The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2)

The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2) Page 46

You've been a tough little bastard, Leicester had said. Now we'll find out just how tough you are. Fragments of nightmares came back to him, like jagged glass beneath his skin. They'd come close to taking him at the river; they might succeed the next time.

I know where you live, Barber had said. We'll find Linda Downey and her sister, Rebecca. We'll find your girl. We'll find your warrior friend. And, in the end, we'll find you.

Seph paused in the stairwell and readied his weapons.

His right hand found the knife under his T-shirt, and he slipped it out into his hand. He pulled the bottle from his pocket, yanked the stopper, and daubed the blade liberally with the contents. Mercedes Foster had warned him that it was more potent than the venom of any snake, and undetectable by Anaweir medicine. Carefully, he slid the knife back into its sheath. Returning the bottle to his pocket, he groped for the portal at his neck. He knew better than to engage Leicester directly. He would wait, unnoticed, like a viper in the grass, for the headmaster to come within reach of his sting.

Unnoticeable Seph emerged from the stairwell and walked quickly down the hall toward the end, where he knew 210 must be.

“Seph! Seph McCauley, is that you?”

He spun around, clutching for the knife, his breath catching in his throat. His first thought was that the always reliable unnoticeable charm hadn't worked.

But no. It was Madison Moss in a long skirt and sleeveless cotton sweater and little strappy sandals, her exuberant hair gathered into a net studded with rhinestones. His heart stuttered at the sight of her. She bore down on him, as beautiful and dangerous as a summer storm over the lake. It seemed that Madison was as impervious to unnoticeable charms as to other forms of wizardry.

“Where have you been?” she hissed. “I've left messages, I've stopped by your house …”

He raised his hands as if he could hold her off. “Madison, we can't. This isn't a good time.”

“Well, I guess there is no good time. I thought we were friends. If this is about what happened at the river, I think I have the right to make my own choices.”

She kept coming forward, and he backed away until she had him penned in a little alcove at the end of the hall. Desperate to stop the flow of words, he gripped her wrist and pulled her toward him, pressing his hand over her mouth. “Listen, some of those people we saw at the river are right here at the inn. They'd like nothing better than to finish what they started.”

Madison broke away from him and looked up and down the hallway. Then she moved closer to him and lowered her voice. “Then why are you here?” Her voice tremored a bit.

A question that Seph could not answer. He gripped her elbows. “They won't notice me. I'll be fine unless you give me away.”

She blinked at him. “You expect me to believe you're invisible? Right.” But she sounded a little unsure of herself.

Then he heard footsteps. He looked over Madison's shoulder and saw someone tall and angular striding toward them down the hall, like an avenging spirit.

It was Leander Hastings.

Seph nodded toward Hastings. “He's looking for me. Please don't say anything.” And he faded back into the alcove.

Madison did not turn around. She advanced to the window and pretended to look out, resting her hands on the sill. Hastings came on, scanning the room numbers to either side. He paused when he came to 210, turned aside, put his ear to the door, and knocked. There was no response. He straightened and stood, watching Madison for a moment.

“Excuse me.” She winced when he spoke, then turned toward him, gripping her skirts on either side. “Have you seen a young man about your age, tall and thin, dark curly hair?” Hastings lodged himself in the entrance to the alcove, effectively preventing escape.

“No, sir, I haven't.” She looked up at him, eyes bright, color high. “If he's a guest at the inn, you could check at the front desk.” Her eyes flicked quickly toward Seph, as if to verify that he was still there. Then back to Hastings.

“He's not a guest, though I have reason to believe he might have come up here. He passed by the front desk not ten minutes ago.” Hastings leaned against the doorframe, frowning.

Madison shrugged. “Haven't seen him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Hasting didn't move. He searched the alcove with his eyes, then looked back at Madison. She glanced again at Seph. He shook his head, putting his finger to his lips. Hastings reached into his trouser pocket, drew out a small pouch, fumbled it open, then suddenly flung its contents toward Seph. It was a light, glittery powder, and it coalesced around Seph like a halo. Hastings groped into the middle of it, his fingers closing on the chain around Seph's neck. The links dissolved under the wizard's touch, and the dyrne sefa fell free.

Unnoticeable Seph was noticeable once again.

“So.” Hastings retrieved the dyrne sefa and put it into his pocket. Then dropped a heavy hand onto Seph's shoulder, spun him around, and slammed him up against the wall. “I noticed at Becka's that you were wearing a heartstone. You've obviously learned how to use it.” His eyes were cold and green as the ice that forms on the deepest lakes in Canada. “Who are you looking for, Seph?” the wizard said. “Perhaps I can help you.”

It was hard to speak and hard not to, with all that wizard pressure on him.

“Tell me,” Hastings said softly. “Are you still looking for the Dragon?” His hand pressed lightly against Seph's windpipe, vibrating with power. Even the slight pressure made it difficult to breathe.

“I'm … I'm looking for Gregory Leicester,” Seph whispered faintly.

“You're looking for your master, then? Have something to tell him, do you?”

“You … leave … him … alone, do you hear me?”

In the heat of the moment, Seph had nearly forgotten Madison. Now Hastings and Seph both turned to look at her. Seph blinked to clear his vision and Hastings even loosened his grip slightly.

She grabbed Seph's arm. Power slid through Seph like hot metal through flesh, from Hastings to Madison, scouring Seph's brain of coherent thought. Seph fell, breaking the connection between them, landing awkwardly on his side.

Swearing softly, Maddie knelt next to Seph, cradling his head in her arms. Seph wanted to reassure her, but he could find no words. All he could do was gape at her.

She was angry. That was the first thing he noticed. But if the glitter powder revealed Seph's power like an aura, it layered her in shadow. It feathered her arms as she moved, shrouded her glittering hair, rendering her insubstantial as a spirit, a negative image to Seph's positive.

Hastings sat slumped against the wall, breathing hard, similarly incapacitated. He squinted at Madison and shook his head. “An elicitor,” he whispered. “You must be. I didn't think they really existed.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, but if you hurt him again, I'll …” She extended her hands toward Hasting, who drew back hastily, as if afraid of being burnt, still staring at Madison in wonder.

“Well, well. What am I interrupting, here?”

Like coconspirators, they looked up as one. Gregory Leicester stood in the entry to the alcove, holding an ice bucket that dripped condensation. He looked from Seph and Madison to Hastings, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“We were just talking about you, Gregory,” Leander Hastings said, sounding somehow collected in spite of his position on the floor. He looked from Leicester to Seph as if trying to discern the links between them.

“Perhaps you would care to come in and have a drink, Leander,” Leicester offered. “I was about to have one myself. You could celebrate your victory today.”

“It wasn't my victory,” Hastings said, rising to his feet. “There is considerable support for the new constitution on the council.”

“But you spoke eloquently on its behalf. Though why you want to empower hedge prophets, enchanters, and warriors, I haven't a clue.” He might have said slime, vermin, and scum of the earth.

“I don't know what you think you're giving up. Other than the ability to push people around.”

“Then you won't join me for that drink?” Leicester seemed to notice Seph for the first time. “Hello, Joseph. Warren tells me he ran into you at the park the other day.”

Seph extracted himself from Maddie's embrace and stood. “You stay away from me, and tell Barber and the others to do the same. Or no one walks away next time.”

“And yet, here you are, lurking outside my door.” Leicester glanced at Hastings, as if expecting him to intervene. “Perhaps you've finally realized that you belong with us.”

“I'm never going back.”

“We'll see.” The wizard looked over Seph's shoulder at Madison. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Reverberating with anger, Madison tried to push forward, but Seph stuck out his arm to prevent her.

“You stay away from her,” Seph said.

“Never mind. I know how to find her. Madison, isn't it? Such an unusual name.” Leicester turned away, shifting the bucket into the crook of his arm and fitting his key into the lock.

Seph groped for his knife, slid it free, and lunged toward Leicester. Hastings reached around from behind and gripped his wrist, dragging him back, wrapping the other arm around his body, increasing the pressure and power until Seph's hand went numb and the knife thudded on the carpet. Hastings covered it with his foot.

Hastings held Seph immobile until the oblivious Leicester entered his room and shut the door. Hastings scooped up the knife and, gripping the back of Seph's neck, propelled him down the hall to Room 206. He unlocked the door and pushed him inside. Madison followed them in and pulled the door shut behind her.

The room seemed an odd setting for Hastings: fussy with fabrics and Victorian touches, furnished with antiques of mixed heritage. The window opened to a view of the lake. A suitcase lay open on one of the beds. A small table was drawn up by the window, littered with the debris of a meeting: cups, saucers, glasses, and papers.