“Oh, no.” Louise came up behind us. She sounded heartbroken. “Who did this?”
“I don’t know,” Francis said. The anger in his voice was terrifying. “But we’re going to get them for it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tobias stepped into the shattered room. “How can we get them if we don’t know who they are?”
“We’ll figure it out,” I told him. I looked at the potions mess and shuddered. It was only a matter of time before the liquids congealed into something dangerously unpredictable. “Can you deal with the mess before it goes foul?”
“Of course.” Tobias sounded irked. “Give me a moment.”
“It was the McDonalds,” Francis said. He’d been studying the damage to the spells. “One or both of them. Probably both.”
I glanced at him, sharply. “How can you be sure?”
“I share a class with Zeya McDonald,” Francis said. “She’s very skilled at manipulating charms - and I have enough of a sense for her magic that I can feel her presence. She was probably the one spying on us, right from the start. She’s certainly good enough to do that without being detected.”
“We did detect her,” Louise argued.
“Yes, but we didn’t know it was her.” Francis snapped his fingers at the tattered remains of the wards, collapsing them back into the aether. “We had no idea who to blame. Not until now.”
I thought about it. I didn’t know the McDonald sisters that well. They’d shared a dorm with Cat and Isabella, back when we’d all been firsties, but they’d never been really close. How could they have been? House McDonald was a rival to both House Aguirre and House Rubén. The best anyone could have hoped for was polite neutrality. Isabella had told me, once, that the McDonalds had mocked her after she’d lost a duel to Cat. I had no trouble believing they might have ruined our supplies. It was part of the game, after all.
“We have to hit them back,” Francis argued. “Now.”
Louise frowned. “What do you have in mind?”
“Wreck their base,” Francis said. “Do unto them as they did unto us!”
“We don’t even know where their base is,” Louise said. “Or do we?”
“We have a rough idea,” Francis said. “Come on. We’ll hit it now!”
Louise held up a hand. “It’s absurd. If we get caught ...”
“And if we do nothing,” Francis said, “they’ll do it again. And again.”
I stared at the mess, feeling miserable. Francis was right. We had to hit back. Father had drilled it into me, more than once, that allowing an enemy to get away with something practically guaranteed they would do it again. Isabella hadn’t stopped practicing her hexes on me until I’d started to hex her back. And yet, an inability to let anything go had practically triggered the House War. People had attacked and counterattacked and counter-counterattacked until the original cause, whatever it had been, was forgotten.
“You can’t be serious.” Louise looked at me. “Akin, tell him he’s being stupid.”
“We have to push back,” I said. I hated the logic, but I couldn’t deny it. “And quickly.”
“And if we get caught?” Louise glared at us. “We could be expelled!”
“No,” Francis said. “They can’t expel us for playing by the rules.”
“Hah,” Tobias muttered.
“This is ridiculous,” Louise said. She glanced at Saline. “Call us when you’re feeling less stupid.”
Saline shot me an unreadable look, then turned and followed Louise as she flounced out of the room. I didn’t blame her for being uncertain and reluctant to go out on a limb. It wouldn’t be easy to expel me - or Francis - but Louise was much less secure. Rose had nearly been expelled after she’d helped Cat perform a dangerous experiment. If Cat’s father hadn’t gone to bat for her, she would have been expelled.
“We don’t need her.” Francis sneered at the door. “We can do it ourselves. Just like old times.”
“Quite.” I looked at Tobias. “Can you finish cleaning up the potion, then attend to your brewing? We’ll meet you later tonight.”
Tobias looked relieved, just for a second. I guessed he’d had the same worries as Louise without being able to admit it. He’d be branded a coward, even if he was right. I shook my head in disgust, then glanced at Harvard. The duellist looked back at me, evenly. I had no doubt he’d go into danger without a second thought.
“Do you want to stay here,” I asked, “or come with us?”
“I’ll come, unless you want me to lie in wait here,” Harvard said. “It’s something to do.”
I nodded, feeling my heart starting to pound. “Shall we go?”
Francis grinned. “Just like old times,” he repeated, as he opened the door. “Let’s go.”
I gave him a sharp look. As kids, we’d sneaked around the mansion, testing our skills against the wards and locks as we tried to break into sealed rooms. Isabella had raided my room, time and time again; I’d raided hers ... we hadn’t stolen anything, of course, but we’d worked hard to make sure the other knew we’d been there. The risk of being detected - and turned into something - was part of the thrill. I’d caught Penny trying to sneak into my room two years ago, with a hex I’d carefully concealed under the rug. She’d still been trapped when I’d returned hours later.
And we were being prepared for school, I thought, as we slipped down the corridor. The skills we learnt at home came in handy here.
Francis stopped at the top of a disused staircase. “We have to be careful from now on,” he breathed. “They’ll be watching for us.”
I nodded. No one would wreck our base without expecting retaliation. The McDonalds would have tightened their own wards, perhaps even pushing them as close to blood magic as they could without crossing the line. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald weren’t just twin sisters. They were actually friends. Only one of them could be the Heir Primus, only one of them could take power, but ... somehow, they were still friends. They worked together very well, better than Isabella and I had ever managed. Perhaps they intended to share the post, when their father died. Or maybe they thought they could simply swap places every so often.
They might get away with it too, I thought. No one would ever mistake me for Isabella - or Cat for Alana - but Ayesha and Zeya McDonald were practically identical. No one will look too closely, for fear of what they might find out.
The air grew colder as we made our way down the stairs. I reached out with my senses, trying to sense something - anything - that wasn’t part of the background hum. This section had been abandoned long ago, but there were still flashes and flares of magic flickering around the wood and stone walls. The McDonalds could have hidden all kinds of wards and trap spells in the section, if they wished. Given proper preparation, the spells would last years. I’d stumbled across a handful of trap spells left behind by students who’d graduated when my father was a boy.
They really should clean out the lower levels properly, I told myself. But that would spoil the fun.
I froze as I felt ... something ... up ahead. A spell, twisting in and out of existence ... I frowned, keeping as still as I could. It was a neat little trick, far too complex to have been cast by a lowerclassman. The spell didn’t maintain a constant watch, as far as I could tell; it pulsed back and forth, the beats of magic coming too quickly for us to duck under its watchful eye and escape. I glanced at Francis, puzzled. The McDonalds would have keyed themselves to the wards, naturally, but how could they get close enough for the ward to recognise them without triggering the alarm? I was missing something, but what?
“There,” Francis hissed. “Look at the floor.”
I followed his finger. There was a device, a Device of Power, positioned on the floor, just under the spell. It was moving very slightly, magic pulsing around it ... it took me a second to realise that the motions matched the pulsing of the spell. It wasn’t projecting the spell, as far as I could tell; it was merely directing it. I felt a flicker of admiration as t
he pieces fell into place. They’d set up a feedback loop. If the spell failed, the Device would sound the alarm ...
Or vice versa, I thought.
I lifted my hand and carefully, very carefully, cast a manipulation spell. The Device stopped moving, holding the watching spell in place. I could feel it protesting as I inched into the corridor, ducking low as I ran past the spell. Francis and Harvard followed me, keeping their heads down. My spell failed a moment later, allowing the device to move again. I tensed, but we were already past the guard. Anyone else would have real problems until they figured out how to keep the device from moving.
“Good work,” Francis whispered.
We shared a smile, then inched further down the corridor. The abandoned classrooms on the far side of the watch spell looked as if no one had visited them for years, but that hadn’t stopped the McDonalds scattering dozens of spells around to deter trespassers. We had to work our way onwards, sneaking around or dispelling the spells as we passed. I hoped the McDonalds hadn’t done something very clever, something so brilliant that I didn’t have a hope of anticipating it. Their inner spells were common, far too well understood for my peace of mind. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald were too smart to rely on them.
“There’s more focused magic in there,” Francis whispered. He jabbed a finger down the corridor, towards a metal door. It was covered in runes, each one carefully defaced to render them useless. “Harvard, you keep watch.”
“Got it.” Harvard slipped into the shadows, casting an obscurification charm on himself. I could barely see him and I knew he was there. “I’ll alert you the moment anyone comes.”
I glanced at Francis as we sneaked towards the door. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald - and their entire team - could be in there, right now. The thrill of being somewhere I shouldn’t was still there, but now it was mingled with fear. Mother and Father had made it very clear that we weren’t allowed to break into an occupied room, although I hadn’t understood why until I was much older. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald had five other people on their team, all powerful and experienced ... at least by student standards. If we walked right into their midst, we’d be lucky to escape unhexed.
And we’ll be laughingstocks, I mused. There were two wards on the door, both very basic. I broke the first one effortlessly, then turned to the second. That would be worse than anything else.
Francis seemed unconcerned. I envied him. His life was so carefree. He could play his sports and court girls and enjoy himself without risking his future - and his family’s future. The worst that could happen to him was ... well, what? I couldn’t think of anything permanent, unless there was a terrible accident. Francis could take a pratfall into a muddy puddle and people would laugh with him, not at him. I could forget to tie my tie properly and no one would ever let me forget it. And if I embarrassed myself ...
I hesitated. It wasn’t too late to back out. We could sneak out again, or simply trigger the spells as we left. Done properly, it would have freaked them out. If they couldn’t find any evidence of what we’d done ... they’d think they’d missed something. They’d waste their time looking for something, unaware there was nothing to find. It was tempting, but ... I remembered the damage they’d done and gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let them get away with it.
Francis pushed the door open with the tip of his spellcaster. No one shouted, or screamed, or chanted a spell. The room inside was quiet, as silent as the grave. I inched inside slowly, looking around. The chamber had probably been a potions lab, once upon a time. The stone walls had been thoroughly scrubbed, but they still bore traces of explosions and other accidents. It would be a long time before lichen grew there, if it ever did. I felt traces of magic flickering around me as I headed towards the backrooms and peered inside. The McDonalds had chosen well. They’d be able to hide all sorts of traps and tricks within the room, relying on the magical aura to conceal them.
“They must practice here,” Francis said.
I nodded. The backroom was crammed with supplies, from dozens of potion vials to a handful of Devices of Power. They were crude, compared to mine, but they would work. They’d even enchanted a broomstick, although I wasn’t sure why. The old legends of magicians flying on broomsticks had been disproven long ago. Cat was the only person who’d built a flying machine in living history and it had very nearly broken apart during its first and last flight.
She wants to build another one, I thought, feeling a sudden glow of warmth. And we can do it together, afterwards ...
“You get the potions,” Francis said. He opened a cupboard, revealing more potions. “I’ll ...”
I hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt. Someone had spent weeks brewing the potions. If I destroyed them ... they’d destroyed ours, I told myself. I had to push them back. I checked for traps, then reached for the first vial. And realised, as I heard a click, that I’d made a terrible mistake.
“Get out of here,” I hissed, as magic flared around me. It was a trap. It was ... I felt threads of magic reaching towards me, as if they were ropes animated by a sorcerer’s will. The McDonalds had done something clever or something stupid, and I wasn’t sure which. It would have been easy to catch me with a simpler spell, but I might have noticed it in time and stepped aside. “Move!”
A warning spell glimmered in my awareness. Someone was coming. Francis turned and hurried towards the door, slowing as he reached the edge. I snapped at him to hurry as a thread of magic wrapped around my legs, trying to hold me in place. There was no point in us both being trapped. He took one last look at me, then fled through the outer room and into the corridor. I felt another thread of magic pulling at my arm, a spider’s web of magic slowly forming around me. The faster I moved, the faster it grew. I tried to counter it, only to discover I’d made it worse. The spellbreaker on my belt was practically out of reach.
I grabbed for the sword and drew it. The blade sliced through the magic like it wasn’t there, but the magic reformed with terrifying speed. I would have liked to study it, if it hadn’t been trying to catch me. Instead, I cut my legs free and ran for my life. Behind me, the magic grew stronger. I had the nasty feeling it would keep growing until it ran out of power.
The outer door opened as I approached. Ayesha - or Zeya - McDonald. She was a tall girl, with long brown hair, a willowy body and a dress that showed them both off to best advantage. Her eyes went very wide as she saw me, her hand lifting to cast a spell. The sword snapped forward, practically of its own accord and deflected the spell with terrifying ease. I had to keep a firm grip on the hilt to keep it from skewering the poor girl. Sabotage was one thing, I reflected as I returned the sword to the scabbard. I couldn’t start murdering the competition.
I braced myself. The McDonalds were good. But I might be able to fight my way out ...
Ayesha - or Zeya - moved forward with striking speed and kissed me. For a moment, I almost melted into the kiss. Her lips were so warm and ... and then I felt my entire body start to melt. The world spun around me. I tried, desperately, to cast a counterspell, but nothing worked. Ayesha - or Zeya - was growing larger ... no, I was shrinking. She’d turned me into a frog! I tried to jump back as she reached for me, but it was already too late. We’d cut so many frogs up for potion ingredients that keeping one helpless until we butchered it was practically second nature.
“Zeya told me we should have guarded the room,” Ayesha said, as she popped me into a bag. “She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
I forced myself to concentrate as the bag started to move, suggesting she was taking me somewhere. Panic threatened to overwhelm me, time and time again, as I tried to break the spell. I’d been a frog before - it had been Isabella’s favourite spell, when we’d been kids - but this spell was different. It twisted and turned like a living thing. And then the bag opened and she grabbed me by the neck.
“Have fun,” Ayesha said, as she pulled me out of the bag and threw me into a room. “Bye, bye.”
I heard the door slam closed a
s I twisted in the air, the frog’s instincts allowing me to land safely. The room looked odd, through the eyes of a frog. Benches and chairs that would barely have reached my knee, as a human, were suddenly overwhelmingly huge. And my vision was skewed ... it took me several moments to realise the thing hanging from an open locker door was a dress ...
My blood turned to ice as I realised what she’d done. She’d thrown me into a changing room. The ladies changing room. And if they caught me ...
... I was dead.
Chapter Nineteen
For a moment, panic nearly overwhelmed me.
If I was caught ... I could not be caught. The scandal would utterly destroy me. I would be expelled ... even if I wasn’t expelled, no one would ever take me seriously again. I’d be branded a peeping tom, if the truth didn’t get out ... if it did, it might be worse. Ayesha would get in trouble too, perhaps, but ... I’d be the one who was laughed at, I’d be the one who was the butt of all the jokes. And Cat would break the betrothal, if her family didn’t do it for her. She’d have no choice.
(The Zero Enigma Book 6) The Family Pride Page 19