Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1)

by Andrea Pearson

Chapter Six

  Later that evening, Nicole sighed and leaned away from the desk in the library, rubbing her eyes. She’d been studying the scant history of the leather book for an hour and still had no clue why it was so attached to her.

  It had been written by Captain Christopher Price. The name was vaguely familiar, but there was no information about him online. Christopher Price. Such a common name. Who was he? Why was his book possessed? More importantly, why had she been the one to wake it?

  What little she’d found of the book said it contained a history of magical items, which—aside from the fact that it was a magical item—explained why Professor Coolidge owned it. Various websites said the book had probably been written in the late eighteen hundreds and had passed from person to person quite a lot.

  Nicole checked the time on her phone and reluctantly shut her laptop and gathered her things. It was late—past nine—and she had a long walk to her car. She’d been hoping for a relaxing weekend, but with her mom’s visit and with all she needed to memorize before next Saturday, she hadn’t gotten one.

  Storm clouds covered the night sky, making Nicole homesick for the first time. The Williams’ family estate was part of a small city called Lucas on the edge of Dallas, and the stars were beautiful at night. Oh, how she missed the smells and sights of home!

  She scowled at the bright lights from campus, realizing that even if the sky wasn’t cloudy, she still wouldn’t be able to see the stars as clearly as she could back in Lucas.

  A brisk breeze whipped her attention to the sidewalk, forcing her to tuck into the wind as she continued, arms encircling herself.

  Nicole was halfway to her car when the wind suddenly stopped and everything around her went eerily still. She paused, watching the branches of the nearby trees. Nothing moved or made a noise. Not even the sound of bugs reached her ears.

  She started walking again, trying not to freak out, controlling her breathing.

  Moments later, a warm breeze brushed past her, lifting her hair, caressing her neck. The leaves in the trees remained motionless—the wind only seemed to touch her. Her stomach clenched as she realized what the warmth meant.

  Nicole walked faster, afraid to look behind her, but unable to resist doing so anyway.

  The sidewalk was empty. Thank goodness.

  She continued around a building, and for a moment, the warmth on her face stopped. Nicole took a deep breath, hoping with all her heart that the book and its creepy shadow had given up.

  But when the balmy gust returned, Nicole started running, no longer willing to bet that she wasn’t being pursued. She was only five minutes away from her car, but knew plenty could happen in that amount of time.

  “Please, oh, please just leave me alone,” she whispered.

  Nicole entered the nearly empty parking lot. She spotted her car and dashed across the asphalt for it, beeping it unlocked as she got closer. Without looking back, she yanked the door open, threw her backpack onto the passenger seat, and slid inside. She slammed the door shut and pushed the lock button with one hand while turning the key with the other. She revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

  Nicole watched through the rearview mirror, but nothing seemed to be following her. Had she imagined it? Was she freaking herself out without the help of the book?

  Nothing happened the entire drive back to her apartment, and she forced herself to loosen her grip on the steering wheel. She snorted when she realized she was actually looking forward to the comfort of home. That apartment was anything but comforting.

  Nicole pulled into her designated spot in the parking structure and jumped from her car, backpack in hand.

  The warm breeze stirred her hair immediately. Nicole grabbed her pepper spray from her purse, knowing it wouldn’t do any good, and started running across the vast lawn toward her apartment.

  She only needed to glance back once to know that she was being followed. A shadow, low to the ground, raced—stumbled—across the lawn toward her. It looked like a very tall person trying to crawl without legs and arms. It was the same shadow that entered Austin’s house the other night.

  Nicole put all of her energy into crossing the distance to her apartment.

  She dashed into the building and tried to shut the door, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. The kickstand had flipped down. Instead of fixing it, Nicole went straight to the stairs, ignoring the elevator, and raced up. She ran into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Lizzie yelped from her room and appeared in the hallway, face white. “What’s wrong?”

  Nicole put a hand on her chest. “I saw a shadow outside—it was following me.” She turned to look out the peephole, but the hall was empty. “I don’t know what to do. I’m positive it’s the shadow from the book.”

  Lizzie’s expression remained serious. “This is really bad, Nicole. Has Coolidge figured out what’s going on yet?”

  Nicole shook her head. “And I couldn’t find anything significant about it online.” She grabbed Lizzie’s shoulder. “Why me? I don’t understand.”

  Lizzie knitted her eyebrows. “I don’t know, but we need to get this resolved for you, and soon. You can’t have an obsessive shadow following you around in Moab.”

  Nicole took one last look through the peephole, then she and Lizzie went into the kitchen. She set her backpack on the counter, ready to inspect the damage to her laptop from when she’d flung the pack into her car.

  She started telling Lizzie more about her trip home, but jerked to a stop. “No!” She pulled her hand out of the bag and backed up against the wall behind her. “No!”

  “What?”

  “The book’s here!”

  Lizzie squealed. “Are you serious? Where?”

  “In my bag.”

  Lizzie came around the counter and yanked out the leather book, tossing it to the floor. “Things are getting out of control. How did it climb into your backpack? This is so . . . so gross!”

  “Get Coolidge’s number from Austin,” Nicole said. “He has to come right now.”

  Lizzie nodded and pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped on it for a moment, then held it to her ear. “Hello? Nate? Are you with Austin? No? Text me his number, please. It’s an emergency.”

  She ended the call, set her phone down, and folded her arms. She looked at the book with disgust. “Do you want me to try burning it?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No—it’s Coolidge’s. We’ll let him make the decision.”

  Lizzie’s phone buzzed and she picked it up. Nicole watched as she saved Austin’s information.

  “Never know when we might need it again,” she said. She contacted Austin and relayed Coolidge’s number to Nicole, who quickly called him.

  Coolidge answered on the second ring, and Nicole told him what had happened. She gave him their address and he promised to be over as soon as possible, but said that it would take at least twenty minutes.

  Nicole sighed and kicked the book to the edge of the kitchen before retreating to her room to start taking care of the traps. Even though they weren’t full, she needed something to do.

  Lizzie joined her, and they worked in silence for several minutes.

  “Where did the shadow go?” Lizzie asked.

  “I’ve been wondering about that.” Nicole glanced out the window, but didn’t see anything unusual.

  Lizzie put her hand on Nicole’s arm, a spider trap dangling from her other hand. “I’m worried about you.

  “I know.” Nicole brushed her hair out of her face, then retrieved a ponytail holder from her pocket and pulled it all up. “Maybe the shadow just wants me to read the book. Could reading it hurt me?”

  Lizzie nodded. “Yes, and you don’t want to take any risks. Who knows what it would do.”

  The doorbell rang a while later, and Nicole and Lizzie both went to answer it. They showed Professor Coolidge where the book still lay on the kitchen floor.

  Coolidge picked the thing up, brushed
off the cover, and tucked it under an arm. “I’m researching a new way to keep it contained, since ordinary locks obviously don’t work. I’ll let you know what I learn.”

  He turned to leave, but Nicole stopped him. “Do you think maybe the book isn’t what everyone says it is?”

  He shrugged. “At this point, I think anything is possible. Do you have any theories?”

  Nicole shook her head. “I can’t figure it out—nothing makes sense yet.”

  Coolidge agreed. “Let me know if you come across something and I’ll do the same.” He nodded to the girls, said goodbye, and left.

  ***

  Monday, while Nicole was working with the guys, Professor Coolidge surprised them all by participating in the session. From what Toby had said, Coolidge almost never worked with them directly. His presence and attention made Nicole edgy at first—this was one of the most powerful Aretes in the world. She felt some comfort in the fact, though, that most people would be nervous around him.

  “I feel the need to apologize for what happened last night, Nicole,” Coolidge said halfway through the session. “I don’t understand what’s going on with the book, but I really hope to stop it soon.”

  She shrugged, glancing up from helping Toby with his bow hold that refused to be corrected. “It’s not your fault.”

  Coolidge grimaced. “I still haven’t learned anything new about why it’s awake now.” He focused on something on the other side of his office for a moment and sighed. “But that’s neither here nor there. Why don’t you try a song by Mozart? I’ve always loved his compositions.”

  Nicole nodded and returned to her seat, then grabbed the correct book. She began playing, barely needing to look at the notes on the page. The song was one she’d performed more than once—every time without magical results—and she didn’t put any energy into it.

  Coolidge didn’t seem to notice. Neither did either of the guys. In fact, they were more focused on her musical abilities than anything. She lowered her bow.

  “I still haven’t produced even a little magic,” she said. “Never. Why is the cello my focus?”

  Coolidge shrugged. “There are many theories as to why a certain focus works for some and not others, but none of them seem true to me.” He got to his feet. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Not if I’m going on the expedition. If I can’t even produce a wisp of Wind magic, I won’t be able to pass the third test.”

  Coolidge picked up his briefcase and opened it. “I haven’t told many this already, but the third test isn’t as important as the others. I’m bringing master’s and doctorate students who are very good with their magic for a reason. Yes, everyone needs to show they can manipulate elements to a certain extent, but I think you’re putting too much emphasis on it. Don’t worry so much—it’ll come when it’s ready.”

  “But will that be by the time I have to take the test?”

  Coolidge shrugged again. “We’ll get it out of you yet.” He glanced at Toby. “Have her try holding the bow differently—the way I showed you.”

  Nicole groaned, but Coolidge didn’t hear her. He was busy grabbing various stacks of papers from his desk and shoving them into his briefcase. He left, closing the door behind him.

  Toby and Pete grinned at her.

  She exhaled with exasperation, looking at Toby. “He’s undoing everything I’m trying to teach you.”

  Toby ignored her. “You’re going to make the expedition. I know you will. And obviously Coolidge isn’t worried.”

  “I think he’s too distracted to be worried,” Pete said. “There’s a lot of planning going into that trip.”

  Nicole turned to Toby. “So, what’s this special way I should be holding the bow?”

  Toby showed her, and she adjusted her position slightly.

  “It’s not very different from how I’ve always held it.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I know. But even small things can help.”

  Pete nodded. “And your powers are building a lot. Something has to give eventually.”

  Nicole sighed and returned to her work.

  ***

  Wednesday morning, Nicole woke up with a start. She peered at the clock for several seconds, finally reading that it was six-thirty. Her alarm would be going off in ten minutes. Why wasn’t her body taking advantage of the last few moments of shut-eye?

  She turned on the lights and immediately found out what had awakened her. Tons of spiders stared at her from the ceiling above her bed. How had they gotten up there, when every single wall was lined with traps?

  Nicole groaned, and carefully, not wanting to draw attention to herself, she slid out of her bed. As soon as she wasn’t underneath the spiders anymore, she called for Lizzie.

  Lizzie flung the door open, Pop-Tart in one hand. “What’s wrong?”

  Nicole motioned to the ceiling. “They’re back.” She dodged a spider descending on a web and shuddered, then frowned when Lizzie turned and ran.

  “Where are you going?” she shouted.

  She didn’t understand Lizzie’s muffled response, but her friend was only gone for a moment. She returned with a can of hair spray in one hand and a couple of garbage bags in the other. “Does this work on spiders?” she asked, motioning to the hair spray.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Nicole grabbed the can and shook it while Lizzie covered the bed with the garbage bags. As soon as the product hit the ceiling, the spiders started falling.

  “Have we talked to our landlord about this yet?” Nicole asked after she and Lizzie cleaned off the bed, tossed out full traps, and laid new ones.

  “Only like fifty times. It’s your turn to call.” Lizzie handed over her cell. “His number is right there. I’m going to go finish my breakfast and head to campus.”

  Nicole saved their landlord’s number, then returned Lizzie’s cell and said good-bye. She took a quick shower and hurriedly pulled her hair into a ponytail and threw on some makeup.

  Finally, she called their landlord. “Hi, Sam? It’s Nicole Williams. Good to talk to you too. Yes, we’ve been having a serious issue over here. No—spraying outside hasn’t helped. Do you have anything that would work indoors? Fantastic. I’ll be here when you come.”

  Sam arrived soon after—he owned most of the buildings in the area and lived in one of them. Nicole followed him around the apartment, watching as he double-checked that the windows were all shut and there were no cracks or holes leading outside. He sprayed all the edges and corners of the rooms, along with the seams around the doors.

  “Spiders find ways inside, but not the sheer number you and Lizzie have mentioned.” He pushed his comb-over back in place and peered up at Nicole—she had a good four inches on him. “I know this building has had problems with spiders before, but never in this number. At least, no one else has mentioned so many . . .”

  Nicole sighed. She knew what he was hinting at—that she and Lizzie were exaggerating. “I’ll take a picture next time.” She hesitated and smiled. “Wait. I have an idea.” She motioned for him to follow her to that morning’s garbage that she still had to throw out. It was sitting in the entryway near the front door.

  Sam picked it up, but she stopped him before he opened it.

  “Better do that outside—some of them usually get free of the traps. They’re probably running around inside the bag.”

  He nodded and led the way. Outside on the sidewalk, he carefully untied the garbage bag and slowly pulled it open. Nicole watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened.

  “Well,” he said. “Well, that is . . . that’s quite disgusting.” He shook his head and quickly tied up the bag again when several spiders tried to escape. “This is much worse than I thought it would be. I don’t think my spray will be enough.” He squinted at her. “I’ll call a professional. Don’t come back until late tonight—they have powerful stuff that can harm humans too. I’ll air the building out, but we should take
extra precautions just in case.”

  Nicole agreed and went back inside to get her things, including her cello. She had plenty to do that didn’t require her to be home.

  ***

  Nicole put her bow on the music stand and slumped back into her chair, letting her cello rest against her. Still no magic. She took a shaky breath—if she wasn’t careful, she’d end up bawling in front of the guys. “It’s no use,” she said. “I’m a squid.”

  “Squid?” Toby asked, head tilted, eyebrows drawn together.

  Nicole nodded. “It’s from Harry Potter. At least I think it is. Aren’t squids people who can’t do magic?”

  Toby stared at her blankly.

  Nicole frowned. “Or was that a Grawp? It’s been years since I read the books.” She exhaled loudly. “The point is, I’ll never be able to produce magic. Something is seriously wrong.”

  Toby looked at Pete and back at Nicole. “Coolidge gave me an idea this morning that might help. Here,” he said, holding out his cello. “Take it. We’re going to let you try ours.”

  Nicole frowned. “You think it’s my cello that’s causing the problem?” She looked down at the trusty instrument she’d owned since junior high. It was her best non-human friend. Could it possibly be the issue? “Well . . .” she said slowly, “it’s worth a try.”

  “And give us your bow.”

  She hesitated again. “Um, fine. Just be incredibly careful with it—more than you are with your own.” She’d seen him drop his bow several times.

  Pete tilted his head. “You handed over your cello just fine. What’s so special about your bow?”

  “It’s an L. Morizot. Cost my parents over ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ten thousand?” Toby’s jaw dropped. “For a bow? How much did your cello cost?”

  “Five thousand.”

  Pete scoffed. “Your parents paid twice as much for your bow? Doesn’t that make them stupid?”

  Nicole couldn’t help but laugh. “You’d think so, but no. The bow is what makes the instrument. A cheap cello could almost sound like a Stradivarius when played with a very good bow.”