The Wizard Heir (23 page)

He hauled himself up the wooden stairway from the
beach, laboring like an old man. He found Jack, Ellen, Fitch, and Fitch's
girlfriend, Miriam, sitting at the picnic tables under the trees, slurping down
frozen-custard cones.

Miriam was from Cleveland, and her family owned a
cottage at Trinity Lakeside. She wore black crushed velvet, kohl eyeliner, and
fishnets to the beach. Seph thought it was cool, in an impractical sort of way.

“Hey, Seph. Want to play tennis later?”
Ellen asked when she spotted him. Then she frowned, shading her eyes. “Are
you all right? You look like you've got sunstroke or something.”

Seph dropped onto the bench next to her, exhausted by
the climb from the beach. “I'm okay.”

“Here. Have some.” She handed him her cone.
He licked off half and handed it back.

“Who was that girl you were dancing with at the
pavilion last night?” Fitch asked.

“Christy Laraway. She's taking classes at the
Institute.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember her face.

“Dude. I thought you were going out with Julie
Steadman.”

“I've hung out with Julie a few times,” Seph
said, without opening his eyes. “I'm not going out with her.”

Jack finished his cone and licked his fingers.
“The local girls are just thrilled to meet someone they didn't hate in
second grade.”

“C'mon, Jack, it's more than that,” Ellen
said. She switched to a ditsy high falsetto. “He's so hot. He's
practically European. I mean, he's lived all over the world. And he
speaks French!' She nudged Seph with her shoulder. ”And have you
seen his eyes? They change colors, and he has these long, dark lashes.
And the way he kisses." She rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, Ellen,” Seph said. Their
conversation was necessarily edited because of the presence of Miriam, who knew
nothing of the magical subtext.

“So. What's the secret of great kissing,
Seph?” Jack asked. “Is it technique, duration, intensity, or power?”

Seph sighed theatrically. “Oh, all right, Jack.
I'll kiss you. But just this once.” He rolled sideways to dodge Jack's
half-hearted swipe at him. Somehow, Jack always came off sounding critical.
Like he thought Seph was taking advantage of Persuasion.

“Guys are grumbling about the out-of-town
competition,” Jack went on. He stripped off his T-shirt and mopped his
face with it.

Seph shrugged. “Don't you think everyone brings
something to the game?”

“What do you mean?”

“We all use our assets. For instance, some people
are really buff.” Seph glanced sideways at Jack. “Or they're great
conversationalists. They play football or they're in a blues band. They write
poetry or they paint or they're good listeners. They have great hair, great
legs, a boatload of money and a boat. Or they have that je ne sais quois
…”

“Or that je definitely sais quois, as the
case may be,” Jack replied.

“Shut up, Jack,” Seph said, grinding the
heel of his hand into his forehead. His head was pounding.

“Some people would say love isn't a game,” Ellen
mused. “I never bought that all's-fair-in-love-and-war bit.”

Seph shrugged in surrender. “Anyway, I can't do
tennis tonight. I'm working for Harold this afternoon, and tonight I'm meeting
someone at the Legends.”

“Another date?” Miriam asked.

Seph stood to go. “Not exactly. She doesn't know
I'm coming.”

The manager at the Legends Inn was happy to tell Seph
what time Madison Moss got off work. He was even willing to let her off early,
but Seph said no, he would just wait. He bought coffee at the carryout counter
and found a bench in the park across the street that afforded a good view of
the entrance. She came out of the front door right on time, looking up and down
the street as if she hadn't decided what to do next. She jumped and let out a
squeak of fright when he stepped out of the shadows and touched her shoulder.

“Oh, it's you,” she said, when he turned
toward the light. “You about scared me to death.” She'd rebraided her
hair, but was still wearing the beach-stained blouse and skirt.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Oh. Well. Sorry. I … um … have plans. I have to
go.” She made no effort to be convincing.

“It won't take long. Promise.” He took her
elbow, careful not to let the slightest dribble of magic escape. He wasn't sure
he had any to spare, anyway. “Do you want to talk here or somewhere
else?”

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Okay.” He towed her back into the
coffeehouse and out onto the terrace overlooking the lake. He chose a remote
table overlooking the gardens. The waitress drifted over, grinning and raising
her eyebrows at Madison. “May I help you?”

Madison just stared straight ahead, scowling and
tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. Her nails were painted purple.

“Two coffees and biscotti,” Seph said.

“I wanted tea,” Madison said when the
waitress had departed.

“You were drinking coffee on the beach.”

“Right now, I feel like tea.”

“Next time, speak up.”

“What makes you think there'll be a next
time?”

Seph pulled her drawings from his jeans pocket and
flattened them out on the tabletop.

Madison pursed her lips and looked out at the lake.
“Do you know I got chastised for the state of my uniform, Witch Boy?”

“My name is Seph.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Short for Joseph.”

“Is that a family name?”

“I have no idea.” The scent of jasmine
wafted up from the gardens and fireflies sparkled in the lawn. “I don't
really know my family.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sometimes that's not a
bad thing. Who do you stay with?”

“Rebecca Downey. She's my guardian's
sister.”

“Oh, I know her. She comes into the inn a
lot.” She gave him an appraising look. “She's very nice.”
The subtext being, Unlike you.

“What about Madison? Where's that from?”

“I'm named after a county in Kentucky. Where my
parents first—ah—met.”

The waitress set down coffee cups and plates of
biscotti. “Hey, those are good!” she said, pointing from the sketches
to Seph.

“Will you put those away?” Madison gestured
at the crumpled pages.

Seph said nothing.

“Look,” she said, wrapping her fingers
around her cup. “I'm sorry I sketched you without asking permission.”

Seph waited. “That's it?”

“What do you want?”

“Well, to start, what did you do to me on the
beach today?”

“You mean after you attacked me?”

He nodded grudgingly, conceding the point. “I'm
sorry about that. It's just that I thought you might … have a hidden
agenda.” He couldn't very well say, There are wizards after me
and I thought you might be conspiring with them.

“Well, you came up to me, you know. I was minding
my own business.”

“I know. But what did you do to me?” he
persisted.

“I kissed you.” The corners of her mouth
twitched.

“Before that. You left me on my back.”

Now she grinned flat out. “Sounds improper.”

“This isn't a joke. I want to know what … who you
are and what you're up to.” Seph waved a hand at the drawings.
“What's with the aura? Why do you call me Witch Boy?”

“Because that's what you are.”

“What makes you think so?”

She gave him a look that said he wasn't fooling her
one bit. “There are people in this world who can get whatever they want,
who can talk the money right out of your hand and make you glad you gave it up.
Some have the knowin' or the second sight. Where I come from, we call them
witches or conjure men.”

I call them wizards. “Why would you think I'm … a witch? I never even
spoke to you until today.”

“You didn't have to. I've always been able to
spot it. You shine like a house lit up for a party.” She reached a hand
toward him, stopping an inch from his face, as one might hesitate to touch a
hot stove.

“What happened on the beach today?” Seph
persisted.

“I don't really know.” She shrugged. “I
just don't seem to be susceptible to spelling.”

Seph leaned forward. “It was more than that. It's
like you wrung me out or something.”

Madison took a bite of her biscotti. “This is a
totally weird conversation, Seth, or Seph, or whatever your name is.”

“So can you use it? The power, I mean. After you
drain it out of a person?” He reached out and gripped her hand.

She snatched her hand back. “You're the witch,
not me.” She looked at her watch. “Listen, I'm working breakfast
tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”

Seph ignored the hint. “Why do you sound like
you're from the South?”

“Because I am. Coalton County's down by the
river. Southern Ohio.”

“Why are you working here, then?”

“My cousin Rachel owns the Legends. She needed a
waitress, I needed the money, and I thought I could add some beach landscapes
to my portfolio.”

Seph laid some bills on top of the check. “But
you're not sketching landscapes. You're sketching me.”

She turned a deep red and looked away. “I … I
thought you'd make a good subject. You have an interesting face. And
challenging. I mean, you actually make your own light.” She stood,
signaling that the conversation was over.

Seph followed Madison back through the coffeehouse. In
the entryway, she turned and stuck out her hand to him. “Well, good to
meet you, Seph McCauley. And thanks for the coffee.”

He took her hand, but she didn't react to his touch
the way other girls did. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

“Me?” She nodded toward the stairs.
“Right here, at the inn.”

“If you work breakfast tomorrow, does that mean
you get off early?”

She pulled her hand back. “No. I'm working a
double shift.”

“When's your day off? Maybe we could hang
out.”

“I've seen you at the pavilion. Seems to me
you're pretty booked.”

Small towns. “I'm
trying to cut back.”

She lifted her chin. “What am I, a challenge to
you, or something?”

He shrugged. “You're the one who kissed me.”
He knew he'd said the wrong thing when she pivoted away from him and headed for
the stairs. “Hey! Madison! I'm sorry, okay? Can't we just hang out? You
don't have to sign anything. We'll do whatever you want.”

“Well …” She paused, one foot on the first
step, her hand on the railing. She turned back toward him, considering.
“It's been a long time since I've been on a picnic.”

Hastings

The next day was miserably hot. Seph left the beach
early and stopped at the market on his way home. Madison had agreed to a
picnic, and Seph had agreed to provide the food. He meant to keep it simple:
focaccia, cheese, antipasti, fruit. That and a burnt-sugar pecan tart that
would steal anybody's soul.

At first he thought no one was home, but as he pulled
a bottle of iced tea from the refrigerator, he heard voices on the porch. He
wandered out, expecting to see Linda and Becka, perhaps. Becka was there, but
she was sitting across from a stranger.

He was tall and lean, yet muscular, and had strong
features—that other-side-of-ugly look that women seemed to favor. He had green
eyes and dark, unruly hair. He was dressed for the weather in a cotton shirt
and khakis, and there was a bottle of beer on the table in front of him. There
was something compelling about him, a tightly coiled power that drew the eye.

“Oh hi, Seph. Is Jack with you?” Becka
asked, looking over his shoulder.

Seph shook his head. “I came back from the beach
by myself.” He stared at the man, who was looking back at him curiously.

Becka noticed. "Seph, this is Leander Hastings, a
friend of the family. He's visiting from out of town. Leander, this is Seph
McCauley. He's been staying with us this summer.

Seph stuck out his hand to Hastings, and there was
that usual electrical exchange between wizards. “I've been looking forward
to meeting you,” Seph said. “I've heard a lot about you.”

Hastings smiled. “Don't believe everything you
hear.” His eyes were fixed on Seph, taking his measure. There was
something about him that reminded Seph of Gregory Leicester. He had the same
ability to intimidate, to overwhelm. But just now he looked a little puzzled.
“Are you a friend of Jack's?”

“No,” Becka explained quickly. “He was
Linda's guest, originally, though we've managed to steal him from her. He comes
from a complicated family situation.”

“I see.”

Seph needed to find a way to talk to the wizard, to
ask questions in private. This was likely to be someone who could lead him to
the Dragon. “Are you going to be staying in Trinity long, Mr.
Hastings?” Seph asked, hoping for a yes.

Hastings shook his head. “Only a few days, I'm
afraid. And a few days in Trinity is never enough.” He paused. “Where
do you come from, Seph?” The wizard had a trace of accent, as if he were
British, or had learned English overseas.

“I was born in Canada,” Seph replied.
“But I moved around a lot.”

Becka looked at her watch. “Oh my, I'm sorry,
Leander. I need to be down at school in half an hour. Jack should be home soon,
though, and I hope you'll stay for supper. Will you and Seph be okay for a
little while?” She seemed flustered, her face rosier than could be
accounted for by the heat.

“I'm fine on my own, Becka, you know that. It's
my fault for dropping in. I'll stay for supper, if you'll have me, but I'm sure
Seph has other things to do besides entertaining me. I can do some
reading.” He rested his hand on a stack of books on the table.

“Oh, it's no problem, really,” Seph said
hastily.

Becka gathered up her laptop and papers, kissed Seph
on top of his head, and then she was gone, banging the screen door behind her.

Hastings looked after her for a moment and then turned
his attention to Seph. He looked like someone who had forgotten something
important and was trying to remember.

“So you came here with Linda?”

Seph set his tea on the table and settled into the
chair across from Hastings. He decided to answer the next three questions all
at once, before they were asked. “She's my guardian. I'm told my parents
are dead. And I don't know where I'm from. Not really.”

Hastings looked surprised. “Linda never—”

“I know, she never mentioned me,” Seph cut
in. “I only met her a few weeks ago. But she's been … great. So's everyone
else here in Trinity.”

“Who were your parents?” Hastings asked,
leaning back in his chair. An unusual ring on his right hand caught the light
as he did so.

Seph hesitated, unsure whether to pass along the lie.
“I never really knew much about them. I was raised by a foster mother. A
sorcerer,” he added.

“Perhaps your foster mother would tell you about
them, if you asked.” His meaning was clear. No sorcerer could resist a
wizard asking questions.

“She's gone now, too,” he said. There is
something deadly about this man, Seph thought. In the world of wizards, it
was sometimes difficult to tell the good guys from the bad.

Seph decided it was time to ask a few questions before
they were interrupted. He leaned forward. “Jack told me you taught him how
to fight.”

Hastings nodded. “I did.”

“Can you teach me, too?”

“Jack is a warrior. That's his gift. You're a
wizard. You're not allowed to fight under the rules.”

“But not everybody plays by the rules, do
they?” Seph said quietly.

Hastings picked up his beer and drained it. “Why
do you want to learn to fight?” he asked, rolling the bottle between his
hands.

“I have enemies.”

“Who?”

“Gregory Leicester,” Seph said, watching
Hastings for any reaction to the name. There was none, not even a flicker,
though the wizard paused a moment before he spoke again.

“What do you have against Gregory
Leicester?” he asked, as if they were talking about the weather.

“He murdered two of my friends.”

Hastings didn't seem surprised by this news. “I'm
sorry to hear that,” he said. “Were they wizards?”

“One was a wizard. One was Anaweir.”

“Can you prove that he killed them?”

Seph thought about it. “Probably not.”

Hastings sighed and ran a hand through his hair,
leaving it more tumbled than before. “Does Dr. Leicester know you are
gunning for him?”

He's making fun of me, Seph thought, although there
was no trace of humor in Hastings's voice or manner. “I told him I'd kill
him,” Seph admitted.

Hastings shook his head and leaned forward. “Let
me give you some advice, Seph. If you really want to kill a man, don't tell him
what you're about. And don't tell everyone else, either. It sounds too much
like you are trying to convince yourself.” He smiled, and it was not
unkind. “For all you know, Gregory Leicester and I are old friends,”
he said.

“But you're not,” Seph said. “Are
you?”

“We're not,” Hastings agreed, without
stopping to think about it. “But I know him well enough to suggest you
reconsider tangling with him.”

“It's not my choice.” Seph moved on to his
primary question. “Do you know where I can find the Dragon?” he
asked.

“The Dragon?”

“The leader of the wizard faction opposing
Gregory Leicester. Leicester is in league with someone named Claude
D'Orsay.”

“And how do you know all this?” Seph
realized suddenly that he was still the one who was answering most of the
questions. And despite spending the day at the beach, he was already sticky
with sweat again, while Hastings appeared cool and relaxed. How does he do
that?

“I was at a school called the Havens all last
year, up until June,” Seph said, irritated. “The friends he killed
were students there. Leicester was the headmaster. So do you know the Dragon or
not?”

Now Hastings studied him with more interest than
before. “I've heard of the Dragon, of course, although I'm new to the
Wizard Council. The Dragon's not actually on the council. He keeps his identity
hidden, but has considerable influence. Why do you ask?”

“I want to find him. I have some information that
could help him.” Seph meant to make Jason's mission his own. Only, he was
even younger than Jason, as Hastings immediately pointed out.

“You're too young to get involved in wizard
politics. It's not a game for children. I already have the reputation of being
careless with the lives of children,” Hastings added, rubbing his chin.

“I'm not a child,” Seph said hotly.

“I'm sure you are not. Not after a year at the
Havens.” Hastings was about to say more, when there was a choking sound,
like a gasp, from the doorway, and Seph realized they were no longer alone.
They both looked up to see Linda Downey standing there.

“Lee! What are you doing here?” she
demanded. She was looking from Seph to Hastings and back again.

Hastings rose easily to his feet. “It's good to
see you too, Linda.” He stepped forward, extending both hands, but she
stepped back, so he let them drop after a moment. He towered over the
enchanter, and the air shimmered between them like two weather fronts meeting.
Seph filed the information away.

“I hadn't heard you were coming,” Linda said
finally. “What a surprise.” Her voice was flat.

Hastings nodded. “I didn't know you would be
here, either. I showed up unannounced, but Becka was kind enough to invite me
to dinner. I was just getting to know Seph, here.”

“I thought you were at the beach,” she said
to Seph, in a tone that made him wish he were.

“I came back early,” he explained hastily.
“Jack should be home pretty soon.” As he spoke, they heard someone at
the back door.

“Seph? You hiding out in here? I have five
messages for you.” Jack was laughing as he came onto the porch. He stopped
short when he saw Hastings. “Mr. Hastings! I didn't realize you were here.
I would have come home sooner.” This was one wizard he seemed pleased to
see. “Does Mom know you're here?”

“I already saw her,” Hastings said. “I
brought her some old books from the UK that I thought she might enjoy.”

Seph looked from Jack to Hastings to Linda Downey. He
was already sure that dinner would be interesting.

Dinner was interesting. Becka put salmon into
the smoker and there were grilled vegetables, warm bread from the bakery, and
fresh sweet corn. She had bought raspberries and whipping cream, so Seph made
crepes for dessert.

Aside from the food, dinner was a feast of secrets.
And all of them revolved around Leander Hastings. Linda was brooding about
something and had little to say to anyone. Seph realized quickly that Jack and
Hastings had a history Becka knew nothing about. She and Hastings got into a
spirited discussion about Celtic archaeology that lasted through most of the
meal. Yet Becka seemed tentative, unsure of herself where the wizard was
concerned. And Seph noticed Hastings looking at him intently several times.

If he was hoping for more private time with Hastings
after dinner, he was disappointed. The adults sat on the porch, talking and
drinking wine until late. Finally, Hastings thanked Becka for hosting him and
said goodbye to Jack and Seph. When he came to Linda, he took both her hands
firmly and lifted her to her feet. “Can you walk me out, Linda?” It
was more a command than a request. Seph wondered what the wizard was up to.
Maybe he was going to tell Linda about Seph's plans to find the Dragon.

He felt disappointed. He was convinced that Hastings
knew where to find the Dragon, but obviously he wasn't going to share that
information with Seph.

The air outside was soft with the exhalation of the
lake. When Linda and Hastings reached Hastings’s car, he opened the
passenger-side door. “Get in,” he said, and walked around to the
other side without waiting for a response.

Fine, she thought. It would give her a chance to speak
her mind to Hastings. She got in.

Hastings climbed in the driver's side, but he didn't
put the key into the ignition. “I want to talk to you about the boy,”
he said.

“If you mean Seph, I have something to say to
you, too.” She looked him in the eyes. “Stay away from him, Leander.
Don't get him involved in any of your schemes. Even if he wants to be. He's
already been hurt, and I don't want to see him hurt any more.”

“My schemes?” Hastings raised an eyebrow.
Linda glared at him, so he sighed and sat back in his seat, draping his arms
across the steering wheel. “How well do you know him?” he asked.

“I've known Seph all his life,” Linda
replied. “Why?”

“He says he just met you this summer,”
Hastings said mildly. “And I'm wondering why I've never heard of him
before.”

Linda hesitated. “Well, maybe our relationship
has been a bit … one-sided.”

“So you know him but you'd never actually spoken
to him?” Hastings rubbed his hand along his jaw.

“I've been his guardian since he was a
baby,” Linda said sharply. “Why? What are you getting at?”

“If you're his guardian, then how in bloody hell
did the boy end up at the Havens?”

Linda shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “I … I
didn't arrange the placement. I never … I never made the connection. I didn't
realize he was in trouble until the end of the school year.” Guilt swept
over her.

Hastings was blunt. “I don't believe in
coincidences. I know Gregory Leicester, and I know what he does to his
students. If Seph McCauley spent a year there, then you have to assume
Leicester has control of him now.”

“That's impossible,” Linda said flatly.
“He was a mess when I found him. It was all I could do to get him out of
there. Leicester was ready to kill him. And then they tried to keep us from
getting to Trinity.”

“How did you happen to take him out of
school?” Hastings asked. He'd turned away from the light, and she couldn't
read his expression in the darkness.

“He sent out an e-mail asking for help.”
Hastings was silent. “Come on, Leander. You don't think this is some kind
of trick, do you?”

“This might be just where Leicester wants him to
be, right in the middle of the Sanctuary, right next to you, Nick, Jack, and
Ellen: all the people who ruined their tournament last year and engineered the
change in the rules.”