10
again
It was a wonder she’d made it up to her room later that night, Sera mused. Her feet were like icicles, and every step jolted pain up her body. Not to mention, the memory of Mrs. Fairfax standing at the window nudged her stomach with wrongness. Something wasn’t right with the woman, of that Sera was sure.
She opened her door and upon encountering the folded white note at her feet, both the cold and worry over Mrs. Fairfax vanished. Dropping her cloak, boots, and dreaded book, Sera collapsed before the letter, struggling to unfold it with trembling hands.
9:00 in the evening.
Like the previous notes, a flame sparked on the edge and quickly consumed the page. Sera held it cupped in her hands, glad for the warmth and that the crystal ball had been right about one thing. Barrington was still in her future.
…
Two hours later and curled beneath her blanket, Sera flipped through the Water-level spell book she’d borrowed from Mary some weeks before. Though her position with Barrington and his subsequent referral would help her take the assessment, whether or not she passed the entrance exam was entirely up to her, a feat made more difficult after missing the first two years of school. With the entrance exam being a cumulative test, surely Water and Earth levels would be covered. But Sera sighed. Of all the Water-level topics, healing had proven to be the most frustrating to grasp, especially tonight with partially numb fingers and an empty stomach. She glanced at her cut palms. She couldn’t even manage to heal herself. Breaking things was much easier than fixing them.
“This is impossible,” she muttered, glancing at the clock. She gritted her teeth. In a little under an hour, she was to meet Barrington, and Mary still hadn’t arrived. She was never late.
Timothy’s question filtered through Sera’s mind.
Is there hope?
Worry drummed her pulse. Did Mary find out about her and Timothy’s meeting in the library, about his secret affections and desires?
There was a light rap on the door. Pushing aside her blankets, Sera struggled to her feet and moved to the entryway, her movements stiff, as cold lingered in her bones and toes.
She pulled the door open.
“Dearest!” Mary swept into the room and threw her arms around Sera, her scent of honeysuckle filling Sera’s nostrils. “I was so worried; I could barely concentrate in the infirmary. Nurse was even concerned, but I lied and told her I was hungry so that I could get you this.” She pulled away and stuffed her hands into her cloak pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Within was a chunk of bread and cheese. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Sera’s heart twisted, guilt threatening to swallow her whole. Oh, her sweet, sweet Mary. Why was Timothy such a fool? Why couldn’t he just love Mary instead? She took the offered food, fighting against the tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Mary.”
“Of course, dearest. Now come, let me see your hands. I can’t stay for long. Nurse expects me back,” Mary said and closed the door behind her. They moved to the bed, and as Sera ate, Mary healed the small cuts on her hands until there was no sign they ever existed.
“Does anything else hurt?” she asked.
My heart, Sera wanted to say, but shook her head and ate her last piece of cheese. Hungry as she might have been, guilt rendered the food tasteless.
“Good.” She squeezed Sera’s hand. “I have to go, but I need to tell you something, and you have to promise you won’t say or do anything.”
“I promise I won’t tell my imaginary friend. You know how much it loves to gossip.”
Mary pouted. “Sera.”
“Yes, yes, I promise. Now what is it?”
“Hadden Whittaker is planning something—something bad as payback for the library incident, but Susan won’t tell me what. I’ve asked her a million different ways, but she says it will be a surprise. I don’t think he’d try anything too severe; his family is poor, you know? No offense, of course. His father has a small medical practice—nothing as grand as my father’s, but enough to pay for Hadden’s and Susan’s tuition here. But that is all the money they have. He would be a fool to sabotage his academic career on silly payback, not to mention his sister’s future.”
Mary arched a brow. “Let’s face it, her chances at marriage are abysmal and her grades are lacking. Their best chance at success is Hadden working for the Aetherium and supporting his family. It’s why he befriended Timothy, I’m sure of it. Susan said Timothy will put in a good word with his father.” She sighed, pressing a hand against her heart. “Such a kind heart my Timothy has. Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll find out more soon.”
“I’m not worried.” Sera stuffed the last piece of bread into her mouth and dusted her hands. “I can take care of myself.”
“Exactly! You can’t afford to get into any more trouble, and that is why I made you promise. I’ll try to get more information, but I want you to stay out of it.”
“That’s not fair. You made me promise before you told me what he means to do.”
Mary cupped Sera’s cheek, stroking it gently. “That’s why. How will I survive this last year here without you? We’re a pair, remember? Now, I have to go. Maybe I will see you tonight if Nurse lets me go early enough…and if Mrs. Taylor is on her sixth dose of”—she cleared her throat—“tonic.”
The girls shared a laugh; the overnight ladies’ matron kept a flask of brandy in her desk, just outside the girls tower. Most girls knew not to sneak out before ten—the woman might have been drunk and old, but she had peculiar intuition and often caught students the moment they set a foot on the floor with the intent to sneak out. All except for Sera, forgotten up in her tower room.
“I may be sleeping; all this studying has me exhausted,” she lied. Any time before midnight and she might still be at Barrington’s.
“Good night, dearest.” Squeezing Sera’s hand, Mary rushed from the room and closed the door behind her.
When certain Mary would not return, Sera locked her door, rushed to the corner of the room, and prepared her transfer spell, her spirits much higher after Mary’s visit. Seconds later, she slammed onto Barrington’s floor, gripping the mantel as she toppled sideways. Practice was clearly not making this any easier.
“If you use too much magic to power the transfer spell, it will affect your landing,” Barrington muttered. Sera spun to find him sitting at his desk, his glasses low on his nose and his eyes turned down to a notebook. Though his usual frown marked his lips, whatever sadness possessed him their previous night together was gone, of which Sera was glad, though she didn’t understand why. His moods were none of her business, especially his sorrow.
“I’ll be sure to try it next time.” She approached his desk and sat down. There were two stacks of notebooks, one taller than the other. He shook his head and drew a line across the page. Closing the book, he set it on the shorter stack, then plucked another from the taller pile. “Are those for the case?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Snatching a sheet out from beneath his mess of books and papers, he scribbled something quickly and handed it to Sera. There were symbols on the page and formulas she didn’t understand.
“Those are the symbols for base metals. Anything that looks different from what I’ve drawn for you is incorrect.”
Sera arched a brow over the notebooks. “I’m helping you grade schoolwork?”
“Indeed.” Barrington plucked another notebook from his now smaller pile and flipped it open. “Are you not my assistant?”
Sera grabbed the pen and the first notebook. “Yes, but I thought…”
“Not everything is murder and mystery, Miss Dovetail.”
Sera glanced down at the answers he’d scribbled for her and sighed. Not everything was a mystery, but his handwriting sure was. She opened the first notebook and immediately frowned. Hadden Whittaker. Sera struck a line through the page without a second glance. Whether it was right or wrong didn’t matter. It was Hadden Whittaker, and that was wrong enough.
Barrington scoffed and thrust down his pen. “Cases I can solve, this, however, I cannot. You would think after two weeks on the same formula, they would have grasped it by now, especially with me as their professor.” He sat back and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
Sera peered over the notebook she graded and shook her head. How someone so young could have such an enormous ego was beyond her, but noticing his hands trembled slightly and a light sweat dampened his forehead, though the room was rather cool, Sera set down her book. Perhaps she was wrong, and he wasn’t yet over his sadness.
Barrington lowered his hands. Sera returned to grading and abandoned her musing, lest he find her staring.
“This time of year is always difficult with everyone’s attention gone to that blasted dance. It’s all they seem to talk about, though it’s not for another month. It’s a nuisance,” Sera said, comparing the cipher on the page to Barrington’s.
“I take it you don’t like dancing?”
She set the book aside. “I’d rather sit through a week of Mrs. Norton’s lectures on the Persecution.”
He smiled over his papers, a boyish grin that made him look more his age than his usual constant scowl did. It was a nice smile, and Sera was glad to see it.
“Speaking of Mrs. Norton…” He settled back. “I thought we agreed you’d stay out of trouble.”
Sera sighed. “We did, but Mrs. Norton insisted I use a crystal ball to see my future, and I started summoning by mistake, and so I stopped. She then sent me to Headmistress who thought I had a peculiar fire that needed to be quelled.”
His brow gathered, and he set aside his work. “A summoning with a crystal ball? That’s not possible. Crystal balls are used for scrying and divination. What made you think you started summoning? Did you see our spirits again?”
“Who I saw is someone I never wish to see again. And I know it was a summoning because he’s dead, so how could he possibly be in my future?”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” Barrington stood. He removed his coat, draped it on the back of his chair, and turned to Sera. “I think we will practice basic forms of detainment.”
Sera blinked at the sudden change in topic but was glad to finally move away from summonings, crystal balls, and the nightmares of her past. “Don’t we need to finish grading these papers?”
He walked to the door. “They will be as hopeless tomorrow as they are today. There is promise in you, however. Come along.”
Sera smiled and followed him to the training room.
Once again there was a mannequin in the center of the room, this one with a cipher on its chest. Barrington lifted his wand.
“There may come a time when we will encounter situations where we must detain a suspect or delay them so that we can get away. In those instances, you will do this.”
Three dashes of white snapped from the end of his wand and wrapped around the dummy. The whips shone white, pulsing like a heartbeat. “These binds will respond to you, so the tighter you envision them”—his hand tightened around his wand and the binds responded, digging into the mannequin—“the snugger on your captive. That is why focus is so important. One slip of magic and you can kill your only suspect.”
Sera pursed her lips. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”
“Yes, especially if that suspect has information needed to solve a case. Now, let’s begin. In the real world, you will have no time to gather focus so you must master your magic. The world can come crashing down around you and you must remain calm, ready to take the appropriate action with the necessary force.”
Again, his voice grew sharp as it tended to do when he started teaching. And like before, Sera was rapt by his intensity as he paced before her, his eyes steeled and every word passionate. She sensed teaching was more than work for him—a mission. No doubt being the youngest professor in an Academy wasn’t easy. Most other professors already had one foot in the grave. They probably thought him a child, and like her, Barrington had to prove himself worthy of his role. And surely being surrounded by peers and students who thought his father a murderer added to the burden on his shoulders. Yes, Sera realized, teaching her was as important to him as learning was for her.
“The method of tapping into your magic is the same as with channeling and every other type of spell you wish to execute, but this time, you must shape and command it, and prepare for the kickback your magic will produce. If you grasp your wand too tightly, it will also affect aim. It’s a balance. You cannot be too stiff or too loose.” He reached for her arm but paused. “May I guide your arm into the appropriate form?”
He met her eyes at this, as though to gauge her answer and any fear, but Sera found not one ounce of herself afraid. “Yes, Professor.”
Barrington swept behind her, his chest touching her back with each breath. Though he was brooding and strict at times, Sera relaxed, feeling a sense of safety stemming from his person. They were in this together.
He lifted her arm and bent it at the elbow, his touch delicate as though she might break if he tried any harder. “When you send magic through the wand at a fast speed, your arm will jerk back, and this will affect your aim.” His hand rested gently on her shoulder, the other beneath her elbow. “Now send out a flare of magic, and as it leaves you, shape it. Imagine it as binds wrapping around a felon.”
Sera grasped her wand tighter. Heat rushed up her body to her fingertips, but remembering her manic flares and how she’d nearly burned down his training room, she stifled its force. A small cloud of magic fizzled at the tip of her wand.
“Interesting. When I ask you to feed your magic out slowly, you nearly incinerate the room. Now I ask for a flare, and you give me a small stream.” Barrington hummed. “You truly are a mystery.”
She turned her head over her shoulder, her lips pursed, but Barrington smiled.
“Again, Miss Dovetail. With a little more intensity this time. You must feel it here.” He slid his hand from her shoulder and splayed it on her belly. Sera’s insides tightened, and a blast of magic dashed from her wand, knocking her back into him. Fire engulfed the mannequin.
“Precisely,” he said, his breath warm on her ear. “Again.”
…
Again became the fuel powering her days in spite of her fatigue every morning. She worked readily and stayed out of trouble during the day, all for the chance to hear Barrington speak the word come night.
Though, days later, she had yet to master forming her magic into detainment binds, Sera relished the opportunity to try and looked forward to her lessons. More so with each of Susan’s smirks and Whittaker’s stares in the library. Whatever they had planned, she would be ready.