“Between realms?” She shook her head. “No, no. Magic only works within the plane you’re standing in. You can’t be all over the place with it.” She leaned in, her face animating. “As a matter of fact, I have a story to tell you about that. These Aspirants going missing — they’re supposed to be in Alchemia, you know? That’s what Farrah wants us to think anyhow. Well, I did some investigating of my own, and you know what? They’re not there!”
“You’ve been to Alchemia?” I asked, heart racing becausehow?How did she know where it was and how could I get to my sister?
“Ha!” Loree laughed, then clapped her hands and held them clasped. “If you can keep a secret,” she whispered, “I sorted it out from here. Finding people. It’s just a little something I can do, truly, that’sinherentto me.” I understood she meant her gift. “I looked and looked but didn’t see them. If they’re still alive, that can only mean one thing. They’re in another realm, too far for me to see.”
“Are they in the human realm?” I asked, though I suppose if they were, a Mentalist would’ve been sent to find them with a Scrying or Contact spell. Scrying would allow the Mentalist to see their surroundings, and with Contact, they could mentally ask them where they were being held.
“WhatIthink” — Loree paused for emphasis — “is that, for years and years and years, all these legends said the Allwitch temple was the Goddess’s pocket realm. As a matter of fact, they said that was the real reason the Echelons didn’t want us going there.”
“Who said that?” I asked.
“Allwitches — and, by the way, they were banished for saying it. Oooh!” She vigorously rubbed her arms through a shiver. “It gives me the goosebumps just thinking about it! That would be something, wouldn’t it, if that’s where the Aspirants went. Trouble is, no one on the mainland knows how to open the place, and who’s going to tell the Echelons that’s where they need to look?” She eyed my brand to say it certainly shouldn’t come from me. “Should I show you our new texts? This one — it’s calledMortal Beginnings, set thirty years ago, before they opened the portstops to Gnarlton. A good, old-fashioned romance I know you would just love!”
I let her tell me about it but found it hard to listen. Spells couldn’t reach across realms and neither could gifts. Which meant, for eight months, Helen had traveled to the human realm daily to make me sick. Helen, who also frequented the Allwitch temple, where — Loree had just made the convincing case — the missing Aspirants might be hidden.
* * *
Leland awoke from depletion sooner than expected, catching me on my way up the spiral to present me with my options for going to bed. Either he could cast Shield or Dream Interference, the phantom flu spell. It should’ve been an automatic no, but Shield required proximity. For Shield to work, Leland needed to be in the same room as me. I didn’t want to inconvenience Skye, and I wasn’t about to invite myself to sleep in Leland’s room.
I looked down at his shoes, the same casual white pair he’d fallen asleep in.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “If you want to try Dream Interference with me. I know how to be gentle.”
I shuffled the toe of my shoe against the floor, one hand pressed to the stone wall as I stared down and away from the way he was looking at me.1.5, I decided,the number of times mysize 8 shoe would fit inside his.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Then I guess you can interfere.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
EMBER
Interfering with your Counterpart’s dreams almost always results in intimacy.
— Helen Blackburn, Echelon to the
School of Mental Magic
Today was the day. The first essay, the first time Leland reviewed the piece of writing I’d spent weeks perfecting, and today I got my grade. I wasn’t afraid of Leland, not anymore, but I was afraid of this moment, of finding out he thought I was dumb, lazy, or unoriginal.
He hand-delivered each paper to his fifty students. Not in alphabetical order like a considerate person, but at utter random, basking in his unhurriedness, savoring our panic. It was intimidating when he looked at you and worse when he didn’t, but worst of all was waiting for him to bear down on your desk, only to have him Shred your paper to confetti with a simply stated, “Zero.”
Maybe I’d have a better handle on my insecurities if I’d done the assignment properly. But the essay topic was “Strength in Covens: Why Witches are Stronger Together,” and after my first two drafts had felt inauthentic, I chose to write about thestrength innotjoining one instead. The most notorious witch to reject covenship? Jaxan.
The last paper to be handed out was mine, and Leland looked up from eyeing it critically, still holding on to it as he projected to the class, “Everyone except Ember Blackburn is dismissed.”
The class scrambled and leapt to their feet, scurrying to collect their scattered parchment and pens, but not fast enough for him. With startling suddenness, every desk Vanished from his classroom. Loose sheets of parchment fell in zigzags to the floor, the crinkle of pages landing on stone in a gentle rain — and stayed there as everyone dashed out.
The door slammed and locked.
My eyes locked with Leland’s.
“Come here,” he said.
I had no idea where my paper had gone, but he was no longer holding it. I walked to the long table at the front of the room, the place he sat when he wasn’t lecturing or striking terror in our souls with his slow and critical pacing. Then he Vanished the table, and we were separated by only air.
“Come. Here,” he repeated.
