I’d seen the professor create warpholes at least three other times during his employment at the academy. Never before had he looked so shaken. A lump formed in my throat.Is he reacting like this because he knows what happened to Father?
Before I could spiral into an abyss of worry, there was a burst of energy that blew my hair back. Suddenly, a warphole, black in the middle and bright white around the edges, swirled open in front of us. “Shall I keep it open while you’re at the Wardwells, Headmistress?” the professor asked, straightening his round-framed glasses.
“No. Mr. Wake likely won’t be making it back tonight. We’ll drive home as soon as possible. Until then, Professor, you’re in charge.” My mother grabbed my hand and without another word we stepped through the warphole.
Stifling heat engulfed me and was followed by a sensation of walking through a steam room. And then, not two seconds later, we emerged on the other side of the warphole into an arid space smelling strongly of astringent and coffee. I swayed on the spot, a bit disoriented after the change in temperature and the barrage of strong, discordant scents.
“Headmistress Wake!” A woman with long black hair and vibrant blue eyes appeared at my mother’s side. She wiped her hands on a towel before tucking it into a thick canvas apron. “That was a speedy arrival. Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Alice Wardwell. My son and husband are seeing to Mr. Wake now.”
My mother took Alice’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake. “Show us to him.”
It appeared that we hadn’t landed in an actual healer’s office but an entryway to a home. I took in our surroundings keenly as Alice led us through the large house, a habit Mother had instilled in me. No matter where I went, I always knew the direction of the nearest exit and windows, should I need to leave quickly.
As we marched through the home, one particular door caught my eye. It bore a handmade sign that proclaimed it was Alexander’s room. Tennis rackets surrounded Alexander’s name and for some reason the sight of such a normal object slowed my racing heart slightly. I took my first full belly breath since leaving Spellcasters.
“Sorry about the smell,” Alice said as we turned down a corridor with sparkling white floors. “I had to . . . clean the hallways a bit after Mr. Wake’s arrival. There was a lot of blood.”
My heart began to beat fast once again, but I did my best to slow it down and act normal. Freaking out wouldn’t do any good here. I needed to watch and learn because that would increase my chances of helping Father.
As we walked further down the hall I noticed that this particular corridor wassoclean it actually felt sterile. The decor of serene paintings depicting nature also feltblanderthan the rest of the house—reminding me intensely of a hospital. Most strikingly, however, was that the stench of cleaner became impossibly stronger with each step. When we reached the end of the hall, the smell of astringent had become so strong that my eyes watered.
Alice gestured to the door on the left. “I know you were insistent on seeing him. But I want to reiterate that your husband is inverybad shape.” Her eyes drifted to me. “Should either of you want to wait in the sitting room, I can make you comfortable and come get you when we’re done working.”
Mother shook her head emphatically. “I want to see my husband, and Diana will not be kept from her father. She’s strong enough. Besides, she needs to be aware of everything the family trade entails. That includes misfortunes such as this one.”
Alice looked skeptical but she honored Mother’s wishes and opened the door.
Immediately, the metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils and my stomach heaved. Red waseverywhere. On the floors, on the walls, there were even droplets on the ceiling. I closed my eyes and vaguely became aware that Mother had grabbed my hand and was gripping it tightly. That, like the blood, did not reassure me.
“The Headmistress of Spellcasters and her daughter are here,” Alice said, prompting me to open my eyes. I didn’t want the healers to think me a sniveling little girl who would faint at the sight of blood.
Even though I was only eighteen, I was well aware that this was the reality of spycraft. It wasn’t just all glamour and fighting the bad guys and saving those who couldn’t save themselves. People got hurt, even seasoned spies.
My father, instantly recognizable by his full head of blond hair and heavy-rimmed glasses, laid face-up on the table. Bags of blood hung at either side of him, dispensing life back into his veins as two heads bobbed above him, tending to his wounds.
The older of the healers held up a finger, unable to stop whatever he was doing at that moment. Desperate for a distraction from the erratic beeping of the heart monitor, I focused on the man’s appearance. He wore glasses and had a thinning head of brown hair that belied his youthful, lean, and muscular stature. His face was dotted with a smattering of freckles . . . and blood. I shuddered at the red specks and shifted my gaze to the younger man who worked at his side.
He was probably about my age and had the same dark hair and pale skin as Alice. As if the boy could feel my eyes upon him, he paused and glanced up, revealing startling blue eyes behind bold, square-framed glasses.
I hitched a breath. Despite the fact that this boy was also covered in blood—my father’s blood, no less—there was no denying that he was incredibly attractive. I looked away, uncomfortable with the thought during such a dire situation.
A full five minutes after we entered the room, the father and son reached a spot where they could pause and came to meet us.
“This is my husband, John, and my son, Alex,” Alice said. “I was just making more coffee when you arrived, but they’ve been seeing to Mr. Wake for the last hour or so. I must warn you, it looks like we’re in for a very long night.”
“The PIA didn’t tell me what happened. Will you?” My mother phrased her words like a question but her tone indicated they were more of a command.
I bit my lip. The PIA rarely shared personal information, even with spouses. It was all too likely that they would lay the responsibility of telling my mother what happened upon Father—if he survived. But they would have had to tell the Wardwells what happened, right? His injuries had been severe enough to seek out healers not involved with the PIA. And the PIA would have to give them information about the case to increase the chances of saving Father.
My mother’s request made John look uncomfortable, but Alice nodded. “I don’t agree with the Paranormal Intelligence Agency’s opinion that spouses should be kept in the dark until the danger has passed. And I certainly didn’t sign that ridiculous nondisclosure form they tried to shove under my face. Sit and I’ll fill you in.” She nodded to John, who, along with Alex, took that as a cue to get back to work.
Alice gestured for us to take two flimsy plastic chairs on the edge of the room. After pulling up a third seat, she perched opposite us. “Mr. Wake was tracking a black witch up and down the East Coast. It seems that sometime yesterday she realized she had a tail and decided to do something about it. As far as we can tell, Mr. Wake was tortured for hours and then somehow freed himself. He bears remnants of vicious battle magic scars born of black magic, and at least one curse which we have yet to figure out. We’re trying to repair the easiest injuries first so that dealing with the curses will be more straightforward.” Alice took a deep breath. “I fear, however, we might be running out of time. No matter how much progress we make in repairing your husband’s injuries, his vitals continue to diminish and he’s losing blood fast.”
“What can we do to help?” Mother asked, her voice shaking.
Alice gave her a small, understanding smile. “Honestly, nothing. My husband and I are the most skilled medical physicians and healers on this coast. Our son has been training with us and is quite knowledgeable too. The best thing you can do is to stay out of our way while we work.”
My mother’s spine straightened and her lips pressed together until they were white. I was sure she was about to snap at Alice, to say that she was a capable witch and surely there wassomethingshe could do to help. To live by her motto to question everything and continue acquiring knowledge from the Wardwells.
