Ellen glanced uneasily over her shoulder into the dark interior of the apartment. She seemed painfully eager for him to leave. Jack figured this wasn’t a good time for an introduction.
“Good night, Ellen,” he said, the words muffled in his damaged mouth. “I’m sorry about what happened. I had a great time up till then.”
To his surprise, Ellen leaned in and brushed her lips over his undamaged cheek. “Good night, Jack,” she said. “I’m sorry, too.” Then she disappeared into the building.
When he arrived back on Jefferson Street, he had little hope his mother would have gone to bed. She’d been at the game, and he expected she would wait up for him for a little celebration and a rehash of the match. He was right. The Downey house was ablaze with lights. A big sign posted on the front door said, “Welcome home, hero!” He didn’t feel much like a hero just at that moment. He reached for the knob, but the door opened before he could touch it. And the person in the doorway was Linda Downey.
“Jack!” she said, sounding delighted, and then “Jack!” again, horrified, when she caught a clear look at his face under the porch light. Then Becka was there, and the welcome home party turned into a first-aid and interrogation session.
“So you mean to tell me you were fighting? You know I’ve always told you to walk away from a fight.” Becka had always had strong ties to the peace movement. Jack wondered what she would say if she could see what he had been doing in the meadow.
“Believe me, I tried to walk away. I don’t usually pick fights with people twice my size.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Jack,” Aunt Linda said. “You look like you might be able to hold your own against almost anybody.” She had been staring fixedly at him, and at first he had assumed it was because of his swollen eye.
“That’s not helping, Linda,” Becka snapped.
“There were three of them,” Jack explained to his aunt.
“Was it someone from Harrison?” Becka asked, referring to the other soccer team. “Or Harrison fans?”
“It was Garrett Lobeck and his friends. They’re on my team.”
“Then why would they want to beat you up?” Becka looked mystified. “Especially after that play you made?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Jack muttered. “It’s kind of complicated.”
Becka rose to her feet. “Well, I’m calling Bill Lobeck right now. I’m tired of those sons of his terrorizing this town.” She reached for the phone.
“I wouldn’t do that, Mom,” Jack said hastily. “I mean, I’m not sure how Garrett’s doing right now.” Both women swiveled to look at him. “I kind of knocked him down. Then we left.”
“Who is we?” Linda asked.
“Remember Ellen Stephenson, Mom? I was walking her home.”
Becka was ready to call somebody. “Maybe we should call Ellen’s parents, just to make sure she’s all right,” she suggested. “She must have been pretty frightened.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say she was frightened, exactly,” Jack said. Except of me, he thought. He almost smiled at the memory of Ellen going after Harkness, but it made his face hurt. “Listen. I don’t think he’ll bother me again. I’d really like to forget about the whole thing. I’m sure Garrett feels the same way.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Aunt Linda said quickly. “Besides, we’re having a party.” She pointed to a large platter of shrimp on the table and bottles of wine and sparkling grape juice in ice buckets. A huge cake on the sideboard was inscribed with “We Are the Champions!” and a soccer ball.
“This is awesome,” Jack said, grateful for the change in subject. “When did you do all this?”
“I was hoping to get here for the game, but my plane was delayed,” Linda explained. “So we thought this would be a nice surprise.”
“It’s a great surprise,” Jack said. “How long will you be staying?”
“I’m not sure,” Aunt Linda replied.
Becka was pouring wine and grape juice into wine glasses. “It’s good you came when you did. Much later and you might have missed us. Jack and I are leaving for England right after school is out.”
“England!” Linda recovered quickly, accepting a glass of red wine. “You’re going to England?”
Becka nodded. “Remember, we talked about it at your last visit. I’d hoped you could get us a lead on a house, but I haven’t been able to reach you. But Thomas has a friend who has a cottage in Oxford. She’ll be in the States all summer, so we’re subletting. If you’ll be home, we can visit you, but you don’t have to feel obligated.”
“That sounds . . . wonderful.” Linda attempted a smile, but Jack had the sense that something was bothering her.
Chapter Eleven
Under Siege
The next morning was a Saturday, and Jack’s class had scheduled an end-of-school excursion to Cedar Point, an amusement park on the lake. When he looked in the mirror in the bathroom, the right side of his face was an angry purple, and he could still hardly open his eye. Great. I’ll have to answer a thousand questions about this today. He wished he could just stay home. But Will was supposed to pick him up in half an hour, and after their talk at Corcoran’s, Jack was reluctant to cancel.
Aunt Linda was on the sunporch, drinking a cup of tea.
“Sorry I have to go out today,” Jack apologized. “I wouldn’t have planned it if I’d known you were coming.”
“We can talk tonight, Jack. Have fun today.” She looked subdued, almost as if she had been crying. “Did I tell you that you look different?” He nodded. “I probably notice it more than most people, because I’ve been away.
You must be working out a lot.”
“Three or four times a week.”
“With Leander Hastings?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Where have you been all this time? I . . . I didn’t know what to think. I was afraid Wylie had caught up with you, or something.”
“I’m sorry. I laid a rather long false trail for him to fol-low. And then I had some ...business to take care of, back home.”
“You sound like you do this kind of thing all the time.” Jack couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.
“I have had considerable practice hiding from wizards, if that’s what you mean.” She started to say something else, but then there was a loud banging at the kitchen door.
“Come in!” Jack called. “We’re on the porch.”
“Jack! Where were you last night? We . . .” Will stopped in his tracks when he saw Linda. “Oh, hi, Ms. Downey,” he said. Then he caught a full view of Jack’s face. “Jeez! What happened to you?”
“I ran into Lobeck and friends after the game last night.” That was going to be the short story, and Jack planned to stick with it.
“What? You win the game for us, and he clobbers you?”
“Just forget it. I think he’d had a few too many beers. Like a dozen. Which reminded him that he didn’t make varsity.”
“Is that why you didn’t come to Leesha’s party? She thought you were coming. Me and Fitch were looking for you.”
Jack shook his head. “No. Actually, I was with Ellen. We . . . uh . . . decided to ditch the party,” he said.
“Oh. All right, then.” Will nodded. From his expression, he approved Jack’s choice. “You didn’t miss much. There were a lot of people drinking, a lot of people pretty messed up.” Will raked his hand over his dark stubble of hair. “Maybe it’s time someone taught Lobeck a lesson. Maybe I’ll volunteer.”
Jack blinked at him. Will’s dark eyes were fierce and intent. Will had a certain trajectory about him. Like a great sailing ship, he was slow to turn, but once he got underway, look out.
“It’s okay, Will. Really. I’m guessing he won’t bother me again.” Jack slung a small day pack over his shoulder. “I’m ready.”
Will studied him a moment, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
Fitch was waiting in the car, and Jack had to go through his story again. It was going to b
e a long day.
Ellen had promised to meet them around noon at one of the roller coasters. It was a beautiful day, hot and sunny, and Jack expected that practically the entire sophomore and junior classes and most of the teachers would be there.
Once they arrived at the park, Jack began to feel more cheerful. After some initial comments, no one asked too many questions about his face or the fight with Lobeck. The playoff victory made Jack something of a celebrity. He kept his eye out for Leesha, but didn’t see her.
They rode on several of the bigger coasters right away, assuming the park would be more crowded later on. Jack had always loved roller coasters, and he was beginning to realize that virtual danger had a lot more appeal than the real thing. By the time they sat in on a couple of the corny midway shows, it was almost noon, and time to meet Ellen.
She was waiting by the Blue Streak, wearing a white T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. When Will and Fitch tried to quiz her about the fight, she totally blew them off. Jack tried to catch her eye, to thank her, but she wouldn’t look at him.
They rode the Blue Streak and tried some of the arcade games, and then it was time for lunch. They bought cherry slushies for dessert. It was getting hot, and the water rides beckoned.
“Let’s go on Thunder Canyon,” Will suggested. “It’s time to get wet.” He peeled off his T-shirt.
“I’m not done with my slushie.” Jack lifted the paper cup.
“Let’s leave them here,” Ellen suggested, pointing to a broad railing by the lagoon. “The line isn’t very long right now.”
They all got soaked on Thunder Canyon. Since the line still wasn’t very long, they rode twice more. They emerged, shaking like dogs, flinging water everywhere.
“You’re not nearly wet enough, Jack!” Ellen grabbed his drink and threatened to empty it over his head. He threw up a hand, smacking her arm, and most of the contents cascaded into the fish pond below.
“Now look what you did!” Jack said, glad Ellen had regained her sense of humor. It was practically the first time she’d spoken to him all day. He turned to see if the carp in the lagoon would go after the ice. Will was leaning over the railing, too, laughing, but then he looked puzzled. Jack followed his gaze. Dead fish were surfacing in a growing circle around the melting slush, their pale bellies shining against the murky amusement-park water. Hundreds of them.
For a moment, Jack froze, processing what he was see-ing. Then his gaze met Will’s, and the spell was broken. In one quick motion, Jack grabbed the cup with what was left of his drink and dropped it into the plastic bag he’d brought along for his wet clothes. He stuffed the bag into his day pack. Then he swept his arm across the railing, knocking the rest of the slushies into the lagoon. Ellen and Fitch wailed in protest when they saw their drinks fly from the rail.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “My fault. I’ll buy another round. Let’s get lemonade this time.” And he firmly ushered the still-protesting Fitch and Ellen away from the water. Will followed behind, shaking his head and frowning.
“This is interesting,” Nick Snowbeard said, looking up from his microscope. He had set up a virtual chemical lab in his tiny kitchen. Jack and Aunt Linda were sitting at the kitchen table. Jack had put up a magical barrier so no one else would wander in. Nick was allowing his pupil to show off some of his accomplishments.
“It’s an ancient Anglo-Saxon nerve poison. Fat soluble. Very quick and effective. Hard to trace. It takes very little.” He stroked his beard. “I don’t expect there’s a carp left alive at Cedar Point.”
“Who would have this kind of poison?” Jack asked. “Where would they get it?”
“It is plant-derived. It wouldn’t be hard to make if you had the right ingredients. It’s just not very well known. It must be someone in the family.”
“If by family, you mean the Roses, then I think you’re right on!” Jack exploded. “Who else would want to kill me?” He slumped in his chair.
“Who was at the park today?” Linda asked.
“Everybody I know,” Jack said. “And a lot of people I don’t.” Leesha Middleton probably wanted to poison him just about now.
His aunt sighed, pulling her knees up under her chin. “Obviously, your secret is out to someone.”
Nick was thoughtful. “Poison can so easily go astray. As it did in this case. Its a rather . . . inefficient way to kill someone.”
Jack slammed his hand against the table. “They may have poisoned the entire western basin, but I don’t think they’ll lose any sleep over it. Don’t you get it? They know who I am! They know where I live. What’s to stop them from coming after me? Or Shadowslayer.” He straightened in his chair. “One of the Seven Great Blades and it’s hidden under my bed with my box of baseball cards. How long will it take to figure that one out?” He had a sudden urge to go back to the house, to make sure it was still there.
“I’ve set wards around the house,” Nick said gently. “It won’t be easy to come after you here. And I’d be very surprised if they killed you outright.”
“I feel so much better,” Jack muttered.
“This might be some kind of warning. Or an attempt to panic you into running.”
“Well, it’s working.”
Linda looked up. “Nicodemus. How is he doing with wizardry?”
“Jack has a surprising aptitude for wizardry, despite his warrior stone.”
“Are we talking about parlor tricks and whimsy, or something he can really use?”
“He is much further along than that,” Nick assured her. “He’s done very well. He is not what I would call a powerful wizard, but he’s more powerful than some who carry the stone. I’ve never seen anyone outside of the Wizard Guild who can do what he does.”
“Tell me about your training, Jack,” Aunt Linda said abruptly. Jack briefly reviewed the program, starting with the sessions at the fitness center and progressing to the bouts at the meadow. She frowned. “That’s pretty much classical training,” she said. “Didn’t he cover anything else?”
Jack thought about it. “We spent some time working with a sling. There was some weaponless stuff, like wrestling and tai chi. I’ve been weight training on my own. But we’ve spent most of our time with the foils and with Shadowslayer at the meadow.”
Linda hesitated before she asked the next question. “How is Leander Hastings as a teacher?”
“He knows what he’s doing. He’s been willing to spend a lot of time with me, but he can be pretty demanding.” Jack thought for a moment. “He has to be in total control. He answers only the questions he chooses to answer.”
Linda nodded as if not surprised. “That sounds like Leander.”
Jack couldn’t help but think that it sounded like Linda as well. He was getting irritated at the interrogation. He had questions of his own he wanted to ask. Linda rose and began pacing back and forth in the small space between the table and the counter.
“I don’t think this trip to England is such a good idea,” she said, not looking at Jack.
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, surprised.
Linda spoke fast and persuasively. “If you go, Dr. Longbranch is going to want to see you. And I don’t think that’s such a good idea . . . as you are now.”
Jack stood, feet slightly apart, arms folded. “Aunt Linda, I think it’s time you were straight with me. People are trying to kill me. I think I deserve to know who and why.”
“All right.” Linda said, resting her hands on the back of her chair. “Do you remember I told you that the Weir has a history of fighting, mainly with each other?”
Jack nodded and sat down, suspecting that this was going to be a long and unpleasant story.
“There are actually two main branches of the family that have been battling for hundreds of years. It started with a pair of brothers. Do you remember the War of the Roses?”
“A civil war between two factions of British royalty. Lancaster and York, wasn’t it?” Jack struggled to remember his British history.
“Didn’t that end with the Battle of Bosworth Field?” He and Nick had spent quite a bit of time on that. Understandably, the old wizard was an expert.
“Not for us. One branch of our family carried the red rose, and the other the white. For years after Bosworth, the fighting continued, with neither side really gaining the upper hand,” Linda said. “By the sixteenth century, even the most bloodthirsty wizards of both houses realized things couldn’t continue as they were. It was about that time that several hundred Weir immigrated to America to escape the ongoing warfare and the domination by wizards. They included representatives of all the guilds. We descend from that group of democrats, called the Bear clan. For those who stayed, a new system was developed, a system of tournaments.”
Jack looked her in the eyes. “Nick told me about the Game.”
Linda flinched, and her cheeks colored slightly. “The Game,” she repeated. “So wizards were no longer involved in the actual fighting. The emphasis changed to recruiting warriors, training them . . . breeding them for certain powers and characteristics that would prove advantageous.” She looked at Jack, then looked away. “Only, those efforts backfired. There was so much emphasis on the gift of power that they neglected the flesh and blood that carried it. Because of inbreeding, the line grew sickly, began to die out. That and the fact that warriors were dying in droves in the tournaments. Even the successful ones often didn’t live long enough to have children.”
“So why didn’t they just stop fighting?”
“Lots of reasons. Tradition. Revenge. Control of a treasury of magical artifacts, the last of their kind. That’s right,” she said, noting Jack’s reaction. “The winner of the tournaments takes control of the Wizard Council, which governs the guilds. Those who have come to power through the system are unlikely to change it. Our family is an aristocracy: privileged and idle, with little to do but spin intrigue.
“So, back in the 1700s, when they were running out of warriors in the Old World, someone in the European guilds must have remembered those who had left for America two centuries before. They have extensive records. They’re really big on genealogy.