Squinting in concentration I extended my hands and imagined the object flying toward me. “Voco!”
As it had the one other time I’d tried the incantation, the globe stayed firmly put. I loosed a frustrated breath and tried again. And again. And again. After the fifth time, I gave up. Something about this spell was still beyond me, which was annoying but not unfathomable—I supposed.
I took a seat and opted for a change of pace. Cracking open the thick spine of an advanced potion text, I sighed happily. This was Crucible-year stuff, material I would not learn until my third term at Spellcasters—at least not officially. Unbeknownst to Mother, I’d been sneaking peeks at this particular potions book every chance I got for the last six months.
Potions fascinated me. It was akin to the chemistry that I had learned in the fancy human high school I’d attended butwaymore interesting. The discipline explained how things came together; it made things that seemed impossible happen; and there was a potion for nearly any problem. I sometimes dreamed that after my spying days were over, I’d return to Spellcasters and become Potions Master.
But when I took in the page I’d opened the book to, my heart stuttered and fear sliced through my joy.
A necromancy potion.
This potion, among a few others, was one that would cause Mother to bust a gasket if she caught me reading it. But even that formidable threat wasn’t enough to stop me from devouring the page, step by step.
Holy crap! This one calls for cured pixie or elven blood! Where the hell does someone get th—
The door to my room burst open, and Mother flew inside, her face red and chocolate brown hair flying out of her neat bun.
I leapt from my chair and positioned myself in front of the books. “Mother! You scared me!”
“Pack an overnight bag, Diana. We must go.” Mother’s chest heaved as she forced out each word.
My heart began to race, but I didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t risk her noticing the forbidden tomes just behind me. “Why? What’s going on?”
Mother was halfway out the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.
“It’s your father. Something’s happened.” Her voice broke at the end, a rare sign of emotion that made my heart launch into my throat. “Now, hurry and do as I say. We must go to him immediately.” With that she strode out of the room, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
Chapter Three
Portraits of ex-spymasters flashed by as Mother and I ran down the corridors of Spellcasters.
“Where are we going?” I gestured to the door that led to where our car was parked.
“We don’t have time for driving—or even flying,” Mother replied. “I’ve informed Professor Tittelbaum of the situation. He’ll be delivering us to a suburb of Boston.”
As my father was a sorcerer spy, and had sustained an injury while on duty for the government, it wasn’t likely he would be seen at a normal hospital. The PIA, or Paranormal Intelligence Agency, usually took supernatural spies to other supernatural medical providers. Specifically, Spellcasters alumni who could handle gruesome injuries and wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“Who lives there?”
“Your father is in the care of the Wardwell family.”
That family’s information popped into my head, and my eyebrows knitted together. “But they’re an active spy family based in Connecticut, right?”
“Yes, but this is a different branch. They’re not legacies.”
I considered that perplexing information as we burst into Alice Kyteler Hall. Professor Tittelbaum was already waiting for us in the center of the large room, lines of concern creasing his thin face.
“Did you receive the photos?” Mother barked.
My eyes widened. Mother was notoriously tough on students to prepare them for the rough and tumble world of espionage outside the academy. However, she always treated her staff with the utmost respect and rarely raised her voice toward them. Anddefinitelynot to Professor Tittelbaum. His magical talents and good-nature made him an incredibly valuable professor.
But the professor seemed to anticipate her anxiety and took her tone in stride. “John Wardwell sent many. I should have no problem getting you there.”
I exhaled a breath that I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Professor Tittelbaum was a warper, a rare and talented breed of witches who could transport a person from one place to another in a second. Some master warpers were even able to transport people through time. Professor Tittelbaum did not possess that skill, but he was still an excellent warper, able to teleport people to sites he had not personally seen by using just a photograph.
“Let’s get moving then,” Mother instructed.
Professor Tittelbaum closed his eyes and I noticed that his hands were shaking. My stomach clenched at the sight.
