by David Meyer
Cheers rang out, along with some scattered applause. Others joined in and the chant reached an ear-shattering crescendo. Even the staffers, sans my closest friends, were chanting in time.
“Skin the Wolf! Skin the Wolf! Skin the Wolf!”
The headmaster turned to face me. His wand flowed through a complex series of movements. His lips shifted softly, speaking words I couldn’t quite hear.
Cyan light engulfed me. I felt a slight jostle. For a moment, I was confused. Everyone else had screamed when skinned of magic. So, why wasn’t I—?
A fierce jolt of pain struck my abdomen. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even scream. And then I started shrieking like crazy.
My agony intensified and I froze up. It felt like Boltstar was tearing open my stomach. Then the pain shifted just a bit. It felt different, but no less horrible. Kind of like Boltstar was ripping out my intestines.
My mind wanted to slip into unconsciousness. But the pain kept me awake. Horrified, I watched as auburn light—my auburn light—flowed out of my ears, mouth, and nose.
With a soft pop, the auburn light broke free from me, leaving a horrid emptiness in its wake. Engulfed by cyan light, my magic flowed into Boltstar’s wand.
A shocked silence came over the crowd.
My frozen muscles thawed. Gasping and wheezing, I flopped onto the field.
Something hit the grass, a few inches from my left hand. Blinking a few times, I saw it was my wand.
“Yes, Mr. Wolf,” Boltstar said. “You may retrieve it.”
I tried to meet his gaze. But my head felt too tired, too heavy.
“Come, come. We don’t have all evening.”
My body ached and I could barely think. Still, I managed to wrap my fingers around the wand.
“Very good. Now, please rise.”
I got my feet under me. Standing up, I took a few wobbly steps. I could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes upon me. But I could only see one of them.
“Please cast a spell.” The headmaster smiled. “Any spell you like.”
I knew I’d been skinned. Heck, I’d watched the magic flow right out of me. But this might very well be the last time I ever got my hands on a wand. If there was even a chance I still had magic, I had to make use of it.
My emotions felt dull, diminished. But I still managed to get them into the right mixture. My wand didn’t move on instinct and so I directed it through the proper motions. “Herd Crash,” I said.
I’d hoped and prayed for a little bit of magic, just enough to catch the mighty Boltstar by surprise. But of course, nothing happened.
Laughter, harsh and loud, rang out.
I felt empty inside, the emotional equivalent of a statue. It was utterly terrifying, even as my ability to feel terrified was rapidly diminishing.
I fell to my knees. The crowd roared and a raucous chant flooded my ears.
“The Wolf is skinned! The Wolf is skinned! The Wolf is skinned!”
Chapter 49
A blast of magic struck my back. It bowled me over and I tumbled into a shadowy room. I heard another blast of magic, followed by creaking metal. Light faded, then largely vanished with a loud slam.
“Tad?” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
He groaned in response.
I rolled onto my back and sat up. A bit of light snaked in under the door. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. But eventually, I saw we were in a large room with stone walls, outfitted with a couple of dusty mattresses.
The room was located at the back end of the locker room area. I was pretty sure it was the same one that had once held Ivan Gully. That seemed so long ago.
I touched my palms to the floor, then winced. A quick look showed my hands were all scraped up from where I’d caught myself. Gently, I rubbed them on my jeans, cleaning away the dirt.
Tad shifted, then unfolded. Moments later, he stood up, then stumbled to a wall. His skin looked haggard and gray. His hair was drenched with sweat. Like me, he’d been skinned of magic and was clearly suffering from the fallout.
“See a way out?” he asked without even a shred of hope.
I scanned the room. “Nope.”
“Is this where they kept Ivan?”
“I think so.”
“He escaped, right? How do you think he did it?”
“He got hold of a wand,” I recalled. “That was, well … it was before he’d been skinned.”
“Oh.” His shoulders, already slumped, slumped a bit farther. “Boltstar’s got my magic now,” he said quietly. “He’s got my anchor.”
“Maybe it won’t work for him.”
“Wishful thinking.” He sighed, then stared at the ceiling. “Do you feel … weird?”
“Weird how?”
“It’s like I can’t feel much.” He exhaled. “I should be furious and scared. But I’m just kind of tired.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Well, it could be worse, I guess. At least we’re not going to Gutlore.”
“What do you think Boltstar’s got planned for us?”
“Who knows?” He grunted. “Regardless, I’ll bet we’re in for some questioning first. Maybe some torture, too.”
“He’s already got our spells and your anchor. What else does he need from us?”
“Information. He’s going to want to know if anyone else helped us. Plus, he’ll want to know what we did with Galison and Wadflow.”
Falling into silence, we scoured the room, looking for a way out. The door was sturdy. The walls and floor were solid. I couldn’t reach the ceiling, but it was made of stone and free of cracks.
Eventually, we gave up. Tad caught a catnap on one of the mattresses. I tried to do the same. Unfortunately, sleep eluded me.
Hours later, a soft whizzing noise caught my ear. The door clanked a few times, then swung open. Light flooded my eyes. Then MacPherson, wand in hand, marched into the room.
“Hello, Mr. Wolf.” He glared at Tad. “And to you, as well, Mr. Crucible.”
He looked well-rested. His hair was perfect. His clothes were perfect. Everything about him was perfect. Seriously, the mere sight of his relaxed face made me want to give that sleeping curse a try.
“What do you want? An apology?” Rubbing his eyes, Tad sat up. “Well, you can forget it.”
“How are you awake?” I wondered.
“Boltstar possesses his magic now,” he said with a nod at Tad. “And since he had an intimate acquaintance with Mr. Crucible’s relative, Mr. Boris Hynor, he’s quite familiar with the mechanics of the Hibernuction spell.”
“Intimate acquaintance?” Tad shook his head. “He Drodiated poor Boris.”
MacPherson clucked his tongue, impatiently. “Look, I’ve lost enough time already so I’m going to get right to the point.” He gave us a pointed look. “We need to be face-to-face with our colleagues before we can free them from the Hibernuction Curse. So, we’d like to know where you stashed them.”
“I’ll bet you would,” Tad replied.
MacPherson looked my way. “How about you, Mr. Wolf? Would you like the chance to redeem yourself?”
“What’s it worth to you?” I asked.
“Worth?”
“Will you let us go?”
He arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“Then forget it.”
“I can make things very difficult for you, Mr. Wolf.”
“How?” I wondered. “By skinning us? Oh, wait. Boltstar already did that.”
“True.” He gave me a strange smile. “But things can always get worse.”
I heard the whizzing noise again. A cool mist splashed against my skin. The temperature dropped a few degrees and I began to shiver.
A bubbler entered the room. Looking at it, I saw my parents sitting at the kitchen table. Two witches, dressed in elegant pantsuits and carrying fancy wands, stood behind them. My parents looked afraid. Actually, afraid didn’t begin to cover it. No, they looked downright petrified.
MacPherson wasn’t joking. Things could get worse alright.
Much worse.
Chapter 50
“I’m going to make this simple for you,” MacPherson said. “Tell me where you hid my colleagues or your parents will suffer the consequences.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mom asked in a small, wavering tone.
One of the witches waved her wand and whispered a spell. A blast of magic struck the table, just inches from Mom’s hand. The fine wood exploded into smithereens.
Startled, Mom reared up. Then she whimpered and made herself small again. Meanwhile, Dad remained perfectly still. His expression was serene and I suspected he was in a state of shock.
“This is no idle threat, Mr. Wolf,” MacPherson said. “Now, where are they?”
I had zero leverage. And besides, what did I really gain by remaining quiet? Sooner or later, someone would stumble upon the sleeping professors.
“Promise you won’t harm them,” I said, my gaze locked on my parents.
“You have my word.”
I exchanged looks with Tad. Then I told MacPherson exactly what we’d done to Galison and Wadflow.
He listened carefully, then headed for the door. He slammed it shut behind him and then I was alone with Tad and my parents.
And the witches, too.
I shifted my gaze to them. They hovered behind my parents, looking callous and bored. One had a pixie-like face, framed with shoulder-length black hair. The other sported wide cheeks, thin lips, and way too much make-up. At first glance, I wouldn’t have pegged them as havoc magicians. But a closer look revealed they carried a myriad of scars, blemishes, and other battle wounds.
Dad stared down at a bowl of chattering cereal. The enchanted sugary flakes saw him looking and got all excited. Immediately, they started chirping at him in their squeaky, soft voices, begging to be eaten.
“It isn’t so, is it Randy?” Mom blurted out. “Please tell us it isn’t so.”
They were dressed for work. Their eyes were hooded and baggy. They wore the expression of people who’d mistakenly tried Casafortro’s Sourest of Them All candies.
“Were you skinned?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“And the Chaotics? Did you help them?”
Clearly, he knew the score. And besides, there was no point in lying about it. “Not with the initial invasion. But afterword.”
“Oh, Randy.” Mom’s eyes flooded with tears. She cast a fearful look at the two witches, then slowly lowered a mug to the table. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Her accusatory tone set off a tiny spark deep inside of me. “I helped a friend. I tried to right a wrong.”
“And in the process, you ruined us,” Dad said quietly. “Even if we get out of this in one piece, our lives are over. There’s no way anyone will employ us once word gets out.”
“I …” I frowned.
Part of me wanted to be furious with him, not that I was capable of such emotion. After all, what right did he have to make this about them? On the other hand, I saw his point. I hadn’t really thought through all of the implications of getting caught. But now, they were impossible to ignore.
My parents would almost certainly lose their jobs. Their neighbors would ostracize them. Their friends would drift away. Other family members would turn their backs on them, desperate to avoid the stench of disgrace.
“Sorry,” I said. “I … just … I’m sorry.”
They were quiet for a minute. Then Mom gave me a small nod. “We know,” she said softly. “And it’s okay. We’ll get through this.”
“Just tell me one thing,” Dad demanded. “Why would you help those people?
I decided to be honest about it because, well, why not? It wasn’t like the truth could hurt anyone.
“Because they didn’t do anything wrong,” I replied. “They didn’t attack Boltstar on Victory Day. He attacked them, then lied about it. Afterward, he tampered with the collective memory to make us—”
“Falsehoods and fabrications,” spat one of the witches. The other witch, the one with the heavy make-up, jabbed Dad’s jugular with her wand.
Mom winced. “Let’s, uh, change the subject.”
Dad remained frozen until the witch retracted her wand. Then he shoved his bowl away and the little flakes squealed in protest. “You can still fix this, Randy. Talk to Lanctin. Beg him for another chance. Do whatever it takes.”
“Yes.” Mom’s head bobbed up and down. “Tell him you’ll help. Tell him you’ll be there when he rounds up the Chaotics.”
I glanced at Tad. He sat on the mattress, staring off into space. “I can’t do that,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
They looked at each other. Then Dad sighed. “Look, we know what it’s like to be passionate about something. But you can’t let it ruin your life.”
“I’m doing what I have to do,” I replied. “And you should do the same.”
Mom frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need to disavow me. Publicly and as often as possible.”
“But—”
“You have to. Promise me you’ll do it.”
Dad was unable to meet my gaze. “No.”
“You must.”
Mom burst into tears. Staring at the table, Dad wiped his eyes. They were defiant, so I didn’t push the issue.
The conversation shifted and we talked about other things. Mostly, old memories. Vacations and Christmas mornings, birthdays and family walks. I recalled some of it. Other recollections were new to me.
I did my best to memorize every detail, sealing the stories deep into my memory banks. Whatever happened next, I couldn’t forget them.
No matter what.
Chapter 51
Furrowing my brow, I tried to recall Piper’s face. Oh, I remembered it in a general sense. I knew the shape of her eyes, the curl of her mouth, the frizziness of her hair. If pressed, I could glean up a pretty good image of her. And yet, it wasn’t perfect. I was missing something. Maybe even a few things.
The same held true for Leandra. I recalled her general appearance, her essence. But when I tried to dig deeper, to remember the smallest details, I came up short. The realization sent a wave of panic through me. If I couldn’t remember my friends now, how would my memories fare in the days to come?
I shifted uneasily on the floor. Tad was still on the mattress, his knees clutched tight to his body.
The conversation with my parents had eventually dwindled away into awkward silence. One of the witches had popped the bubbler, sending our little cell back into near-darkness.
Clanking noises flooded my ears. Nerves frazzling, I twisted toward the door.
MacPherson strode into the room a moment later, brandishing his wand like it was a sword. “On your feet, gentlemen,” he said. “The headmaster wishes to address you.”
I was too tired to stand, too tired to even think properly. “Not now,” I replied. “Tell him to come back later.”
“And tell him that we could use some doughcream,” Tad added. “Lots of doughcream.”
A hand steered MacPherson to one side. Then Galison appeared. His clothes were ruffled and his suspenders were in place, useless as always. Behind him, I saw Norch and Wadflow. Dust covered Wadflow from head to toe, a consequence of the forgotten corner in which we’d stashed her. Meanwhile, Norch’s makeup was smeared and her hair was a tangled mess.
They were obviously furious. And that probably should’ve scared me. But it was hard to take them seriously. Despite their steely expressions, they looked like a trio of chimney cleaners.
“Hey, guys,” I said. “How are you feeling? Rested, I hope?”
Galison sneered. “I should wring your neck.”
“No, no.” Wadflow, hands on hips, glared down at Tad. “I say we turn them into squonks.”
“Using what spell?” I wondered. “The Professor Wadflow Duplicat
or?”
Her face turned purple. She took a few menacing steps in our direction.
“That’s quite alright, Professor,” Boltstar said in a soothing tone. “I’ll take it from here.”
The professors stared at us for a long moment, their eyes full of animosity. Then MacPherson led them out of the room.
“I see you found your colleagues.” Tad forced a smile. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Boltstar stepped forward. He wore black trousers along with matching suspenders. A thin gold vest rested on top of his white dress shirt. His wand was tucked into his vest and he wore his derby pulled low over his eyes. “Mr. Crucible, I’d appreciate your help with something.”
Tad regarded him for a long moment. “No.”
“I’m afraid your participation is mandatory.”
“You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”
“Very true. That’s why I intend to fraptize you.”
I inhaled a sharp breath. Fraptize was a forbidden spell. Nearly as barbaric as the Gratlan or Drodiation Curses, it involved turning a person into, well, a puppet. I’d never seen it before, but I’d heard nightmarish stories about it. If done correctly, it could make a person do anything.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Tad sputtered.
“I’ll take no joy in it, Mr. Crucible. But it must be done.”
He fell silent.
“I take no joy in this either.” He exhaled. “But you have the right to know the terms of your punishment. After careful consideration, I’ve decided to lock the two of you into a state of drodiation.”
I experienced a tiny twinge of fear amongst my near-emptiness. Spending the rest of my life as a statue? Unable to move, to talk, even to close my eyes? Left alone with nothing but my thoughts for company? Coupled with the skinning ceremony, I couldn’t imagine a worse fate. “No,” I muttered. “You can’t …”
“It’s either that or I kill you. And I’ve got enough blood on my hands for one lifetime.”
“Send us to Gutlore,” Tad implored. “Please.”
“I’m afraid I can’t risk the two of you infecting others with your ideas. However, you should know that Gutlore will be getting two other prisoners today.” He gave me a meaningful look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wolf.”