Beyond the Seer Read online

  Garnet drew her shoulders up proudly. “She told him to take a hike. She said you’d already been through enough trauma, and she berated him—well, as much as you can berate the most powerful man on the island without getting your head chopped off—for having so little sympathy for you.”

  She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s why I said not to trouble yourself with any nonsense you might hear. Nothing’s going to come of it as long as Lady Amabelle is still seated in the High Court’s second chair, and trust me, everyone on the island loves her, so she’s not going to be relinquishing the throne anytime soon.” Tilting her head toward the boys, Garnet grinned slyly. “Now come on. There are a couple of handsome men over there who are looking awfully lonely without us.”

  She tugged on my arm, and I allowed her to lead me back to Glenn’s house. And though I kept a smile on my face as everyone else laughed and chatted over hearty pieces of peanut brittle, my mind was a million miles away, my thoughts locked on the man who’d put his career as a guardian—and possibly more—on the line for me, and the other man, the one with the snow-white hair, the cruel black eyes, and the hatred for me that maybe, possibly, only ran skin-deep.

  Chapter 2

  “Quiet, everyone,” Lady Winthrop said as she strode into the room, her emerald green robes flapping behind her. Garnet, Hunter, and I, who had been having a spirited argument over whose familiar was the smartest—Pierre, unsurprisingly, came out dead last in the vote—immediately turned our attention to the front of the classroom. I heard Garnet’s sharp intake of breath a moment before I saw the three envelopes our spellcasting instructor was holding, and my stomach flipped over with a combination of nerves and excitement. Beside me, Hunter straightened his glasses and perched eagerly on the edge of his seat.

  Lady Winthrop, correctly interpreting the sudden tension that had settled in the air, gave us a swift nod as she passed out the envelopes, which were sealed with a pair of golden sparrow wings, the coven’s usual calling card. “As you may have guessed,” Lady Winthrop said, folding her hands together over her wand as she stood before us, “the results of your level zero exams are finally ready. On behalf of the coven, I would like to apologize for the delay. One of your instructors was”—she pursed her lips, searching for the right word—“incapacitated for a brief period of time and unable to grade your work until very recently.”

  Hunter, Garnet, and I exchanged glances. Who was Lady Winthrop kidding? She was obviously referring to Glenn… especially since we only had two instructors at the academy, the second being her. I was relieved to hear that he was feeling better, though, and hoped that he’d be returning to the academy soon; in the interim, Lady Winthrop had been requiring us to attend double spellcasting classes in place of our usual mixology lesson, and, for new witches and wizards like us, exerting that much magic proved to be exhausting, both mentally and physically.

  “Can we open them?” Garnet asked, her voice filled with dread, her face drained of all color. I gave her a reassuring smile as I saw that her hands were trembling, and mentally crossed my fingers that she’d managed to pass. Despite descending from a long line of distinguished witches and wizards, and living on Magic Island since birth, Garnet was easily the weakest link in our little trio. But she was also my roommate and best friend on the island, and I couldn’t imagine graduating to level one witch status without her.

  Lady Winthrop inclined her head. “You may.” The words had barely left her lips before Hunter tore his envelope open, almost ripping his results in half in his eagerness to read them.

  “Yes!” he said, pumping his fist in the air, and offered me a high-five when he heard the relieved rush of breath escape me as I scanned my eyes over my own results. I’d passed my mixology and spellcasting classes with flying colors—near-perfect grades, in fact, with especially high marks in offensive and defensive spells. If I hadn’t sent Hunter to the school infirmary with bubbles coming out of his nose when I’d been attempting a simple cleaning spell, I would have earned perfect marks.

  Hunter and I, still basking in our victory, turned in unison to Garnet, whose eyes were glued to her results. We exchanged nervous glances over the top of her head, and though I tried to sneak a peek at her grades, Lady Winthrop cleared her throat loudly and aimed her wand in my direction with a severe look, not lowering it until I hastily scooted my chair away from Garnet and pretended to become engrossed in my own results once more.

  “I can’t believe it,” Garnet finally croaked out, and when I chanced a glance at her, I saw with a sickening swoop of horror that a single tear was sliding down her cheek. Hunter pushed back his chair and stood, and after hesitating for a few moments, during which his indecision was written plainly all over his face, he sighed and quietly sat back down again. I knew he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but Garnet wasn’t his to comfort… and though he’d sworn up and down to me on more than one occasion that he was over her, that his feelings were nothing more than a passing crush, the truth was evident in the longing that pooled in his eyes whenever he was near her.

  “Oh, Garnet,” I said, reaching over and pulling her into the hug that Hunter was unwilling—or unable—to give her. “I’m so sorry.” I blinked back tears of my own, devastated on her behalf. I couldn’t imagine continuing my studies without her by my side, and I had no idea what happened to witches and wizards who failed to reach level one status. Would Garnet be able to repeat her classes, or would she be forced to permanently relinquish her magical status? At the very least, I knew that she would be denied a wand of her own, a crucial right of passage in the coven.

  Garnet sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Sorry for what?” she asked, looking confused. When she saw my sympathetic expression, her confusion turned to outrage, and she smacked my hand off her shoulder. “You thought I didn’t pass?” she demanded, then picked up her results and shoved them into my face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wren. You’re a real friend.”

  “But you said… and so I thought…” I sputtered, scanning my eyes over her passing grades while Garnet continued to stare daggers at me. Her formerly pale face was now flushed with self-righteous anger, and in the background, I could see Hunter shaking his head at me in disbelief, as though he hadn’t been thinking the exact same thing a mere five seconds ago.

  “That’s enough, students,” Lady Winthrop said, tapping her wand impatiently on her leg. She cleared her throat, drawing our attention back to her. “I would like to be the first to congratulate all three of you on passing your level zero exams. That means you have now officially attained level one status, bringing you one step closer to becoming full members of the Sparrow Coven. That also means”—I leaned forward in anticipation of her next words, and beside me I could see Hunter and Garnet doing the same—“you will now be eligible to receive wands of your own.”

  The three of us exchanged excited glances, and I did a little wiggle dance in my seat. This was the moment I’d been waiting for since first coming to terms with the shocking—but not altogether unwelcome—news that I was a witch. I’d come a long way since Glenn had popped out of my showerhead to welcome me into the magical community, but to me, wielding my own wand would finally make that news official.

  Lady Winthrop waved her hand at the box of training wands sitting on her desk, and it vanished with a small pop. “You will no longer need those, and you will be permitted to begin practicing magic on your own outside of the classroom without restrictions.”

  She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at me, and my victory wiggle turned into an uncomfortable squirm. Since our first day at the academy, Lady Winthrop had made it clear that using our training wands outside of our studies was strictly forbidden, a law that I’d broken within days of arriving and almost paid for with permanent banishment from the island. But how else was I supposed to protect myself against a deranged murderer trying to make me his second victim?

  “In place of our next spellcasting class,”
Lady Winthrop continued as Garnet and Hunter shot me amused looks, “we will meet at Sparrow Manor, the coven headquarters, to undergo the wand selection process.” She allowed herself a rare smile. “This is a momentous occasion for all three of you, and I look forward to working with each of you as you continue to refine your magical abilities. And now, as a special treat”—she snapped her fingers, and the minute hand of the wall clock began spinning forward, coming to rest at the top of the next hour—“your time here today is up. Class is dismissed.”

  Hunter, Garnet, and I gathered our spellbooks and prepared to leave the classroom, but before I could make it to the door, Lady Winthrop stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm. “Miss Winters, if you would follow me, please, I’d like to have a quick word with you.”

  Before I could respond, she swept me out of the room and down the hallway toward her office, a tidy room decorated, in complete contrast to her curt demeanor, in the palest shades of pink and cream. She settled herself at her desk, partially blocking my view of the magnificent set of gold sparrow wings that spanned the length of the wall behind her, and conjured up an armchair, which I dropped into and waited somewhat nervously for her to speak.

  Instead, she steepled her fingers beneath her severe chin and regarded me thoughtfully for several long seconds, her eyes roaming over my face. “The island may be vast, Miss Winters, but secrets cannot be hidden for long.”

  I frowned, trying to make sense of her words. Did she somehow find out about my association with Cole, otherwise known as the man in black? Or, I thought, my heart suddenly beating a tiny bit faster, was she referring to Lord Macon? Was I finally about to learn the truth behind his hostile behavior toward me?

  “There have been whispers within the coven,” she continued, running her fingers along a bowl of seashells on her desk, “of a young witch, a newcomer to the community, who has, on more than one occasion, performed magic without a wand, a skill that many of our most senior members would give their firstborn child to possess. And I do not say those last words lightly.”

  She continued staring at me, as though trying to see into my soul, and a wave of disappointment washed over me. My heartbeat slowed, returning to its normal pattern. She was referring not to Lord Macon but to the two occasions when, under extreme pressure while facing off against two murderers, a brownie named Wendall and a powerful wizard named Fletcher, my magic had burst from me without warning, likely saving my life. I’d chalked up both incidents to good luck and even better timing, and due to the traumatic nature of the events surrounding them, I’d tried to scrub them from my memory.

  “Miss Winters,” Lady Winthrop said abruptly, “what do you know of your parentage? I know we have discussed this briefly in the past, but due to… new developments… I believe it is a matter of utmost importance.” With a flick of her wand, her bottom desk drawer flew open and a file with my name on it floated out and danced through the air.

  She caught the file in her hand and set it on the desk between us before flipping it open and perusing its meager contents. “This is most unusual,” she mused, pursing her lips.

  “What is?” I asked, craning my neck to read the file. From my vantage point, I could see the name of the orphanage I’d been assigned to at birth, along with the handful of foster families who had taken me in over the years, though none of them, to my heartbreak, had ever expressed interest in adopting me.

  Lady Winthrop closed the file and stuffed it back in her desk drawer before removing her glasses and rubbing her fingers along her temple in a slow circle. “I have never seen a student file with such little usable information,” she finally said, returning her pale gaze to mine, though this time her eyes were more compassionate than probing.

  “There isn’t much to say.” I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though on the inside I was that seven-year-old girl again who nobody wanted. I steadied myself with a deep breath before adding, “My mother abandoned me at birth, and I grew up in the Oregon foster care system. Then, when I was eighteen, I aged out of it, and I lived on my own until finding out that I was a witch. If I don’t know who my own parents are, there wouldn’t be any way for that information to make it into my file.” Noticing that my tone had taken on a hint of self-defensive aggression, I softened my last words with a smile.

  “The High Court has ways of determining such matters,” Lady Winthrop said, almost to herself, as she resumed rubbing her temple before replacing her glasses. “While anyone with proven magical ability is invited to further their studies on the island—as long as that magic makes its appearance known before the age of thirty, of course—the court makes it their business to find out who is joining our community, as a matter of protection for all involved.” She gave a long sigh. “But perhaps, in your case, there is simply nothing more to be found.”

  “Are you saying that the times I’ve been able to perform magic without my wand might be related to who my parents are?” I leaned forward in my chair eagerly. “I always assumed they were human, but is it possible they were a powerful witch and wizard who lived on the mainland?” And if so, I wondered, what had happened to them? Was there a chance they were still out there somewhere, alive and willing to meet me? My heart soared as, for the first time in many years, I allowed myself a flutter of hope that I might someday have the family I always dreamed of.

  “Anything is possible,” Lady Winthrop said, standing swiftly and commanding me to do the same with a sweep of her arm. She led me to her office door, but instead of opening it, gave me one last searching look. Then, correctly interpreting the look of excitement on my face that I quickly tried to hide, she added, in a voice as gentle as I’d ever heard it, “But I advise you not to spend too much time dwelling on such matters. Those who linger among ghosts and shadows never give themselves the opportunity to truly live.”

  She rested a hand on my shoulder. “What is most important is that you found your way to the island, and”—her eyes twinkled—“as I understand it, just in the nick of time, before the proverbial—and literal—clock struck midnight.”

  With that, she opened her office door and we walked into the hallway, where morning classes were just beginning to let out. After giving me a final nod, Lady Winthrop swept down the hallway, soon becoming lost in the crowd of chattering students, leaving me to stare at the sea of faces without really seeing them.

  Chapter 3

  “So, you got fired, did ya? I knew you were a dud from the second I first laid eyes on you. I said that, didn’t I?”

  Misty, the bearded, bosomed lady dwarf who worked at the Magic Island Employment Office, leered at me from behind the desk as she munched noisily on a handful of pickled rat tails. I hadn’t seen the unpleasant little monster since the morning after I’d first stepped foot on the island, when Glenn had accompanied me to the dingy gray building to find my first job. Quite frankly, I’d rather spend my day curling Monty’s nose hairs—and he had very specific requirements for curl diameter—than endure another round of insults from a woman who didn’t realize that her V-neck dress was on backwards.

  “I did not get fired,” I said tightly, straining to keep a pleasant smile on my face when I very much wanted to reach across the desk and tug out a tuft of her frizzy brown beard. “I quit.”

  It was, of course, on a need-to-know basis that Sandrine, the vampire who ran The Islander Gazette, where I was the former gossip columnist, had placed me on a two-week unpaid suspension prior to my departure. We didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye—or, in her case, eye-to-fang—and leaving the newspaper had given me a new lease on life. But try as I might to find a new job on my own, for some strange reason no one on the island seemed interested in hiring an untrained witch who had a nasty little habit of attracting dead bodies wherever she went.

  The dwarf narrowed her beady black eyes at me and bared her broken, yellowing teeth, one of which was still coated in rat’s tail. “So you’re telling me that I worked myself to the bone finding you the perfect job, and you barely la
sted three months?” She slid open her desk drawer and rooted around in it for a few moments before producing a black folder and slapping it onto the desk. Opening it, she ran her chunky finger down the list of available jobs, shaking her head and muttering to herself, every so often shooting me a satisfied smirk that plainly said I told you so.

  “Here’s something,” she said after a few minutes, tapping her thumb against the page, and I leaned forward eagerly. “The High Court is requiring the ogre community to hire a janitor for their feeding hall. Seems that all the entrails and eyeballs left rotting in the garbage are causing the owner of the fairy spa next door to get a little tetchy about the stench. Says she can’t perform a proper wingtip massage when her patrons are too busy retching into their complimentary bowls of fairy dust facial powder.”

  She scanned her eyes over the job listing before raising them to me. “You know how to perform a basic ogre repellant charm, don’t ya? I don’t need any more blood on my hands… not after the last few investigations.” I swallowed hard and shook my head, and she heaved a loud sigh and mumbled something that sounded a lot like incompetent fool before resuming her search.

  “How about this.” Her finger stopped at the bottom of the page. “The leprechauns are hiring a hostess for their casino.” She squinted down at the listing. “Must be comfortable with gambling, must be able to tell the difference between real gold and fool’s gold, must be…” Her voice trailed off. “Nope, this one won’t work either.”

  “Why not?” I frowned at her. “That one doesn’t sound so bad.”

  She pinched her lips together and gave me an appraising head-to-toe look before shaking her head resolutely. “Absolutely not. Says here the candidate must be attractive, and you don’t even have a beard.” She snorted and stroked her own facial hair lovingly. “Maybe I should apply for that one,” she muttered under her breath. “Change of scenery couldn’t hurt… and those leprechauns sure know how to use those long fingers…”