Emerson’s Story

Chapter 11

Eleven

“It’s lovely that the two of you arrived at the same time and can learn together,” Azzy says to Aurora and me as the two of us sit side by side at a library table the following morning. “It doesn’t often happen that way.”

Aurora says nothing, so I decide to say nothing too. I doubt either of us thinks there’s anything ‘lovely’ about this situation. In fact, I’m surprised she’s still here. She seemed so desperate last night; I thought she’d have found a way to escape the house while the rest of us were sleeping. But she was sitting at the dining room table when I got there this morning, frowning at her plate. She didn’t look up once during breakfast.

“Right, then,” Azzy says. “I’m going to explain glamours this morning, and after that we’ll move outside to try some basic magic before lunch. No need to run away this time, Em,” she adds with a chuckle. I sense Aurora’s eyes on me, and I make a determined effort not to meet her gaze. “Then perhaps later, Em,” Azzy says, “you can give me any information you think might be helpful in finding your real family. And you too, Aurora.”

Icy apprehension shoots through my veins. I’ve been trying to ignore the idea that I have another family out there somewhere. It makes me sick every time I remember Mom isn’t actually my mother. “Um …”

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” Azzy adds quickly.

“I’m interested,” Aurora says, which is surprising enough to make me look her way. I wonder what game she’s playing, or if she might possibly be serious. Perhaps she hopes to discover something useful about her family before fleeing Chevalier House.

“Azzy?” I look around as Paul walks into the library. “I’ve just received the guardians’ report.” He waves a rolled-up piece of paper. “They didn’t find anything suspicious.”

“Suspicious about what?” Aldo asks. He’s reading alone at another table in the library while George works on some practical skills outside. “Did something happen?”

“The security enchantments picked up something outside our gate in the early evening yesterday,” Paul explains. “The Guild was alerted, and a couple of guardians came to check things out. They told us they didn’t find anything, but they left someone stationed out there for the night anyway.”

“Do you think … maybe … it was the Griffin rebels?” Aldo says. “They hate the Guild, so they would hate us too, right?”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Azzy says with a smile. “And Paul,” she adds in a low voice, though we can all still hear her, “I don’t think it’s necessary to scare the students.”

“But we have a right to know what’s going on, don’t we?” Aldo protests. “If there’s a threat, we should know about it.”

“Nothing is going on,” Azzy assures him. “The Griffin rebels have absolutely no reason to attack us. We have nothing to do with them.”

I look over at Aurora. Her violet eyes meet mine, and her eyebrows rise the tiniest bit, as if to say, See? I told you something’s going on here.

“Enough about that,” Azzy says, clapping her hands together. “Aurora, do you know what a glamour is?”

Startled, Aurora swings back to face Azzy. “Not really. The witches didn’t tell me anything about them.”

The next hour passes with Azzy explaining glamours of all types, from the simple kind I’m supposed to be able to cast over myself without even thinking about it, to the immensely complex kind that conceal buildings inside trees so they’re hidden from view. I realize that this is probably what Dash was referring to when he spoke about tree houses, and it’s impossible to wrap my mind around the concept. A whole house full of space hidden inside one tree trunk? How the freaking heck?

“Magic makes the impossible possible,” Azzy says, which doesn’t seem like much of an explanation to me.

Something tickles my ankle. I look down, twitching involuntarily when I see a grasshopper clinging to the bottom of my jeans. I’m about to swat it away when it flickers, drops to the floor, seems to kind of bulge out, and becomes a frog. “Seriously?” I whisper. “Leave me alone.”

“Em?” Azzy asks, pausing in the middle of a description of exactly what happened to one of the Guilds years ago when its glamour magic was destroyed. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yes. Just a frog.”

“Oh, it must have hopped in from outside. I’m sure it’ll find its way back out. Now, shall we try some magic?”

Excitement pulses through me as we follow Azzy into the garden. Be patient, I instruct myself. Don’t get frustrated. You can do this. We stop near a three-tiered fountain. I rub my hands up and down my arms. “It’s a little cold to practice outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Aurora murmurs. No doubt she’s feeling it worse than I am. I’ve at least got jeans on; she’s wearing a long skirt and open sandals.

“Nonsense.” Azzy turns to face us. “As long as the fountain hasn’t iced over, it isn’t too cold. Besides, the low temperature will help motivate you to learn how to keep yourself warm with magic.”

“If we don’t freeze to death first,” I mutter.

“Young people,” Azzy mutters as she flicks her hand toward a bench on the other side of the fountain. “Always so dramatic.” A retort rises to my tongue, but it freezes there as I watch the bench slide around the fountain and come to a halt behind Azzy. She sits, folds her hands together on her knees, and looks at us. “I’d like you to start by drawing magic from your core. Aurora, you said you’re already familiar with how to do this?”

“Um, yes. I practiced on my own whenever I wasn’t being watched.”

“Wonderful. Em, you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Yay,” I mutter. “I always love it when teachers pit students against each other to try get them to perform better.”

Azzy sits a little straighter and brushes something non-existent off her sleeve. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Can we just get on with this?” Aurora asks quietly. I look over and see that she’s already holding a glowing sphere of magic above her palms.

Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and repeat Azzy’s instructions from yesterday. I have to stop and refocus three times before I produce a visible mass of magic, but after I’ve done it once, I can repeat it several times without a problem. “Okay,” I say, almost giddy with elation as I hold my own power in my hands. “What’s next?”

“Fire,” Azzy says with a gleam in her eyes. She pulls a scrap of paper from the folds of her loose clothing and draws something on it with her stylus, using the bench to press against. Almost immediately, three long, slender candles push their way up out of the paper.

“How did you—”

“That’s a lesson for another day.” She stands. “Here’s a candle for each of you. Now that you can call on your magic at will, I want you to shape it into a flame.” She holds the third candle up in front of her face. “Some spells require written words, and some require spoken words. Some require both, or a specific movement of the hands. What we’re going to do now requires a spoken word only—and of course, the subconscious nudging of your magic toward the candle.”

She makes it sound easy, this ‘subconscious nudging,’ but I’m guessing it’s one of those things that takes loads of practice and effort before it becomes instinctive.

“Repeat after me,” Azzy says. She utters a strange word I’ve never heard before, then blows gently at the candle. A flame flickers to life.

Aurora starts practicing, and of course she gets it right on her third try. I, however, blow again and again and nothing happens. I try different ways of speaking the magical word, changing the emphasis from the first syllable to the last, but it makes no difference.

“Stop,” Azzy says eventually. “I don’t think you’re sending any magic toward the candle at all. Don’t forget that part. Pull on your magic, speak the word, and then imagine blowing that power out of your mouth and straight at the candle.

I do as she says. And nothing happens.

My patience snaps. I throw the candle onto the grass. “I don’t understand. I managed to rip the ground apart without even trying, and now I can’t even light a candle.”

“That was different—”

“I know it was different. It was easy and it was English. This is … just … stupid words that don’t make sense.”

“Em,” Azzy says, and her voice carries a warning tone.

“No, seriously. The other night I just said something and it happened.”

“Emerson.”

“Why can’t I just keep doing that?” I bend and scoop the candle up. Holding it high, I say, “Candle, start burning.” Nothing happens. “Start burning!” I shout. Still nothing. I swing around and point at the tree. “Fall over!” Nothing. I face the fountain. “Break into a hundred pieces and put yourself back together!” A shiver ripples up my spine, and I realize those last words sounded oddly distant and yet weirdly resonant at the same time.

The fountain vibrates. Cracks form across the tiers and splinter rapidly outwards.

A pause.

Silence.

Then the entire fountain explodes.

Aurora screams as water and pieces of stone fly outward. Suddenly, we’re both flat on the ground. I force my head up to see what’s happening. The stone pieces freeze, reverse, and fly straight back to their starting point, all joining together perfectly. I suck in a breath as the last c***k vanishes, returning the fountain to its exact original form.

More silence.

Then Aurora scoots backward across the ground. “That’s not normal,” she gasps. “That is so not normal.”

“I did it,” I murmur. “I used magic.”

“That wasn’t magic,” Azzy whispers.

I twist around to look at her. “What do you mean?”

Slowly she shakes her head. “Not normal magic. Not the kind of magic the rest of us have.”

I look past her and find Paul and the remainder of the students standing a few feet away, their expressions all frozen in shock. “I’ll get hold of the Guild,” Paul says quietly.

“Why?” I push myself onto my feet. “What did I do? What’s wrong?”

Aurora stands, and Azzy looks between the two of us. “You’re lucky I got you both onto the ground so quickly. You might have been badly hurt otherwise.”

“Answer me,” I say to her, and again, that strange ripple rushes up my spine.

Azzy jolts. Abruptly, and almost robotically, she says, “I’ve never seen magic like that before. No faerie should be able to do what you just did. I suspect you have a Griffin Ability. Paul’s contacting the Guild now, and they’ll probably send someone here immediately to test you. What happens next is up to them.” Her voice cuts off abruptly, and she slaps a hand over her mouth as if to stop anymore words tumbling out. Then she breathes out slowly and lowers her hand. “Don’t do that again. Don’t speak again.”

“But I—”

“Emerson,” she interrupts. “Your voice is dangerous. Please don’t speak again until a Guild member is here.”

A chill races across my skin, followed by a flush of heat. Anxiety tightens my stomach. This is all going wrong. I’m supposed to learn magic and then go home. I’m not supposed to be in trouble with the Guild. I’m not supposed to be one of those dangerous superpowered faeries everyone seems to hate.

“Come, let’s go inside.” Azzy takes my arm and leads me toward the house. I think about fighting her, about pushing her away and running, but I’m overcome by exhaustion all of a sudden. My arms hang weakly at my sides, and a wave of dizziness passes through me. It’s gone by the time we reach the entrance hall, but I still feel too drained to think about running anywhere.

Azzy ushers everyone out of the room, then hurries off to another part of the house, leaving me alone in the entrance hall with Paul. He stands with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, not once removing his eyes from me. Azzy reappears a minute or two later with a mug in her hand. “You’re tired, I know,” she says quietly. “This will help you regain your strength.” Paul frowns, but he doesn’t stop Azzy from handing the mug to me.

I take a hesitant sip, then keep drinking until the thick, chocolatey liquid is finished. It’s sweet and warm and comforting, and I begin feeling stronger almost immediately. I place the mug on the table and look at Azzy. “There must be a mistake, right? I can’t possibly have one of those Griffin Ability things. What happened out there … that was just uncontrolled magic or something. Right?”

“You shouldn’t be speaking,” Paul says.

“Because I have a dangerous voice? That’s absurd. I’m sure there’s another explanation for—”

“Em, stop,” Azzy says. “Please. I think it’s safer if you say nothing.”

At that moment, the front door of Chevalier House swings open and two figures stride in. A woman I don’t recognize, and—

“Dash,” I say the moment I see him. It’s weird, but I’m actually relieved he’s here.

“Emerson,” the woman says, staring me down with eyes that appear to be almost bronze in color. She’s dressed in a well-tailored pants suit, and her hair is pulled back tightly in a bun. I can’t figure out her expression. It definitely isn’t a smile, but it isn’t fear or wariness or anger. “I’m Head Councilor Ashlow. Why didn’t you tell us you could perform unnatural magic?”

I throw my hands up, because this is becoming too much now. “You’re kidding, right? All magic is unnatural to me! I only just discovered it exists! How was I supposed to know that saying something and then having it happen is considered unusual in this world?”

“Not just unusual. Impossible.”

“Well … exactly. How was I supposed to know that?”

She breathes out sharply and extends her closed hand toward me. Her fingers uncurl to reveal a bright green pill sitting on her palm. “Councilor Waterfield should have tested you the first day you arrived in this world. She shouldn’t have let you—” she pins her gaze on Dash for a moment “—talk her out of it.”

Dash frowns. “I hope you’re not suggesting I intentionally kept this information from you, Councilor Ashlow. I had no idea Griffin magic was involved.”

“I’m not sure what to think right now.” She looks at me again. “Take the pill, Emerson.”

Something tells me that disobeying isn’t an option, so I take the pill and place it on my tongue. It dissolves quickly. Dash’s eyes rove over me, his expression darkening. I look down at myself, and my heart misses a beat or two when I see my body glowing faintly green. “So it’s true,” Dash says. “She’s one of them.”

“And you didn’t know?”

“Of course not. I would have reported it immediately if I suspected she had a Griffin Ability. It’s my job to protect our world from people like her.” He almost spits out that last word, and for a moment I consider spitting right back at him. But then he wraps his iron-like grip around my upper arm and begins steering me toward the door, and my hatred of him is quickly replaced by ice-cold fear.

“What are you—but I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not one of those Griffin rebels. I don’t want to attack people. Surely you can’t hold me responsible for crimes I’ve never committed, or crimes that you think I might possibly commit in the future.”

“We can, actually,” Councilor Ashlow says as we reach the door. “Our laws state that the world needs to be protected from people like you. In some cases, that means tagging and tracking you. Knowing your whereabouts and activities at all times. In extreme cases, it means limiting your freedom. The Council will need to meet to discuss your case, but I’m in no doubt, Emerson, that they will find it extreme indeed. I’m sorry.” She doesn’t look sorry, though. If anything, she seems excited by the fact that she’s just apprehended another Griffin Gifted faerie.

“But … this … how did it even happen?” I ask, trying to stall, trying to come up with a way out of this. “Those magical discs … no, that can’t be right. They haven’t been around for years. So—”

“Both your parents must have been Griffin Gifted,” Councilor Ashlow says. “That’s the only explanation.”

“Wait,” I say as she opens the door. “Wait, please. What does limiting my freedom mean?”

“It means you’ll be kept somewhere,” Dash answers, forcing me out onto the top step.

“Kept?”

“Yes, like a safe house kind of thing.”

I stop walking and manage to tug my arm free of his grip. “So a prison.”

Dash looks back at me. “It isn’t like that, Em. No one wants you to be a prisoner. It’s just that you’re dangerous, so you can’t be set loose, either in this world or the human one. Surely you understand that.”

I force back the ache in my throat and the tears pricking behind my eyes. I clench my teeth together and say, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you. It’s probably the best entertainment you’ve had in ages. You’ve never liked me, and now you get to see me locked up. You’re doing to me what you did to my mother.”

His eyes narrow and he opens his mouth, but Councilor Ashlow interrupts with a groan. “All this unnecessary drama. Just get on with it.” She pulls the door shut and heads past us down the stairs. Dash tugs me against his side and forces me to follow her.

“Firstly,” he says quietly, “you’re the one who doesn’t like me. And secondly, this has nothing to do with anyone liking anyone else. You’re a threat, so we have to take precautions. That’s it.”

“But I’m not a threat!” My emotions are dangerously close to the surface all of a sudden, and I take a moment to swallow them down. “I mean, not intentionally. I didn’t choose to be this way. This isn’t fair.”

He’s quiet for so long that I assume he’s now ignoring me. But as we walk out of the gate and find Councilor Ashlow opening a faerie paths doorway, he says, “Life isn’t fair, Em. You already know that.”

Councilor Ashlow looks back at us as the dark hole in the air grows larger. “Hurry up,” she says. “We need to get to the Guild.”

Dash’s grip on my arm tightens, but he walks forward without hesitation. “Don’t think about anything,” he says as we step into the darkness. “It’ll confuse the faerie paths, and that won’t end well for any of us.”

I struggle to quiet my racing thoughts, but I must somehow manage to do a good enough job, because soon, light materializes ahead of us. We walk into a small room where a man in a uniform behind an elaborately carved wooden desk greets us. I remember Dash saying something about a grand entrance transforming from a tree, but he must have been referring to a different part of the Guild because the only impressive thing in this room is the desk.

“This way,” Councilor Ashlow says, gesturing to an open door on our right. Dash pushes me through it, and my mouth drops open at the site of an enormous foyer with a wide, sweeping staircase on the opposite side and glittering chandelier lights hanging here and there. My darting eyes take in men and women in dark clothing, hair of every color, gleaming white floors and twirling patterns etched into the walls—before an alarm begins shrieking in my ears.

“It’s okay,” Councilor Ashlow says, holding a hand up to halt the people who race toward her. “We’re already aware of the Griffin Ability. I’m taking her to the detainment area now.”

Get out, my brain says as my panicked thoughts return in full force. Get out of here! But I don’t know how. What did I do the other day when the cops were trying to take me away? I must have used my Griffin Ability, but I have no idea how.

I sense Dash watching me. “I’m going to let go of you now,” he says. “Can you behave?”

I nod as his grip loosens and his arm slides away from mine. Then I shove him as hard as I can and run.