Wildfire

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want you to become a House.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

I turned around. Everyone was looking at one of the arbiters, the one who told me his age.

I released the other man and clamped the arbiter with my will. Behind me Benjamin collapsed, weeping.

The shell around Orlando’s mind was thicker and stronger. I stabbed at it. It held. I stabbed again and again.

He got off his chair and staggered back.

Another stab. He fought me, his will bucking, but if I didn’t do this now, there would be some doubt about the legitimacy of my trial. I couldn’t afford doubt. Our family’s survival depended on it.

Stab. The shell cracked. I poured my magic through the gap and wrenched it open.

I thought about Sturm and Vincent and dead Kurt. Anger surged through me. The arbiter’s will snapped under my pressure.

“Why did you protect Benjamin’s mind?”

His whole body shook from the strain. I squeezed. The world wavered. So much magic spent so quickly.

They wouldn’t keep me from protecting my family. I didn’t care how much they sneered, how many obstacles they put in my way, I would become a House today.

“Answer me.”

The words came out one by one. “I . . . did it . . . because . . . Colleen Shaffer asked me.”

Colleen Shaffer was Garen’s mother.

“Why did Colleen ask you to interfere in my trials?”

“Because . . . she wants . . . you to accept her son. If you fail the trials, you . . . will be . . . vulnerable.”

I released him. Another second, and I would’ve blacked out.

Orlando collapsed on the floor in a heap. Tears rolled from his eyes.

“Interfering with the trials is a mortal offense,” the Keeper said.

Michael stepped forward as if materializing from thin air. He fastened his hand on Orlando, pulled him to his feet, and led him away.

“Are the arbiters satisfied?” the Keeper asked.

A chorus of yesses answered.

“Let it be known that Nevada Frida Baylor was tested and found to be an Elenchus. Congratulations, Ms. Baylor. You may sit down.”

Someone had replaced the muscles in my legs with wet cotton. Somehow, I made it to the chairs and sat down.

“Kick ass,” Arabella whispered in my ear from the right.

“You did it,” Catalina said from the left.

“The Office calls Bernard Adam Baylor.”

Bernard sorted a complex pattern out in record time. They registered him as upper-level Significant.

Catalina was next. She walked out to the line on wobbly legs.

Alessandro Sagredo was just as devastating as his Instagram photo.

“Catalina Baylor,” the Keeper announced. “To be certified as Prime, you must use your powers to make Alessandro step over the white line. If you are unable to compel him to do so, we have a mage of lesser ability ready for you.”

My sister swallowed. She was visibly shaking.

“Are you ready?”

“Do your worst,” Alessandro told her with a grin.

Catalina covered her face with her hands.

You can do it.

“Are you ready?” the Keeper repeated.

“Yes.” She lowered her hands and looked at him. “Do you live in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“There are nice beaches in Italy. One time I went to the beach with my family in Florida. The beaches there are not like they are here. The water is crystal clear, and the sand is white, and you can float for hours and hours, looking at little fishes. They dart around in the water and sometimes you can reach out and almost touch one.”

Sweat broke out on Alessandro’s forehead.

“Do you like the beach?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I like swimming. One day I would like to go out on a boat. I was going to try the Jet Skis, but a storm came. We have terrible storms in Florida, and here in Texas, too. Do you have storms in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“Come and tell me about it?”

Alessandro took a step over the line and headed for my sister.

Four people tackled him. He threw two of them off and punched the third one in the face.

“I’m so sorry,” Catalina said.

“It’s fine.” Alessandro stopped struggling. “Let go of me. I said, it’s fine.”

The handlers let go of him. Alessandro shook himself, turned to the Keeper, and said, “The young lady is a Prime.”

“The Office of Records thanks House Sagredo for their services.”

Alessandro gave a short nod and walked off to the other door. Wow. That was the first time I had ever seen anyone besides us shrug off Catalina’s magic.

My sister was pronounced a Prime. She came and sat by me. I hugged her.

It was now Arabella’s turn. The arbiters stared holes in her as she walked to the white line. She wore a white robe and nothing else. She seemed so tiny, just a short, petite blond girl standing on the line.

“The Office will test your ability to reason,” the Keeper told her.

A massive blackboard slid from the ceiling and stopped, suspended high above the floor. A piece of chalk as wide as a telephone pole hung from it on a chain.

“Once you transform, you will flip this blackboard. You will see a series of mathematical equations. You must solve them. This will demonstrate to us that you are truly a Prime Metamorphosis and you are in control of your abilities.”

“Does it have to be math?” Arabella asked. “Can I write a short essay?”

“Math is the ultimate test of reason,” the Keeper said.

My youngest sister sighed. “Okay.”

“Transform at will.”

My sister held up her robe. “Don’t look.”

The Keeper lowered his eyes.

The Beast of Cologne tore out of my sister.

The arbiters froze. Some gasped, petrified, others tried to move and slid their chairs back.

The shaggy nightmare shook herself, stomped over to the blackboard, and flipped it over.

67+13=

7x11=

981/8=

She pointed at the last one with the chalk, turned, and looked at the Keeper.

“Do your best,” the Keeper said.

Arabella heaved a sigh. The first one gave her no trouble, although at some point she counted on her clawed fingers. The second she solved in seconds. The third . . .

“It’s baby math,” Catalina growled. “I could do this in my sleep in second grade.”

Arabella ran out of blackboard space, crouched, and began dividing on the floor.

“This is what we get for teaching them Common Core,” one of the arbiters said.

“There is nothing wrong with Common Core,” someone else said.

Arabella wrote, “This sucks!” on the floor and kept dividing. Finally, she stood up, wrote 124 on the board, and glared at the Keeper. Catalina slapped her hand over her face.

“I say we take it,” Linus said. “Otherwise we might be here all night.”

Fifteen minutes later, House Baylor, triumphant, emerged from the Office of Records. Finally. We won. Nothing was hanging over our heads. The conspiracy was thrashing in its death throes. We secured immunity for our family for the next three years. Rogan asked me to marry him. There were things to solve in the future: me moving out, a new base of operations, finding money to keep up with our new status. But those things would wait.

I wanted to celebrate.

My family walked to the cars. Rogan turned to me.

“Take a ride with me?”

“Where to?”

“I thought we’d go to the country for a couple of hours.”

“What’s in the country?”

“My mother.”

“You’re taking me home to meet your mother?”

“She can’t wait to meet you. In fact, if I don’t bring you over, I might be in danger. Will you come with me?” He held out his hand.

“Always.” I put my hand into his. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but I knew I wouldn’t face it alone.

Connor smiled at me, and we walked together to his car.

“Would you like a formal engagement celebration?” he asked.