Spellbinding Starters Page 7

  Robin appeared to mull it over. “All right. I know a place that can help you get started.”

  “A place? Like a private investigator?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he said. “An oracle. They provide leads when there’s nothing to go on. Many agents use oracles.” He puffed out his chest. “I know how to find the local one, and, more importantly, how to appeal to them.”

  “You can’t appeal to them with money?” I asked.

  His brow shot up. “You really don’t know anything about the paranormal world, do you?”

  “My mother was a human,” I said. “Not even a witch human. I mean, she had magical skills as far as I was concerned, but that’s only because she was an excellent doctor.”

  “That’s right. Your father was the magical one,” Robin said.

  I smoothed the plaid comforter. “Yes, but I didn’t know him. Never met him.”

  “That can’t be easy for you. Do you know his name?” Robin asked.

  “No,” I lied. “My mother didn’t think it was necessary to pass along that information.”

  “It must be awful, not really knowing where you came from. My childhood was difficult in its own way, but I knew my parents loved me.”

  “I know enough,” I said, although if I’d really meant it, I wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. It was my interest in my father that had brought me to the library in the middle of the night. If Cato hadn’t thrown me for a giant loop with his revelation, I never would’ve wandered downstairs in a stupor.

  Robin rubbed his hands together. “I have a little time to spare. Why don’t we take a field trip? I can teach you how to make your first offering. It’ll be fun and, more importantly, educational.”

  “Fun?” An offering didn’t sound fun. I conjured up images of demons and puppy sacrifices.

  He grabbed a brown bag from the back of his door and slung it over his shoulder. “Come along, Miss Morrow. You’ll see.”

  “What’s in the handbag?” I asked.

  “It isn’t a handbag,” he sniffed. “It’s a satchel.”

  “Pot-ay-to. Pot-ah-to.”

  “Clearly, it’s pot-ay-to,” Robin said. “No one in any world says po-tah-to.”

  “Have you been everywhere in every world?” I asked pointedly.

  Robin pressed his pouty lips together.

  “So, what’s in the satchel?” I persisted.

  “Nothing yet,” he replied. “That’s what’s on the agenda now. The offering.”

  "Like what, homemade pie?" I had no baking skills to speak of, but I knew a good pie when I saw one.

  "A pie would never make a good offering," Robin said with disdain. "The oracle needs something far less…mundane."

  "An Amazon gift card?" I queried.

  Robin shook his head in disgust. "We must quickly get you out of neophyte status or you'll never survive here. The oracle is an ancient diviner. They have direct access to visions of the gods.”

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I’ve read some of those stories about the gods, and I don't think I would want to share those visions. Swan rape? I mean, come on."

  Robin ignored me. "We need to raid the mixology cupboard."

  "How do we do that? Break in?" I wasn't so sure about breaking in to a room in the academy, not when the whole point of this was to defend my name.

  "I'm a prefect, remember? No breaking and entering required." He opened the top drawer of his desk and produced a key.

  “A key?" I said with mock fascination. "Now that is ancient."

  "Let's go, Morrow. If we hope to achieve anything, then we need to get to the oracle before sundown."

  "Why, what happens at sundown?"

  He avoided my gaze. "You don't want to know."

  I accompanied Robin to the mixology classroom and watched as he searched the various potions.

  "Are you even aware that you’re whistling?" I asked.

  He kept his focus on the jars and vials in front of him. "I am most certainly not whistling."

  "Yes, you are," I insisted. "It's very subtle, but you are most definitely whistling."

  He resumed his concentration, and I heard the gentle sound once more.

  "You’re doing it again!"

  Robin jerked his head toward me. "I have a sinus issue, okay? Can we please drop the subject?"

  "Now that you mention it, it is more of a wheeze than a whistle."

  Robin pulled a vial filled with green bubbling liquid from the back of the shelf. "Success!"

  I scrunched my nose. "What is it?"

  "Believe it or not, it's a beauty potion," he said. "It eradicates wrinkles. The oracle loves it."

  I thought of the chancellor's amazingly youthful skin. "Does Chancellor Tilkin use it as well?"

  "I think it's safe to assume that any older woman you see without wrinkles is a fan," he said. "It was invented by one of our former professors."

  "Is this all we need? One beauty product and we get to ask our question?"

  "Heavens no," Robin replied. "Two items to go, but this is a good start."

  "I'm surprised you’re willing to steal this for me," I said. "Shouldn't you be clutching your pearls about now?"

  Robin's brow creased. "I'm not stealing it. I'm going to use the sign-out sheet right over there." He motioned to a nearby table with a book open on top. "As a prefect, I'm allowed three items per month for my own experimentations."

  I should've known. Robin was as far from a rule breaker as there ever was one, which suited me just fine.

  He slipped the vial into his pocket and completed the sign-out sheet. "On to the next."

  The next stop was the games room, not far from the great hall. Robin plucked a red ball from a basket by the shelves and tucked it into the satchel.

  “That was easy,” I said. “What else?”

  "We need to go to the human world," he said.

  "How do we do that?" I asked. "Do you have one of those feather cloaks?"

  Robin chuckled. “Unfortunately not. To my knowledge, there’s only one in existence and that belongs to the chancellor. No, I'm afraid we have to go the old-fashioned way."

  "You have a car?"

  He gave me a funny look. "Not exactly."

  The next thing I knew we were standing in front of a bicycle made for two, complete with a wicker basket on the handlebars.

  "You've got to be kidding me." I stared at the yellow bicycle with its two seats and two sets of pedals.

  I don’t suppose a broomstick is available, Icarus said. He perched on the wicker basket and peered inside.

  There you are, I said. I wish you’d caught up with me sooner. I have a lot to tell you.

  I’m aware of your predicament.

  “My familiar wants to know about a broomstick,” I said.

  “We can’t fly a broomstick into the human world,” Robin said, bristling with annoyance.

  Oh, right.

  "The only other bike available right now is a solo,” he continued. “One of us would've had to ride on the handlebars. Not very comfortable for our purposes."

  "I think I might prefer discomfort to the indignity of this," I said.

  Robin ignored me and hopped on the front seat. "You blackmailed me for my help, so this is it."

  "Good point. Next time, I'll blackmail someone with better means.”

  Reluctantly, I joined him on the bicycle and we pedaled our way to the border, where two fairies from The Order of the Edge patrolled. Robin seemed to know them both.

  "Hans, Fritz, good to see you," Robin said.

  The two fairies smiled at us.

  "I like your style, Prefect Chambers,” Hans said. "If I didn't have wings, I’d have a bike exactly like that one."

  I couldn't help but gape at the fairies. I’d never seen one in person before. They were much more attractive than the vampire I met. Despite their smaller wings, there was nothing feminine about these guys. Rippling muscles. Flowing blond locks that would have made Fabio gre
en with envy. They were basically Chippendales with wings.

  "We need to see ID," Fritz said. "You know the rule."

  "I certainly do," Robin said, and plucked a small card from his pocket. Fritz gave it a quick glance and handed it back.

  "And yours, miss," Fritz said.

  "She's a new student," Robin said. "She hasn't received her ID yet. She hasn't even been given a wand.”

  Hans examined me. “Where’d she come from?”

  "The chancellor brought her from Rainbow’s End,” Robin lied. “This is her first visit to Terrene.”

  Fritz broke into a wide grin. "Your first visit to the human world? Well, this’ll be a real treat for you then. Enjoy it!”

  "Only a quick visit today," Robin said. "Just to give her a taste. We don’t want to overwhelm her.”

  “I can’t wait. I hear it’s magical there,” I said, adopting my most innocent expression. I had years of experience with this particular face.

  "We’ll let you go this once," Hans said. "But next time, you have to have proper identification."

  “And the owl stays put,” Fritz added.

  I glanced up at Icarus. Sorry, pal.

  Icarus circled the air above our heads. No worries. I’ll keep myself busy on campus. There was a copse of birch trees I wanted to explore.

  I saluted them. "You have my word, gentlemen—er, fairies.”

  The guards flew aside to let us pass. Robin and I pedaled in sync like we’d been riding bikes together for years. I thought it would be more difficult, but, apparently, different personality styles did not necessarily mean different pedaling styles.

  We rode down back streets until we reached a downtown area.

  "Where are we going?" I couldn't imagine what the oracle needed from a regular human town.

  Robin slowed near the parking lot of strip stores and glanced over his shoulder at me. "Booze."

  We parked the bicycle out front and entered a store with the generic name of Wine & Spirits.

  "No fine wines for the oracle?” I queried, as he walked purposefully to the liquor section.

  He shook his head. "They’re partial to a human world cocktail called a Manhattan.”

  “They?” I pictured the oracle as a toothless old lady.

  “The local oracle is comprised of three sisters,” Robin explained. “Collectively, they’re called ‘the oracle.’ They aren’t the only ones in existence, of course, but they’re the closest.”

  "So, we need to buy the ingredients for the cocktail and mix it for them?” I said. In other words, we couldn’t just show up with a bottle of vodka and call it a day.

  "They prefer to mix themselves," Robin said. “Apparently, that’s part of the process. I hear they’re very particular about measurements. They can only get the ingredients in the human world, though, and they’re not permitted to travel here."

  My brow lifted. "Even with identification?"

  "Under no circumstances," he replied. "The rules are very strict for paranormals. Not everyone can travel between worlds, and, even then, we’re only permitted a certain number of visits per year. If you overstay, you risk losing lifetime privileges."

  "Do they do background checks?" I asked.

  "Absolutely," he said. "That's one of the things the ID cards tell them. There are ways around it, of course, as with everything, but I don’t advise it.“

  Naturally. "The cards are magical?"

  “Indeed. Hans and Fritz can tell with one glance of the card whether you have enough visits remaining, whether you’re excluded," Robin said. "The cards are extremely important."

  "What if you lose your card?" I asked.

  "I suggest you don't," he said. "They’re working on overhauling the system. They intend to use a drop of blood, and they recently rolled out a pilot program on the West Coast. If they decide it's working well enough, they’ll roll it out to the rest of the quadrant."

  I shuddered. A drop of my blood would reveal my father's identity. Keeping this secret wouldn’t be easy in the paranormal world.

  I followed Robin around the store as he gathered vermouth, rye, bitters, and a fresh lemon from a bowl on the counter. Robin tossed three sticks of beef jerky into the mix. Although it seemed an odd choice, I didn’t question it. Robin showed his ID to the cashier and paid without incident.

  “Why did he accept your school ID?" I asked, once we were safely outside.

  "As far as he knew, it was a human world driver’s license," Robin said. "Most students use a glamour. I’m twenty-two, so, technically, I’m not breaking any rules."

  “Do you use the same money in the paranormal world as the human world?” I asked.

  “No, but I keep a petty cash stash of dollars for just this reason. You never know when it will be needed.” Robin placed the bag in the basket, and we headed back to campus.

  If there was a paranormal equivalent to the Boy Scouts, Robin had to have all the badges. All of them.

  “What’s next?” I asked.

  He tapped the basket. “Now that we have all our ingredients, it’s time to see the oracle.”

  Chapter Eight

  Once we crossed back over the border, we rode the bicycle to the edge of a forest. Oak trees towered over us and were so close together, that I wondered whether we’d have to forge our own path.

  "The bicycle stays here," Robin said. We slowed to a stop and slid off, and he leaned the bicycle against one of the wider trees.

  He removed the satchel from the basket and slung it over his shoulder.

  "Stay close to me," Robin instructed. "Trust me, you don't want to get lost in these woods."

  The moment we stepped between the trees, the light dimmed. A canopy of branches and leaves blocked most of the sunlight. This forest lacked the usual sounds of birdsong and scampering woodland creatures. It was so quiet that the beat of my heart seemed to be the loudest noise here.

  "Do they live in treehouses or something?" I asked.

  Robin shushed me. "Inside voices, please."

  "But we’re outside," I said.

  He shot me an annoyed look. "Can we do this my way, please?"

  I fell silent, at least for a whole sixty seconds. Then I heard a sound that chilled my veins—the howling of a wolf, which was quickly answered by two more.

  I pinched Robin's arm.

  "Ouch," he cried. "What was that for?"

  "I barely touched you," I said. "How do you expect to become a full-fledged warden if a girl can't even pinch you without tears?"

  He straightened. "First of all, those are not tears. The forest air is damp. Second of all, my ultimate goal is not to become a warden, but a Lord Justice."

  "Then why are you training to become a warden?" I asked.

  "Because that's the career path," he said. "Most justices serve as an agent in the AMF before they join the judicial system. It's simply the means to an end."

  I hoped he made it through life as a warden long enough to reach his ultimate goal. I wasn’t feeling confident right now.

  Another howl erupted from behind us and I whipped around. Something was there; I could feel it. The back of my neck prickled. Were these werewolves or regular wolves? Either way, I was pretty sure I was about to die.

  "Who crosses our border? Name yourself," a steely voice commanded.

  Robin turned in the direction I was already facing, where an enormous grey wolf appeared between sturdy oaks. A woman rode atop the wolf. She wasn't the old crone I expected to see. Instead, she looked straight out of the 1950’s.

  "My name is Prefect Robin Chambers from Spellslingers Academy of Magic, and I’m traveling with my companion, Bryn Morrow. We come bearing gifts."

  Two more wolves appeared on either side of us, snarling. Each one had its own rider.

  The first woman slid off the back of her wolf with unnatural elegance and approached us. She wore a dark blue dress with white polka dots and a pair of wrist-length white gloves. Her dark hair was styled in the short and shaggy Italian cut,
reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor.

  “I’m Betty,” she announced. “These are my sisters, Peggy and Kitty.” The two sisters were just as retro as Betty. Peggy’s jaw-length red hair was cut in a sleek pageboy. Her yellow dress was a halter style and she wore cat eye sunglasses. Kitty wore a green swing dress with cap sleeves and a square neckline. Her brown hair was in a short and layered pixie cut.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile.

  Betty’s wolf continued to bear its fangs as she peered into the satchel.

  "You clever boy,” she said happily. “I’m nearly out of my age-defying wrinkle potion. And look, sisters, treats." She pulled the stick of beef jerky from the satchel and tossed it toward her wolf.

  Her sisters dismounted from their wolves to inspect the loot.

  "A ball!" Peggy said. "We’ve been in dire need. Our last ball was accidentally swallowed."

  “We should have brought a bigger ball,” I joked to Robin, but he didn’t get the Jaws reference.

  Peggy chucked the red ball over her wolf's head, and the wolf bounded away in pursuit.

  "We also brought ingredients for your most favored beverage," Robin said.

  Peggy and Kitty seemed delighted as they explored the contents of the satchel. Betty, however, became fixated on me. She stepped toward me, her grey eyes lively and sharp.

  "Your name again, my sweet."

  "Bryn Morrow," I said. I offered nothing more.

  "And you have come to ask a question of us?” Betty asked.

  "We have," I said. "We need your help with…"

  "Not yet," Robin interjected. "It isn't time."

  "The uptight boy is correct," Betty said. She closed the satchel and slung it over her own shoulder. "You are welcome to join us at home. Come now."

  "There’s casserole," Kitty chirped. She was clearly the effortlessly cheerful one.

  Betty gave a shrill whistle, and the three wolves quickly returned. “The girl rides with me."

  I climbed awkwardly on to the wolf's back, trying not to pull too hard on its fur. As afraid as I was, I also didn’t want to hurt it.

  The wolves leaped through the forest until we reached a clearing. A cul-de-sac came into view with only three ranch-style houses—one for each sister, presumably.