The Wizard Heir (14 page)

Seph waited half an hour. When he peered out into the
corridor, there was no sign of Barber or anyone else. He slipped down the
hallway to Jason's room.

“Sorry I'm late,” Seph said after Jason shut
the door behind him. “Barber almost caught me.” He explained what had
happened, as Jason cleared books and papers off a chair so Seph could sit.

“He believed you?” Jason asked, frowning. He
pulled two cans of soda from the refrigerator and handed one to Seph.

“I think so. I mean, he left a half hour ago.”

Jason started to say something else, but then his head
snapped up and the blood drained from his face. “We're screwed!” He
flung an arm out toward Seph, casting an unnoticeable spell. At the same
instant, the door banged open, the bolt dropping to the tile with a hollow
ping. Gregory Leicester stood in the doorway.

“Dr. Leicester,” Jason said, almost choking
on the words. “I didn't hear you knock.”

“Hello, Jason,” the headmaster said, his
gaze drifting around the room, settling on the two cans of soda still sitting
on the table, the piles of books and papers on the desk. He remained where he
was, filling the doorway, as if to prevent any attempt at escape.

Jason and Gregory Leicester faced each other. The air
shimmered with the tension between them. Jason was deathly pale.

“Jason, what do you know about Joseph
McCauley?” The voice was complex, full of fire and ice, sorcery and
menace.

Jason toyed with his earring, frowning, as if
struggling to remember. “He's the one you told me about, right? He spent a
lot of time in this building over winter break. I think I've seen him in the
workout rooms.”

“We've been working with him all year, but we
aren't making the kind of progress we would like. He's hallucinating.
Delusional. Dangerously symptomatic. But refuses our help. And now there's been
a change in his behavior that makes me think perhaps he's been spending time
with you.” The voice was gentle on the surface, but there was steel
underneath. “Do you remember our discussion about your negative influence
on the other boys?”

“I'm not stupid.”

“I hope you haven't been filling his head with a
lot of talk about conspiracies,” Leicester continued. “He's extremely
vulnerable right now.”

Jason stared at the floor. He didn't say anything.

“Have you forgotten the consequences we had
talked about, both to you and to him?”

“I haven't forgotten,” Jason replied, He
looked up at Leicester in the eyes. “Believe me.”

“Good,” Leicester said softly. He took
another look around the room. And then he was gone.

Seph breathed. “Thank God,” he said, half
aloud. He waited a count of five, then disabled the charm. Jason did not look
relieved. He still sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at nothing. His face
was the color of putty, and he was shaking.

“Well, that was too close,” Seph said.

Jason looked up as if startled out of his reverie.
“That's wasn't close, Seph. That was dead on.” He stood and went to
his closet, rummaged through it, and produced a backpack. He unzipped it and
spread it out on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I've got to get out of here.”

“What?”

“He knew you were in the room, Seph. Barber must
have gone to get him as soon as he left the fitness center. All that stuff
about your delicate condition—that was for your benefit.” Jason shoved his
Weirbook into the daypack, followed by his organizer and notes from the
library.

“How do you know?” Seph watched as his
friend continued to pack. He took very little: a photograph of a woman in a
frame, a sweatshirt.

“Trust me. We've never had a conversation like
that— ever.” Jason zipped up the pack. “If you hadn't been here, I'd
probably be dead by now. He's not sure how much you know. He's hoping I haven't
ruined you. As it is, they'll probably come for me tonight. They'll wait until
you're back in your room.”

“I'll stay here, then.” Seph sat back in his
chair.

Jason laughed. “You're really something, you know
that? Believe me, you don't want to do that. Besides, I'm leaving.”

“Then I'm going with you.”

Jason shook his head. “No. You're safer here than
you would be with me. They may be waiting for me, but they won't kill you as
long as they think they can get to you. Make sure they keep thinking
that.”

Seph cast about for an alternative. “We've been
studying attack magic for months. We can take him if we work together.”

“Look, man, I'm flattered. You're the one with
the talent. I'm cagy as hell, but I'm just not that powerful. It'd be two
against sixteen, and they've been training for years. Leicester channels them,
somehow. There's no way we win. I'm not getting anyone else killed.”

“I'd rather be dead than stay here.”

Jason shook his head. “Listen to me. You're
tough. You made it on your own for four months, remember? I still don't know
how you did it. And now you have the dyrne sefa!' He paused. ”Look,
if I get out of here, I'll get you out. I promise. I'll contact Sloane's,
whatever it takes."

Seph swallowed hard. “I'm sorry, Jason. I'm the
one who got you busted. First Trevor, and now you.”

“Seph, I'm afraid I haven't appropriately
oriented you to your new role.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason grinned. “Wizards never say they're
sorry—not about anything.” Jason embraced, then released him quickly.
“Whatever happens, it's been cool knowing you, Seph. Never think any
different.”

Seph was speechless for a moment, his throat congested
with grief. Then he said, “Where will you go? How can I find you?”

“If you get out, look for the Dragon. If you
can't get out, I'll come after Leicester, sooner or later.” He pulled on
his jacket, slung his pack across his back, spoke his charm, and was gone.

Desperate
Measures

The normal cadence of life at the Havens continued
after Jason's departure for everyone but Seph. For most of the students, Jason
had never existed so no one noticed his absence.

Days passed, and there was no word from Jason and no
indication from Sloane's that he had contacted them. Seph was increasingly
worried. Had Jason even made it past the wall? There was no clue from Leicester
or the alumni. They asked him no questions about Jason's disappearance, which
Seph took as a bad sign.

Seph continued to visit the alumni library, but it was
an empty gesture. There seemed to be no future in it, no outlet for the magic
he copied into his memory. Seph felt more alone than before. Jason had been his
first teacher of magic.

His only teacher.

The weather continued to warm. Students clustered
under the pavilions between classes, eagerly exchanging summer plans. Frisbees
soared over tiny patches of lawn and the school dress code was challenged on a
daily basis. Seph checked the mail regularly, hoping he might at least hear
something from Sloane's about arrangements for summer. Then Gregory Leicester
called Seph into his office one afternoon after class.

Seph went reluctantly. He assumed an audience with
Leicester could not bring good news. He was right.

The headmaster rose from his computer when Seph
arrived. “Come in, Joseph,” he said. “Sit down.” He
gestured toward the same table where they had sat the night of Seph's arrival.
Seph perched on the edge of the seat, bracing his palms on the arms as if ready
to launch. Leicester sat down across the table.

“We're concerned, Joseph,” he said. “I
had hoped that your continued deterioration might convince you to cooperate, to
submit to treatment.”

Seph fixed his gaze over Leicester's shoulder, looking
out at the horizon. “I don't need treatment. I need training.”

Leicester shook his head, as if this notion was
preposterous. “I cannot risk training a wizard who is so totally out of
control. It would be like handing a flamethrower to a child. You require limits
and close guidance in order to develop your powers safely.”

“Let me go, then. I'll find someone else.”

Leicester sighed. “I think it's time we change
our approach. I'm going to ask your guardian to let us keep you with us this
summer. I'll have more free time, then, and you won't be in class. We'll work
on your issues together, Joseph. We'll do some intensive one-on-one therapy,
some guided imagery. How does that sound?”

Seph could imagine what kind of images Leicester would
share with him. And with the wizard present, he wouldn't be able to use the
talisman.

No doubt Houghton would agree to Leicester's proposal.
The lawyers would be glad they didn't have to find a summer placement.

Unless Jason got to them first. He cultivated that
fading hope.

Two weeks before the end of the term, Seph decided he
couldn't wait for Jason any longer, but had to try again to contact Sloane's on
his own. For that, he'd need to break into Gregory Leicester's office. If any
computer on campus had unrestricted access to the outside world, it would be
his.

Seph began monitoring the headmaster's movements.
Leicester sometimes worked in his office until late into the night. Fairly
consistently, however, he walked over to the alumni building for dinner around
eight. For several nights running, Seph marked his departure from the admin,
building, his arrival at the Alumni House, the walk back to his office. He was
always gone for at least an hour, sometimes an hour and a half. That would be
long enough.

At his previous schools, Seph had been known as
something of a hacker. He thought he could probably break into the school's
e-mail system, depending on the service provider, operating system, and level
of security. He might even be able to come in through the front door without
breaking code, if Leicester was sloppy about passwords. Which he might be. This
kind of attack might not be anticipated at a place like the Havens, where magic
and wizardry were the weapons of choice.

He chose a Sunday night in late May. Sitting at the
end of the dock, facing to the side, he could monitor activity at the admin,
building. The office was illuminated and he could see Gregory Leicester at his
desk overlooking the harbor.

About 7:45, Leicester threw on a jacket and cut the
lights in his office. Seph left the dock and walked around to the front of the
building, speaking an unnoticeable charm when he reached the shadows along the side.
Leicester exited through the front door, his boots crunching on the gravel of
the parking lot. He was heading for the Alumni House.

Seph turned the corner and entered the admin building.
Unnoticeable, he walked past the cafeteria where students lingered over dessert
and climbed the steps to the third floor. Passing through the darkened hall, he
tried the door to Leicester's office. It was unlocked. He listened for a long
moment and, hearing nothing, slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

Now he just wanted to be in and out as quickly as
possible. He crossed to the computer and sat in the chair. He touched a key and
the screen illuminated. Leicester had signed off but left the computer on. gleicester
was the user name.

Seph plugged his jump drive into the USB port and ran
the script he'd written earlier on the computer in his room. It crunched away,
trying passwords. While he waited, he searched the desk drawers, which were
nearly empty. He eyed the phone on the desk, but decided against chancing an
outside call. Sloane's would be closed at this hour, anyway. He was rooting
through the filing cabinets when he heard the computer cycling through its
startup routine. He was in.

Seph opened the browser, then typed in the URL for a
search-engine company that offered free e-mail service. In a few minutes, he
had set up a new account and user name. It wouldn't fool anyone if he were
caught, he realized. All Leicester would have to do was look at the mail's
destination. But at least it might prevent any bounce-back mail from going to
the headmaster. He logged back in under his new name, Dragon.

His fingers flew across the keys. He typed in Sloane's
gateway e-mail address and accessed the firm's online address book. He selected
every personal e-mail box on the list, Sloane, Smythe, Houghton, and all the
rest of the associates.

MR. HOUGHTON AND COLLEAGUES: I am being held prisoner
here at the Havens School in Maine. I was told that your firm had me legally
committed for mental health treatment, but I have not been allowed to confirm
that with you. Although I have written to you via the post numerous times,
there has been no response. I am not allowed telephone or e-mail access.

I have been subjected to severe emotional abuse and
mental torture since my arrival in September, which I can no longer endure. If
there is no response to this e-mail within three days I will kill myself. I am
perfectly serious. JOSEPH MCCAULEY

BTW: Do not reply to this e-mail. Do not call. Come in
person and don't leave without seeing me.

He looked the e-mail over and was satisfied. No lawyer
could fail to respond to such a message. He drew a shaky breath and hit the send button. A message came up. YOUR
MESSAGE HAS BEEN SENT. It was done.

He knew he should leave, but Leicester's mail program
beckoned. Perhaps he'd find some mention of Jason, or the Dragon, or the other
parties to the conspiracy Jason had described. He opened the mail program and
scrolled down through the inbox. Here was something: RE: RECORDS FOUND AT THE
DRAGON'S LONDON HEADQUARTERS from D'Orsay.

Just then, Seph heard a door slam and footsteps
approaching. The lights kindled in the outer office. Heart pounding, he exited
out of the mail program and signed off, leaving the desktop as he'd found it.
He jumped up and crossed to the door, flattening himself against the wall next
to it.

It was Leicester, of course, back from dinner. The
headmaster tossed a folder onto his desk and sat down at his workstation. Seph
edged around the corner and out the door. He was halfway across the outer
office when he remembered he'd left his jump drive plugged into the port of
Leicester's computer. He considered retrieving it later, but decided against
it. There was nothing to link it to Seph specifically. It would be less risky
to leave it than to try and retrieve it, unnoticeable or not.

He walked through the suite of offices and down the
stairs. A few minutes later he was on his way back to his dorm, one shadow
among many in the gloom under the trees.

It was a little after 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning when
they came for him. Seph was still in bed, but he was a light sleeper now,
whenever he wasn't using the portal, and he woke when he heard the key turn in
the lock. He had the deadbolt thrown, so it gave him time to make sure the
portal stone was inside his shirt before the door flew open. It was Warren
Barber and Bruce Hays.

Seph propped himself on his elbows. “What's going
on?”

“Get up, Joseph,” Warren said. “You
need to come with us.”

“Am I late for something?” Seph looked from
one to the other for a clue. They had their stone faces on. He swung his legs
around and put his feet on the floor. “Is it okay if I get dressed?”

They stepped back to allow him to get out of bed and
stood waiting while he pulled his jeans on and found his shoes and yesterday's
socks under his bed. Since they were wearing jackets, he pulled on a
sweatshirt. Something told him they wouldn't wait for him to brush his teeth.
He ran a hand through his ragged hair and said, “Okay.” They pushed him
out the door ahead of them and descended the stairs, Warren and Bruce on either
side, each gripping an arm. Once outside, they steered him toward the
administration building.

Seph decided to try again. “What's this all
about?”

“I tried to warn you, Joseph,” Warren said.

It must be the e-mail, Seph thought. Unless it was
Jason. The critical question was whether Sloane's had responded or not. It
occurred to him that the day could bring either a major improvement or a
dramatic deterioration in his prospects.

There weren't many students on the campus at that
hour, except for a few hardy souls headed for the gym. The air was soft, the
sky was pale, and the light was growing. A light mist lay on the harbor. It was
going to be a beautiful day. For someone.

Seph and his escorts entered the admin, building and
climbed the open staircase to the third floor. They took him directly to
Gregory Leicester's office and pushed him forward.

Leicester was standing at his magnificent window, his
hands clasped behind him, watching the sun come up over the water. John Hughes
was seated at Leicester's PC, frantically typing in commands. Hughes was one of
the alumni, a stocky man in his twenties with a receding hairline. He
functioned as the systems administrator for the school.

It was the e-mail, then.

Warren cleared his throat nervously. “Here's
Joseph.”

Leicester did not look back at them, but turned
instead to Hughes. “Well?”

Hughes half turned around in his chair and shook his
head. “A number of them have already been opened. They were sent out on
Sunday night. No response.” He glanced at Seph, then looked away.

“I see.” Leicester sighed, and stared out to
sea again for a moment, then turned to face the trio in the doorway. “So,
Joseph. It appears you have made a mistake.”

Seph remembered Jason's advice. Be stupid and be
scared. He tried to play stupid. “Already?” He lifted his shoulders
slightly. “I just got out of bed.”

Leicester's hand came up and forward. The blow came so
quickly, Seph had no time to react. A fistlike concussion of air struck him
full in the face and threw him back against the door, his feet literally
leaving the ground. His head slammed hard against the doorframe before he slid
to the floor. His right eye swam with tears and he tasted blood in his mouth where
his lip was cut. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and it came away
covered in blood.

He looked up to see that Leicester hadn't moved from
his position by the window. Warren and Bruce had split off to either side, out
of the target area.

Leicester thrust his hand toward him again. The next
blow caught Seph just under the ribcage, throwing him back into the wall and
driving all the breath out of him. He rolled over, trying to scramble out of
the way, but the third hit him square in the back. Each felt like a
sledgehammer against flesh and bone. Seph doubled up on the floor, making as
small a target as possible. After two more blows, he wondered if Leicester
intended to beat him to death.

He struggled to pull the air back into his lungs. It
hurt to breathe, and he suspected his ribs might be broken. Leicester crossed
the space between them and spoke to Seph on the floor from his terrible height.

“Who do you think I am? A high school
principal?” he spat the words out derisively. “Did you think you were
going to get a bloody detention?” His voice grew louder with each
sentence.

Despite the pain, Seph managed to push himself into a
half-sitting position, leaning against the wall. He shook his head, trying to
clear it, flinging blood in a small arc. His lip was swelling, and the entire
right side of his face felt numb, which was probably a blessing. His legs
tingled, and he wondered if his spinal cord had been bruised by the blow to his
back. “Why can't you just let me go?” he whispered.

“No one leaves the Havens until I'm ready. You
should know that by now.”

Seph knew he should just keep quiet, but he couldn't
help himself. “Jason Haley left,” he said.

“Ah, yes. Jason Haley has indeed left the
Havens.” Havens smiled. “Did you think I'd let him out alive?”