Boys Over Powers

by Lidiya Foxglove

  There is a monster like this in Fortune’s Favor, I remembered. In the game, it was a boss in the form of a spider. The more you struggled, the more her webs would entangle you. The way to get out of it was to stay still and cast slow spells until she backed off and went into her cave.

  I stopped fighting and went still, which wasn’t easy because it went against every instinct. I took a deep breath.

  “I’m going in,” Montague said, and Firian said,

  “Wait.”

  The vines stopped encroaching so much.

  “I request you, vines, to slow down…,” I said. I tried to focus on my intent and not how nervous I was. “Slower…slower.” I was encouraged as the vines began to listen to me. “Stop.”

  The vines froze.

  “Let me go.”

  The vines dropped away, but if I thought I was off the hook—oh, no. This was apparently just the equivalent of the spider retreating so the real battle could begin, and unfortunately I couldn’t just click or type to get out of it.

  The faery lifted his hands and shadows gently swirled around me, surrounding me in a distortion field that made Montague and Firian appear as if through a screen door, and the blue tree as well. And when I tried to get out of it, I hit a wave of something so cold it burned my skin.

  The distortion thickened and I started seeing faces appear out of the corners of my eyes. My grandpa. The school lunch lady who died when I was in 3rd grade. The dog we had when I was really little. I was pretty sure I even saw Heath Ledger and Alan Rickman blow by.

  I’m in a vortex of the dead?

  This was definitely freaking me out. I wanted to shut my eyes, but I tried to follow my grandpa’s face around. I could never quite lock onto him. With mom gone, my grandparents meant a lot to me even though they were kind of wacky old people who didn’t understand half the stuff I was into. Grandpa was perpetually taking off his shirt in the Georgia heat, drinking a beer, and asking me if I was still into Pokey-man. But he was always good for taking me to Target on my birthday and buying me practically anything I wanted, teaching me magic tricks, and telling me interesting stories about being stationed in Japan. He called me “Freckles”. Even after my freckles kind of faded. I liked that, though.

  Just seeing his face again, even in some strange magical context, and I was anguished. “Grandpa…! Is that really you? Grandpa!”

  You know this is all part of the test, my brain reminded me. You can’t lose focus now.

  I shut my eyes, blocking out the visions. Now, I was aware of my own self again and I realized the cold was seeping slowly into me. My hands and feet were numb. I tried to summon fire again, but it didn’t work at all. Clearly, I had to get out of the box with my magic usage to pass the tests. But I hardly know any magic yet!

  Of course, I had summoned spirits in St. Augustine, thanks to Samuel.

  “Samuel…,” I said. “Can you help me again?”

  Charlotte. I’m here with you. Just don’t open your eyes.

  I was about to. I was hoping I would see Samuel’s face in the vortex.

  No, he said. You can’t see me. We can’t get too close. That is part of the pact between a white necromancer and her spirits. You must not cling to the dead.

  “Okay. I understand,” I said, although I wasn’t sure I did. “Just…tell me how I summoned the spirits before so I can do it again.”

  You drew upon some of the spirits that guard St. Augustine. Those were the ghosts of witches who had no love lost for the council themselves. There are spirits everywhere who can help you if you ask them. Some of them protect the land you stand on now.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” I said.

  Depends on your perspective. Tribes lived here for thousands of years.

  “Oh. Am I allowed to summon the ghosts of indigenous people?” I whispered. “That’s awkward. We parked a warlock school on their old land.”

  Well, they don’t have to show up. That’s true of all spirits. You’ll meet different spirits all around the world, some of them from ancient times and some who died weeks ago. They will not always be the people you expect, but you must learn to be bold yet respectful. Give it a try. Tell them your intent. Most spirits will help you, if your intention is good.

  “I wish to take a branch from this tree,” I said. “To make a wand to cast magic. I honor this land. The trees and soil, and the spirits that walk upon it.” I felt awkward. ‘I honor this land’? I sounded like I was working on some bad poetry. Nah, Samuel probably meant I had to be myself. “I’m just a witch from a small town and I have so much to learn, but I really do love this forest and I really, really want to make a wand and learn magic. It’s my life’s dream. Or it would have been if I knew about it earlier. I have a lot of catching up to do, I know…but I want to be strong enough to protect the people and the places I love. I humbly ask for your help.”

  My eyes were still shut, but I felt it. Spirits swirled around me, surrounding me with warmth. I opened my eyes. Just as with the women before, their forms were vague and ghostly, but these spirits were male. The vortex dissipated and I could see Montague, Firian, and the tree again.

  I started shivering all over. The magic left me weak.

  “Good work,” the faery said. “You have passed the test by demonstrating a wide variety of intuitive magic.”

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “A lord of the fae,” he said. Now I could tell it was a guy, but he was so beautiful it was hard to tell. “I was watching over this tree. I was curious to see if you would make your way here. This tree has been here for centuries, but only one student ever made his way to this tree for his wand.”

  “Samuel Caruthers…,” I said.

  “That is correct.”

  “So it’s a pretty special tree.”

  “It’s a very special tree. Sacred to the faeries.”

  The faery was, as established, super gorgeous, and I don’t think it was a glamour. He had this ethereal quality that even the glamoured up witches didn’t have. It was like staring at the sun, or a rock star. His hair was long and managed to look like he had it professionally done, even though I’m sure he just rolled out of bed like that. He was perfectly androgynous, in such a way that I think Montague was checking him out, and so was I. He was wearing a very simple cape and boots, shirt and pants, all earth tones, but they clung to his slender and graceful body perfectly.

  “You found the tree,” the faery lord said. “Ignatius will now know that this destiny was not foisted on you. You are the right person to accept it. You’ve proven that today. You can joke around all day, Miss Byrne…but I know what it’s like to pretend to fit into the world you’ve been given. Deep down…you will never be happy unless you can access the magical world and reach your potential. Samuel Caruthers gave you his magic, but now—it’s yours.”

  A chill went through me. “What is my potential? Master Blair said I might be a sans-pareil, but…”

  “Your destiny might be more specific than that,” the faery lord said. “To be a sans-pareil is to be a great wizard. It is an honor bestowed by the council. In the end, the greatest honor is to go beyond that. Not to do what’s expected, but what’s unexpected.”

  “Oh, like when Harry Potter—” I cut myself off. I could tell the faery lord didn’t want to hear about Harry Potter.

  He frowned. “Charlotte, you did go to St. Augustine, and you left in a hurry. Why was that?”

  “You know about that?”

  “I am told of your activities.”

  “It was because those witches—like—freaked out that I cast fire magic. And they wanted to block me from ever seeing Firian again. I had to protect him.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “I want you to know that Ignatius is doing that same thing you are doing. Breaking the rules in the hopes of a better outcome for future generations.”

  Was that what I was doing? Cool.

  “But in order to protect you, we are doing work that you won’t be infor
med about. Try not to rush things. Don’t summon any demons. Just go and get your wand.”

  Firian hooked a finger on the waistband of my shorts while I lifted my hands. “Okay, okay,” I said. “I know. No more questions. Don’t piss off the faery lord tree guardian.”

  “Wise.” He turned, cloak fluttering, and walked into the woods.

  “Char…” Montague looked at me. “I’m starting to realize you’re kind of…special. You’re one of those reluctant hero types.”

  “I’m not reluctant,” I said. I didn’t want to be reluctant, anyway. I had a mission to save my mom, and I needed to be brave and tough. “Well—I am, but, that’s because I don’t want to die.”

  “Heroes don’t die,” Firian said. “Sidekicks do…”

  “Not comic relief sidekicks. You already told me that’s your job.”

  “I’m just…” Montague shook his head. “We have a lot to consider. Master Blair already tricked the council by bringing you here. This school is supposed to be run by prominent, normal warlocks who teach prominent, powerful younger warlocks. It’s almost like…they performed a coup so they could get you in here.”

  I turned back to the tree. Whatever was going on, I knew what had led me here in the first place. Now I had a little more understanding of why.

  I put my hand on its strangely smooth bark and felt the slow, soft energy moving through it like the waters of a mountain stream.

  Although it was gentle, I could also feel how powerful it was. This wasn’t like my go-to fire spells, which were quick and impulsive. This was magic that said, Girl, slow down. Remember, this isn’t a race. You need to get in touch with something deeper before you can become great.

  So this is the same tree my uncle got his wand from?

  I had never known my famous uncle Samuel, or my aunt Ina who was killed by the Withered Lord and saved by my mother. I had never known my mom, either, but I wished I could have gotten my wand from the same tree as her.

  Except, my grandparents had tried to keep her from her magical birthright, the same as my dad tried to keep me from mine. Maybe she never had a wand at all.

  My entire family usually felt elusive to me. Who were they? What made them tick? I had no answers. I never understood why my mom turned ‘bad’.

  Putting my hands on this tree and feeling this energy, I understood that she must have felt left out. When she met Samuel, she probably thought he was cool because he’d grown up a warlock and went to Merlin College. She must have been jealous. Her parents probably urged her not to get too deep or get herself in danger. I knew that feeling all too well.

  So when she tried to save Ina for Samuel, the Withered Lord probably whispered something to her. A promise. You could have what he has. You could have power too.

  The tree thrummed under me.

  You have made it this far, the tree said in my head. You have proved yourself worthy thus far, but there is much still to be done. Climb my branches and find your wand.

  “Oh…okay.” I glanced at Montague. He didn’t have to climb his tree. Damnit. “The tree said I need to climb it.”

  “Can you manage it?” Montague asked. “You’re not much of a rock climber.”

  “Nine-year-old Charlotte wouldn’t have even blinked,” I said. “So I think nineteen-year-old Charlotte can handle it.” I reached for a low branch and tugged myself up, throwing a foot up to get a hold on a spot where the trunk bulged a little. If I could get a grip there, I could make it to the branches. “Don’t help me!” I told Firian. “This is my wand. I need to do this—urrrgh.” I got myself up.

  It got better from ‘urrrgh’ onward. The branches were closer together, and as long as I did not look down, I could keep going up. I reached the branch at the very top and wrapped my hand around it.

  It was a large branch. It wasn’t as cute and wand-shaped as Montague’s. It would make a great stick for entertaining a large labrador. Nevertheless, I sensed this was the branch the tree wanted me to take. When I put my hand around it, the entire tree trembled and the branch snapped off.

  “Ahh!” I didn’t expect that, and it threw off my weight. I almost fell.

  “I’m coming up there,” Montague said.

  “No! Stay down! I don’t need you Edwarding me around with your vampire strength anymore.” I clung to the trunk, carefully finding the next foothold as I gripped the stick between the tree and my armpit. Getting down was definitely a little harder. I could see why cats just cried until someone rescued them. Finally, I reached the lowest branch and now I could jump down.

  “That’s your wand branch?” Firian raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to overcompensate just because you’re the only girl at school.”

  I gave him a little shove. “We’re going to whittle them down or something, right?”

  “That’s a lot of whittling.”

  Montague gave me a small, admiring smirk. I think he was almost a little jealous that I got a wand from a faery tree. “Well, we know you’re always checking out the biggest rods,” he said. “But I hope that even though I only have a normal wand, maybe when we get back, I can take you out to celebrate?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Did you guys coordinate your bad jokes? Do you mean a drink at the dining hall?”

  “Just say yes and I’ll make something happen.”

  I suppressed a big smile but I was also aware of Firian standing behind me, and I felt awkward again.

  “Just get it over with already,” he said. This whole time, I realized, I couldn’t quite tell if he meant it or if he was jealous. I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to be.

  But I did know I wanted to spend more time with Montague. Alone.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charlotte

  Unfortunately, the date had to take a rain check. We had greatly underestimated how quickly the adrenaline of finding the wands would wear off. By the time we huffed our way home, it was dark. Long dark. I would have panicked if we didn’t see the lights of the school in the distance as the sun was setting. We were the last ones back. Master Blair was waiting for us, holding a lantern. He hurried our way.

  “So it’s true,” he said, looking at my wand. “You found the tree.” He gave me a furtive look. “I was wrong to send you away…after all. Things are moving…”

  “Yes,” Stuart said. “It seems that they are.”

  The way Master Blair was looking at the branch made me nervous.

  He didn’t say any more. Harris and Alec were waiting for us too. And quite a few fellow students. The Locke brothers were murmuring and one of them said, “What tree are you talking about, Master Blair?”

  “This branch comes from the same tree as Samuel Caruthers’ wand,” Master Blair said. “It proves to me that Charlotte has the same potential as her uncle.”

  “So what?” Royce Locke said, sneering at me.

  “I’m starting to think he’s playing favorites,” Ronan agreed, speaking to Royce but in a voice for all to hear.

  “I will not shy back from acknowledging Miss Blair’s worth,” Master Blair said. “She could be a sans-pareil. And if she can handle warlock magic, surely other women can as well.”

  There was an audible gasp from multiple angles and even I started to get the sense that Master Blair should tone it down. Witches and warlocks just couldn’t handle this kind of excitement, the poor fragile creatures. This is what happens when you don’t use the internet, I thought.

  “I’m tired of ancient, arbitrary rules,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t the best university in the country be on the forefront of new magic? New and better ways of doing things? Well, it’s all right—everyone, go back your dorms and get some sleep, for crying out loud.”

  “That’s a big wand,” Alec said, as he and Harris walked over to us.

  I immediately held up a hand. “Don’t say anything.”

  “Where the hell were you?” Harris asked. “We got back hours ago. What was this tree?” I could tell he’d been wo
rrying about me, even though he was trying to sound more irritated than concerned.

  “It was a…faery tree,” I said.

  “A faery tree?”

  “Like, it had a faery guardian.”

  “Chosen One,” Harris said. “You can’t deny that anymore.” He sounded more sarcastic than complimentary and I felt triumphant. He was playing right into my hands, I thought, before noting that I didn’t actually know what the game was.

  I waved my magical tree stick (I couldn’t really call it a wand yet) at him. “Jealous much?”

  Master Blair walked over to us with a fierce glint in his eyes, like we shouldn’t be talking about this. “Go get some sleep, Miss Byrne.”

  The next day in Stuart’s class, which luckily was the last of the day this time, we started working on honing our wands.

  “It looks like a branch,” he said. “Right now. However, I want you to consider what a wand symbolizes. It has grown from a tree that came up from a seedling, a tree that has surely been standing in the same spot since before you were born. In some cases, before anyone living was born. What would it be like to live your entire life in one spot while everything moves around you?”

  “Sounds good to me,” muttered Benton, who seemed eternally unmotivated.

  Stuart ignored him, like every long-suffering old teacher at Merlin College did about everything.

  “What attributes would you achieve if you were a tree?” Stuart pressed.

  Harris lifted a hand. “You would be intimately in tune with that place,” he said.

  “Focus,” said Irving. “No distractions.”

  “Good, good,” Stuart said. “You’re right, boys. Your wand is like a beacon of focus. The more attention you give it, the more it rewards you with power. So when you’re whittling your wands, clear your mind. Consider the years of the tree’s life. The seasons changing around it. The connection of all living things to one another. If your brain gets distracted, find a phrase or a poem that you would like to symbolize your magic, and repeat it to yourself as you work.”