The Warrior Heir
Page 35

With a kind of war cry, he wrenched himself away from the wizards and flung himself backward onto the pavement, landing painfully on his bound arms, scraping his hands along the rough concrete. In the same instant, something shrieked through the air, just above his head, something that carried the scent of fireworks and ozone. Someone screamed. Hansford or Sowicky. Both, he hoped. He lifted his head.
Hansford lay facedown on the concrete in front of the door. He was ripped nearly in half, his body contorted in a way that was inconsistent with life. Blood was spreading in a pool around him. Sowicky stood next to him, legs braced apart, looking wildly about for the source of the attack. The trader flung out his arm in a flat arc, launching flames in all directions, muttering charms desperately. He bent slightly, reaching for Jack where he lay on the ground, clutching the front of his shirt, preparing to haul him to his feet, to use him as a shield.
Then there was a hard concussion, like a sonic boom, that set Jack's ears ringing. Sowicky went flying, spread-eagled, taking the front of Jack's shirt with him. He collided with a car halfway across the parking lot with a sickening crunch. Sowicky lay unmoving, draped across the hood of the car.
Leander Hastings stepped past Jack and nudged Hansford with his foot. Jack had no doubt that Hansford was dead, and it was hard to believe Sowicky could have survived his landing, either. Then Hastings knelt beside Jack. “Are you all right?” His face was grim, fierce.
“I'm okay,” Jack said hoarsely. He rolled onto his side. Now he was facing the dead wizard, blood and tissue on the ground.
“Good. We don't have much time.” Hastings took a quick look about the parking lot, then extended his hands over the wizard at his feet. He murmured a few words, and power leaped from his fingers. The body shimmered, then seemed to disassemble before Jack's eyes, dissolving and seeping into the pavement. Jack shut his eyes, shivering. After a moment, he heard Hastings walking away from him to see to the other trader.
Jack felt like staying where he was, but he used his skinned and battered hands to push himself into a sitting position. There was no sign of Hansford, no blood staining the concrete. It was as if he'd dreamed it. He struggled to his feet. The borders of the parking lot had the smudged appearance that denoted a wizard's wall. The world beyond was indistinct. Hastings was walking back toward him, having disposed of the other body.
“What … what did you do with them?” Jack stammered.
“They're fifty feet down. That should be deep enough.” He was hard, cold, implacable, frightening; but when he turned to Jack, his expression softened.
Hastings took his elbow gently and turned him, then closed his hands over the cuffs on his wrists. Jack felt the tingle of power against his forearms, and his hands were free. He rotated his shoulders, gasping with pain as he did so. Hastings placed his hands on them, power trickled in, and the pain eased. He heard the wizard's voice behind him, unexpectedly kind. “It's all right, Jack. You're safe for now.” For some reason, this gesture brought tears to his eyes, and he found himself trembling. The hands remained, soothing him.
“Leesha Middleton's still in there, I think. She's working for Dr. Longbranch. But she's a trader. She knows who you are.” Jack knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to help it.
“It's all right. She's likely gone by now. She's going to have more than me to worry about when Jessamine finds out what she's been up to.”
Jack realized he was hearing a repetitive thud, like something hitting the school's double doors from the inside. Jack twisted and looked back at Hastings, and saw a smile ghost across the wizard's face.
“I thought you would never come out of there. I didn't want to start anything inside, with all those people.” He gestured at the doors. “I put up a barrier, to keep them from mixing in. I suppose I should let them out before the police arrive. Are you ready to deal with them?” When Jack nodded, Hastings said, “Just pretend you're in shock and let me do the talking. People will expect you to be incoherent anyway.” From somewhere, not far away, Jack could hear the sound of sirens.
Hastings swept away the wizard wall, and suddenly the sirens were much louder. He gestured toward the school building, spoke a charm. The double doors burst open, and Will Childers came flying through them, obviously surprised when they suddenly gave way to his shoulder. He just managed to avoid landing flat on his face. Becka and Linda were right behind him.
Becka let out a cry when she saw Jack; then led him over to the steps and made him sit down. She and Linda sat on either side of him, each cradling one of his bloody hands, smearing their clothes, but they didn't seem to notice.
Hastings stood on the sidewalk, staring at Linda. Her gaze kept sliding to the wizard, then away when he caught her at it, a kind of thrust and parry between them. Jack remembered what Nick had said. They haven't seen each other for years.
Fitch had appeared out of nowhere. He and Will stood slightly to one side, saying nothing, still watchful, waiting for someone to explain.
Three police cars skidded screaming into the lot. Uniformed officers poured from the cars, guns drawn.
“They ran that way,” Hastings said, pointing to the athletic fields at the rear of the school. “Two men wearing jeans and sweatshirts. One blond, the other dark haired. They may be armed.”
More police cars arrived, and officers poured past them, swarming across the athletic field and into the neighborhood beyond. A crowd of the curious was growing, students and teachers who had left the school, as well as new arrivals for the afternoon exams. Two policemen herded them into the teacher's parking lot, behind a yellow tape barrier. Every officer in Trinity must be out here, Jack thought. The police force just wasn't that large. He allowed Becka and Linda to fuss over him, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
“Are you all right, Jack?”
Jack looked up to see a bulky, sandy-haired man with a mustache. It was Will's uncle, Ross Childers.
“Just bruised. And skinned, I guess.”
“I'd like to ask you some questions that might help us catch them, and then we'll have you looked after.” He glanced at Becka. She rested her hand on Jack's shoulder, as if for protection. “Did you know those men, Jack?”
He shook his head. “I never saw them before today.” Truth.
“Any reason anyone would be out to get you? Are you in any kind of trouble?”
He shook his head again. Lie.
“Becka? You come into an inheritance or something? Make any new enemies down at the courthouse?”
She considered before she answered, “No inheritance. Can't think of anyone in particular.”
“Exactly how'd you get away, son?” he asked.
Someone spoke over his shoulder, answering the question for him. It was Hastings. “Will Childers told me there was some kind of standoff in the office. I came up the hallway and saw what was happening. So I went out the side door and circled around front, hoping to surprise them, which I did. Jack managed to get away in the confusion, and they ran.” All of which was true, except for that last part.
“That right, Will?” Ross fixed his gray eyes on his nephew. Will nodded, glancing at Hastings.
Becka stood and embraced Hastings. “Mr. Hastings, I can't tell you how grateful I am,” she said. “If it hadn't been for you, I don't know what would have happened.”
Linda smiled tentatively at Hastings, and extended her hand to the wizard. “Thank you, Lee.” He took it, looking down at her. It was like watching a small-scale electrical storm between two people.
In the days that followed, a story of sorts emerged. The kidnappers had abandoned their getaway van in the school parking lot. It had been stolen that afternoon from a mall in Cleveland. There were a series of heated meetings involving Becka, the police, and Penworthy. Why hadn't the principal asked for better identification from the bogus policemen? Why hadn't he called Becka when the subject of searching Jack's locker had come up in the first place? Penworthy could explain none of it. Jack actually felt sorry for the little man. Whatever his faults, the principal had no defense against wizardry.
Leesha Middleton never returned to school. There was some concern that she might have run afoul of the kidnappers, but then they heard that her parents transferred her to a private school in Boston, where she would be safer.
The police continued to question Jack. Once Jack had the story line, he stuck with it, but he could tell things weren't quite adding up as far as Will's uncle was concerned. Becka the lawyer would sit in on these question-and-answer sessions, and every now and then would put her arm around Jack and murmur, “He's the victim, Ross, remember?”
For his part, Jack wished he shared Hastings's ability to deflect questions.
His aunt was hard to pin down as well. Each witness remembered Linda's offer to swap herself for Jack a little differently. Someone even remembered her speaking of the Trade, and the kidnappers saying something about “enchanters,” but she just looked bewildered when Ross brought it up.
“Ross, how should I know what they were talking about? I have no idea what I said. I was just trying to persuade them to let Jack go.”
The story created quite a splash in the local media, and was even picked up by some national outlets. Camera crews from the Cleveland stations camped out in front of their house for a few days, but for some reason none of the video they shot ever turned out. Linda persuaded Becka and Jack to make themselves strictly unavailable to reporters, in hopes that the story would die down quickly. It would be a disaster if news of the attack reached Jessamine Longbranch.
Somehow, Jack made it through the rest of exam week. Each day Hastings or Nick drove him to and from school and camped in the hallway outside his exams. Will and Fitch and Ellen came to Jack's house nearly every night to study. There was always a wizard within shouting distance.
Jack felt as though he were in prison. He'd always traveled freely all over town on his bike and on foot; more recently he'd been driving. Now he couldn't make a move without an escort. All the while knowing that if the Red Rose couldn't get to him, they would go after the people he cared about.