Beyond the Seer

by Emery Belle

  Then he dropped his finger abruptly and took a step back. “But unfortunately, such delicious events will have to wait for another day.” His eyes locked on mine. “Listen to me, and listen to me carefully. You need to forget this place, and the people who live here.” He gave me a meaningful look, and my cheeks flamed. “It is better for all involved to not get swept up in the trappings of lust.”

  This guy had some nerve. “I am not swept up in the trappings of lust, whatever the heck that means. Cole is my friend, and I haven’t seen him for a while. I’m just here to make sure he’s okay, and that’s it.” The last two words came out as a snarl, rendering them slightly less believable. “I have a boyfriend,” I added in a haughty tone.

  The man with the silver eyes inclined his head. “Be that as it may, I feel it is my duty, as Cole’s second hand, to warn you that you are treading on dangerous waters, and you will soon sink.” He paused, and a look flashed through his eyes, almost like… pain? Sorrow? Disappointment? But he masked it quickly, and immediately assumed his inscrutable expression once more. “We gargoyles must remain solitary men by necessity. It is the only way.”

  I huffed out an impatient sigh. “Look, you’ve got the wrong idea, okay? Cole did me… well, he did me a favor, and I wanted to talk to him, to thank him, but I haven’t been able to find him. That’s all.” I glared at him. “Now can you tell me where he is or not?”

  The man shrugged. “When Cole wants to be found, he will be found. That is the way it always has been, and the way it will continue to be.”

  Well, I could see that we were getting nowhere with this conversation. “Okay, then, can you do me a small favor?” I opened my bag and withdrew my notebook, then scribbled a quick note to Cole and tore out the page before handing it to the man with the silver eyes. “Please give this to him the next time you see him. Please, will you do that?”

  “Promises are a dangerous thing,” he said, tucking the note into the pocket of his black robes, “but I will see what I can do. In the meantime…” He grabbed me by the arm once more and began leading me down the sidewalk, back toward the road. “I advise you to steer clear of this place unless you have been expressly invited. You are young, and you are innocent, and there is no place for you in our world.” His eyes flicked toward mine. “Or Cole’s. You would do well to remember that.”

  Then he gave me a little push down the road leading out of the gargoyles’ enclave, and though I wanted to protest, to turn around and argue that he had no idea what he was talking about, I could feel his gaze locked on my back, and so I had no choice but to walk away.

  Chapter 9

  “Focus, Miss Winters, focus!” Lady Winthrop screeched, throwing herself under her desk as a trio of pigeons shot out of my wand tip and dive-bombed her, their orange eyes blazing with determination. I raced forward, trying to corral them, but my spell intended to vanish them instead swelled them to the size of penguins. Their squawks grew ferocious as they swooped past the desk and headed straight for Garnet, who screamed and turned to run but fell to the ground as she slammed directly into Hunter, who had rushed forward, brandishing his wand, to save her.

  “Dissipati!” he shouted, and the pigeons vanished in mid-air, leaving behind only a few feathers that floated gracefully to the floor. Holding out a hand, Hunter tugged Garnet to her feet, then held her gently by the shoulders as he raked his eyes over her face, looking for injuries. “You’re okay,” he said softly, before tucking his wand into his pocket. He turned from her, his shoulders drooping slightly, but I noticed that she let her gaze linger on his back.

  “Very good use of the vanishing spell, Mr. Wallace,” Lady Winthrop said to Hunter, climbing up from beneath her desk and looking rather windswept. She patted her severe hair back into place, then surveyed the room to check for damage. Other than the feathers, and a smattering of pigeon droppings, we had all emerged from my magical mishap relatively unscathed.

  She turned a severe gaze to me. “Concentration is the foundation of performing proper spells, Miss Winters. If you let your mind wander, there’s no telling what might happen.” Pointing at my wand, she added, “Consider that a weapon. If you don’t use it properly, someone could get hurt, killed, or much, much worse.”

  “What’s worse than death?” Garnet asked, plucking a feather from her long hair. She aimed her wand at it, whispered “Dissipati,” and watched in delight as it disappeared with a tiny pop. Today was our first lesson on vanishing spells, and both of my classmates were excelling. So far, the only thing I had managed to vanish was my confidence. And my good grades.

  “It is best not to discuss such unpleasant matters,” Lady Winthrop said gravely, then folded her arms over her chest and frowned at me. “Frankly, Miss Winters, I’m surprised at your poor showing today. You’re usually my star pupil.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter’s jaw drop in annoyance, but neither of us paid him any attention.

  Instead, I glared down at my wand, which had done nothing but betray me ever since it landed in my hand. “It’s the wand,” I said, trying very hard to keep the whine out of my voice. “I think it’s defective.” I waved it once to demonstrate, and a blast of fire erupted from the tip, heading straight for the classroom door.

  Lady Winthrop sent a jet of water shooting toward the flames until they fizzled out, then approached me, frowning as she held out her hand. “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she said, “but I suppose it’s not outside the realm of possibility. Let me take a look.”

  I passed her the wand, and she held it up to her long nose, inspecting it closely. She rapped it smartly with her knuckles, then pressed her ear against it, though I hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was listening for. Finally, she swished it around a few times before aiming it toward her desk; at once, a platter of cookies sprouted into existence, followed immediately by a cold pitcher of milk.

  “Help yourself,” she said to the three of us, and Hunter and Garnet headed happily toward the cookies, munching on them in silence while watching Lady Winthrop continue performing minor spells with my wand. I looked on nervously, wringing my hands, as each spell hit its mark. The wand seemed perfectly fine in her capable hands; why, then, had I suddenly lost control of my magic?

  “Is it possible that the wand isn’t the right match for me?” I asked tentatively as Lady Winthrop conjured a row of increasingly exquisite porcelain vases in the middle of the room. “Could Cordelia have made a mistake?” I saw Garnet shoot me a shut-the-heck-up-now look, but I ignored her and gave our instructor a pleading look.

  She stroked her chin thoughtfully as she passed the wand back to me; as soon as it touched my skin, the entire wand began vibrating nearly out of control, bouncing around in my palm so violently that I had to grip it with both hands. “Cordelia is merely a conduit,” she said. “It is your own magic that calls the wand forth; her job is to help channel your energy into summoning it.”

  “Maybe my magic made a mistake,” I said, still struggling to hold onto the wand. Lady Winthrop reached forward and plucked it from my hands, and it immediately fell docile. “Can I try another one? Perhaps something a little less… temperamental?”

  “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” Lady Winthrop said. “Each witch or wizard may take possession of only one wand in their lifetime, the wand called forth during the selection ceremony. That selection is made based on the intersection of your magic, your aura, and the core of your being. There is simply no room for mistakes.”

  She set the wand on my desk. “You’ll just have to keep working with it until you learn to channel your magic more effectively.” Turning from me, she produced her own wand and collected the newly-conjured vases into a neat pile.

  “That’s really helpful, thanks,” I muttered under my breath, snatching my wand from the desk and stuffing it into my pocket.

  “What was that, Miss Winters?” Lady Winthrop’s face was stony and her eyes were fire as she rounded on me. She gave her wand an idle flick, and a piece of c
halk from the blackboard lifted lazily into the air and floated toward me. “Did I hear you say that you wanted to copy the phrase I will not be snarky on the blackboard three hundred times?”

  I shot out my hand and caught the chalk. “Actually, you did.” Then, ignoring Garnet’s sharp intake of breath, I stomped toward the front of the room to accept my punishment, my ears burning with anger and indignation. Why did no one believe me? I’d gone from being at the top of my class to floundering around at the bottom of the barrel, and the only difference was the wand now burning a literal hole in my pocket.

  The bell rang, and before Garnet followed Lady Winthrop and Hunter out of the room, she tiptoed up to me and repaired my pocket with a whispered spell, then said, “See you later,” and headed outside, toward freedom. I stepped back to check my progress, then, realizing that I still had more than two hundred lines to go, I threw the chalk as hard as I could toward the blackboard, where it snapped in two.

  “Great. That’s just great,” I said furiously, removing my wand to perform a simple repairing spell. Instead, the chalk pulverized, and I slumped to the floor and rested my head in my hands. This was too much. All of it.

  “Wren?” Soft footsteps padded into the room, and though I didn’t look up, I could feel someone sliding down to the ground beside me. A hand wrapped around my shoulder, and I exhaled softly and leaned my head against Sebastian’s chest, listening to the slow, steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered, kissing me lightly on the forehead. He glanced up at the blackboard, toward my unfinished work, and chuckled. “Looks like someone had an interesting class. I remember one time, when I was in my level four courses, I was supposed to be turning a cat into a rat, but instead I kept making the cat tap dance across the table.”

  He laughed at the memory. “I got so mad that I threw the table across the room—don’t worry, the cat had tap danced right off it first,” he added hastily when I gave him a shocked look. “Anyway.” He tightened his grip on me. “Lady Winthrop wouldn’t let me leave the classroom until I’d taught the cat how to samba, too. Talk about a long night.”

  “That sounds like a story Glenn would tell,” I said, snuggling in closer to him and feeling a pang in my chest. I missed my guide, who I hadn’t seen since the wand selection ceremony. He’d presented a brave front then, and I’d been incredibly grateful for his support, but I knew that Hattie’s loss was still hitting him hard. I could sense that he needed time to grieve… alone. But his presence in my life since I’d arrived on the island was so steady, so reassuring, so comforting beyond words that I felt slightly lost without him.

  “I know you miss him.” Sebastian leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “But he’ll come around. Ending a relationship is always a hard thing, and when it ends the way Glenn and Hattie’s did… well, it takes time to heal.”

  Speaking of which…

  I straightened up and turned to face Sebastian. “I want to talk to Remy.”

  Was it just me, or did all the color drain from his face? “Why?” he asked, looking horrified. Yup, he was definitely paler than before.

  I shrugged. “Because it needs to be done. We have to hash things out, face-to-face. She needs to know that she can’t intimidate me into leaving you… and besides, once she finds out that I want to meet with her, she’ll probably stop with all the ridiculous pranks.” I winced as I remembered that I had a pile of headless frogs waiting to be cleaned up when I returned to my dorm room—I just hoped the heads wouldn’t turn up later. I also hoped that Pierre hadn’t decided to gobble them up. I could only imagine the aftermath of that little snack.

  “You don’t know Remy.” Sebastian’s face had regained some of its color as he shook his head resolutely. “That’ll only make it worse. Look, Wren, she’ll cool off. She always does this when I start a new relationship, and then eventually she loses interest. I think it’s her way of trying to maintain control, to show that she has some sort of ownership over me. But she doesn’t.” His voice was hard now, and had taken on a dangerous edge. “The woman is deranged and vindictive—a dangerous combination.”

  “I don’t know.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “It still sounds like a good idea to me, but if you really think me talking to her is going to make it worse…”

  “It will.” Sebastian drew my hand up to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. “And I don’t want to give her any more ammunition to try and come between the two of us, okay?” He followed up the kiss on my hand with one on my lips, lingering there for a few moments before pulling away. “Promise me you’ll leave it alone, Wren. Okay?”

  Our gazes met, his intense, mine scrutinizing. Finally, I nodded. “Okay.”

  Sebastian and I enjoyed lunch at a beautiful café right on the sand, the perfect spot for some serious creature-watching that included a group of vampires playing beach volleyball until one of them ended the game abruptly by piercing the ball with his fangs in response to a bad play. Afterward, we strolled hand-in-hand along the shore, slurping enormous ice cream cones and watching a spectacular purple and orange dragon soaring overhead. Although he invited me to join him for a movie—the new yeti horror flick had just been released to rave reviews—I demurred, telling him I had to practice my wandwork.

  We said goodbye at my dorm, and after watching his back until he’d disappeared down the sidewalk, I turned and headed in the opposite direction. I felt slightly guilty for lying to him, but it was high time for me to begin my investigation into Orion the centaur’s murder, and I knew Sebastian would never approve.

  Not that I could blame him… I hadn’t handled Hattie’s death well—sometimes the memory of leaving her in that crumbling house quite literally brought me to my knees—but I saw this as almost a way to atone for that terrible choice I’d been forced to make. As if catching Orion’s killer, and getting one more bad guy off the island’s streets, would help her be at peace.

  I flicked away a tear I hadn’t realized had been trickling down my cheek and raised my face to the sky, relishing in the warmth of the sun’s rays as I made the trek to the centaur lands, a series of sprawling grassy fields dotted with log cabins and stretching as far as the eye could see. Dirt roads wound through the fields, pockmarked with the thousands of pairs of hooves that had trodden on them, and a beautiful, serene river ran through the middle, its surface glimmering enticingly in the afternoon light.

  I wandered along its banks for a while beside a playful group of otters going for an afternoon swim, then stopped to skip a few stones across the sparkling water, watching with satisfaction as they bounced all the way to the opposite shore. “You are very talented,” a soft voice said from behind me, and I startled, whirling around to find an elderly centaur with silver fur and hooded eyes gazing at me.

  He padded forward, his hooves sinking into the soft earth, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me in front of the water. “We don’t see many humans in these parts,” he said, tilting his head toward me to study the side of my face. “Unless, of course, they come for a reading.” His voice sounded heavy. “But alas, if that is your reason for journeying to the centaur lands, I’m afraid you’re too late.”

  “Because of Orion’s death?” I asked, kicking idly at a few tufts of loose grass beneath my feet.

  The centaur pawed at the ground. “I prefer not to think of it with such finality.” His twilight eyes pierced mine, and a soft smile crossed his weathered face. I could tell from his straight nose, strong jaw, and dimpled cheeks that he had been striking in his day, perhaps more so than Orion. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how old this centaur must be.

  “The centaurs believe that death is merely the end of our journey on this plane of existence.” He turned his face up to the sky, his skin lit by the brilliant sun. “Somewhere, out there in the vast cosmos, we shall meet our loved ones again. This is only farewell for now, not goodbye forever.”

  I swallowed back a lump in my throat and blinked rapidly. “That’s
beautiful. I hope it’s true.”

  “As do I, young lady. As do I.” He regarded me through gentle yet probing eyes. “You have seen death. It is written in every contour of your body.”

  I bowed my head. “Too much.” Then I raised my gaze to his. “But that’s also why I’m here today. I was the last person to speak to Orion before he di—” I pressed my lips together, searching for the right words. “Before he left this world. And I’m going to get to the bottom of who killed him. Did you know Orion well? Do you have any idea who may have wanted to hurt him?” I longed to pull out my notebook, but as the elderly centaur continued roaming his twilight eyes over my face, I sensed that this would be the wrong move.

  He turned from me and fixed his gaze on the horizon. A light breeze lifted up, rustling the long grass and creating ever-expanding ripples on the river’s surface. A few hundred yards away, a nightswallow swooped down from the sky, dipped his head into the clear water for a long drink, and then emerged with a wriggling fish clamped between his beak.

  “Orion was a brother to me, though by choice, not blood. He was also the greatest seer the world has ever known. It would be an impossibility that he was unaware of the poison. Orion once confided in me that he knew both the day and the hour of his journey to the great beyond.”

  “And he did nothing to try and stop it?” I asked, incredulous. That seemed a little farfetched.

  The centaur pawed at the ground again. “I am certain he had his reasons. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He took a few steps back, then inclined his head. “I am in the midst of planning Orion’s celebration of life, and there is still much work to be done.”

  “Oh!” My face brightened. “When is it? I’d love to attend so I can—”