Rachel giggled slightly. Then, she said haltingly, “Valerie…she wanted her mum. Is there any way to send for her?”
“I will send for her.” The dean patted Rachel’s arm. “Miss Griffin, we have a few questions for you. Please wait here for now. I can send someone to get your books if you wish.”
“O-okay. I’d rather go…but if you need me, I’ll stay.”
“I will send for your friends, Mr. Smith and Princess Nastasia, right? Do you know if Miss Hunt spent time with any other students besides the younger Mister Iscariot, Miss Iscariot, and Mister Warhol?”
Rachel’s lips parted. The dean, who had the upper school and the college to run, had taken the time to discover who her friends and Valerie’s were? No wonder Dean Moth was known as the greatest dean alive.
A lump formed in Rachel’s throat. She struggled not to cry.
“Mr. Smith is her…her particular friend,” she said in a very small voice. She hoped she was not getting Valerie into trouble. She was uncertain whether freshmen were supposed to have boyfriends. “Also, she might want her familiar. It’s an elkhound named Payback.”
The dean nodded. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Griffin?”
Rachel traced one of the black veins running through the green marble with her toe. Then, she blurted out, “Dean…Ma’am…could you possibly…could you ask Gaius Valiant to come by? When he’s done with class and being tortured by Mr. Von Dread, I mean. I…I have a question I need to ask him.”
“Yes, I will ask him to come.” The dean looked as if she was going to ask Rachel a follow-up question. Perhaps what a freshman girl from Dare wanted with a senior boy from Drake Hall. Or maybe why Vladimir Von Dread would be torturing a fellow student. Though from the dean’s expression, maybe such conduct on Von Dread’s part was not particularly unexpected. Whatever it was, the dean thought better of it.
Nodding to Rachel, she left to join the nurse and the proctors. They spoke for a short time. Then, Mr. Scott departed, followed soon after by Mr. Fuentes and Mr. Gideon.
• • •
The nurse fretted over Valerie, playing first one song and then another. The music was restful to the ear and the accompanying scent of warm fortifying chicken soup. Sparkles of light, the color of sunshine through leaves, swirled out of the nurse’s flute and surrounded her patient. Rachel associated that particular shade of green with songs her mother had played for her when she had been ill as a child. It brought back comforting memories of being snug in her pink canopy bed surrounded by her stuffed animals, with a cup of warm milk steaming beside her.
She wished she were back in that bed now. Nothing bad ever happened there. Murderers did not stalk young girls. Blood did not spurt all over friends’ faces. Bullies did not deform her with magic. Fathers did not let their daughters down. Never. Ever.
Who was she going to tell about all this, now that she could not report to her father? What was the use of having a perfect memory to record all the facts, if no one wanted to hear about them? The last thought seemed petty compared to Valerie’s troubles, but the wound it left on her heart was deeper than the rest.
A familiar warmth rubbed against her leg. Looking down, Rachel found the tiny lion looking up at her expectantly, its golden eyes full of warmth and wisdom. Rachel knelt and hugged the little beast. Comfort radiated off it like heat from a fireplace. Rachel began to cry. Silent tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them on the Lion.
He batted at her nose with his paw.
Rachel rested her forehead on the Lion. The little beast purred like a cat. She could feel its body vibrating. It licked her face once. Its breath was very warm and smelled wonderfully sweet, like honeysuckles after a spring rain. When its rough tongue touched her cheek, the terror holding her chest prisoner unwound, melting away like ice around a spring bulb.
Her lips parted in a sigh of relief and gratitude.
An image rose up before her mind’s eye of the woods beyond Stony Tor, on the far side of the wall of trees that made up the wards of the school. Rising up out of the center of that forest was a gorgeous old oak tree. It was noticeably taller than the trees around it.
Coming back to herself, Rachel blinked. This was her first vision. She did not know what it meant. It was not something earthshaking or a journey to another world, like the princess’s, but it cheered her and brought an unexpected sense of hope. Rachel petted the Lion, all the way from its head to its tufty tail. She rubbed her nose against its cheek. She felt better—until she remembered the question of whether or not Gaius knew about Valerie and the geas spell.
Then she felt shaky again.
The Lion spoke in a powerful and calming voice that reached deep inside her and lifted her spirits. “Even in the darkness, the spirit of humanity burns brightly. When surrounded by evil, the good will show all the greater. If you meet a man, and he is lost, take his hand. Show him the way. You see the path and walk it already. Some just need to hear the sound of their footsteps upon the path to know it is different than the woods.”
Awe caught away her breath.
But what did it mean? Rachel climbed back into her chair and picked up her glass of water. Did the Lion mean that Gaius was evil but could be saved, if she did not give up on him? Or did he mean something else entirely?
The Lion batted at some dust.
The door opened with a jangle. Gaius strode through it. His gaze fell upon Rachel, sitting on her chair with her glass of water. His cheerful smile faltered. The dean waved him over and spoke with him briefly. Then, he walked over to Rachel, his footsteps echoing. He knelt in front of her and put his hand on her arm, his brow furrowed with concern.
Her skin tingled where his fingers touched her.
“What’s going on?” he asked earnestly. “You look upset. Were you attacked?”
Rachel tried to speak very calmly. “No. I am okay. Gaius…Did you know…when you told me about the new kind of geas…did you know about Valerie?”
He frowned. “Know what?”
“That she was under this geas?”
“No, I didn’t know! I swear!”
“Wh-what do you know?”
“I-I just knew that there was some new spell. A more advanced version of the old geas that can control you. I…can’t tell you who I heard about it from. I am sorry. But I am almost a hundred percent sure the person who told me did so because he is trying to figure out if anyone was under it. I do not think he knows how to cast it. I also don’t think he would cast it if he did…Well, I hope he wouldn’t…”
Relief rushed through her like runners in the final meters of a marathon, leaving her weak. He looked so sincere and so worried. She no longer worried that he might be lying.
Inclining his head toward where Valerie lay in bed, Gaius whispered, “Is she going to be okay? I don’t understand. I hadn’t heard that a geas could actually hurt you.”
“She tried to remember…tried really hard. When I found her, blood was coming out of her nose…lots of blood. She…she might have died if the little Lion hadn’t come and got me.”
“Little lion?” He blinked twice. “I don’t even know what to think of all this. She must be very clever. I thought geases weren’t something you could break yourself. I…am impressed. And confused. And slightly terrified.”
“I am glad you told me about it, or I would not have understood what was happening.”
“Someone actually cast a geas on a student?” Gaius talked a little too quickly. His voice rose as he grew more alarmed. “Why would they bother? And why on her? Does this mean the people who cast it on her are different than the ones who tried to kill her? Or was it the same people, and they decided she needed to die even though they had enchanted her? Was she no longer of use to them?”
Should she tell him more? She needed someone to confide in. Could that person be Gaius Valiant? On one hand, he might be evil. On another, the Lion urged her not to cut him—if she understood the Lion. On yet a third hand, she liked him. Eve
n if he was evil, she still liked him.
In fact, she realized slowly—her gaze resting on his soulful brown eyes, the perfection that was his lips, and the handsome curve of his jaw—she liked him very much.
She leaned toward him, until their faces were so close she could feel the heat from his cheek, and whispered, “Valerie visited the Wisecraft offices in New York. She arrived early, but she was late for her appointment with the Wisecraft. She was trying to remember what happened in between.”
“That’s…disturbing.”
“It gets worse.” Her voice remained calm, but her body began to tremble again. “Do you remember what Cydney said at the meeting, that one of my friends was a snitch? Well…Valerie suspects herself. She thinks that she’s the snitch, but she can’t remember when she told.” Contemplating the indignities Valerie had suffered caused Rachel to sway on her feet.
Gaius laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I…don’t understand.”
“If Valerie is right,” Rachel took another deep breath, “some kids in your dorm—Cydney Graves, her friends Belladonna Marley and Charybdis Nott, that girl who cast that engorgement spell on me, Lola Spong, and probably Eunice Chase, too—considering she pinched Cydney for trying to say who the snitch was—have been making Valerie tell them things.” Rachel’s stomach clenched. Her voice grew louder, shrill. “Someone cast a spell on my friend and turned her mind over to these girls!”
The horror of it all was suddenly too much.
Rachel broke off and wailed loudly.
“Um…” Disconcerted, Gaius raised his hands—as if he did not have much experience with wailing girls. Stepping forward again, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. “There, there.”
Rachel instantly quieted down, embarrassed.
“Um…Sorry,” she murmured.
She felt disappointed that the boy had not pulled her into his arms. Her parents would have hugged her.
“Okay, what you just said…is not good,” Gaius’s entire attention was on what he had just learned. “Look, there’s someone I’ve got to go tell about this. He…might be able to help. Or at least find out what is going on with the kids in my dorm. I’ll be back in five minutes! I promise!” He turned and ran out of the infirmary and down the path toward his dormitory.
Before the door banged, the tiny Lion had slipped out as well.
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
The Difficulty of Navigating Without a Rudder
“You don’t remember anything?” Sigfried sat hunched on the edge of Valerie’s bed, squeezing her hand.
Lucky hovered above her. His flame-red whiskers twitched in distress. A healing melody issued from the purple and green agates set into the headboard beneath him. Little green sparkles swirled out of the gems and danced around the bed, bringing with them a sense of well-being. The green fire in the glass ball floating overhead flickered merrily.
Beside the bed, Rachel perched on the edge of her chair. Nastasia stood by her shoulder, gazing down with regal concern. Her golden curls waved in the breeze blowing through an open window. Rachel could smell the scent of the wisteria that covered the gym as it mingled with the sandalwood and ubiquitous odor of disinfectant. Overhead, the chimes tinkled, jangling loudly whenever they became entangled with Lucky’s long whiskers.
Across the infirmary, the nurse and the dean talked quietly in one corner, one of the orangey-red curtains half drawn around them. Rachel glanced through the open front door and down the gravel pathway beyond, but there was no sign of Gaius returning.
Looking around for a clock, she realized she had not checked the time when he left.
Had it been more than five minutes?
It felt like a year and a half.
Valerie smiled at them blearily from her profusion of pillows. “No, I don’t remember. Why am I here? The proctors asked me lots of questions, but they would not tell me anything.”
Nastasia turned to Rachel, her face full of inquiry. “You found her. What happened?”
Rachel filled Valerie and the others in on what had happened.
“Nope.” Valerie shrugged. “Don’t remember this conversation at all. Are you sure you aren’t making this up? Where were we?”
“In…the girls’ bathroom on the second floor?”
Valerie squinted and then shook her head. “Sorry.”
Rachel rocked her chair back.
Okay, that was terrifying.
In the silence, the chimes jangled loudly in the breeze.
“Nastasia, your father?” Rachel touched the princess’s shoulder lightly. “Any word?”
The princess bore the familiarity with patient fortitude. She shook her head.
“Do you think…” the princess began.
But she never finished. Her eyes rolled back until they were entirely white. Siggy jumped up to support her, but she did not fall. Instead, she took a stumbling step forward, her eyes returning to normal. Rachel rushed to her side and helped steady her.
“I’ve…” Nastasia’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “I’ve just had a vision…I think. But not like before. I didn’t go anywhere. I was right here. It might have been a vision of the future.”
“What happened?” Rachel and Valerie cried together.
“I saw Mr. Fuentes, the proctor. He came here, into the infirmary. His eyes were odd, cloudy. He crossed the room toward us, casting cantrips. Black fire flew from his fingers toward Miss Hunt. Mr. Smith jumped in the way. He…” she gazed at Sigfried, her eyes frightened, “ended up on the floor. Not breathing.”
“Mr. Fuentes tried to kill me, and Siggy saved me?” Valerie’s voice broke on “kill,” ending in a hoarse whisper.
Nastasia nodded. “I believe so.”
Valerie choked out. “And Siggy…died?”
Footsteps echoed on brick. The front door was open. Outside, the handsome Spanish proctor trotted up the two brick stairs that led to the entrance. Seeing him, an eerie horripilation ran down the back of Rachel’s spine.
Was the princess’s vision coming true?
Siggy lifted his trumpet and turned to Nastasia. “Should I attack, Princess?”
The princess stared at Fuentes, her face growing pale. She looked rapidly around, as if searching for someone to tell her what to do. But no adults had heard the description of her vision, and there was not enough time to fill them in before the young proctor arrived.
Fuentes opened the door and strode into the infirmary, grinning his customary cheerful grin. Siggy waited, poised. Still, Nastasia hesitated.
A decision had to be made now.
Rachel’s legs tingled with growing excitement. She could not see Fuentes’s eyes. Were they cloudy? Should she trust Nastasia’s vision? Or hesitate and risk losing Siggy?
Swerve or crash?
A flick of a flame.
Rachel whistled.
Blue sparks flew from her mouth toward the young proctor. The sound of it pierced the air, high and crisp. It blended with the blare of Sigfried’s trumpet, as he joined her.
Siggy raced across the beds, leaping from one to the next in his mad dash for the door. His blew with all his might, silvery sparkles whooshing from his instrument toward the door. His wind blast picked up Fuentes, carried him out the door, and down the two brick stairs. The young proctor tumbled backward slamming into the ground amidst blue and silver sparkles. He slid along the gravel path, paralyzed.
Despite her trepidations, Rachel could not help grinning in delight. She had frozen an adult!
Holding the trumped in one hand, Siggy leapt from the last bed while reaching for his new Bowie knife. Shouting in alarm, the nurse and the dean converged upon him. Valerie tried to rise, but dizziness assailed her. She put her hand out, as if to catch herself, and sank back onto her pillows. Lucky snaked through the air to Siggy, who now stood by the door, looking out, knife in hand. Rachel ran to join them. Nastasia joined them more slowly.
Fuentes lay motionless on the gravel walk. His hands were raised in an unfamiliar c
onfiguration. His eyes were milky white. Rachel let out a huge sigh of relief. Seeing him that way was frightening. She felt suddenly sick to her stomach, but at least she had not attacked him unnecessarily.
“Why is Carlos back here? I sent him to the City to bring back the Agents,” the dean exclaimed, regarding the rigid young man. She turned on them. “Children! What did you do?”
“The princess had a vision that he was going to kill Valerie!” Rachel blurted out. “He’s geased, too! Look at his eyes.”
The Dean turned to Nastasia. Her harsh expression softened. She looked more like a kindly grandmother. Rachel recalled that the dean was a friend of the princess’s family. “My child, is this true?”
“Look at his hands, Dean Moth,” Nastasia pointed. “That is the same gesture he made in my vision. Is it dangerous?”
The dean knelt down beside Fuentes, who was being fussed over by the nurse, and examined his hands. Blood rushed from her face. “Oh, my.”
“That gesture is…bad?” asked Rachel.
“Yes.” Dean Moth rose to her feet, brushed off her knees, and frowned down at the supine proctor. “Very bad. I am surprised he knows it. I have never met anyone who knew that particular cantrip who was not a truly black sorcerer.”
Rachel stared down at him. “Maybe the villains who hypnotized him showed it to him.”
The dean’s eyes bore into Rachel. “Miss Griffin, that is a very insightful hypothesis.”
Dean Moth gestured. A great golden eagle flew from the roof off toward the gymnasium. There was a rushing sound. Then, Mr. Chanson walked around the corner, smiling his mild, thoughtful smile. “You wanted me, Dean?”
“I don’t understand,” Nastasia whispered, as they gazed at the fallen proctor who lay like a tumbled statue. She fumbled with her purse, still pulling out her violin. “Why is he in such an unnatural position, as if he were still walking?”
“I paralyzed him.” Rachel gazed at her handiwork with satisfaction.
“You?” Nastasia could not have looked more surprised if she had discovered a fish flipping about in her knickers. “Without an instrument? When—when did you learn to do that?”
The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) Page 31