Toby rubbed his chin, obviously thinking about that. “If you say so. All right. We’ve got work to do. Let’s have you play each instrument with each bow. Time to start trying different combinations.”
Nicole agreed, then paused. “But that just means we’re searching for a needle in a haystack. I mean, that’s three bows and three cellos . . . and when only one song will produce magic for each of you, we could be here for hours and hours. I can play thousands of songs—”
“Rub it in,” Pete said.
“—so who knows which one will work for me?”
An excited glint entered Toby’s eyes. “I guess it’s time to start.”
Nicole first used Toby’s cello with all of the bows, then she tried Pete’s, then hers. No results. She tried different songs each time, with every song displaying a different emotional theme. But still, nothing worked.
After two hours of playing, she laid down Toby’s bow. “I’m done. I can’t keep going. I don’t even feel the emotions behind the songs anymore.”
“At least we’ve narrowed it down,” Toby said.
Nicole snorted. “To what? A billion cellos across the world?”
Toby shook his head. “I sensed your ability more strongly a couple of times, but I don’t know what triggered it—your emotion, the song, the cello, or the bow. But I think we’re on to something.”
Nicole was tempted to scoff again, but didn’t. Instead, she stretched out, then picked up her own instrument and bow. “I’ve got symphony soon. Do you mind if I finish practicing here?”
The guys were okay with that, and Nicole got started. Soon, everything melted away as she lost herself in Smetana’s beautiful music.
***
Friday afternoon, wanting to escape the leftover smells of the professional spider sprays, Nicole grabbed her laundry and headed down to the basement Laundromat. She smiled at two middle-aged women who were already there and started shoving clothes into a washing machine. She added detergent, turned the machine on, then sat down to read Professor Whitman’s textbook.
“Excuse me?” One of the ladies—a woman with frizzy, bleached hair—was looking at her. “Are you new to the building?”
Nicole set the book down and smiled. “Yes, I am.”
The woman returned the smile. “How nice to have you here. I’m Denise, and this is Sandy.” She pointed to the other woman—a tall, skinny lady with salt-and-pepper hair. “We’ve both lived in the building for decades and decades. Where are you from?”
Nicole told them, noticing while she talked that Sandy kept sending sidelong glances at the book in Nicole’s lap.
“You’re a student at the local college?” Sandy asked, tucking her speckled hair out of her face.
Nicole nodded. “Yes, I go to Katon University.”
Sandy’s eyes narrowed and she turned away, yanking her laundry from her washing machine and thrusting it into the dryer. Nicole hid the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for anti-Arete people.
“Oh, that’s so nice,” Denise said. She sighed with exaggeration and sent her eyes heavenward. “I wanted an Arete child so very badly.”
Sandy jerked back. “You what?”
Denise sighed again. “All that magic. It would have been handy.”
Sandy returned to her machine, her actions jerky. “Whatever.” She glared over her shoulder at Nicole.
Wow. This woman was much worse than the usual “hater” Nicole came across.
Denise pulled her clothes out of the dryer. “Don’t listen to her—I’m sure she always desired to be an Arete herself. And if she didn’t, she wanted to have one.”
Sandy didn’t respond to that remark, but by the way she flinched, Nicole could tell Denise had struck a sore spot. Whether it was because Denise was right or because she was wrong, Nicole didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
“Which apartment are you in?” Denise asked.
Nicole told her and the woman said, “Sandy and I both have apartments on the top floor. If you ever get bored, feel free to stop by. I’m in 302.”
Nicole smiled. “I’ll do that.” She waved goodbye as the two women left the room, then returned to her studies. She was glad she’d finally had the chance to meet other people in the building, even if one of them already hated her.
Chapter Seven
Thursday and Friday were over far too quickly, and Saturday morning dawned cloudy and rainy. Nicole sighed, staring out the window while she picked up spider traps alone. For the first test, she’d been assigned a time slot at seven in the morning, and it was Lizzie’s only opportunity to sleep in. Nicole was fine with that—the girl was up way too early every other day.
Butterflies erupted in Nicole’s stomach each time she allowed herself to think about the upcoming tests, especially the one on magic. She tried hard not to dwell on it, but couldn’t help it. Hopefully, the experience wouldn’t scar her for life. Hopefully, Coolidge would overlook her inability to do anything magical. And hopefully she’d still be able to go to school without feeling like an idiot.
Nicole practiced in the living room with a mute, knowing the sounds of her cello wouldn’t wake Lizzie. She was determined to squeak even a small bit of magic out of her instrument before leaving.
But nothing worked, and she ran out of ideas. For the last five minutes of available practice time, she stared at her music, unwilling to feel any emotion of any sort—excitement, nervousness, sadness.
At six thirty, Nicole packed a sack lunch, then put away her cello, her pulse quickening. She had to try several times to grasp the buckles on the case—her hands were shaky and clammy. She wiped her palms on her jeans and pulled herself to her feet. She wasn’t ready for any of this—she couldn’t possibly be ready.
Nicole walked to her car, hoodie up and hair tucked where it wouldn’t get wet from the rain. She drove to the museum and studied the pages stuck to Coolidge’s lab door. With so many students competing, apparently Coolidge and seven of his doctorate and master’s students would be administering the first test.
The classroom she was assigned to was down the hall and around the corner. She glanced heavenward when she saw Judith Ann’s name next to her own. What were the odds? Maybe Nicole would get lucky and not see the girl. But then—and Nicole’s finger pressed against the paper as she read it—Austin was also scheduled with them. It occurred to Nicole that since they were all in the same class, they’d be assigned to the same time and area. That made sense.
Nicole found the place, her breath stuck in her throat. Four rooms were tucked into a corner. Professor Coolidge was leaning against the wall in the hallway, holding a clipboard behind his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Many students were sitting along the wall, studying. Nicole assumed they were doing last-minute memorization. She grabbed her notes, wanting to do the same.
A door opened moments later and Austin stepped out, adjusting his backpack.
Coolidge clapped him on the shoulder. “And that’s why I double-booked your room—knew you wouldn’t need it long.”
Austin brushed past Nicole, not meeting her gaze. She rolled her eyes. So he was back to ignoring her. Whatever.
Professor Coolidge went into the room and shut the door—probably to check Austin’s work and rearrange the items—then came out and sent the next student in. He resumed his stance.
Judith Ann walked around the corner, saw Nicole, and stopped short. “Still trying to play grown-up games, huh?”
“What is with you?” Nicole asked.
Judith Ann opened her mouth to respond, but Coolidge cut her off.
“There will be no conversation before or after the exams. Please, wait in silence.”
Nicole breathed a sigh of relief and continued studying her notes. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had eaten a very light breakfast. She ignored the temptation to eat her lunch, popping in a piece of gum instead.
After five minutes, another room emptied, and Coolidge ch
ecked the things inside and motioned to Judith Ann. “It’s ready for you.”
Nicole didn’t feel bad that Judith Ann got to go first—she didn’t want to wait with the girl. Was it possible that Coolidge felt the same? Nicole bet so.
Judith Ann stepped into the room and squealed in disgust. “The gun is here!” She whirled, glaring at Professor Coolidge. “You did that on purpose!”
Coolidge frowned. “Actually, I didn’t. And thank you for giving away its location. Now I have to rearrange the objects in all of the rooms.” He nodded to Nicole and the others. “You’re excused. I can’t have you around to see which objects end up where. Return in twenty minutes.”
Judith Ann stomped a foot and stormed around the corner, flipping her hair. Nicole half smiled, shaking her head. She walked in the other direction, sat on a bench, and pulled out her lunch, deciding to eat part of it now anyway. She could restock at the cafeteria between tests.
The food calmed her nerves and she was able to finish reviewing what she’d learned the night before. The time passed quickly, and Nicole returned just as Judith Ann disappeared into a room. Coolidge motioned Nicole to an open room and she went inside, shutting the door behind her. She peered at the table and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized she recognized all seven objects.
Of course, the book was one of them. She hesitated. Had it followed her, or was Coolidge really wanting her to be familiar with it?
Nicole took a deep breath, headed straight to the book, and put it on the far end of the table. It would be the most powerful thing in the room, she was sure of it.
Nicole stepped back and examined the remaining objects.
The porcelain doll was there, along with the beanie, the gun, a wad of tissue, a coin pouch, and the bowl they’d talked about the second day of class.
Nicole started touching the objects, weighing them in her hands. She was surprised to find that she could recognize a difference in the magical pulses of three of them. Wow—that was better than she thought. She placed those items on the table according to the strength of their magic.
She studied the remaining objects—the beanie, the coin pouch, and the bowl. Where should she put them? None of them seemed any more important than the others, and their magical pulses felt the same. The bowl was thousands of years old, yes, but that didn’t make it more powerful. The beanie was from the seventies; the coin pouch, the thirties.
Nicole felt time ticking and tried not to rush herself. She put her shaking hands in her back pockets, trying to force herself to concentrate. What if she failed the first test? Would she be allowed to make mistakes? She suspected that it all depended on how the other students performed. She couldn’t help but wonder what Judith Ann was doing. She’d probably left already.
Okay, enough rambling and mind wandering. Nicole closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling the information on the objects to the front of her brain.
The beanie was created by a wealthy man. It looked shabby because it really was his first crochet project. But he was a very powerful Arete. He’d made it for his only child, a boy with a mental disability. He hoped it would prevent the son from developing further problems by offering cushioning to the boy’s skull. Whether it worked or not, Nicole hadn’t been able to find out, but she knew the man had put his heart and soul into the beanie.
The coin pouch was made magical by a woman who suspected her husband was filching her money. The pouch caused money not owned by the man to turn red. Again, Nicole didn’t know if it had done what it was supposed to do, but she hadn’t been very impressed with the woman’s other projects.
The bowl was a fertility item with a long history of supposedly helping couples get pregnant.
Finally making a decision, Nicole put the beanie above the coin pouch and the bowl in between them.
Without looking at the objects again, she stepped out of the room and nodded at Coolidge.
She didn’t wait for him to check on her work, knowing he wouldn’t tell her how she did right then. Instead, she rushed down the hall and up the stairs. She burst through the doors that led outside and sucked in a breath of Seattle’s humid, chilly air.
First test completed.
***
At ten o’clock, Nicole walked to Coolidge’s lab and, after waiting her turn, scanned the two pages tacked to his door. Out of the thousands of students who’d competed, one hundred had passed. They were listed alphabetically.
Nicole got jostled several times as other students tried to get around her to look, but she held her ground and glanced over both pages of names.
Judith Ann and Austin both made it. Great. But Nicole couldn’t help grinning when she saw Williams, Nicole printed near the bottom of the second page. She’d done it!
She did a little celebratory dance, then stepped through the people to Coolidge’s office door where another page had been taped with information on the second test, including the fact that it would be held in the testing center. Students would need to pass it completely, and Coolidge would not budge on that.
That was totally okay with Nicole—she’d spent the last week and a half memorizing every detail she could find on the items and was positive she’d do well. It was the third test that still freaked her out.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Nicole turned. It was Professor Coolidge.
“I need to apologize for what happened with that exam.”
Nicole frowned, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”
“You were tested on seven items instead of six—the book wasn’t supposed to be there—and that wasn’t fair. Judith Ann was only tested on five.” He unlocked his office door and glanced at her. “Sorry for that. On the other hand, you did very well.”
He entered his office, closing the door.
Nicole couldn’t help but grin. A verbal pat on the back from teachers always made her day.
It was with that cheer that she started and finished the second test. Her results were available immediately. She’d aced it. Nicole took a deep breath and left the testing center with a sense of elation she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Now she needed to prepare for the third test. Her smile faltered.
No—she pushed her negative thoughts away. She was not going to let that cloud her happy mood. In fact, she wasn’t even going to practice. She would treat herself to ice cream and the reading of a good, non-school-related book.
***
Nicole tightly gripped the neck of her cello. Her bow was ready and she knew which song she’d play.
As with the first test, Coolidge had assigned each student to a specific place, but this time, he was using special rooms in the science building that had been built to allow Aretes to practice their powers.
“Go ahead and get comfortable,” Coolidge said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Nicole didn’t have much time to follow his instructions—she was soon joined by one of his doctorate students who was helping him keep things organized.
“Nicole, right?” the girl asked. “I’m Sylvia. I’ve heard a lot about your talent on the cello.”
Nicole looked up from tuning her instrument. “You have? How?”
“Coolidge has been discussing the potential undergrad contestants for several days.”
“Are you going?”
She nodded. “Hopefully. My husband is arranging to stay home from work with our two-year-old.”
Coolidge entered just then, and Nicole finished tuning. She wished Sylvia hadn’t come in so soon—she really could’ve used the extra time to get ready.
She cleared her throat, trying to swallow. “I feel like I’m auditioning for the symphony all over again. Except this time, I’m totally and completely nervous.”
She chuckled. Neither Sylvia nor Coolidge responded. Coolidge was shuffling through his briefcase, and Sylvia was messing around on her tablet.
“How does this work?” Nicole asked. “Am I supposed to tell you what song I’ll be playing?”
Nicole took a breath. “Okay.” That was the same thing he always told her to do back in his office. How was this supposed to be any different?
She didn’t voice her question. Instead, she closed her eyes and put her cello into position. Not hesitating, she started playing Ashokan Farewell, putting as much as she could into it.
Nicole finished and opened her eyes. “Anything?”
Coolidge rubbed his chin. “No.”
Even though she knew that would be his answer, she still felt disappointment roll over her, bringing on an exhaustion headache. She’d tried—and failed.
He hesitated, studying Nicole and her cello as if watching the magic around her. “Do it again.” He leaned forward. “But this time, I want you to concentrate on the wind in your lungs as you play. Breathe in, breathe out. Make it smooth and even.”
Nicole felt a cold sweat rush over her. He was giving her another shot? She hadn’t known he would do that. She quickly raised her bow and played the song again, this time doing as he’d asked. It was a silly request, but she was willing to do whatever was needed.
She felt the wind smoothly rushing in and out of her lungs.
“That’s it,” Coolidge said. “Good concentration. Keep playing. While you’re breathing, envision the wind from your lungs flowing into your cello and out the holes. Make it follow the music.”
Nicole adjusted her thought process accordingly, concentrating on the wind, picturing it flitting, bustling around with fall-colored leaves. It swirled in her imagination, exiting her lungs, entering her cello and drifting out.
She opened her eyes, almost expecting—hoping—to see something happening. But nothing had changed.
She bit her lips, struggling to keep her voice even. “I’m never going to gain control, am I?”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “You’re being too negative—magic never follows negativity.”
Coolidge lifted a hand, silencing Sylvia. “Nicole, your powers are right at your fingertips, quite literally. They’re begging to be released. Let them go. Allow them to do your bidding.”
Discern (Mosaic Chronicles Book 1) Page 11