“What do you mean? I don’t have enough control to grab a whole kite yet.”
“You wouldn’t be doing it by yourself,” he said. “There are ways mages can channel magic from one to another to combine their skills. I can show you.”
He held out his hand. My heart beat a little faster as I curled my fingers around his, which were warm and dry.
“You know that song we used the other day, ‘Coming back to earth’?” he said. “Sing it with me, nice and slow.”
I let the lyric roll over my lips in time with him. The magic I felt—that I hearkened—around me rose to a thrum against my skin. It coiled around our joined hands, flowing between us, although mostly from him to me.
There was so much of it. I’d never felt it like this before, resonating all through the air and inside me. I really could do anything when I could reach all of that power on my own.
But right now we simply wanted to help a kid get his kite back. Jonathan tipped his head toward the sky, and we sang the lyric together again. I felt his intent stream through the magic alongside mine: up, up, up, wrapping that energy around the kite, easing it back down as if the breeze had merely faltered.
It dipped low enough that the string drifted back to the boy’s outstretched hands. He snatched it with a sigh of relief. I let my concentration slip from the kite, back to Jonathan, a smile stretching across my face. The magic’s energy was still resonating through me in a giddy dance.
Jonathan glanced around us as if to double-check that we hadn’t attracted the notice of any witnesses. “What did you think of that?” he asked me.
“That was… That was amazing.” A laugh bubbled out of me. “Thank you. Now I just want to do it again.”
His face brightened. “I actually, ah—my parents are away for the weekend, and my little sister is at my aunt and uncle’s place. I was thinking it might be nice to have a completely private place to practice for once, especially if we’re going to try more complicated castings like that. Would you like to come over?”
To his house? My pulse skipped. He’d kind of been to mine, but only to walk with me home a couple times, never right up to the apartment. I’d gotten the feeling from the way he’d taken the neighborhood in that it wasn’t his usual domain, but like usual he’d seemed curious, not judgy. What was his place on the Upper East Side like?
“Yeah,” I said, in what I hoped was a casual tone. “Why not?”
We kept walking in the same direction, through the trees and along another path to the sidewalk bordering the park. Jonathan’s fingers were still wrapped around mine. He led the way down one of the streets beyond, lined with tall immaculate brownstones I had to restrain myself from staring at. Then he opened the front door of one about halfway down the block. I stepped inside and couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping.
“Holy cow,” I said, my legs jarring. My feet braced against a hardwood floor so shiny I was pretty sure you could skate on it. An enormous crystal chandelier dangled several feet above my head. Beyond it, a spiral staircase wound up toward the brownstone’s second floor. “You live here?”
Jonathan laughed. “I certainly hope so, or I’ve been making a terrible mistake for the last seventeen years.”
I followed him up the stairs, nibbling at my lower lip. For one heart-lurching second I thought we might end up in Jonathan’s bedroom. Setting foot in there would probably have sent my nerves through the roof.
To my relief, he pushed open a door just off the second-floor hall and said, “This is our library.”
The smell of leather and old paper filled my nose as I walked in after him. Wow. It was a library all right. Floor to ceiling shelves lined every wall, all of them packed with books. A huge Persian rug with a pile so thick my feet sank right into it covered most of the floor. The chairs and couch set on it looked like antiques from Victorian times, maintained well enough they could have been in a museum.
“The shared magical libraries have many more texts than this,” Jonathan was saying, as if he thought I’d be disappointed by the selection here. “You’ll have access to those as soon as we get permission for you to start your proper studies.”
“And you still think your parents will help with that?” I said, still gazing around the room and trying not to gape any more than I already had.
“I’m sure they will. As soon as they see how quickly your talent is coming along—as soon as you feel confident about casting a few ‘chantments or conjurings in front of them—we’ll talk to them.” He shot me a smile. “You just let me know when you’re ready.”
“Definitely not yet,” I said. “Which means we should probably get back to you teaching me.” I hesitated. “So can we try that combining magic thing again?”
“Of course.” He motioned me over to the sofa. I sat beside him on the firm cushion, about a couple feet between us like usual. When he took my hand again, my pulse thumped.
“What would you like to make happen this time?” he asked.
“I… don’t know. What could we do?”
He laughed. “Just about anything, I suppose, as long as we don’t get too ambitious. Why don’t you spend a little more time simply getting used to the feeling of the magic. When I conduct more of it to you, it should heighten your awareness and give you a better sense of the ways you can conduct and shape it. If an idea comes to you, you can try casting then.”
He looked down at our joined hands and started to chant a lyric in Latin at a slow, steady rhythm. The energy in the air hummed louder again, tingling through my hand and up my arm to my chest, taking my breath away. A heady stream of it quivered into my mouth as my lips parted.
God, I really could do just about anything with all of this, couldn’t I? In that instant, I felt as if I could have built a mansion to rival the one I was sitting in. I glanced at Jonathan, who was still focused on our hands, and a swell of affection and gratitude rang through me alongside the magic’s thrum.
Could I conjure some of that feeling and send it back to him? Show him how much it meant to me that he’d taken me into his world like this?
A line from a song rose up my throat, something about thankfulness and connection. I hardly paid attention to the words, all my attention on Jonathan. On his face and all the earnest confidence it showed for me. On the awe racing through me at everything he’d offered me. I balled the sensation inside me and pictured the glow of it passing through me to him.
Jonathan’s gaze jerked up. His dark blue eyes met mine, widening a little. He held his own chant until my singing faltered. Then his voice fell too. The magic still hummed around me, louder now than I’d hearkened it ever before. He gripped my hand tighter.
Without a word, he leaned in to kiss me.
It was both a total surprise and exactly what I’d been waiting for. His lips brushed mine, and I kissed him back, hoping it wasn’t obvious I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of practice in that area any more than I did with magic—and then forgetting that worry as his free hand rose up to trace his fingers into my hair. His touch sent sparks shooting over my skin. His mouth moved against mine, hot but gentle.
This, this was magic. Even better than the stuff we’d generated between us before.
Jonathan eased back, only halfway to where he’d started. His hand slid down to my shoulder. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked abruptly, adorably shy.
“Was that all right?” he said. “I mean…”
He didn’t seem to know how to continue, so I helped him out. “Completely okay. Very, very good, in fact.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite that emphatic, but I was also grinning like a maniac, so it wasn’t like he could miss how much I’d enjoyed the kiss.
Jonathan’s eyes brightened, his usual assurance returning. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In that case, maybe we could do it again?”
I didn’t bother answering that question with words. I scooted over on the sofa and touched his cheek to draw his lips back to mine.
My s
ense of time got a little hazy after that. We were just in the middle of our fourteenth kiss—or maybe it was our fifteenth—oh, who knows, I stopped keeping track—when a low growl of a voice carried from the direction of the doorway.
“Jonathan!”
Chapter Seven
Jonathan
If I were to make a list of the absolute worse times to be interrupted by my least-favorite relative, making out with a girl I very much liked on the library sofa would have to take the top spot.
I flinched back from Amy before I’d even consciously registered who’d called my name, but my whole body had already tensed when I looked up and saw him. It wasn’t as if Uncle Raymond had a particularly forgettable voice.
He stalked in from the doorway, his gaze set on full glower. I leapt up, pulling Amy with me with my hand clamped tight around hers.
“Uncle Raymond,” I said, with a voice so steady I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d managed it. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Clearly,” he said, his own tone dry and dark. “There were a few volumes I wanted to borrow from your father.”
And naturally he’d had to arrive right now.
“Hi,” Amy said with a hesitant wave. My uncle’s gaze shifted to her. Oh, no. We were not doing this right now. Not with him of all people.
“Well,” I said before he had a chance to speak, “I’m sure you can find those books without any trouble. My friend really has to get going as it is. I’ll see her out.”
I hustled her past him, hoping he’d take my haste for embarrassment because of what he’d seen us doing and not because of who—or what—she was.
“Jonathan, hold on,” Uncle Raymond said, swinging around, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even ease up my grip on Amy’s hand.
“Just a moment,” I called back. “I wouldn’t want to make her late.”
He could have stopped me, of course, with a few well-harmonized words. But Uncle Raymond was nothing if not aware of appearances, and even he couldn’t fail to realize that a leading member of the Confederation restraining his nephew for no apparently urgent reason might look rather inappropriate to this unknown witness.
I was in for a Tartarus-level talking to in the next ten minutes, though.
I kept hurrying Amy on, all the way to the door and out onto the front step. As soon as the door had thumped shut behind us, I let out my breath, but I wouldn’t put it past Uncle Raymond to chase after us out here if he were puzzled enough.
“I guess I’d better take off, huh?” Amy said. Her face had flushed pink. “Is that the uncle your dad is always arguing with?”
“Yeah,” I said, running a hand awkwardly through my hair. I couldn’t tell her that a guy like him might have wanted to destroy her magic if he’d known what else we were doing besides making out. What would she think of the mage community then? “I didn’t mention I was going to have anyone over, and he’s a lot more strict about stuff like that than my parents are,” I settled on. “No need for you to be around while he reminds me of that.”
“Oh. Sorry if you’re going to get in trouble over…” She gestured vaguely toward the house, her blush deepening, but her lips quirked into a wry smile at the same time. Uncle Raymond hadn’t fazed her that much.
Her smile made me want to kiss her all over again, but this really wasn’t the time for that.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “He won’t go on too long. But yes, I think we should table this, ah, discussion until a more convenient time. You can find your way from here?”
“I can handle it.” She gave my hand a quick squeeze and set off down the street, the breeze tossing her bright hair.
I made myself turn back to the house.
Uncle Raymond was waiting at the top of the staircase. I trudged up to meet him. Might as well get the interrogation over with. My mind was already scrambling through potential explanations.
He wasn’t much of one for preambles. “Who was that girl?” he said. “I don’t remember seeing her before—here or at the College.”
There wasn’t any point in trying to convince him that Amy was from a New York magical family—Uncle Raymond knew all of those. I grasped onto what seemed like the safest story. “She isn’t old enough for the College yet. Sixteen last fall. Her family was visiting the city and we happened to run into each other.”
The fewer details I gave, fewer points he had to pick apart. I’d have to deal with the fallout from this lie when I brought Amy forward, but at least any punishment would only come down on me.
“Visiting from where?” Uncle Raymond said, his voice almost a growl. “What’s her name?”
“Oh, I don’t remember exactly. California, I think? Somewhere on the west coast. And her name is Amy.”
“Amy…?”
“I don’t think we ever exchanged last names.” I forced a laugh. “We just got talking and hit it off and, well…” I motioned toward the library. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t know we’d be in anyone’s way.”
Uncle Raymond considered me for a long moment. My skin prickled, but I held my smile in place. I hadn’t exactly been in the habit of bringing a lot of girls around, but how was he to know whether I had regular flings or what have you? I was a careless teenager in his eyes. And it wasn’t as if the truth of the matter was likely to even cross through his mind as a possibility.
“Don’t get too attached,” was all he said, finally. “Remember, at this stage for all you know she could end up Dampered.”
When novices were assessed the summer after we turned sixteen, a few who’d particularly struggled with their studies had the majority of their magical ability removed, leaving them with just a shred, not enough to really get them into trouble if they lost control in the wrong company. My gut twisted. If he’d known Amy came from a non-magical family, he’d have been threatening even worse.
“Thank you for your advice,” I said.
I kept my tone even, but my uncle’s eyes narrowed. Then he sighed and turned toward the door to Dad’s study.
I started to bristle. “Where are you going?” I’d never seen anyone go into that room when Dad wasn’t here. It was sacrosanct, his private space.
“I couldn’t find one of the books I was looking for,” Uncle Raymond said, shifting the two volumes already under his arm. “Seems likely he’s got it in there. Don’t worry, I won’t touch anything your father wouldn’t want me to.”
He walked right in without another word.
I wavered in the hall, unsure of what to do with myself. Feeling as if maybe I should be keeping watch, as if me standing outside the door had any effect on what Uncle Raymond did in there.
And at the same time feeling as if he’d just opened the door to me.
If my uncle could waltz into Dad’s study as casual as that… why shouldn’t I? Anything Dad knew about the volcano, any reports that had worried him, that was the place he’d be keeping his notes at least. Maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about after all, but how could I know when he wouldn’t tell me any details?
When I couldn’t trust that he would act to protect the lives that might be on the line without the Circle’s go-ahead first.
I ducked back into the library until I heard Uncle Raymond leaving. When the front door had shut with a solid thunk, I slipped out and stopped in front of the study door. My hand instinctively balled to knock against it the way I would have any other time I’d been seeking entrance from my father.
But he wasn’t here. He wasn’t letting me in, in all sorts of ways. He should have remembered his Ovid before he’d tried to put me off: Nitimur in vetitum.
I let my fingers drop to the knob and twisted.
The door sighed open with a graver sound than I remembered from the past. Possibly because the room within was so quiet. Dad had left the curtains drawn over the tall windows at the other end. Only a thin glow seeped around them to catch on the outlines of the two armchairs by the fireplace, the bookcases along the walls, and the massive d
esk in the center of the room.
I flicked on the overhead light and ventured farther, from the polished hardwood onto the thin but densely woven rug. A hint of wood smoke from the last time Dad had lit a fire lingered in the air.
Where to start? His desk seemed my best chance. I sat down gingerly on his leather work chair and started opening the drawers down the sides.
This intrusion had felt so momentous, but the actual search was easier than I would have expected. The third drawer held a folder labeled MSH. Mount St. Helens? I flipped the cover open and found an article about the volcano staring back at me.
I set the folder on the desk and paged through its contents. The clippings and documents where arranged in chronological order, I realized quickly, from earliest to latest. I skipped right to the end. And there it was—a report from the Confederation’s Environmental department, several pages stapled together, with their prediction based on their magical readings printed in bold in the middle of the first page.
Blast inevitable. Signs indicate no later than May 25. Estimated lives lost with current local measures: 50-500.
My hand stilled against the desk, my chest clenching. If that prediction was right… We had less than two weeks to save as many as five hundred lives.
Who had sent this report to Dad? He obviously had some friends inside the Environmental department. Had they finally brought this information to the Circle?
I sifted through the stack of papers again. Sticky notes were mingled here and there with the articles and pages of notes. Some of the notations didn’t mean much to me, but one of them caught my eye. Check with Carl T about possible circumventions.
Right. Carlton Tamsin, one of my parents’ closest friends. He’d only been moved to the Environmental department last year—I’d forgotten. Before then he’d been in International Relations. I’d spent quite a few hours at my parents’ dinners and wine parties chatting with him about cultural variations in magical communities and the like.
Maybe he’d tell me something Dad wouldn’t.