The Untangled Cassie Black

by Tammie Painter

  I was tempted. Really tempted. But I’d already gotten Alastair in a bad situation, and Tobey had just spent the past few days getting over a nasty concussion and was lucky he hadn’t been killed. I also knew that if Tobey helped me uncover where the Mauvais was, he’d expect to go with me when I went after Mr. Evil. And I don’t think Busby would be as forgiving if I lost his grandson a second time.

  "Look, I appreciate it, but Runa isn’t going to leave that stuff scattered around for any passerby to read. And, I don’t know, the more I think about it, the more I feel like it’s the wrong direction. Whatever we find in your grandad’s journals isn’t going to help. I’m sure he’s told us all he knows."

  "You’re not even giving me a chance." Tobey’s angry words bounced off the stone walls. "The Great Cassie who can do anything. Is that how you see yourself?"

  "That’s not what I was thinking at all."

  "You’re a snob, you know."

  "I’m a snob? Exactly what aspect of my life do I have to be snobbish about?" I should have whipped up a Silencing Spell around us, because by now, people were snatching quick glances at us and looking away with smug grins on their faces as if they’d never had a public argument with someone. I lowered my voice, but my jaw ached with the tension of wanting to shout at Tobey. "Let me see, could it be my joyous upbringing? My brain-drained parents? My glamorous job at a funeral home? Yes, I can see how I might lord that over you."

  "Your magic," Tobey hissed into my ear. "That’s what you’re a snob about. You think you’re better than me because of it. You think Norms are losers. You’re little better than the Mauvais in that respect."

  "Do not compare me to him," I said with a seething grumble coming from behind my gritted teeth. I pulled him aside to make it look like we were checking out the coat of arms painted above the tower’s fireplace. "Until a few weeks ago, I never even knew I had magic, so how in the world can I be snobbish about it? You know very well that I saw my magic as nothing but trouble, which it has been. I only decided to keep it so I could stay in your world and find my parents. And now I’m about to lose my stupid magic when I might need it to save Alastair."

  "Then let me help you. Like you say, this is my world. I’m not completely useless. I want to help."

  "No."

  "Why?"

  "Because you’re no better. You think because you don’t have magic that everyone in the community thinks less of you."

  "You do think less of me," Tobey said as if this were as true as the fact that rain is wet.

  "Since when?" Before he could retort, I added, "Besides the time I accused you of being the Mauvais. I got my due for that and I even apologized."

  "Oh, thank you for gracing me with your humility."

  "I wasn’t too far off the mark, though, was I?" I asked as we strode away from the fireplace. "You did end up being the Mauvais. Sort of," I added lamely.

  Tobey came to an immediate halt that was so sudden, a woman who was staring at her phone walked right into us. She scuttled aside, probably due to the scowl I fixed on her.

  "I’m out of here. This was a stupid idea. Admit it, Cassie, you think you’re better than me. Maybe once you can do that, we can be friends, but until then, leave me alone."

  Leave him alone? As if I was the one who sought out his company? And with that, and with loads of people surreptitiously smirking over our little tiff, Tobey Tenpenny marched toward the door.

  Wait, did he really think he could out-attitude me?

  23 - GIFT GIVING

  "NO, UH-UH, you do not get to walk away from me like that."

  Before he could escape the tower, I had grabbed Tobey’s arm. Now, he spun around on me. At the hurt and angry look on his face I instantly took a step back.

  "Don’t tell me what to do," he snapped.

  "Then don’t tell me I think I’m better than you, Trust Fund Baby. You have no idea what I think."

  "Assuming you think at all," he muttered and half-smiled. I couldn’t help but laugh at the pure childish nature of the comeback.

  The laughter serving as a truce, we wandered around the interior of Wakefield Tower, this time actually taking in the historic structure. I recalled it used to be the king’s apartments. The vast space was cozy with the white stone being warmed by electric candles. But it had also been the place where, as he knelt in prayer, the ineffective King Henry VI had been murdered by the man who would become King Edward IV. I reminded myself to test Nigel soon on that bit of historical trivia.

  When a tour bus crowd started cramming into the tower, I gestured for us to continue on in the direction of Bell Tower where both Thomas More, who had riled up Henry VIII; and Elizabeth I, who had riled up her sister Mary I, had been imprisoned. We then strolled along the small section of the ramparts between Bell Tower and Beauchamp Tower, the only area Elizabeth had been allowed outdoors.

  Spreading below us was Tower Green, the place where Elizabeth’s mom, Anne Boleyn, had been beheaded. And walking from the White Tower across that small expanse of fateful lawn was Rafi. The sight of him sparked an idea in my head. Tobey Tenpenny may not be pointless; he just needed a little work.

  "Look, you’re right. The main reason I don’t want you getting involved in this is because you don’t have magic. That’s not an insult. But if you really want to help—"

  "I do."

  "You could start by not interrupting me. It’s rude." He rolled his eyes. "If you want to help, we need to be on equal terms. You can’t think I despise you because you’re not magic, and I can’t risk an Untrained going up against the Mauvais."

  "So you’re telling me I can’t do anything."

  "No, I’m saying there’s a way we could work together," I said, picturing Mr. Wood assembling his ham and Swiss without laying a single finger on his slices of meat, cheese, or bread. "You can be given magic."

  "It’s illegal."

  "It’s only against the rules. It’s not actually a law, is it?"

  A conspirator’s grin filled Tobey’s face. Another surge of uncertainty went through me. If he was housing the Mauvais in his mind or body again, this would be the perfect set up for him to rob me of my magic. But he had known about the tie, Winston wasn’t pecking his eyes out, and I was the one who brought up this whole transfer of power notion.

  Tobey wanted a role, he wanted to feel useful. I knew how it felt to want to do more than sit on the sidelines while everyone plotted and planned. I wasn’t sure what role Tobey could take, but having a little magic couldn’t hurt. And who knows, maybe some magic would help if the Mauvais tried to worm his way into Tobey’s head again.

  "Can you really do that?" asked Tobey.

  "If we can convince Rafi." Who happened to be retracing his steps across the Green at that very moment. "Quick, let’s get down to him."

  We were the targets of many dirty looks and angry words as we scrambled past people, most of them flowing in the opposite direction as we hurried back to the stairs. It was nearing eleven on a sun-filled June morning, and let me just say when you’re in a rush to execute a cunning plan, it’s really bad timing to come up with said cunning plan during the busiest tourist season, at one of London’s busiest attractions, and at one of the busiest times of the day for tourists to be out touristing that attraction. By the time we got down to ground level, my ears were burning with peoples’ curses and I’d lost sight of Rafi.

  Luckily, I had a rapport with a certain raven who knew he had to keep me happy if he wanted his daily dose of blood sausage. Winston hopped up to me as if on cue when we reached the raven enclosure. Then I remembered that for some reason, only a few living beings could see the damn bird. And I didn’t know if Rafi was one of those few.

  "Can you get one of them to stop Rafi?" I asked, pointing to his companions, one of which was trying to figure out how to tear open a bag of potato chips he’d snagged from someone. Winston bobbed his head.

 
"Me?" Tobey asked as Winston fluttered over and chattered to another of the ravens.

  "No, it’s— Never mind. I’ll explain some other time." Just then, Winston’s feathered friend took off, heading toward the White Tower. "Let’s go."

  "Are we following that bird?"

  "You wanted to be magic. This is your initiation rite."

  Had Rafi’s step been a little quicker, he would have made it to the White Tower without incident. But it hadn’t been and he was now standing with a raven perched on his head. With a beak that could snap off smaller body parts, and claws that could leave some nasty scars, Rafi didn’t dare swat at the bird. Instead, he played it cool, standing nonchalantly as if everyone was wearing raven hats these days. Personally, I think he enjoyed the attention he was getting from passersby who couldn’t resist taking his photo.

  Soon after I stepped up to him, the raven gave a quick nod of his head and flew off.

  "Did you have something to do with that?" Rafi asked, pretending to be angry.

  "Don’t complain. I probably just made you Instagram famous. Got time to talk?"

  Rafi pointed toward the St. Peter in Chains chapel. "Will that do? It’ll be empty for a bit." I said it would. We walked over and Rafi snapped his fingers over the lock. The door unlatched and he ushered us in.

  "Is this a secret mission?" Rafi asked once we were inside.

  "Kind of. I need Tobey to take some of my magic."

  "That’s not allowed," Rafi scolded with a mischievous glint to his dark eyes. "But I am intrigued enough to consider it. If you have a good reason."

  I knew I couldn’t tell him that Tobey was going to help me hunt down the Mauvais. That sort of thing would get straight to Olivia and I’d be thrown into even tighter lockdown. But there was one reason that might work.

  "If Tobey has magic, the Mauvais can’t use him like he did before. The BrainSweeping Charm only works on Norms and the Untrained, right?" Rafi agreed. "And if Tobey has magic, he can thwart a Confounding Charm if he learns how. He could also be taught some defensive spells." I forced my voice to drop to a tone of sincere concern. "I only want my dear cousin to be safe."

  Okay, maybe that was laying it on a bit thick.

  "I like you, Cassie Black, and I’m telling you this as a friend: Whatever your plans are in life, you need to set aside any dreams of becoming an actress." Rafi then paused a moment, drumming his fingers against his chin in thought. "Any other time, I’d say no, but you’re under so much surveillance I doubt even you could get into too much trouble."

  "So you’ll do it?" I asked, surprised it could be that easy.

  "Yes, I’ll do it. But mostly out of curiosity. I’ve never done a Magic-to-Untrained transfer."

  "Will it stick?" Tobey asked. "Transfusions have never worked before."

  "That’s because you didn’t have me. I’m the King of Sticky."

  "You might want to rethink that title," I said.

  "Yeah, probably. Still, my line of elves has always had the ability to get magic to stick, even in the toughest of cases. Your parents being the exception," he said with an apologetic shrug. "But that’s a different situation altogether. Replacing magic into someone who’s been extracted has always been a challenge. But an Untrained," Tobey grimaced at the name, "should be a cinch."

  "So when should we do it?" I asked.

  "Can’t see any reason not to do it now."

  "Really?" said Tobey, sounding excited, but also nervous as his fingers fidgeted at his side.

  "Yes, really. Now let’s do this before the next tour comes through." He held out his hand and I took it. Now that I was aware it should happen, as his warm, smooth fingers wrapped around mine, I recognized the sense of calm that elves were known for.

  Rafi held out his other hand, palm up, for Tobey to take. Tobey reached for it, his own broad hand hovering over Rafi’s slim fingers in hesitation.

  "Go on. You’re not scared are you?" I said teasingly. Tobey sneered at me, then latched onto Rafi’s hand.

  "So, Cassie, I need you to imagine something flowing. And please don’t make it someone going pee. I hate it when people do that."

  I pictured pouring water from a glass jug into an empty cup. Since I only wanted to pour in enough magic to give Tobey a start, I imagined a small juice glass. It wasn’t that I was being stingy — Merlin knows I had more than enough magic to spare — but I wasn’t sure how much magic Tobey might need or how his cells would react to it. Knowing how troublesome an overdose of magic could be, I didn’t want to risk overwhelming his system. Of course, Morelli had been dosing Mr. Wood with magic and he seemed okay, but levitating sandwiches and retrieving pill bottles wasn’t quite the same as fighting evil wizards or locating magic portals.

  Rafi’s hand got warmer, and I don’t know if it was magic flowing through us or just the heat trapped between our palms. When I’d filled my imaginary cup to its brim, Rafi said, "Okay, Cassie, release my hand slowly."

  I did as he said. I expected the burning, itching pain to rush in and hoped Rafi would be able to call up a bucket of ice. Perhaps it was because I had pictured cool, crisp water, or maybe transfusing an Untrained was different, but I didn’t experience any of the searing agony I had when we’d transfused my parents. Instead, there was a sensation of gently warmed honey flowing over my palm. My fingers tingled. That could have been the magic, or it could have simply been the frigid temperatures inside the stone chapel.

  Rafi held Tobey’s hand a moment longer. "I’m putting a lid on what Cassie has poured to hold it in," he said, his voice distant like someone in deep thought. "Okay, Tobey, let go."

  We stood there for a moment in complete silence, staring at each other.

  "Did it work?" Tobey asked, his voice just a tad bit shaky.

  "Let’s find out," Rafi said.

  24 - PROFESSOR CASSIE

  "WHAT DO I do?" Tobey asked while waggling his fingers and jutting his hands forward. A Yeoman Warder had just allowed his tour group in (Nigel waved at me from the back), and many of his people stopped in their tracks. A few tried to back out and away from us.

  "Not here," I hissed at Tobey. My vision swam and I fought the urge to put my head between my legs. Instead, I grabbed Tobey’s fingers and pulled his hands down.

  My head then suddenly felt like someone had scooped out my brain and replaced it with helium. I dropped into one of the wooden chairs facing the altar.

  "Is she all right?" a slim woman with a Spanish accent asked. "Did he attack her?"

  "No, it’s fine," said Rafi. "Just a little low blood sugar."

  I sat up, elbows on knees. To keep anyone from calling an ambulance, I propped my woozy head in my hands.

  "Oh, well, here, I have just the thing," said a heavyset white woman with big hair and a thick, Texan accent. From a pink, sequined backpack she wore strapped across her expansive bosom, she pulled a packet of Twinkies.

  I’m not known for being a picky eater especially when it comes to sweets, but even I cringed at the sight of those yellow, nature-defying oblongs.

  "Thanks," I said with as much polite curtesy as I could muster, "you keep them. I’m feeling better now."

  I wasn’t entirely. I hadn’t expected so much magic to be pulled from me. Pain I’d expected, but not this overwhelming sense of naked fatigue. It hadn’t been like this when I’d donated to my parents, but then again Tobey was a completely empty vessel. Maybe it had created a sort of vacuum.

  "Are you sure, sweetie?" asked the woman, even though she was already tucking the spongy treats back into her bag. "I’ve got plenty more back in the room. You just never know what kind of strange food you’re gonna find in these foreign places."

  "I’m sure. Thanks again."

  I stood. My legs were still a little watery, but the worst had passed. I glanced at Rafi. How much had he taken from me? And more importantly, had he put it all into Tobey? Could Rafi be—


  No, I warned myself, you will not go down that route again. Every time something odd happens does not mean the someone who was part of that odd something is working for the Mauvais.

  We left the chapel and shut the door as the Yeoman Warder began explaining the age of the little church.

  "Why do I feel so off kilter?" I asked Rafi, hoping that by coming straight out with it, the suspicion wouldn’t fester like some medieval skin lesion.