The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2)

The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2) Page 34

“The new rules do away with the old hierarchy and require the participation of all of the guilds in decision making.” She shrugged. “That's why there's so much turmoil. No one's sure how to implement that. There's considerable mistrust among the guilds. The other Weir aren't eager to sit down in a room with a bunch of wizards. They would be in fear of their lives.”

“Not all wizards are like that,” Seph pointed out.

Linda nodded. “Particularly here in America, families are mixed. Jack is a warrior; I'm an enchanter. Leander Hastings is a wizard; his sister was a warrior. There are many wizards like Hastings who hate the old system. They would like to make the new system work.”

Seph pushed his cereal bowl away and settled back in the wicker chair. “How do Jack and Ellen get along now?”

“Oh, they fight all the time. On and off the field.” Linda laughed. “Warriors in love.”

Seph digested that for a moment, then decided to change the subject. He turned to Snowbeard. “When can I start training? I've already done a lot of reading.” He thought of the library at the Havens, all those rows of ancient books.

Snowbeard's eyes flicked briefly to Linda. She nodded reluctantly.

“Is there a Weirbook we could use?” the wizard asked. Another exchange of meaningful glances between Linda and Snowbeard.

He's in on the secret, too, whatever it is.

“You could use Jack's,” Linda suggested.

“Would a warrior's Weirbook do me any good?” Seph asked. Jason's wizard Weirbook had included pages of spells and incantations. “Warriors don't use charms, do they?”

Linda studied her hands. “It's actually a wizard's book. Remember, Jack was a wizard born without a stone. A wizard implanted a warrior stone in him. That's why he can do some wizardry. Nick taught him, too.”

Seph shook his head. “I don't get it.”

“Jack was dying, so I found him a doctor, a wizard named Jessamine Longbranch,” Linda said, a little defensively. “She tricked me and implanted the wrong stone, hoping it wouldn't kill him. She planned to play Jack in the Game if it worked out. That's how he ended up in the tournament last summer.”

Seph was beginning to understand Jack a little better. But just then he was in no mood to be cooperative.

“What if I want to use my own Weirbook?” The question was intentionally abrupt. He held her gaze, experimentally flexing his mind a bit, exerting some pressure. She looked startled, then angry, and then pushed back fiercely. She was a master of mind magic, no doubt about it.

“Don't try that with me,” she snapped. “You'll have to work with what we have.”

She knows where the book is, Seph thought. He was sure of it.

“We can start today, if you like.” Snowbeard looked at Linda for direction.

“Seph, why don't I show you around town a little first. Then the three of us can get my car. You and Nick can start after lunch. Can you wait that long?” she asked sarcastically.

“No problem,” said Seph. “I'll get my shoes.” He carried his dishes into the kitchen.

“We should be back in an hour or so.” Linda slid her feet into her sandals and stood. “Let's go.”

It was a beautiful late spring day. Now that it was daylight, Seph could see that Jefferson Street was lined with painted ladies: lovely old Victorian houses in authentic colors, iced with gingerbread, lovingly restored. Many of them were flanked by gardens planted with old-fashioned flowers: peonies, irises, bleeding hearts, and delphinium. Blue and purple spires of lupine lined the walk of the house across the street. There must have been money in this town a hundred years ago, he thought, to have founded a neighborhood like this. It reminded him of Toronto's Cabbagetown.

Jack had left the Subaru for their use. As they drove down the street, Linda nodded to a man with close-cropped white hair and layers of silver jewelry who was retrieving his paper from his driveway. Across the street, an older woman with clouds of gray hair was working in her garden. She wore loose trousers and a short, Oriental-looking jacket. She waved at Linda as if she recognized her, but seemed to be studying Seph.

Seph twisted around to look at them after they had passed by.

“Do you know them?” he asked, turning forward again.

Linda nodded. “Mercedes Foster is a sorcerer and a weaver. Blaise Highbourne is a seer and silversmith. We have quite a compound on Jefferson Street. Wizards. Sorcerers. Seers. Warriors. There are more Weir in town than ever before. The establishment of the Sanctuary has made Trinity attractive to Anawizard Weir, the nonwizard guilds that used to be controlled by wizards.” She braked to allow a fat gray tabby cat to saunter across the street. “Trinity has always been a refuge for artists and counterculturists associated with the university. So the Weir fit in quite well.”

She showed him the high school, a relatively new building at the western end of town. Because it was exam week, groups of students hung out in the parking lot, talking or waiting for rides.

Seph thought of the Havens. School would be in session for another week, and then the Anaweir would disperse to wherever they came from, leaving the wizards behind. He wondered what story, if any, had been concocted to explain his disappearance.

The town center had a familiar, European look. It was anchored by a large town commons surrounded by the nineteenth-century stone buildings of Trinity College. Small businesses crouched along the edges of the campus: art stores and bookshops, galleries and restaurants. Linda explained that both Blaise and Mercedes had shops in the area. They parked in an angle space along the green.

The air was cool under the trees, and Seph's shoes were soon soaked from the dewy grass. A crowd of people was gathered around a brick-and-stone pavilion at the center of the commons, focused on an elaborate marble structure that extended above their heads. Their excited voices floated over the lawn.

“It's just a fountain,” Linda said, looking puzzled. “Kind of a Greek Revival piece. I can't imagine what everyone is so interested in. Maybe somebody's giving a speech.” Curious, they changed directions and headed for the fountain. They had nearly made it there when they were intercepted.

“Ms. Downey?”

He was a large, bulky man with sandy hair and a graying mustache, wearing a brown sport coat that was worn at the elbows. The fabric strained across his shoulders and back.

“Ms. Downey,” he repeated. “I thought that was you. I don't know if you remember me. Ross Childers. My brother Bill's boy, Will, is good friends with your nephew, Jack. We … uh … met after that episode at the high school last year.”

Linda smiled. “Of course. It's good to see you again, Sergeant.”

“Please. Call me Ross.”

“Ross.” She nodded.

“Here for a visit, I guess?” He squinted at Seph. “Good Lord! What happened to your face, son?”

Seph had almost forgotten about his appearance, and the question caught him off guard. He blinked at the officer, then said, “I was hit by a fast pitch.”

“Forgive me,” Linda said hastily. “I should introduce you. Seph, this is Ross Childers. He's a sergeant with the Trinity police.”

“Detective now, actually.” He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets.

“A detective,” she amended. “Ross is Will's uncle. Remember, Jack's friend? You met him when we dropped Ellen off last night. Ross, this is Seph McCauley. He's going to be staying at Becka's this summer.”

“McCauley?”The detective frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the crowd around the fountain, then back at Seph.

“What's going on over there?” Linda inquired, following his gaze.

“There was some vandalism there overnight,” Ross replied. “Kind of bizarre. Come take a look.” To Seph's surprise, the detective dropped a hand on his shoulder and propelled him quickly toward the fountain. Linda had to hurry to keep up.

The crowd parted sufficiently to let them through. Everyone seemed to know the police detective, but they looked curiously at Seph and Linda.

The fountain was made of white marble, a collection of scenes of Greek mythology. At the center of the pool stood a statue of Perseus holding aloft the Medusa's head. The decapitated Medusa lay crumpled at his feet, and alongside her lay another headless body, this one dressed in a Toronto Blue Jays shirt and jeans. Blood was spattered everywhere over the white marble, draining from the body as the water hit it. Blood sprayed out of the fountain and fell into the bloody pool below with a soft sound, like rain.

In case the point was missed, a message in large, violent letters was scrawled in blood across the back of the marble bench that ringed the fountain. McCauley.

Seph tried to take a step back from the carnage but Ross Childers's arm was holding him in place.

“Kind of a mess, wouldn't you say?” The detective studied him shrewdly.

“Do … do you know who it is?” Somehow, Seph managed to choke the words out.

Ross let him dangle a minute longer, then said, “It's a mannequin. They dressed it up and chopped its head off. Then they killed some kind of an animal, a pig we think, let the blood drip into the fountain. Pretty sick.” He paused. “You sign your work, Seph?”

“I never took you for an idiot, Detective, but I guess I was wrong,” Linda snapped.

Ross nodded grudgingly. “Okay. If I'm any judge, this was a complete surprise to him.” He blew out his breath as if unhappy with this assignment. “But that doesn't mean he can't help us find who did it. He comes to town, and suddenly there's a crazy stunt in the park with his name on it. Must be someone he knows.” He moved to one side, in hopes of addressing Seph directly, but Linda sidestepped into his path, so he had to speak over her head. “Blue Jays. That your team, Seph?” Seph just stared down at his hands. “You know anyone who might do something like this? You ever play around with black magic?”