13. Fulguratus-2
1763 Words
It took more than three hours for Jacob to finish the professor’s test. He lit the room, made water froth, changed the color of the professor’s clothing, and created a shield spell strong enough to block the pennies the professor tossed at him. He finished the test hungry and tired, but proud of himself.
“Well done, Jacob.” Professor Eames clapped as Jacob levitated a pencil from the desk into his hand. “Well done, indeed! I must say I am very impressed. Isadora will be pleased. Why don’t we go and brag about your progress over lunch, and then we can spend the afternoon working outside. I have quite the treat planned for you.”
Everyone had already started eating when they took their seats at the large dining room table.
“Well, everyone,” the professor said jovially, helping himself to a large portion of pasta salad, “Jacob has just done very well on his first test.”
“That is wonderful, Jacob,” Iz said.
Emilia smiled at Jacob from across the table, while Connor, who sat next to him, reached over and patted him on the back.
“I knew you weren’t going to be completely useless,” Connor said with a grin.
The only people who didn’t seem happy about Jacob’s success were Dexter, which was to be expected, and Claire, who was uncharacteristically silent and dressed in black. Jacob had never before seen Claire without some shade of pink in her clothing.
Emilia followed Jacob’s gaze. “Don’t mind her.” She fixed Claire with a disapproving stare. “She’s pouting.”
“I am not pouting,” Claire replied, her voice clipped and her nose in the air. “I am in mourning.”
“Claire lost her computer privileges for the next month,” Iz said, passing the cranberry juice. “Her computer is locked in my office, and she is not to borrow anyone else’s.”
“But I need my laptop,” Claire groaned. “I’m not whole without it.” She tipped her head all the way back and stared at the ceiling, crossing her arms tightly.
“Then you should stop trying to hack into other people’s computer files and learn to mind your own business.” Dexter shook his fork at Claire.
Claire pounded both fists on the table. “I didn’t try to hack into anything. I succeeded. And maybe I was doing something really nice and important.”
Dexter laughed. “Of course you were. What were you trying to do, find a way to buy next month’s clothes today? That is very important.”
Tears glistened in the corners of Claire’s eyes. “What would you know about doing something nice?”
“Children,” Iz said, a quiet warning in her voice.
“I didn’t start it. Wonder Woman over there did.” Claire crossed her arms in front of her face and sang the Wonder Woman theme song.
Jacob grinned, and Emilia dipped her head toward her plate to hide her smile. Dexter fumed in his seat, twisting the cuffs on his wrists. Somehow his anger made the Wonder Woman cracks twice as funny.
“I think I’ve finished eating now.” Dexter stood. “Thank you for lunch, Molly.” He strode quickly from the room.
Everyone else finished eating in silence.
“We should go outside for our afternoon lesson now, Jacob.” The professor rubbed his hands together as Molly cleared away the plates. “I do think you will enjoy it.”
They went outside onto the sun kissed lawn.
Dexter lay in the grass next to, what appeared to be, a giant, floating dartboard.
“Ah, Dexter,” Professor Eames said as Dexter sat up lazily, “thank you for joining us.” He went over to the dartboard and rapped on it. “Good, feels nice and sturdy.” He turned to Jacob with a smile. “Today we are going to work on Lightning Darts, or Shards as some call them. It is a very simple offensive device, and this”―he patted the dartboard―“will help with your aim. No talisman, for now. We don’t want the darts to get too powerful.”
Dexter pulled off his cuffs and laid them carefully on the grass next to his phone. He grinned at Jacob before standing up and facing the dartboard. “Fulguratus.” A small, silver lightning bolt appeared in his hand. It crackled and sparked like real lightning, but it didn’t burn Dexter as he rolled it through his fingers. Then, in one fluid motion, he threw the lightning at the board. It struck the very center, leaving a tiny singe mark. “Bull’s eye.”
“Very good, Dexter.” The professor beamed. “I thought it might be nice for you to have someone to practice with, Jacob, and Dexter is fond of this game.”
“Great.” Jacob tried to sound enthusiastic.
The professor nodded fervently. “Now, the spell to create the bolt is fulguratus. And to formulate the energy, I want you to picture a lightning bolt in your hand. You must picture the shape of the bolt very clearly, then fill it in with your energy. Go on, have a try.”
Jacob flexed his right hand and tried to picture a lightning bolt. He imagined the zigzag edges and the bright light it would emanate. “Fulguratus.” For a moment, the center of his hand shone with a white light. Jacob jumped, so shocked by his success his concentration faltered, and the light faded.
“Very good,” the professor said.
Dexter, however, looked unimpressed.
“Try again, try again,” the professor said.
Trying again would have been a lot easier without Dexter standing there judging him. Jacob shook his hand and tried to focus. He pictured the lightning bolt crackling with energy in his palm. “Fulguratus.”
This time the bolt stayed, and as he watched, it turned into a real, tangible object that was both cool and smooth in his hand. Jacob ran his thumb along its edge, the energy of the shard humming through his skin.
The professor clapped and cheered. “Now throw it at the board!”
Jacob took careful aim and threw the sparking, shimmering bolt at the target, missing the center by inches.
“Haha! Wonderful.” Professor Eames laughed. “It looks like you might have some competition, Dexter.”
Dexter glowered. He placed his hand in the air, palm up, and a bolt appeared without incantation. “I always enjoy competition.”
They spent the next hour practicing with the dartboard. Jacob improved rapidly. Gym class had finally come in handy. All those years of dodgeball had taught him something about hand-eye coordination.
“Excellent!” the professor exclaimed as Jacob hit his first perfect bull’s eye. “Now all you need is to work on formulating the bolt more quickly.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Jacob said, wishing the library window faced the garden. Then Emilia would have been able to watch his success.
“Joseph,” Molly called from the veranda. It took Jacob a moment to realize she meant Professor Eames. “Joseph, I would like to speak to you inside, please.” Molly hurried toward them. She was pale, and her forehead was lined with creases.
“Is everyone all right?” Jacob asked. With so much magic in the house, it was always possible for someone to get struck by a badly aimed spell.
“Yes, yes everyone is fine, boys. Professor, now please.” Molly took Professor Eames by the arm and led him back to the house.
Jacob moved to follow them inside, but Dexter stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“Done already?” Dexter asked. “We could keep playing. We could even spar.”
“Spar?” Jacob asked, his hackles rising at the tone in Dexter’s voice.
“The board is only for target practice, and you seem to be doing well enough with that. So we might as well spar.”
“I don’t think Professor Eames would like that.” Jacob pushed past him toward the house.
“That was the plan for today anyway. He had me come out here so we could spar. Unless you feel uncomfortable without the babysitter.” Dexter sneered.
Heat rose in his chest as he turned to face Dexter. “Fine. We’ll spar. What do we do?”
“Stay.” Dexter pointed to Jacob as though he were a badly behaved dog before striding twenty feet away. Then, without any warning, he turned back to Jacob and shot a lightning bolt straight into his stomach.
Jacob fell to the ground with a grunt as if he’d been kicked by an angry centaur. All of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.
Dexter paced in front of the target. “Now it’s your turn.” Dexter watched as Jacob struggled to his feet. “Really, you should go immediately after me, but that’s all right. I don’t mind waiting.”
Jacob formed a shard in his hand. He focused and threw it straight at Dexter, but Dexter threw a bolt of his own, which knocked Jacob’s to the ground, singeing a patch of grass.
Dexter laughed. “Blocking is fundamental. I’m sure you’ll pick it up.” He threw a bolt into Jacob’s knee, which buckled and sent him back to the ground. “Eventually,” Dexter added with a grin.
Jacob didn’t bother standing up before forming a bolt of his own, which grazed Dexter’s shoulder but didn’t stop his laughing.
“Emilia will be proud.” Dexter brushed the embers off his shoulder.
“You must really hate that I turned out to be a wizard after all,” Jacob said as he heaved himself up off the ground. “Bet you thought I would never show up.”
“On the contrary,” Dexter said, casually throwing a lightning shard from hand to hand, “if she had never seen you again, Emilia would have spent the rest of her life hating herself for leaving you. Now you’re here, and the guilt is gone. There are no more what ifs. Emilia can truly be mine.”
Jacob didn’t reply, but Dexter correctly interpreted his silence.
“Oh, I know you’ll fight for her.” Dexter laughed as he sent another lightning shard into Jacob’s stomach. “But I’ll win.”
“Dexter!” a voice shouted from the patio. Connor ran toward them. “What the hell?” He stopped next to Jacob, who was doubled over from the last blow. “You all right?”
“Fine,” Jacob grunted. “Dexter was just teaching me about sparring.”
“Well, if Aunt Iz finds out about this, Dexter will be in it so deep he won’t be sparring for a long time.” Connor glared at Dexter.
“It was all in good fun,” Dexter said with an easy smile. “Not my fault he doesn’t know how to play. And you had best watch your mouth. Lavlui.” Soap bubbles appeared in Dexter’s hand, and he threw them at Connor before striding to the house, whistling.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Connor asked as soon as Dexter was out of earshot. “Emilia will fry him for this. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s always been a―” He used a word that made Jacob laugh.
“Don’t let Molly hear you saying that,” Jacob warned.
Connor shrugged. “But Dexter’s never been like this.”
“Don’t tell Emilia,” Jacob said. “I can manage Dexter myself.”
“Okay, but why don’t you spar with me for a while? I won’t go easy on you, but at least I’m not a psycho.”
- Writer
