“This—this is totally unacceptable!” Muirin sputtered. “Madison isn’t going to let them do this to me!” She slanted a sideways glance at Spirit, letting her know what Spirit already knew: this was an act.
I don’t think Mark and Madison are going to be in a hurry to argue with “Doctor Ambrosius” after what we heard on the tape, Spirit thought. She only wished she could believe Mordred and his Shadow Knights were going to fight among themselves. It was too convenient.
“It’s just the same dress code it’s always been,” Addie said soothingly. “That part doesn’t sound too bad.” Her eyes were full of sympathy as she looked at Spirit. Spirit knew it would hurt soon, and terribly, but right now she was just numb. And today she’d walk into her History of Magic class, and Ms. Groves wouldn’t be standing at the front of it.…
“It means wearing the rings too,” she hissed in a low voice. “And they’re magic!”
She started walking back to the dorm wing—it was where Muirin was supposed to be going right now, anyway.
Addie gave her a “well, duh” look—Muirin was still too furious to do anything but snarl.
“And Doctor Ambrosius is the one who enchanted them!” Spirit added, once they caught up to her.
Now Addie looked horrified. She was wearing her ring, and she slipped it off quickly and dropped it into her pocket.
“We’ll need to carry them with us, but we can just put them on when one of the, um—‘the Bad Guys’—is looking,” Spirit said quietly.
“No, Spirit, nobody’s going to let me get away with a thing!” Muirin said, loud enough for anybody who wanted to hear. She stalked off ahead of Addie and Spirit.
“So…” Addie asked, “how do we hide from all of Faculty and Admin?”
“We get help,” Spirit said. Muirin and Addie are wrong, Spirit thought. There’s still one member of the faculty we can trust.
She thought she knew who “Gawain” was.
TEN
Mark was Mark—King Mark of Cornwall. Teddy was Tristan—no wonder Elizabeth had recognized the Breakthrough Shadow Knights: Yseult of Cornwall was part of their story! Ovcharenko was Agravaine. Mordred had mentioned Morgaine, but not as if she knew who she was yet. But I do … Ovcharenko had called Muirin and Madison Lane-Rider “sisters”—she was willing to bet that made Madison Morgause and Muirin Morgaine. Sisters. Which makes Morgaine Agravaine’s aunt, and could this get any more disgusting?
“—Nimue, Morgaine, even Gaheris can be brought to the Shadow—”
She wished Mordred hadn’t said that. She wished she hadn’t heard it. Can be isn’t will be, she told herself. The important thing was what he’d said next.
Gawain was one of the Reincarnates Mordred couldn’t subvert. Gawain was one of the Grail Knights.
They could trust Gawain—even if he didn’t know he was a Reincarnate.
But who was he?
That part was almost easy. Gawain was someone who’d been at Oakhurst before the Shadow Knights arrived, because Mordred said he was specifically collecting Grail Knights as well as, well, everybody with magic.
He was male, because every single Reincarnate they’d heard about so far was the same sex as their original ancestor.
He was somebody Mordred knew—and whether he was Evil Mordred or Dr. Ambrosius, Spirit still didn’t think he could tell most of the students here apart. Mordred wasn’t quite sure of Gawain’s identity, but he was suspicious—and whoever he was suspicious of, it wasn’t somebody he could just make vanish. That meant someone on the Staff, because, face it, the students had been disappearing so fast, the reason Radial had been invited to the Spring Fling was probably just to up the attendance.
The male Oakhurst staff with magic (that she knew for sure had magic) who’d been here when she’d arrived and were still here was a short list. A really short list. Like, exactly one person.
She really hoped she was right.
* * *
“I don’t usually do therapy in groups, but the way things have been going lately, I think I may have to start,” Dr. MacKenzie said. “How are you feeling, Loch?”
Doctor Cooper MacKenzie was the Oakhurst “psychological counselor.” He looked like Lenin and spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent. He was the kindest, nicest person Spirit had encountered … well, since she’d lost her family. When she’d been ordered to go for counseling back in January, she’d figured he was another jerk like the so-called grief counselors who’d made her time in rehab a living hell. But Doc Mac had not only told her it was okay to grieve—and that she’d never really “get over” the loss of her family—he’d also told her she did have magic. He hadn’t just been blowing smoke at her, either—Doc Mac was a Fire Witch, and he could see it.
He’d been the first person she’d told what had really happened the night her parents and her sister died. He hadn’t said she was crazy. He believed she’d seen what she thought she had—impossible as that might seem. He’d told her that even though it had been a magical attack, it wasn’t her fault.
She’d been doing her best to believe him ever since.
She’d trusted him. And she still did.
Spirit and Loch should have been at class, but going to see the school shrink was an automatic “Get Out Of Jail Free” card. She didn’t know where Muirin was supposed to be right now, but the same obviously applied to her. It had taken Spirit a lot of fast talking to get Loch and Muirin to agree to come with her to Doc Mac and tell him their story. She would have liked it to be all five of them, but she hadn’t been able to catch up to Addie or Burke at lunch to tell them about the appointment.
“Angry someone used me as a tool to kill with,” Loch said tautly. “Because that’s what happened, Doctor MacKenzie. That’s why we’re here.”
Spirit glanced at Loch. Was it only Saturday that had happened? It seemed like a thousand years ago now.
“And you—all—feel this is true?” Doc Mac asked delicately.
“Oh hell yeah,” Muirin said. “Um, not that I expect you to believe us. I’m just here for my friends.”
She smiled brightly at Doc Mac. Spirit had expected Muirin to play fast and loose with the Dress Code, even after Ms. Corby’s public call-out, but Muirin was following it down to the letter. Spirit found that particularly disturbing. What did Muirin know to make her buckle under so easily?
“I’ll certainly listen to anything any of you wants to say,” Doc Mac said. He smiled. “At least you don’t have to convince me magic exists. That’s a start.”
Nobody said anything. “So who wants to go first?” he prompted after a moment.
“I will.” It was only when she spoke up Spirit realized she wasn’t scared. She was furious. “They said this morning Ms. Groves had an accident. That’s a lie. Ms. Groves was murdered. Last week she loaned me one of her books of Arthurian myths and legends. Last night my room was searched. It was the only thing taken.”
“And it seems to you there’s a direct connection between these two things?” Doc Mac asked gently.
“I know there is. The other week, I was, um, really upset,” Spirit said. “She found me crying in the library, and brought me back to her rooms. And … she did some kind of spell—a Warding, I think—and then she told me I was right to distrust the Breakthrough people, and I was in danger. She said there’s been a glamourie on Oakhurst for a very long time to keep everyone here from noticing all the crazy stuff that happens. She said I notice them because I haven’t come into my magic yet. And when I point things out, I can break the glamourie that keeps people from looking at the weirdnesses. She said she wasn’t powerful enough to fight what’s organized against us openly, but she’s done what she could. Then she gave me the book.”
“And last night someone came to your room and took the book, and now she’s dead,” Doc Mac said neutrally.
“Don’t forget that was after I nearly shot Spirit,” Loch said vehemently. “And I did shoot Mr. Green! I know they say it was a ‘tragic accident,’ like
it was all my fault, but I hate guns! I wouldn’t play around with one. Ovcharenko called me”—Loch took a deep breath—“he called me a faggot and shoved the shotgun into my hands and forced me to shoot it. But I shot at the targets! And then I couldn’t drop it, and I couldn’t keep it from turning to point at Spirit, either. Yeah, they both know,” Loch said, answering Doc Mac’s silent question. “I told everybody last night. I told Spirit a couple of weeks ago I’d fallen for Burke.”
“Wow,” Muirin said. “Sucks to be you, Spears.”
“Tell me about it,” Loch answered with a crooked smile. “But you see, sir … maybe someone, something, wants you—anyone who cares—to think I’d try to kill Spirit out of jealousy and lie to myself about it. But I’m not stupid. Burke and Spirit are both my friends. Burke is straight.” Loch shrugged. “And I hate guns.”
“And Burke is okay with finding out you’re gay?” Doc Mac asked.
“Yeah,” Loch said. “I think he really is. But we’ve got more important problems right now. I had proof—not that I guess it counts for much in a school full of magicians—I’d recorded a conversation between Doctor Ambrosius and Mark Rider. But I can’t find my recorder now.”
“This office deals more in subjective truths,” Doc Mac said. “We’ll worry about objective proofs later. Right now, why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”
“First could you— Could you do what Ms. Groves did?” Spirit asked hesitantly. “With the—”
“Just a moment.” Doc Mac drew the same kind of sigil in the air that Ms. Groves had, and once again Spirit felt the ear-popping sense of pressure. “All right. The office is Warded now. I don’t normally bother, unless I’m seeing an Air Mage who might lose control of their Gift. Or a Spirit Mage, of course, but there hasn’t been one of those here at Oakhurst in a very long time.”
“Spirit Mage?” Spirit asked.
“I thought there were only four Schools,” Loch said. “Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.”
“No, five: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit.” Doc Mac frowned. “That’s odd. They should be teaching all five Schools.” He shrugged. “It’s not really that important to our discussion. It’s just that since the School of Spirit deals primarily with gifts of mental control and influence, an untrained Spirit Mage in crisis could cause a great deal of collateral damage if they weren’t properly Warded.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Muirin said impatiently. “Let’s get back to the reincarnation and apocalypse.”
Just as they had with Dylan last night, the three of them told the secret story of Oakhurst, beginning with Loch and Spirit’s arrival—when they’d all become aware of just how weird Oakhurst really was—and continuing through the destruction of the Wild Hunt, the terror at New Year’s, the arrival of the Shadow Knights—and discovering the Shadow Knights were actually Breakthrough. This time all three of them told the story, interrupting each other, backtracking, reminding each other of details they’d forgotten. As they spoke, Doc Mac looked more and more thoughtful. By the time they got through the second half of their explanation—Reincarnates, Elizabeth Walker, Camelot, haunted oaks, dead bikers, Mordred being imprisoned in the oak instead of Merlin, and Breakthrough intending to start a nuclear war by launching missiles—Doc Mac looked pretty sandbagged. Spirit was glad she hadn’t included the part about him maybe being the Reincarnate Gawain. It was a theory she hadn’t confided to the others. There hadn’t been time and privacy.
“I wasn’t aware of any of this,” he said, when they finally paused. “Of course I knew we lost a certain number of students each year. But everyone who comes to Oakhurst is traumatically orphaned, and then they have their entire worldview overturned by learning not simply that magic exists, but that they have magic powers. With that much mental trauma, it would be out of the norm for there not to be suicides and runaways. That we lost such a small number each year seemed a blessing. I never thought any more about it.”
“Some blessing,” Muirin muttered.
There was silence for a time. Doc Mac sat and thought; Spirit, Loch, and Muirin just sat. Even if he didn’t think they were crazy, it was a lot to take in, Spirit knew. If she’d been told everything she now knew back in September, she would have rejected it utterly.
“If you really believe all you’ve told me,” Doc Mac finally said, “you three took an enormous risk telling me what you have.”
“Not really,” Loch said, shrugging. “Doctor A—Mordred—wants Spirit and me dead; Mark—King Mark of Cornwall—is insisting it has to look like an accident but he’s probably going to cave pretty soon. I don’t figure we have a lot to lose at this point. And Spirit says we can trust you—and I trust her.”
“And I’m connected,” Muirin said, smirking. “Madison Lane-Rider’s recruiting me for the Shadow Knights: Join the forces of Evil! Grind your friends under the iron heel of tyranny! And you’d better believe I’m going to go running to her the moment we get out of here to give her a suitably edited version of events.” She looked at Spirit and Loch and sighed, apparently realizing they didn’t find the situation as funny as she did. “You two wanted to go see the Doc; I tagged along. You guys are all freaked out because you figure you’ve been marked for death by some kind of Secret Conspiracy you can’t get Burke or Addie to believe in. Doc Mac talked you down off the ledge.”
“Nice of you to let me know my part ahead of time,” Doc Mac said dryly. “I can give you a few more details to make the story convincing, Muirin.”
“You believe us?” Spirit said, almost sick with relief.
“Let’s say I’m strongly inclined to,” Doc Mac says. “I’m not sure about the Arthurian reincarnation aspect of things, but”—he hesitated—“we’ve lost nearly all the faculty and almost thirty students in a bit over two months. I dislike Mr. Ovcharenko and his private army a great deal, and Lily Groves was a good friend—and not the sort of person either inclined to midnight rambles, or incapable of defending herself if attacked. And the fact I never thought what happened with Loch and Beckett Green was at all odd until you came and talked to me about it is a big warning sign to me that I should take everything you’ve told me very seriously. So—conditionally—I’m in. What do you need from me?”
“What are your conditions?” Spirit asked suspiciously.
“I won’t betray a professional confidence—yours or anyone else’s. I won’t do anything that’s both harmful and illegal, so if you’re expecting me to shoot anyone…”
“No!” Loch burst out.
“We need information,” Muirin said quickly. “They’re going to retest everyone. Why? Who’s doing it? And can we get out of it?”
“And if you happen to know anyone in Homeland Security…” Loch said.
Doc Mac smiled tightly—that, more than anything else, made Spirit think he believed them. Doc Mac looked scared. “Unfortunately, no. But I can find out about the testing. And I can certainly advise that you, Spirit, and you, Loch, be put at the bottom of the list because of your recent trauma.”
“Gee, thanks,” Muirin muttered.
“You’re on your own, kid,” Doc Mac said, smiling at her conspiratorially. “I have great faith in your ability to lie like a rug.”
Muirin bounded to her feet and bowed, looking pleased.
“Now,” Doc Mac said briskly. “You two should exit stage left—”
“—pursued by a bear,” Loch added irrepressibly.
“—and complaining you can’t decide whether I believed you or not. And Muirin can remain to explain to me all the reasons why I shouldn’t believe you.” He glanced down at his watch and sighed, obviously coming to a decision he didn’t like very much. “Loch, I think we’ll need to see each other for several counseling sessions in order to work through your conflicts about your sexual identity.”
Loch snorted, looking more cheerful than Spirit had seen him in weeks.
“That should also provide something of a safety net if the factionalism you predict comes into play. If the em
ail system is working again, I’ll email you. Otherwise, I’ll just print out a schedule and have one of the Proctors deliver it. I’m assuming you have ways of communicating with your friends that won’t draw unwelcome attention?”
“Aside from the whole ‘marked for death’ thing, yes,” Loch said wryly. “Nobody much notices me.”
“I think you underrate yourself,” Doc Mac said. “But we’ll leave it at that. Okay, kids. Showtime!” He got to his feet, clapping his hands together.
“You’re going out there a persecuted lunatic, but you’re coming back a paranoid loner!” Muirin said fulsomely.
Spirit laughed. It felt good. For the first time, she felt they were actually doing something that might help.
* * *
Their visit with Doc Mac had run well into the afternoon. The rest of the day was weirdly tense; Spirit couldn’t decide whether she was too scared, or not scared enough. All the equestrian classes had been canceled for the moment—and so had the firearms course, which Spirit didn’t think would have happened just because somebody had died at the first one—so all the indoor PE classes were being doubled up (even more than before) and so were the History and Language classes. It was almost enough to make it look as if half the student body hadn’t vanished in the last six months.
Because of her appointment with Doc Mac, she’d missed her Intermediate Latin Class. Her next class was Jane Smith’s Math Class. Ms. Smith wanted them all to talk about their feelings (as usual).
Boy, it’s a good thing Breakthrough intends to destroy the world, Spirit thought snarkily. Because none of us is learning enough academic stuff to get into any college in the universe.
Jillian Marshall and Claire Grissom both broke down in hysterics, and Ms. Smith (looking pleased) called for a couple of Proctors to escort them to what she called a “quiet room.”
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