my earlier blunder, I took a plate and filled it with bacon, eggs and a thick steak. Then I set it on the floor next to my chair. Next, I took a cereal bowl and filled it with water from a pitcher, and set it next to the plate on the floor. Cheeva nodded at me, his crystal-blue eyes rewarding me with a look of approval. He sat next to his food and waited.
I noticed my father had stepped away and was staring at me, a pensive look on his face.
“Did I do something wrong, Father?” I asked.
“No, on the contrary, daughter, I approve of your actions.”
My father’s familiar had died only a few months ago. He’d been incredibly close to Jarvis, an osprey. He hadn’t taken the time to bond with another familiar, and I wondered if that was because he still mourned Jarvis.
Zarius came skidding into the dining room just as my watch read eight-thirty. Without sparing a glance at anyone, he started loading his plate with food and then sat down.
I’d finished filling my plate as well, but I stood by my chair, waiting for my parents to sit down.
“Zarius!” My father scolded in his quiet, authoritative way. “Your mother has not been seated. Where are your manners?”
Zarius dropped his fork and stood up, not meeting my father’s eyes.
Just then, Piri the ferret scampered into the room, and in moments was perched on Zarius’ shoulder, chirping.
“Zarius, has Piri eaten today?”
“I don’t know,” Zarius replied.
Uh-oh.
My father let loose with a long-suffering sigh. “Zarius, I will never say this to you again, but you do not ever eat until your familiar has food to eat as well. Jarvis has only been gone for a few months. How could you have forgotten what you have seen me demonstrate for most of your life?”