We walked into the Dusty Crown bar, and I was surprised to find that it wasn’t as crowded as I expected for the middle of the week. Twyst Academy students tended to be the kind of students who needed to relax a lot. But tonight, the Crown was only about half full, and it was easy to find the Mage Runners where they’d posted up in the back.
Rafe, being Rafe, pushed ahead the moment we spotted the guys, while I approached more slowly, needing the extra time to process the jolt that seeing the guys always gave me. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, after being a part of their team for so many weeks, but you’d be wrong.
When Connor had first invited me into the Mage Runners, I’d thought our intense connection was one of a kind, the two of us instinctively drawn together in a way I’d never experienced before. Looking at him now, it was no surprise that he usually led the charge for the Mage Runners. Tall and well-built, he was the kind of college guy that immediately drew your attention no matter where you were in the room. With his laughing green eyes beneath a sandy blond mop of hair, and his mouth usually stretched into a smile, he had the ability to charm the harshest critic or grumpiest opponent. I’d never thought of charm as being a magical property, but if such a thing existed, Connor would be its grandmaster. He made me want to smile just looking at him.
Beside him, Luke sprawled, his big body dwarfing the chair he sat in. He towered over the other guys, his bulk never seeming threatening or out of place, but only because he carried it so well. His unruly dark hair tumbled over his ears and skimmed the collar of his red Henley, the shirt stretched almost to the ripping point over his massive chest and shoulders. An enormous beer stein sat on the table in front of him, behind what was left of a massive plate of nachos. The guy could eat—and heck, needed to eat, given how big he was.
But Luke had never frightened me, despite his rugged looks or gruff manner or even the long, jagged scar that stretched down from his hairline to his jaw. Quite the opposite, in fact. We’d first really gotten to know each other when he’d taught me how to fight. I still couldn’t manage the things he did, of course, since he was twice my size, but I could hold my own in a battle now. While I’d never shied away from confrontation, I could finally go into fights with a strategy beyond hitting first and hardest.
Luke had told me that I was safe, that I was protected. I hadn’t understood how much I’d needed that reminder until he’d given it to me, a gift I didn’t deserve but had desperately yearned for throughout my years as a foster child in Boston. It’d been a rough upbringing, at times, but when I was near Luke, it took on a different meaning. Luke hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods either, abandoned by his foster family when he was a teenager without ever knowing why. He’d learned the truth of his own birth, or what we suspected was the truth, during our competition in the Mage Trials, of all places. There was more we needed to learn, of course. But we would, and he would survive it. Because that was what Luke did.
The sight of nachos made my stomach rumble, but I was used to that as well. Since meeting up with the Mage Runners and becoming a student at Twyst Academy, my life had changed dramatically. I still was hungry all the time, but now there was actually food to eat. I no longer had to ration my meals to last over a stretch of days, desperately trying to save my money to get into college. Instead, I was a student at an elite Boston academy, a true university in its own right, with a guarantee, if I could believe what the advisory panel said, of getting into the college of my dreams going forward…even, impossibly, Harvard. All I had to do was help the guys win the Mage Trials, and the last level of that competition was coming up fast.
I shoved those thoughts away, especially the images of Harvard that whispered at the edge of my mind. While before, the idea of going off to college had consumed my every waking moment, now I mainly had the sense of time running out. That my work with the Mage Runners would necessarily come to an end once we’d completed the Trials…which, again, would be all too soon.
I shifted my gaze to Marcus, not surprised to see him watching me right back. Tall, slender, and elegant even as he leaned on his elbows over his own beer, his icy-blue eyes tracking me through the bar, Marcus looked the least like an ordinary college student. Fair-skinned with high cheekbones, model-perfect features, and long pale blonde hair, he totally could pass as some sort of elven king.
But I’d seen more of Marcus than most. I knew that beneath his dusty blue T-shirt and tattered jeans there were acres of tattoos, sliding down his chest and over his shoulders, dripping down his back. I’d traced the lines of those sinuous images with my fingertips and lost myself in their dizzying twists and spirals. I’d lost myself in Marcus as well, the most recent of the guys to capture my heart. He’d taught me that I was strong.
I was strong too. Through each new level of the Mage Trials, I’d gradually come to understand the magical power within me. I could control the fire that burned deep inside, direct it out through my body to pour from my hands. I could also help concentrate the magic of the other mages. Recently, I’d gone even further, dipping into a pool of magic that was wild, untamed. I’d taken it in, drinking deep. It was that magic that responded now to the fourth mage, Rafe, who turned to me with palpable excitement as I finally approached the table, joining him and the other guys. Rafe, of course, didn’t make a move for me.
He didn’t have to. Connor jumped to his feet and reached out, pulling me into a bear hug against his soft gray T-shirt and scuffed jeans. “Come on, come on,” he urged, his green eyes flashing with excitement. “Rafe was just telling us how awesome you were and that you guys found something. That’s freaking great!”
He kissed me, and as he pulled back, grinning, most of my doubts and fears about the future fell away. It was something Connor always managed to do. He made me feel welcome, like part of the team. He made me feel like everything was going to work out, because of course, everything worked out for Connor. It had his entire life. Was that a magical skill as well? If it wasn’t, it should be.
“So what was it?” Luke rumbled. And Rafe obligingly pulled out our find from his messenger bag. The tightly wrapped scroll seemed to gleam beneath the bar lights, and we all crowded close.
Marcus lifted a hand toward the document, his fingers spreading wide. “There’s a strange energy coming off this,” he said. “Whoever crafted it did so with a great deal of defiance in their hearts.”
“Defiance?” Connor echoed. But Rafe was already sliding open the seal on the bound document, rolling it open. I’d thought it was multiple pages, but there appeared to be only one. Rafe and Connor used the large salt and pepper shakers and glass carafes of barbecue sauce to weigh down the edges of the parchment page, and we all stared down. It was blank.
“Just once, I would like something to be easy,” Connor muttered.
Rafe scowled. “It was easy,” he said. “With Maddigan there, I lit up a door in the wall of the archive building. It opened without us even working that hard. The bricks just fell away, and we were inside, staring at an empty room. The wall put itself back together in a blink. No problem. We searched around, came back to the empty room, and figured out that it was an illusion.”
As he spoke, I could feel the flush crawling up my cheeks, my nerves tingling. But Rafe gave only the most surface explanation of what happened next.