The Untangled Cassie Black Page 2

  Mr. Tenpenny’s face took on a horrified expression of utter shock. "That’s— You shouldn’t— You and Tobey—" Damn, I hate it when I say something that makes him revert to Zombie Speak.

  As Mr. T sputtered out additional sounds of disbelief, Olivia told him, "Calm down, Busby. It wasn’t him." To me, she explained, "The touch, the kiss, that’s the textbook setup for the Mirage Hex. I suppose resisting it, or at least recognizing it, is something we should have trained you in."

  "Yeah, I suppose that might have been good to know," I said, grabbing another scone and slathering it with marmalade.

  "I’ll admit, we’ve gotten a little out of practice with our defensive training. As for the Mirage Hex, Alastair and I were in the office together, I believe we were discussing your upcoming test. When the Mauvais touched your cheek, he gained insight into your mind. Unlike a Confounding Charm, a Mirage Hex digs deep into your emotions to conjure what you’ll see. Was it his suggestion you look in here?" I nodded, my mouth too full of citrusy goodness to speak.

  "That was likely when the Mirage Hex was put on you. Then when you and he," she fluttered her hand vaguely, "did what you said you did, not only was he getting a strong dose of power from you, but he was also sealing in the hex to twist your memory of what you’d just witnessed. He made you see something you were worried about, fearful of. You can’t create an image out of thin air, but if Alastair and I were standing near to one another, he could have used that as a starting point."

  "He read my mind?"

  "The spell read your mind. It’s not quite the same."

  I suddenly felt like my brain needed a good cleaning with a stiff toilet brush.

  "Were there other occurrences when you saw things that didn’t accord with what should have been happening?"

  "Well, not exactly seeing things. More like not seeing things."

  I told them of the missing files and of the scent of Alastair on the drawers where those files should have been.

  "Those were likely just Confounding Charms, perhaps placed on the room itself. They can work on sight and smell. They don’t require as much strength as a Mirage Hex, but neither is the Confounding Charm a simple spell," Olivia said, as if pondering the Mauvais’s tactics. "It shows just how much power he’s gained."

  "If he was already casting the BrainSweeping Charm on Tobey," said Mr. T, "the Mauvais could have also been using him as a spell carrier for the Confounding Charm."

  "Carrier?" I asked.

  "It’s like the virus I told you about. I haven’t heard it being used on an Untrained, but I suppose it’s not impossible. You essentially infect a person with a spell, and it passes to another person. Being in close quarters like the file room would have helped. As does your already being a strong absorber. Another argument for—"

  "I know, I know. Taming my magic."

  "And taming that mistrust," Olivia added. "He may have already known you suspected Alastair, and if he was BrainSweeping Tobey, he would have known what files you were most keen to find. Infect Tobey or the room itself with a form of the Confounding Charm and that would have caused you to see what you expected to see. Or in this case, not see."

  "But what would have been the point of all this trickery? If he wanted me to find him, why not make it as easy as possible?"

  "I can’t guess the Mauvais’s thought processes, but I imagine it was to keep seeding doubts in your mind, to really strike at the heart of your power." As I’d learned, doubt makes a Magic less effective. Magic requires self-confidence, something I’d never been in good supply of. "The Mauvais knows if you trust Alastair, if you dare to care for Alastair, your magic will be indomitable."

  "Love conquers all?"

  "I suppose so, yes. I know it goes completely against your nature, but you need to find a way to trust Alastair, and to gain confidence in his feelings for you. And perhaps yours as well," Olivia added knowingly.

  Trust and confidence. If magic was Popeye, those would be its cans of spinach.

  My stomach twisted as my mind played over the scene of Alastair falling through the window. I had to get him back. And Tobey too. You know, for Mr. Tenpenny’s sake. But this was all getting a bit gushy. A change of subject was in order.

  "And my parents? What will happen with them?"

  "They’re very sick. As we feared, they have been extracted. Luckily, I’ve recently been pushing research on some new techniques that might help. I can’t make any promises, but you did save them. The Mauvais is likely on the run and won’t be foolish enough to return to that building. He abandoned them, which means they would have starved to death within a few days given how thin they are. The unsanctioned extraction aside, he deserves to be punished for keeping any person in the conditions they were."

  "I’ll gladly volunteer to be the first in line for that. I wouldn’t be amiss to a bit of witch burning." Mr. T and Olivia passed distressed looks to each other. Maybe the community was still touchy about the whole send-them-back-to-the-fires-of-hell thing. "What? Too soon?"

  "I think it’s time you know a little more about who you are," Olivia said smoothly.

  "Please don’t tell me I have a magic uncle and six siblings to save too."

  She handed me a slip of rough paper.

  "Read it."

  2 - PROPHECIES & PORTALS

  THE FOLDED SHEET bore the yellowing color of old parchment. Its edges were browned and unevenly trimmed.

  I unfolded the note. At a glance, the script, arranged in six lines of text, was a form of calligraphy with chubby letters and fanciful capitals. The words, which had been written in dark purple ink rather than the traditional black, read:

  Black bird ends the wicked dark.

  Black bird ends the master of time.

  Only the Black will have the heart.

  Only the Black will bring the light.

  When the Black bird reverses, it succeeds.

  And the end of evil a Black bird will bring.

  With every line, my gut churned like an off-balance washing machine. All those quickly hushed references to a prophecy. Of people mentioning something I was meant to do. They couldn’t really believe this crap, right?

  "What is this?"

  "Banna wrote it."

  I placed the paper on desk and pushed it back toward Olivia.

  "Well, she sucks at poetry."

  "She wrote it three hundred years ago," said Olivia. "It was her first."

  I was about to comment that maybe she shouldn’t have rushed to publish her first work, but Mr. Tenpenny was already saying, "Cassie, you don’t understand."

  But I did. I did understand and I did not want the knowledge. The past month had been a whirlwind of learning and of fear and of confused emotions. I did not need another layer added onto that. He must have seen the distress on my face because he stopped talking.

  Olivia, however, kept right on explaining. "Banna has given a fair number of prophecies. Very few have been wrong."

  "So what do you expect me to do now? Find Alastair, rescue Tobey, and then kill the Mauvais because of some stupid piece of paper?"

  "Pretty much," Olivia said cheekily. "But not tonight. Alastair has your strength and we have the watch, so we have a little time." In response to my scolding look, she gave an apologetic half-grin for her accidental play on words.

  "The best course of action will be to find where that portal led," said Mr. T. "We’ll need Runa for that. I’ll put in a call to her straight away."

  For the first time since I’d stepped into her stone-walled, tapestry-lined office, Olivia lost some of her composure. Her cheeks darkened and her hands fidgeted. One might almost think she was flustered.

  "Look," she said after clearing her throat, "I know this is a lot to take in, but we all need some rest, we need a plan, and we need to root out who within our ranks is helping the Mauvais. So, to your room, Cassie. Tomorrow we begin."
/>   * * *

  Despite any sleep I managed to get being plagued by dreams of getting sucked into a black hole that was actually the gaping mouth of Devin Kilbride, things felt oddly normal the following morning. A full English breakfast appeared on my table, Winston stopped by to beg some toast and sausage, and Nigel strolled around the grounds below, speaking to himself and probably reciting his usual historical inaccuracies.

  But there was also an underlying sense of something being off. Even though the population of the Tower was only down by two residents, a new emptiness filled the place.

  And if you ever tell anyone I missed Tobey Tenpenny, I will turn your fingernails into cockroaches. I’m not entirely sure I can do that, but have no doubt, I will try my hardest.

  As soon as I’d finished all but the final bean, the tray of food popped into oblivion and a note on fine stationery took its place. I was to go down to Olivia’s office as soon as possible. Could none of these meetings take place in my room?

  I dressed, I tamed my hair, then I left my room to wind down numerous staircases and wander through endless hallways to reach Olivia’s center of command. Already waiting were Busby, Rafi, and Banna. While the guys wore somber expressions, Banna held her head high. Big Audrey Hepburn sunglasses as dark as the black hole from my dreams covered her eyes and most of her cheeks.

  "Have a seat, Cassie," said Olivia. I took the empty chair next to Rafi rather than the one next to Banna. I knew on some level that everything she had done during my test had been part of protocol, but I still couldn’t forgive her for the viciousness of her testing methods. My skin still ached and itched at the memory of her vacuuming my magic out of me. Without realizing I had ever started, I told myself to stop scratching my forearm.

  "We’ve a couple more that should have already arrived," Olivia continued, "but they can be caught up later. I think our first step is to sort out where the portal may have led to."

  "Actually, I think the first step is for me to ask how my parents are doing. When can I see them?"

  "Simon and Chloe are stable," Mr. T said with cautious warmth. Which meant they were stable, but showing no signs of improvement. "And when the others show up, they will be a big help in determining the long-term prognosis. We’ll go see them as soon as we’re done here."

  From the hallway came heavy steps.

  "That must be them," Rafi said in a tone that seemed far too amused for the situation. He watched Olivia, so my eyes also went to the dusky-skinned woman who could normally have had her picture in the dictionary next to the word "poised." But what I saw, and what was clearly entertaining Rafi, was Olivia pushing her braids over her shoulders, then bringing one cluster back to the front. She was also shifting in her chair, looking for all the world like someone had tossed itching powder into her tights.

  "Mr. Olivia, sir," said Chester in his deep, yet surprisingly soft voice. Rafi shook his head — training Chester out of the habit of calling everyone Mister or Sir had been the bane of his elvish existence. "Runa Dunwiddle and Eugene Morelli are here. You said to let you know when they arrived."

  "Yes, Chester. And if you could now step out of their way, they could indeed arrive," Rafi said gently while making a step-aside motion with his hands.

  "Oh right, sorry."

  Chester moved his bulk out of the doorway and in stepped my landlord, who looked relatively small in comparison to Chester’s broad frame. Close on his heels came the Portland community’s medical maven, pharmaceutical fancier, and Cassie curmudgeon: Dr. Runa Dunwiddle. She was dressed in, I’m not kidding, a black, A-line skirt and a pink blouse with a frill down the front. I struggled to recall having ever seen Runa out of her white lab coat. The image wouldn’t come, but even so, I was pretty sure her usual attire was more jeans and t-shirt than flounces and frills. Even her glasses, which hovered just above her head, gleamed as if they’d been given a recent polish.

  As Rafi thanked Chester, Olivia stammered out a greeting, to which Runa mumbled something about how convenient it was to have the international portal open again in Portland. The doctor then fussed with her skirt before she perched on the seat next to Banna while Morelli plunked down in the chair next to mine.

  "Rent’s due in—"

  "I know," I said through gritted teeth, but when I glanced over at him, he was grinning.

  "So, back to where we left off," said Olivia, who, now that she had an agenda to get to, seemed more her usual self. "Cassie, can you tell us anything about what you saw when Alastair and Tobey fell through the portal?"

  "No, not really. I didn’t even know there was a portal. I expected to find them all smashed to bits on the pavement below." Mr. T winced at that. "I tossed a stapler through, but didn’t see a thing other than the stapler there one second and gone the next. Should I have been able to see inside it?"

  I recalled traveling from Portland to London via Corrine Corrigan’s delivery system portal. I’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Big Ben when it opened, but the only thing I’d seen was darkness.

  "No, the fact you didn’t see anything helps us narrow down what kind of portal it was. That’s part of why we’ve brought in Dr. Dunwiddle. She’s one of the Magics most knowledgeable in portal science. Runa," and here Olivia’s voice cracked slightly, "could you explain?"

  Runa’s round cheeks turned the color of a cayenne pepper, but this didn’t affect her ability to lecture. "Long-distance portals use a different dynamic than short-distance ones. If the Mauvais had traveled to another part of London, or within the U.K., you would have seen something even if it was fuzzy. But your being unable to see inside means he’s crossed at least the Channel if not an ocean."

  "Is there any way to figure out exactly where the portal went?" asked Banna.

  "It’s difficult, but not impossible. With some study of the portal records and various particle signatures, we might be able to figure it out."

  "Particle signatures can be unreliable," Banna noted.

  "And they’ll only tell us where he went first," Rafi said. "Not where he went after that or where he currently is."

  "I didn’t even think about that," I blurted. "They could have traveled anywhere since last night. Merlin’s balls, we’re never going to find them."

  Mr. Tenpenny made a noise almost as if he had indigestion.

  "Thanks for that, Captain Compassion," said Morelli, nudging me with his meaty elbow.

  "Nothing is impossible," Olivia said, bringing us back to order. "We can at least try to narrow down his starting point and perhaps extrapolate from there where he’s headed. Now, the other reason we’ve brought in these two is for their medical expertise. Dr. Dunwiddle and Mr. Morelli can both work toward healing your parents. Chester’s healing abilities have already done excellent work at getting the Starlings’ electrolytes stable and slowing any further damage from malnutrition, but he can’t keep it up without rest. Mr. Morelli can take over whenever Chester needs a break."

  "Wait," I turned to Morelli, "you’re going to be here? What about Mr. Wood?"

  "Don’t worry, I’m not staying. I’m only popping in occasionally as needed. With the Portland portal back open we don’t have to wait for Corrine’s schedule." I recalled having to wait for Chester to open the door when we’d first arrived to the Tower. It seemed like a year ago. "And Wood is doing well. His cast will be removed any day now. The Norm doctors are scratching their heads over his bone-knitting capabilities," he added with a knowing grin.

  I can’t say Morelli was my favorite half-troll on the planet, but I did appreciate his dedication to helping and healing my boss. I hoped that would be a point in my favor when Mr. Wood had to choose between me and Daisy, who had usurped my job duties while I was busy taming my magic, fighting off evil, and well, misplacing people.

  "As for you, Cassie. There’s still the matter of you failing your test."

  I couldn’t help but groan. What with all the parent rescuing, wizard f
ighting, and people losing I’d nearly forgotten I was supposed to be extracted. My test with Banna the Hoover supposedly proved that I couldn’t control my power and was therefore a threat to Magics everywhere. As such, the only solution anyone could come up with was to extract me. Personally, I didn’t think that showed much creative problem solving on the part of HQ, but no one had asked my opinion. The extraction must be the third reason Runa was here, and why she was dressed so finely. Getting rid of me must be like Christmas, her birthday, and graduation day all rolled into one big celebration.

  "More than one Magic has argued your case." Olivia glanced between Morelli and Busby. A pit formed in my gut at the thought of the third person who should have received her knowing look, the one other person who had spoken up for me: Alastair. "But the matter has not been fully settled. However, under the circumstances, I have demanded a stay in the ruling. One, I think we are going to need your power in the coming days. Two, from what you reported last night, we can no longer deny that someone has been passing the Mauvais magic. If we extract you, I worry that power would be too easy to hand over to the Mauvais in one convenient package."