The Legends Inn was about a quarter mile west of the marina, on a point of land that formed one side of the harbor. Seph wondered if Jack would guess where he had gone and come after him. He would just have to move quickly enough to stay ahead of him.
The front door of the inn opened into the parlor, where he’d made his date with Madison Moss. From his previous visit, Seph knew that the meeting rooms and dining rooms lay immediately beyond. He stopped at the reception desk and smiled at the girl in the high-necked Victorian blouse.
“Can you tell me if the meeting is still going on?” he asked politely.
She looked Seph up and down skeptically, disapproving of his sailing clothes. “The meetings are over for the day. They just adjourned about a half hour ago.”
“I have a message for one of the participants, name of Gregory Leicester. Can you tell me which room is his?”
“And you are?”
“Aaron Hanlon.”
She extended her hand. “I’ll give him the message.”
“I need to deliver it in person.”
“Shall I ring him for you?” She put her hand on the phone on the desk.
“That’s okay,” Seph said hastily. “If he’s not there, I’ll just slip it under his door.”
She hesitated. There was obviously a policy. Seph was beginning to think he was going to have to use more overt persuasion. But it seemed she saw little threat in Seph. “He’s in Room 210. Second floor. The elevator is over there.” She pointed.
“Thank you.”
He decided to take the stairs instead, reasoning that he was less likely to run into someone he knew. It also allowed him to delay things that much longer. He could think about murdering Gregory Leicester all the way up to coming face-to-face with the wizard. Then the image failed. Not a good omen. “Vous devez envisager le success,” Genevieve had often said to him. You must envision success.
He realized he was leaving a clear trail for anyone who wanted to track him down. More than that, he knew that murder was a mortal sin, the kind that took you straight to hell. But he had no choice. Leicester had already killed Trevor and Jason, and it seemed he still had plans for Seph. Painful plans, no doubt.
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.
Hastings looked at Madison, as if wishing he could make her disappear. Her expression and body language said she had no intention of leaving. Seph would have liked to have seen Hastings try and evict her after what she’d done to him in the hallway.
Instead, Hastings leaned against the door, his arms folded across his chest. “What shall we do with you, Seph?”
“This is none of your business. Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Seph stood, feet braced apart, breathing hard. He jerked his head toward Madison. “You should go.”
“I’m not leaving this time.” Madison sat down on the bed, looking mulish.
Hastings ignored this exchange. “I told Linda it was too risky to let you stay here. It seems I was right. When Jack called me, I knew exactly where to look for you.”
“If it’s a problem, just drive me to the city limits. The alumni will be happy to take me off your hands.”
Hastings’s head came up. “The alumni?”
“Leicester’s wizard slaves. I’m wanted back at school, it seems.”
Hastings squinted at him as if puzzled. Then sat down in one of the chairs next to the table. “Tell me about school.”
“The Havens? They have five hundred spectacular acres on the Atlantic Ocean. They win the sailing cup every year.” Seph was being a smartass, and he knew it. “Do you have a specific question?”
“As it happens, I know something about the Havens,” Hastings said. “Can you explain to me how you survived a year in that place? Can you tell me why you’re not with them?”
Seph had a sudden strong desire to win the wizard over. He was tired of worrying about the alumni; tired of keeping secrets; tired of trying to solve his problems on his own; tired of sparring with a powerful wizard who should be his ally. If he couldn’t find the Dragon, maybe Hastings would do. “I used the heartstone. The dyrne sefa.”
Hastings pulled the talisman out of his pocket and handed it back to Seph. “Where did you get it?”
“Another student gave it to me and taught me how to use it. His name was Jason Haley.” Seph shoved the piece into the pocket of his shorts. “He was my friend. He was helping me. So they killed him.” He began pacing back and forth. “A week ago, Leicester sent some of the alumni to kidnap me. I left the sanctuary, and they attacked me.” He nodded at Madison. “If not for Madison, here, and Ellen, they would have taken me.” He rubbed his temples. “I can’t stand it anymore. They tortured me for months. They murdered my friends. Why won’t they leave me alone?”
He walked to the window and rested his hands on the sill, looking out at the water. A chair scraped on the wood floor, and then Hastings was beside him. He grabbed Seph’s chin and forced his face around so he could look him in the eyes. It reminded him of Jason, the night he’d explained to Seph about the Weir. After a moment, Hastings let him go and turned away.
Something had changed, but Seph wasn’t sure what or how. He went and sat down on the bed next to Madison and picked up her hand, enclosing it between his two. “I’m sorry, Madison. I’ve been a jerk. It’s just . . . they threatened to . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“There’s more than one way to hurt a person, Witch Boy,” she said, looking down at their joined hands. “And different kinds of risks.” She looked up at Hastings. “What was that you called me in the hallway?”
The wizard turned and leaned against the window seat. “An elicitor.”
She made a face. “What’s that? It sounds, you know, like something you’d get arrested for.”
“It’s not nearly common enough to be illegal.” Hastings studied her with frank interest. “In fact, although I’ve heard of elicitors, I’ve never encountered one
before.”
“Jason never mentioned elicitors when he described the guilds,” Seph said.
Hastings nodded. “Elicitors are not Weir, since they have no Weirstones. But they have the ability to elicit magic, to draw it away from others. And, of course, they’re resistant to charms. As you’ve probably guessed by now,” he added.
“Are they just resistant to wizards, or to the Anawizard Weir?”
Hastings toyed with the ring on his right hand. “My understanding is that they draw magic of all kinds.”
“What happens to the power?” Seph asked. “Does it just dissipate, or could an elicitor use it herself?”
Hastings shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Madison was looking from Seph to Hastings as if they’d suddenly lapsed into French. “I have no idea what you two are talking about. Can someone help me out here?”
Seph traced the lines on her palm. “The Weir are people born with magical gifts. Wizards like us have the broadest range of powers. Others are specialists; for instance, they can see the future, or make magical tools and remedies. The witches you knew at home are probably either wizards or enchanters.”
“How do you two know each other?” Hastings asked.
Madison kicked off her sandals and dug her bare toes into the rug. “Seph picked me up on the beach one morning.”
“She works here at the inn,” Seph added.
At that she looked at her watch, and groaned. “My supervisor’s going to kill me. I’m on duty.” She slipped her feet back into her shoes and stood. “I have to go.”
“I’ll call you,” Seph said.
“Right.” And she was out the door.
Hastings looked after her thoughtfully. “There’s another term for elicitors,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Eviscerators.” He smiled wryly. “Coined by wizards, no doubt. Although they have no magic of their own, they’re very dangerous creatures. Are you sure you can trust her? Unfortunately, there’s no way to determine if she’s telling the truth.”
Meaning by a wizard’s touch, no doubt. “So I guess we just have to rely on our judgment, don’t we? Like the Anaweir,” Seph retorted, looking Hastings in the eyes.