Twisted Sister of Mine (Overworld Chronicles) (16 page)

I blurred up the stairs, losing count of the hallways I passed in blind panic, and swerved through a doorway into a milling crowd of students in the hallway just outside a large room lined with tables. The sounds of clinking silverware and dinnerware drifted out. I'd apparently stumbled upon the cafeteria, or whatever people called the squat-n-gobble in an institution of higher magical learning.

A girl who looked middle school age gasped, looking straight at the unconscious man slung over my shoulder. Murmurs went up from the crowd as they saw me. Someone screamed. Students dashed off in all directions, panicking like spooked deer. By the time the stampede finished, only a couple of students remained, one of them quite familiar.

Lina, her mouth quirked into an amused expression, said, "You know how to handle a crowd, Justin."

I would have shrugged but for the dead weight on my shoulder and a tide of exhaustion sweeping over my muscles. "Guess I need to change deodorant."

"What happened to Professor MacLean?" she said, walking around behind me, inspecting him. Lina stepped back around, tilting her head slightly to the side. "He didn't assign you too much homework did he?"

"Uh, classes haven't started yet, have they?" I tried to shrug again and failed. MacLean's body felt like a lead weight burrowing into my shoulder. "Is the nurse's office around here somewhere?"

"You mean healer," she said, with a smile. "Oh, Justin, you know how to keep things interesting." She suddenly yawned, and I noticed dark rings under her eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "My feeding didn't overtire you did it?"

"No, no," she said. "A friend found an old abandoned gauntlet room in the Burrows, and I stayed up late last night practicing."

"Oh. You look exhausted."

She yawned again. "So, what happened to the professor?"

"Bigglesworth," I said. "But don't say anything to the healer."

She looked confused. "The shape shifter you mentioned?"

"Yeah. I can fill you in on the way."

Lina waved me to follow her down the hall, and I gave her a quick summary of my Bigglesworth encounters. Thankfully, the healer station wasn't too far down the hall.

The healer, a red-headed woman with freckles, looked up with a shocked expression. "Is that Professor MacLean?" She regarded Lina and me with a suspicious expression.

"I found him injured at the bottom of a flight of stairs," I said. "I think he might have fallen." Telling her he'd been tortured by a shape-shifting maniac with a Cockney accent would only land me in trouble, I figured.

She motioned me into a ward filled with beds and had me deposit the meaty figure on one. "Please take a seat in the waiting area, and I'll be right out."

Lina sat beside me. "This is the second time he's tried to kill you in two days." She gripped me hand. "If he's immune to magic, I don't know what you can do to protect yourself."

"He has a weakness," I said with more confidence than I felt.

"Justin, I'm worried about you." Her large brown eyes looked even sadder than usual above the dark rings under her eyes.

"I'll be fine," I said. "Why don't you go rest, and I'll fill you in later?"

She sighed. "Do you trust Shelton to watch your back?"

I forced a sure grin. "Heck yeah."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you say so." She leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek. "Text me later. Let me know you're okay."

"I will."

"Promise me, Justin."

I held up my fingers in a dubious imitation of an honor sign. "Promise."

Lina gave me one last troubled look before pulling her hand away from mine and leaving.

I turned my gaze toward the ward. A sudden wave of nausea climbed up my throat as magic poisoning from my recent exertions paid me an unpleasant visit. The healer emerged from the back room and raised an eyebrow. She reached into an old wooden desk, pulled out a pill, and tossed it to me.

"Swallow that. It'll help." She filled a cup with water and handed it to me, then bent down and held open my eyelids so she could look into my eyes. "Looks like you've been through this a few times before. And what happened to your clothes?" She stood back, eyes darting to the myriad burn marks.

My mind fumbled for something. "Oh, just the latest fashion," I said.

"I see." Her nose wrinkled. "Guess I'll never understand the allure of wearing clothes that look like they came from a trash bin."

I returned to her previous comment. "How did you know I had magic poisoning?"

She stood upright and chuckled. "Are you kidding me? This is a place where kids learn magic. Naturally, they're going to stretch their limits and puke their brains out." She walked around the desk and took a seat. "Then again, most kids get over it once they hit full potential around sixteen. Only late bloomers still have to deal with it at your age."

"Guess that's me," I said, trying to smile, but even with the pill attacking the nausea, all I wanted to do at this point was sleep.

The healer sat at her desk, leaned on her elbows, and gave me a shrewd look. "What really happened to Professor MacLean?" A wand appeared in her hand, and it looked like she knew how to use it. "He doesn't have any bruising that would come from falling down stairs. In fact, the only trauma I found was from microscopic abrasions in his skin pores."

"Abrasions?"

She nodded. "The only reason I haven't called security to haul you away is because I don't know how you could have given them to him. Perhaps they could be magically induced, but I've never seen injuries like that before. It's almost as if something was trying to consume him one cell at a time."

I gulped. Thinking about my close call with Bigglesworth didn't help with my receding nausea.

The healer raised both eyebrows. "Well? The truth, or security?"

"You might not believe me."

"You'd be surprised at what I'd believe, young man."

I had a feeling my life story would stretch the belief of even the most gullible person. I took in a deep breath to bolster myself as weariness weighed down my limbs and gave her some of the truth. "I'm new here, and I got lost trying to find my way from Administration over to the cafeteria. I ended up going too far down some stairs and was about to turn around when I heard screaming. So, I went down there and found some kind of blob creature trying to eat the professor."

"A blob?"

"I've never seen anything like it before."

She held up a glass vial with an undulating bit of doughy Bigglesworth. "Like this?"

I shuddered and felt my back press hard against the chair. Even with my leaden limbs, I felt like I could sprint away. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to keep that."

"You're telling me this is a small part of a larger being?" she said, seemingly unconcerned.

"What I'm telling you is the monster it belongs to can probably sense where this bit of it is and find it." I couldn't mask the disgust I felt just looking at it. "Where did you find that?"

"It fell off your shoe after you set MacLean down."

I jumped up like spiders were crawling on me, pulling off my shoes, and shaking them out. If I hadn't been in front of her, I probably would have pulled off my clothes and burned them even more. Thankfully, no other bits of Bigglesworth fell off me. I thought back to the fight and remembered stomping that burnt chunk of him. Maybe there'd been some living tissue still on my shoe.

The healer watched me with a bemused expression and then shook her head. "This isn't a part of some new experimental golem for the Grand Melee is it?"

"I don't even know how to make a stick figure walk, much less animate a blob of goo," I said, staring at the bit of Bigglesworth squirming in the vial like a worm seeking escape. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, burn that thing."

She watched the thing for a moment. "If this is an undiscovered form of supernatural creature, it needs studying." She opened a wooden case on her desk and placed the vial inside, locking it. "This bio-hazard lockbox is warded to isolate anything inside. Even if this creature could sense and track a part of its body, it won't be able to through this."

I wrinkled my forehead. "For your sake, lady, I sure hope so." I nodded at the door into the infirmary. "How's the patient?"

"He'll wake up soon. I was able to repair the damage. Thankfully, it was limited to his hands and face." She stood and walked over to me, wand in hand. "Did the creature harm you?"

I nodded.

She ran the wand up and down my body. "Goodness. You're already healing remarkably fast." She grunted. "Ah. Daemos."

"Yes, I'm a big bad demon."

She laughed. "Oh, don't be melodramatic. I'm not biased against your kind one way or the other." Her hand with the wand abruptly stopped as she stared at the holographic numbers hovering above. "Hmm, must be something wrong with my spell."

I looked at the numbers and saw a statistic that looked like the ones the security arcane at Queens Gate had registered when scanning me and Shelton. "What does AP forty-one mean?"

"It's a measure of arcane potential," she replied, giving me a confused look. "But forty-one is impossible. The highest ever recorded is twenty."

Chapter 16

My potential was more than double that of the most powerful Arcane in history? Not only that, but Shelton had scored a seventeen when the security screener took it at Queens Gate. He was a lot stronger than he'd let on.

"Yeah, it must be wrong," I said, knowing the truth would only freak her out.

She flicked the wand with an annoyed look, and the numbers vanished. "Clearly it doesn't measure Daemos accurately."

"Can I see the patient?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I suppose. Perhaps he can clear this up."

We walked into the back. I noticed two young kids, faces pale, eyes sunken. "What's wrong with them?" I asked.

She shook her head. "A very good question. Their dorm resident assistant found them passed out. He said they'd been practicing non-stop in the hopes of making it into the Arcane Tourney junior division. I'd assumed they overworked themselves, but…" she trailed off.

"But what?"

A troubled look crossed her face. "Nothing I do is helping them. It's like the most severe case of magic poisoning I've seen."

"Oi, what a blasted headache," said a man in a distinct Scottish brogue from a bed across the room.

The healer and I flicked our gaze to see Professor MacLean rising unsteadily, a hand pressed to his temple.

"Feels like the mornin' after a bit of fun went a wee bit too far." He looked at the two of us. "So what the bloody hell am I doing here? Did you find me passed out with an empty bottle of spirits?"

My heart sank. He didn't remember?

The healer studied him for a moment. "We think you were attacked by something."

"Attacked? I should bloody hope not. This is a school, for heaven's sake."

She held her palms out to him in a calming gesture. "You're fine though. Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Healer Hutchins." MacLean headed for the door.

"Wait," Miss Hutchins called. "You'll need to talk to someone in security. We don't want this happening to anyone else."

MacLean turned and gave her a steady look. "If I remember anything, I'll be certain to tell them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get to work." He left.

I gave Miss Hutchins an apologetic look. "I gotta go." The exhaustion plaguing my body had all but vanished. "Thanks for the pill. I'm feeling a lot better now." Before she could get out another word, I dashed into the hallway and followed MacLean.

While I wasn't exactly a walking lie detector, something in the man's eyes told me he wasn't being completely truthful about his memories. I couldn't put my finger on why I thought so, but my gut feeling was too strong to ignore. I also had another reason for following him. Bigglesworth would probably try to kidnap the man again. A spike of helplessness stabbed my stomach. The shifter could flow through cracks and crevices in his liquid form. For all I knew, he could fit anywhere water could.

How do you protect yourself from something like that?

The Scottish man eventually entered a tall, arched doorway adorned with stained glass and fiendish looking gargoyles guarding either side. I peeked inside and a library of epic proportions unfolded before me. MacLean headed down an aisle between rows upon rows of tables. I stepped into the library and stopped in slack-jawed amazement. The walls stretched high above, curving into a sparkling glass dome. A shaft of golden sunlight streamed through the crystalline roof. Staircases spiraled up the walls, leading to landings lined with countless bookcases. Just beneath the glass dome far above, people scurried about like ants.

Animal-shaped chandeliers floated serenely around like giant parade balloons, some of them orbiting beneath the crystal dome, positioned to catch sunlight and refract it to every corner of the library. Smaller animal light fixtures hovered above the rows upon rows of tables where industrious students worked, preparing—I supposed—in advance for classes.

Duty aroused me from my stupor. I looked ahead as MacLean vanished into one of many rectangular wings jutting off the main dome, each one lined with bookcases several stories tall. I jogged toward his last position. People glided about the towering bookshelves on flying carpets of all shapes and designs. A bin at the end of the shelf overflowed with them. Patrons grabbed a rug, stood on it, and soared to the level they wanted. I'd just passed the bin when I saw MacLean gliding down the aisle on one, disappearing around a corner. I tried to blur after him, but even with the pill to make me feel better, I still hadn't regained enough energy. So, I grabbed a rug that looked like a sheep, tossed it on the floor and stood on it.

Nothing happened.

I imagined it going up.

Still nothing.

A dude nearby must have sensed my noobishness because he walked to me and said, "These rugs are so basic, you need to verbally tell them where you want to go."