Firecracker

Chapter One: A Secret Event

Clutching my invitation to my chest, I shuffled forward in line as the skinny student at the front bent to sign the non-disclosure agreement. The line began at the entrance to the academy’s training facility, or the fire-gym, as it was known, went over the lawn and followed the curve of the driveway.

“Saxony!”

I turned at the sound of my name and smiled as Gage sprinted past the dried-up monstrosity of a fountain in front of the academy’s main building. He looked as I remembered him, only better, if that was possible. Straight-backed, and clear-eyed, with a generous mouth and a strong jaw, Gage was plain beautiful.

Slipping into line, he shot an apologetic smile at the girl behind me. Her indignation melted into the dazed look of a teen girl from the sixties confronted with a real, live Beatle. Or how I imagined it, anyway.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Gage bumped my shoulder, his grin downright impish. “I’ve never seen so many mages in one place. It’s exciting to be with our kind, don’t you think?”

I nodded.

Gage bounced on his toes, making him look younger than his eighteen years. “I couldn’t believe it when Ryan said you’d be attending Arcturus as well. I thought you were a year behind us.”

“I am. Where is he anyway?”

At the mention of Gage’s identical, older-by-minutes twin, I craned my neck to look for him, my gut already twanging with distaste. Being an identical meant Ryan had the same beauty as Gage, but Ryan lacked Gage’s transparency of emotion, the softness in the eyes. Where Gage was inquisitive looking, Ryan was wolfish.

As sweet and even-tempered as Gage was, Ryan camped out at the other end of the spectrum. He’d harassed me back in Saltford only a few weeks ago, wanting me to show him my mage-mark and insulting me when I refused. He’d acted like a cross between a yappy dog and a nosey neighbor. I’d left him in the dust when I sprinted away using my fire-power. It had been rather satisfying.

Gage jerked a thumb over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “End of the line. We were almost late this morning because he couldn’t get his facial hair right.”

Leaning out past the row of students, I peered back. Ryan stood at the back with his hands jammed deep in his pockets and a bored look.

The only reason I noticed the kid in front of Ryan was because of how badly fitting his Arcturus Academy button-up shirt was. He wasn’t tall or broad, yet the buttons strained and the seams at the shoulders looked as though they would split if he bent over or stood up too straight. You’d think a properly fitting uniform on the weekend before school started would be an easy thing to manage. I hadn’t even picked up my uniform yet, how had this kid managed to shrink his top so badly already? I shook my head and my attention returned to Gage’s twin.

Next to Ryan stood a tough looking man with buzzed hair and a scar on his lip I could make out even from here. He was weather-worn and hard in the eyes but the generous lips reminded me of Gage.

“Is that your dad?” I’d thought the twins were more independent than that.

“Yeah.” Gage’s sullen tone said he’d thought so too. “He insisted on coming. Said he has something important to discuss with Basil.”

“The headmaster?” I gave Gage a look of surprise. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot Mr. Chaplin is your godfather. What’s so important?”

Gage shook his head and put a hand on my elbow as the line shuffled forward. “I don’t know but whatever it is, he’s keeping it from us. Ryan badgered Dad all the way here on the plane but he wouldn’t give. Must be big because Dad hasn’t been on a plane in years. He hates flying.”

I stepped forward and Gage dropped his hand. I almost missed the contact when it was gone. “Don’t he and your mom run an antique company? I thought part of their work involved flying around the world to find rare items.”

Gage shrugged. “Yeah, but she mostly goes on her own these days. After the shop burned down, they agreed dad should focus on rebuilding while mom continues to look for inventory. Enough about my family. Did you come with anyone?”

“No. My dad was here a few weeks ago to check out the school. No need for him to come back a second time.”

We were almost at the check-in table in front of the double doors.

“Cool, so you’ve been here before?” Gage looked impressed. “This is our first time. Well, not my dad’s. He was Basil’s first student.”

“No kidding.” More tidbits for Ryan to lord over me.

We stopped at a table where a twenty-something girl with an Arcturus Academy nametag on her lapel stood with a tablet in her hand. The handwritten scrawl on her tag was hard to make out.

“Nice to meet you, Krzp.” I kept my expression deadpan as I stepped up to the table.

“Kris P. Invitation, please.” Her voice and face were robotic.

“Can I call you Krispy?” I handed her my invitation, smiling.

She scanned the QR code printed on the back while giving me a fake, bright look. “Sure. If you want me to hate you.”

I cringed. This wasn’t the first time my attempt at humor backfired. My jokes were often hero or zero. Did I ever learn from the zeros? Nope.

The tablet made a little ping and she handed the card back. Turning the tablet to face me, she held out a stylus. “You read the non-disclosure agreement in its entirety before you came, yeah? As per the instructions in the email?”

Nodding, I took the stylus as she directed me where to sign. Does anyone ever read all the fine print in a legal document? Yawn.

I initialed inside the little box and she double checked it before hitting the submit button. She looked up with another plastic smile and waved me toward the doors. “Welcome to the Fire Fair, Saxony Cagney.”

“Thanks.” I stepped over the threshold and into the enclosed lobby between the front doors and the gym doors to wait for Gage. He followed shortly after, eyes lit with excitement.

“This is so cool.” He pushed the gym doors open. “After y … whoa.”

We stood just inside, admiring the view. I smiled at Gage’s expression as his gaze ping-ponged around.

“The main building makes you think the academy will be run down and moldy,” he mused, “but this is a tech-nerd’s wet dream. Look at all the … high-tech … stuff.”

Laughing, I took Gage by the hand to lead him to the observation boxes hanging over the main gym. As our skin made contact, a startling sensation of heat flared up my arm to my heart. It was as though our hands had become molten metal and fused together the moment they’d made contact, then the feeling eased away. He pulled me to a stop, hand tightening on mine. His eyes were round.

“What was that? Tell me you felt that.”

I grinned. “It was a mage-bond. You’ve never felt it before?”

He looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, maybe when I was really little. But I’d forgotten. What’s a mage-bond?” His surprise washed away and a sly look moved across his face. “Are we fated mates?”

I barked laughter and began to move again. People were filtering through the door behind us. “I’m not sure what it is exactly. I felt it when I shook Basil’s hand for the first time.”

“The first time … wait, we’ve never touched before?” Gage fell in step beside me, still holding my hand.

I wondered how long he’d hold it if I didn’t let go. Damn it, now we were in that awkward window, wondering which of us would let go first. I liked his touch, but people would think we were together. This was the first day the new students were all together. I didn’t want to put out the wrong idea. I relaxed my fingers a little and he took the cue and released me.

“I just touched your shoulder outside, didn’t I?” he asked as we neared the steps. Our footsteps were silent on the flame-retardant neoprene flooring.

A thirty-something mage at the bottom of the metal stairs gave us a nod as we approached. “Looks like you know where you’re going.”

“Been here before, thanks.” I smiled as we passed. Turning to Gage: “It has to be skin on skin contact.”

The mage overheard and made an exaggerated look of scandal, putting a splayed hand over his heart. “Kids don’t waste time these days.”

As we climbed the steps, I pointed out the features of the gym I was familiar with, my pulse jumping as the excitement of the Fire Fair caught in my blood. I recognized the electronic panel Basil had tested my strength on but there were more gadgets positioned around the gym than I’d seen last time.

I turned to Gage. “The whole gym is fireproofed. I can’t imagine what it cost Basil to outfit this place.”

“Geesh, where did he get the materials from? NASA?”

“Probably. Or maybe one of his supernatural friends invented them. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“You call him Basil?”

“Mr. Chaplin, I should say.” Come to think of it, Basil hadn’t told me what to call him in front of other students. Probably best to err on the formal side.

Reaching the top of the steps, we passed a thick glass door propped open by a striking woman wearing an academy uniform: a black button-up with a school crest embroidered over the heart in gold thread, a dark red tie and a black and gray plaid skirt. A pair of knee-high biker boots gave her an edge. She was too old to be a student, though. She had to be either a teacher or a graduate.

“Sit anywhere you like in this pod, or in the next two. There’s room for everyone.” She gestured to the door across the observation pod leading to the next one.

We took the narrow metal walkway behind the last row of seats to the next door, since this pod was nearly full. It would be ideal if we could find two seats with no other empties around them. I didn’t fancy the idea of sitting with Ryan and his dad.

“How about there?” I pointed to the second row.

“You lead the way.”

Descending the steps dividing two sections, I excused myself as we squeezed past a thin girl wearing purple eyeliner, no other makeup, and pigtails. She looked up with a wobbly expression that I thought was supposed to be a smile.

“Come alone?” I plopped into the seat next to her, moving my knees aside to let Gage pass.

The girl nodded. She was so thin I could see the fearful swallow go down her spindle of a neck.

“I’m Saxony.” I held out my hand.

“April.” She grasped my fingertips with her own cold, clammy digits and gave some species of handshake. It was like holding a dead eel. I had to hide my surprise. Was she even a fire mage? Fire magi never had cold extremities. She dropped my hand and crossed her thin arms over her chest, a picture of insecurity.

“Are you a student here?” I settled back in my seat as I saw Krispy come into the gym and close the double doors. That was the last of the guests. The fair would be starting soon.

April nodded but didn’t look me in the eyes, preventing me from inspecting them for that telltale reflective glow.

Distracted by movement in my periphery, I looked back. My heart sank when Ryan entered the pod, followed by Mr. Wendig. They scanned for a place to sit. Lest their attention be drawn by my upturned face, I snapped front and slid down in my seat. There were empties right behind us. Closing my eyes, I mentally shooed Ryan away, wishing I was telepathic. I couldn’t help but peek covertly over my shoulder again, hiding behind my curtain of red curls.

They’d moved toward the central steps and were coming our way.

A pretty girl with heavy makeup and long brunette waves caught my eye. Well, her jaw did, as she chewed gum like she was trying to kill it. I tried a smile. She cocked a pierced eyebrow: what do you want? Popping her gum, she crossed her legs and tugged her miniskirt down in a half-hearted attempt to cover the long terrain of her toned, naked thighs. If the skirt were shorter, she may as well have worn a cummerbund.

Ryan and Mr. Wendig came down the steps, passing the dark-haired girl. When she spotted Ryan, she brightened. Bringing a hand—adorned with a fingerless glove—up to the side of her mouth she barked, “Oi!”

Ryan looked over with an amused and cocky half-smile.

The girl blew a bubble, popped it, then patted the empty seat next to her, batting her eyelashes like a living, breathing Betty Boop. Whoever she was, her priorities were clear.

Ryan took the seat next to her, leaving his dad to fend for himself.

“What are you staring at?” Gage turned to follow my gaze and saw Mr. Wendig. “Dad, over here.” He waved.

One out of two. I could live with that. I didn’t actually have anything against Chad Wendig, except that he’d fathered Ryan.

He made his way to the seat behind us. I didn’t miss the way Betty Boop’s gaze followed the twins’ dad, like a hungry cat stalking prey. I almost expected her to drool or pounce, maybe bite his neck. It appeared she wasn’t particular about age or marital status. Chad’s wedding ring was thick and shiny, obvious to anyone looking for it. As appalling as her behavior might be to many, I felt a grudging respect at her boldness. Back home among my friends and my temporal high school, I was considered the gutsy one—but even I wouldn’t flaunt my thoughts or my body like that.

The shenanigans inside the observation box vacated my mind when Basil entered the gym from a side door. He was in discussion with a blonde woman I recognized as Susan Palmer, one of the instructors. Mr. Chaplin looked as dapper as ever. The man knew how to dress. Were all aristocrats born with a suave fashion sense?

He wore a dark gray tweed suit with the Arcturus crest embroidered on the pocket. His Oxford wingtips were shined to perfection and his tie was free from wrinkles. His brown hair was coiffed the way it had been when my dad and I visited Arcturus, in a little surf wave. Black, thick-rimmed glasses gave him a studious look. Not that he needed any help looking studious. The man presented as a professional at the top of his game.

Basil exchanged a few last words with Susan before they parted ways. He stepped up to a black, lacquered podium.

“Good morning, ladies, gentlemen, mages. Welcome to the Fire Fair.” He directed his gaze at the observation boxes. I barely kept myself from waving at him like an idiot.

When I’d first met Basil and we’d shaken hands, my whole arm went smoking hot from my fingertips to my heart, just like it had with Gage. It was the first time I’d ever felt the mage-bond. I hoped Basil or one of the other instructors would cover the mage-bond in class because I was dying to understand what it meant. It definitely wasn’t fated mates—as Gage had joked—or anything like that. I didn’t have any sexual attraction to the headmaster, only enormous respect for the mage who’d founded Arcturus. It was he above all I wanted to please during my first year as a student here.

Something unusual linked me to Basil, and me to Gage, something powerful.

Chapter Two: Provide, Prepare, Protect

 “First, a few housekeeping items.” Mr. Chaplin referred to the notes in front of him as he adjusted his glasses. The headmaster’s electronically amplified voice came in through speakers in the corners of the pods. The sound was so crisp and clear we could even hear him swallow.

 “While we endeavor to keep the Fire Fair as safe as possible, we are dealing with fire. Please remain in your seats and in the observation pods while the demonstrations are taking place. In case you missed it in the welcome pack—because even though this is the first time we’ve hosted a fair, I know that not everyone will have read it all—” he shot a knowing glance at the pods and a few people tittered, “this entire gym is fireproof, as are the Arcturus uniforms you’ll see on the instructors, graduates and volunteers. Before you go rushing out madly to order yours, every registered student will receive one complimentary uniform. Additional uniforms can be purchased in the academy’s shop. Students are not required to wear uniforms in the main building. But while using the gyms for practical exercises and training, the uniforms are mandatory. We hope you’ll agree that some loss of identity is worth not having your latest Selfridges purchase go up in flames.”

 Gage leaned over to whisper, “What’s Selfridges?”

 April answered before I could tell him I had no idea. She canted forward and looked across me. “Fancy British department store.”

 “Arcturus Academy was founded in 1990. Our purpose is to provide, prepare, and protect.” Basil elaborated on each of these ‘P’s’ by counting off on his fingers. “We provide a safe place for young mages to hone their skills and explore their aptitudes. We prepare fire elementals for life in the real world, life among other supernaturals, and a life lived responsibly. We also protect from prying eyes and the outside world. Our network and relationships with both supernatural and temporal agencies—including but not limited to MI5 and 6 and the Arcturus Agency—introduce our students to opportunities to find meaningful work where their gifts and talents are not exploited, but facilitated and appreciated.”

 Someone behind me whispered to a neighbor, “I heard the headmaster runs the Arcturus Agency, too.”

 The muted response was laced with laughter. “No guff, Sherlock. What was your first clue? He has his pick of graduates. Why wouldn’t he? Now, shush.”

 Surprise blossomed in me like a little flower. Basil had never mentioned the Agency to me or my dad during our private orientation. I guess it would have been a little premature but a spark of interest caught and sizzled in my chest. Maybe I could work for Mr. Chaplin when I finished at the academy.

 “You’ll witness an array of skills and applications for your fire here today.” The headmaster shifted behind the podium as he took turns to address all three pods. “Some skills are subtle and utilitarian, others are glamorous and even spectacular. What I want students to take away from today, though, is not just a better idea of the abilities they can leave the academy with, but an understanding that all choices are honorable and acceptable. Not every mage who graduates desires to become an agent. We recognize that the personalities and proclivities of mages are diverse. There are broader choices open to you than you might realize. During your time at Arcturus, you’ll have aptitudes which quickly reveal themselves. Those leanings may point you in a direction of study that is different from the pursuit you had in mind when you enrolled. My advice is to work with your talent. In the words of a well-known life-coach, your highest natural capacity multiplied by time and intention equals exponential capacity growth.”

 I blinked as I tried to unpack this statement.

 “Meaning,” Basil raised a finger, “focus on the areas where you’re naturally competent and you’ll go from the middle fifty percent to the top one percent. This is infinitely more desirable than starting in the bottom one percent, working hard to double or triple your capacity only to end up staying in the bottom one percent. We’ve done studies on this. Don’t try to swim upstream.”

 Gage looked over and whispered under his breath, “My godfather is a bit too cerebral, if you ask me.”

 While Basil talked, two people in Arcturus uniforms wheeled out a table with a cloth draped over the top, covering several lumpy forms. Susan strolled out behind them, tying her hair back and rolling up her sleeves.

 “This’ll be a cooking demonstration,” I predicted in Gage’s ear. “Susan teaches the Food & Fire class.”

 “Mages actually go on to be chefs?” Gage sounded marginally horrified.

 I faked a hurt look. “Hey. What if it’s my dream to be a baker?”

 Gage’s eyes half-closed with amused disbelief. “Yeah right, but point taken: don’t judge.”

 “To set expectations, the fair will continue until noon at which time you’re welcome to join us in the cafeteria for a wonderful buffet. We’ll have a Q&A session in the common room off the lobby starting at two. After that we’ll have you register for the classes which most interest you. If you wish to take an aptitude test to help you better decide, you may schedule one with Professor Winkler. Many of you will have considerable skill already, given that you’ve been living with the fire since birth. But we are aware of a group of our population who are tentative with their fire and shy away from experimenting with it for various reasons. For these students, an aptitude test may be just the ticket. We ask that you not leave the premises until after you’ve either made your class selections or scheduled your aptitude test. Once you’ve finished the forms, you’re free to explore Dover and the beautiful white cliffs with your classmates or your parents, before they return home.”

 Susan stood behind the table now and was joined by a couple of twenty-something mages on either side. All of them sported academy uniforms. Susan gave Basil a nod, indicating she was ready.

 Basil addressed the audience. “Let’s welcome our first presenter, Professor Palmer. Creator of our Food & Fire course. Susan is the chef here at Arcturus and you’ll agree her skill in the kitchen is not to be sneezed at.” He applauded and the audience joined in, if a little unenthusiastically.

 Susan welcomed everyone and introduced the mages with her as graduates of her courses. Both had found employment utilizing their fire-skills. One worked for a supernatural multi-millionaire on a private yacht, the other ran the kitchen of a four-star restaurant in Paris and had plans to open his own. Susan explained that food cooked or baked with mage-fire takes on a unique taste and quality that even naturals could appreciate without knowing that it was made by a supernatural.

 Susan removed the cloth over one section of the table to reveal three cake pans filled with raw batter. “While Milo and I are showing you flambé and grilling skills, Julia here will bake a delicious wedding cake in a quarter of the time taken by a conventional oven.”

 Julia inserted the three pans into a box made of a clear material so we could see what she was doing. The front of the box was open until Julia placed another panel across it. She inserted her hands into the openings in this last panel and told us what she was doing while she worked. “I’m now administering the heat required to evenly bake all three cakes to perfection. This requires a precise internal thermometer, a thorough understanding of how the ingredients react to heat, and the patience and steadiness required to see them through to the finish without burning them, under baking them, or drying them out.”

 Heat rolled from Julia’s fingers, filling the clear box. She moved her hands slowly and rhythmically. Even from my place in the observation pod I could easily see the waves cascading over the food.

 I felt Gage looking at me so I looked over. He leaned close to whisper in my ear. “This is as boring as watching a cake bake.”

 Snorting, I covered my mouth and nose to cut off my laughter. Someone shushed us and I glanced back to see a startling spectrum of expressions from the crowd. Some of the guests looked as bored as Gage, a few looked downright disdainful, while others leaned forward on the edges of their seat, completely absorbed.

 I faced front in time to catch Milo emit fire from his fingers beneath and above a raw steak which had been set on a grill. He touched the steak from time to time, prodding it, flipping it, as smoke unfurled to the ceiling to be swept away by powerful ventilation. We were so well insulated in the pods that I couldn’t smell anything. When the steak began to sizzle and drip juices, there was a satisfied sigh from the crowd.

 Meanwhile Susan, who seemed to know she had only a few minutes before the audience got bored, applied bellows of fire from her hands deftly to meringue, an alcohol based flambé, and finally a cheese fondue.

 By the time Susan and Milo were finished, students were grumbling about how hungry they were feeling. Some debated the finer points of what the three chefs were doing, the skills and precision required to achieve such perfect results. I guessed some first-years would be interested in learning how to cook after all, which made me happy for Susan.

 In the end, Julia removed her hands from the box, then moved aside the box itself. As she turned the cakes out of their pans, they steamed attractively, looking perfectly baked. Next, she stacked them, erecting a triple-layer.

 “The real test is how that cake tastes.” Someone said behind us. “How are we supposed to be impressed if we don’t even know if it’s cooked properly?”

 “Baked,” someone else corrected. “Not cooked.”

 “Whatever.”

 As if in answer, Julia took a knife and sliced the cake into pieces, distributing bite-sized squares onto platters. Two volunteers—including Krispy—carried the platters up to the observation boxes for us to try.

 When the platter came our way, Gage and I each took a piece, though April declined.

 “Don’t like cake?” I asked her just before I took my bite.

 “I do. I just can’t eat when I’m nervous.” April watched me eat with longing in her eyes. “Is it good?”

 “So good.” The pod was filled with the sounds of chewing and smacking lips. The cake did have a unique flavor, a kind of burnt sweetness like toasted caramel.

 “Thank you for your attention.” Susan and her team dismissed themselves, rolling their demonstration table through a set of double doors and out of sight.

 Mr. Chaplin returned to the podium, clapping. “A round of applause for Ms. Palmer, Milo, and Julia. Remarkable, the skills they’ve mastered to become professionals in their chosen fields. Now, please welcome Professor Tyson Hupelo, our Fire Science & Safety instructor.”

The audience clapped as a brawny thirty-something chap with close-cropped blond hair strode to the center of the gym. Rather than the Arcturus uniform, he wore a pair of yellow fireman’s pants paired with a plain black t-shirt. His muscles stretched the fabric across his chest and arms. More than one scar crisscrossed his visible skin and disappeared up his shirt sleeves.

 “Do we get to sample him next?” some girl muttered to a friend. “Wanna bet most of his students are female?”

 “Sick. Don’t be so immature,” her friend whispered back, but with a smile in her voice.

 Distantly, somewhere outside the gym but not far away, there came a succession of sharp metallic thuds. Tyson was introducing himself when he stopped mid-sentence.

 “What was that?” Gage whispered as we shared a look.

 I shook my head, still listening. The gym grew quiet. The metallic thuds stopped and the gym lights turned off. Someone gave a nervous laugh as darkness filled the cavernous space. A moment later, emergency lighting came on. Small, bright blue lights glimmered from the corners and the ceiling, casting the pods and the gymnasium in a cold, eerie light.

 A new sound filtered in from outside. An alarm.

 Basil’s even voice came in to the pod. “Please, remain calm. It appears there has been a security breach somewhere on academy property.” He sounded unruffled, which went a long way toward easing the anxiety in my gut. “Give us a moment to assess the situation. We have specific alarms and this one means no evacuation is necessary. I’ll be back to address you as soon as I can. Just stay seated.”

 With that, the shapes of Basil, Tyson, and others I couldn’t identify in the dimness, came together in the middle of the gym floor. They spoke before breaking off into smaller groups. A few exited the gym through a set of emergency doors while Basil and Susan left through the main doors. Silence descended, but it didn’t take long for the hushed speculations to begin. Soon the pod was filled with soft, tense murmurs.

 “Why are you whispering?” said the brunette Betty Boop in a loud voice. Even if I hadn’t seen her mouth move in the dim blue glow, I’d have recognized her by the distinct English accent. “It’s probably just a drill. A test to see which students can handle stress and which ones can’t.”

 Someone tittered, there were more hushed exchanges.

 “Do you think that’s true?” Gage’s face was washed out in the gloom, his eyes glimmered beneath the dark shadows of his orbital bones.

 “I don’t think Ba—, Headmaster Chaplin would test students with a false alarm. Give him a minute,” I told Gage. “My guess is someone went poking around the manor where they’re not welcome.”

***Bonus***
I reached across the desk to open the gothic window in my room and let in some fresh air. The second floor of the academy was slightly warmer than the cafeteria on the ground floor had been. Tugging at the neck of my t-shirt to waft a draft over my torso, I took a deep inhale of the salt-laden breeze. I couldn’t see the Atlantic from my room but I could hear the never-ending sighs as waves lapped over the pebbly shores of Dover and licked up against the chalk cliffs.

I was lucky. The view from the rear of Arcturus Academy was leagues more fetching than the one from the other side of the old manor. Students with rooms overlooking the front were limited to a short patch of lawn and an old cracked fountain. Beyond that, a steep and winding gravel road led down to the school’s front gates. The driveway arrowed beneath an archway to a small parking lot behind the building which I could see from my window. The road made a teardrop shape, looping back on itself so vehicles could turn around.

Footsteps on gravel drew my eye to where three male figures stood near the open door of a blue van. September’s evening light dusted the foliage and illuminated the farewell scene below.

Ryan and Gage were easy to identify. Identical sets of broad shoulders, matching shades of dirty-blond hair, duplicate slender yet athletic frames, and it was easy to see where they got it all from as they hugged their father goodbye.

Mr. Wendig grasped the neck of the younger twin, Gage, and pulled him in for a rough but loving hug.

Saying goodbye to Ryan took on a more serious tone as their father put both hands on his shoulders and shook him just a little as he delivered what looked like important fatherly wisdom. Frowning, I pushed my window open further and strained to catch what was being said.

Could their dad—who looked more like a motorcycle gang leader than responsible paternal figure—possibly be giving his unruly son orders to behave? I hoped so. From the moment I’d met Ryan, he had lifted my fur in the wrong direction. Today’s interactions hadn’t changed my opinion so I hoped he was being told to behave. But the wind tugged Mr. Wendig’s words away, throwing them out over the ocean.

Retreating from the window, I left the twins to their goodbye and turned to finish organizing my room. My clothes were already hung in my ultra-cool mid-century wardrobe or tucked into the far-less-cool dresser slash desk. Most of the school was outfitted with antique or antique-looking furniture but the occasional random monstrosity of modern origin marred the place like a pair of cheap plastic sneakers in a row of Pradas. My guess was that a prior occupant had accidentally-on-purpose lit the previous dresser on fire.

A head popped into my open doorway. “Ms. Cagney?”

A twenty-something woman with a wispy black pixie-cut and a keen light in her eyes leaned against the door-jam. She wore shiny black jeans (shredded at the knees) and a red blazer paired with a yellow plaid button-up shirt closed all the way to the neck. Most people would have looked like a clown, but this athletic woman oozed cool.

“That’s me. You’re Ms. Winkler, right?” I smiled, recognizing her from the Fire Fair.

She waved a blunt-fingered hand, corded with tendons. “Ms. Winkler is my mum. Call me Wanda. Everyone else does.”

I extended a hand. “Sure. Call me Saxony. You’re the Pyrotechnics Prof, am I right?”

“Sometimes.” She gave my hand a firm shake, canting her head toward the hall. “The headmaster is asking for you.”

“Now?” It was after dinner the night before the first day of school, an unusual time to meet.

Wanda nodded and tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “That’s what the man said. Best not keep him waiting. I’m headed past his office, I’ll walk with you.”

“Okay.” I grabbed my room key from the pocket of my rain-jacket. Wanda didn’t say anything as she watched me lock the door of my room but I thought I knew what she was thinking. “Just until I get to know the students better.”

She put up a dismissive hand. “I’m not judging, but Headmaster Chaplin takes a dim view of kids who steal.”

I fell in step beside her as we dodged students carrying boxes and bags. “How dim?”

“He expels thieves on the spot, but do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

We took the long, carpeted hallway toward the main staircase. The hall divided a dozen rooms that made up the first-year ladies’ block. Each door was numbered the way it had been when the manor was a hotel. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it ever having been a family home, no matter how many servants they had.

The hall spilled us onto a landing where curved steps dropped us into the lobby. The front foyer was the best room in the building, in my opinion. Gothic arches outlined a big square space complete with a fireplace at either end and plenty of plush furniture. Turkish rugs marked out the seating areas, but they weren’t nearly large enough to cover all of the dove-gray marble floors which reflected the warm yellow light of antique sconces.

The ceiling towered three and a half stories overhead. Each level had its own ornate banister. A ceramic chandelier hung over the space like a giant clock’s pendulum. Beyond the lobby were lounges for students to do homework or hang out and beyond those was another foyer with a short staircase leading up to the headmaster’s office.

A little thread of excitement tightened my gut up like a silk purse. My earlier visit had left me eager for a more relaxed tour.

We passed Tyson Hupelo heading to the stairs and he gave Wanda a nod, but didn’t seem to notice me.

“Winkler,” Tyson said in a semi-teasing tone.

“Hupelo,” Wanda returned in an identical manner.

Professor Hupelo’s mouth twitched as he passed by and I wondered if there was something going on between them. I didn’t have long to wonder before we reached Mr. Chaplin’s closed door. Wanda knocked and then opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

“Ms. Cagney, sir.” Wanda held the door open and waved me inside.

The headmaster had been sitting behind his heavy wooden desk, but got up immediately. “Thank you, Wanda. All set for tomorrow?”

She gave a little salute, blue eyes sparkling. “Can’t wait. First day of school is always the most amusing.”

Headmaster Chaplin smiled but I thought it seemed forced. “You’re not starting with snapping on the first day, I hope? Last year … well, it wasn’t pretty.”

Wanda deflated. “They are second-years…” but her words dwindled at his stern expression. “No, sir.”

“Thank you, now go on. Ms. Cagney and I have a lot to cover.”

Wanda backed out of the room and shut the door.

“I’m not in trouble already, am I Headmaster?”

“Call me Basil,” he replied.

At my raised eyebrows, he explained: “I think of Arcturus as a college. The students here are either adults or on the cusp of it. Most college professors are on first name basis with their students. When we are in private, please call me Basil, and I will call you Saxony. In public, unless an instructor has requested their given name be used, as I know Wanda prefers, please use appropriate decorum in your address.”

“Done and done.” I strolled the perimeter as I scanned the space. The books and bookshelves alone made the room intriguing, but there was so much more going on than a library. The wall opposite his desk was loaded with curiosities. I was drawn to the columns of sparkly colored rocks lined up neatly and trapped under individual glass domes.

“Your office is even cooler than I remember,” I said.

“Thank you,” the headmaster said. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh fine.” I bent for a closer look at the domes, reading off a label fixed to one of the wooden bases. “Calcite Geode,” I read aloud, reaching for the handle on the top of the glass dome.

Basil was suddenly beside me, his fingers gently pressing on the lid, guiding it back into place.

“I’m excited for school tomorrow.” I moved to the next shelf. A small, glass bell with what looked like a measuring tape painted on its side enclosed a silver sphere with a delicate red needle swiveled on its top. I picked it up for a closer look, fascinated. “What’s this?”

“It’s an antique bi-metal bell thermometer.” Basil took it and put it back on the shelf. “I’m a collector.”

“Cool. Is this a thermometer too?” I touched an elaborate golden arm extending from two side-by-side clock faces. The clocks—if that’s what they were—had been encased together in a striking gilded box. A clear tube with mercury puddled in the bottom of it divided the two dials.

“Not quite.” The headmaster let out a slow exhale. “It’s a compendium carriage with a clock and barometer pairing which happens also to include a thermometer. Would you mind taking a seat?”

“Sure.” I headed for a chair when my eye caught on a strange apparatus; two gong-like instruments with decorative faces hanging on small golden pivots. Curious to see if they swung, I reached out.

Basil’s hand touched mine and our mage bond fired up my arm. With it came an emotion. I’d never felt emotion through our bond before. I looked up into a perplexed face.

“Saxony, please stop touching things and focus.” Basil said, his nostrils giving a little flare.

“Of course. Sorry.” I zoomed to one of the chairs in front of his desk and plopped into it. “It’s just you have so many cool gadgets.”

“How about sitting here?” The headmaster gestured to a couch in front of the low coffee table.

He gathered the books sitting on the table and set them on the floor where I couldn’t see them. A wise decision because one of them was open and the diagram of a person with fire spiraling from the top of their head was begging for further study.

Moving from the seat to the couch I sat down and commanded my eyeballs to stay on the headmaster. It was difficult to keep my attention from wandering to the wall with all the goodies on it. Maybe he’d let me poke around on his shelves when we were done.

“I need you to listen to me carefully.” The headmaster sank onto the couch and angled toward me, adjusting his glasses.

“Okay.” Was it just me, or was he nervous?

“Do any of the other students know that you’ve been Burned?” His gaze drilled into mine… all the way to back of my skull.

A nerve frayed in my gut as my defenses came up. “If they do, it’s not because I’ve told them.” I held two fingers by my ear. “Scouts honor.”

He visibly relaxed, but only a little. “Good. It’s even more imperative now that you to keep it that way.”

I blinked at him. “Why?”

I’d been looking forward to showing up the cockier kids like Betty Boop, but mostly Ryan, despite Mr. Chaplin’s previous warnings. Hiding the fact that I was more powerful than the average mage meant I would have to temper my abilities in class.

The answer came, going off in my brain like a tiny, angry firework.

“This is what Mr. Wendig flew all the way over here to talk to you about, isn’t it?” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest with a scowl. Why else would Mr. Wendig need an in-person audience with the headmaster?

The headmaster rubbed his temples like he was fighting a headache. “I’m not going to ask how you know about our private meeting.”

“I’m friends with Gage,” I replied as I slouched against the back of the couch. “Does he know why Mr. Wendig met with you?”

Gage had told me he didn’t, but maybe he’d been lying.

But Basil shook his head. “No, the whole point is that no one knows. The majority of students wouldn’t be a problem, but Ryan is. His father has explicitly asked that your status as Burned be guarded like a crown jewel.”

“Does Ryan actually suspect I’m Burned?”

The headmaster’s tone was firm. “I certainly hope not, and under no circumstances are you to give him reason to suspect you. Chad was nearly splenetic with worry.”

That was a new one for the vocabulary.

“But how does Mr. Wendig know I’m Burned?”

“He guessed based on what Ryan told him about the night the two of you met. Ryan told him about your encounter and that you would be joining us at the academy this year.”

I straightened. “So, Ryan told him I could run faster than him and from that alone, Mr. Wendig had suspicions?”

The headmaster nodded.

“But… any first-degree mage with some level of control can use the fire to run. That shouldn’t have been enough to make him suspicious.”

“It wouldn’t have under normal circumstances, but when it comes to Ryan, Chad isn’t taking chances.” Basil’s expression softened. “You already know we don’t discuss the Burned here at Arcturus, but I’m sure you were looking forward to showing off some of your abilities. You’ll have to hide the true extent of your power when other students are about.”

Annoyance sizzled at the edges of my thoughts. I’d known I would have to be careful, but my competitive side had been aching to dominate. “Mind telling me what Chad is so afraid of?”

“He’s concerned that if Ryan finds out what happened to you that it will resurrect an obsession that Chad has only just managed to stomp out. Ryan has invested hours trying to learn how the Burning process works, in defiance of Chad’s orders. You can imagine how invested he is in his son not making such a foolish attempt.”

“Sure. He doesn’t want Ryan to come down with a case of the deads.”

Basil’s mouth twitched. “I’m glad you understand.”

If the headmaster’s estimates were correct, 98% of magi did not survive the agonizing ritual that torched a mage’s insides, turning them into a form of volcanic rock, and—if survived—leveled up that mage’s powers by a factor of ten, at least. Further benefits included not having to deal with the daily, low-level pain which plagued unBurned magi. I remembered that pain well.

I’d never forget the torturous experience I had barely survived, locked in a cell in the basement of a villa in Venice. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a few months. I was alive today because I’d been rescued and given water at the right moment, hydrating my cells and changing them forever. My increased power was a byproduct of being kidnapped and dehydrated by an enemy whose aim had been to take my fire for himself.

It didn’t take a psych evaluation to figure out that Ryan was enterprising and power-hungry. It was written all over his face and posture. Even the way he swaggered around proclaimed that he yearned for power the way other people craved hot, salted fries, just like Dante. The thought of him inheriting the capacity I now enjoyed? It just couldn’t happen.

“You know what? I totally agree.” I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. “If Ryan finds out, it won’t be from me. I don’t care that I’ll have to pull my punches even more. My secret is safe. I promise.”

The headmaster’s shoulders relaxed and the wrinkles in his brow eased. “I’m relieved you see the seriousness of my request. It’s unexpected, I know. I’m sorry, and thank you.”

“No worries.” I folded my hands between my knees. “It does present problems though.”

The headmaster was already there. “Not the least of which is that you’re a year younger than any other student we’ve had at Arcturus. Does Gage know your age?”

“I’ve never explicitly said but he knows I was going into my senior year. I’m sure he’ll ask and when he does, I shouldn’t lie. That would only work against us.”

Headmaster Chaplin nodded, looking thoughtful. “This could work for us. Just because you’re my youngest student ever doesn’t mean you’ve survived a Burning. Even reducing your abilities, the kids will see that you’re highly competent.” He got up and began to pace, rubbing his jaw and muttering. “I can stick with the truth in this. You’re a young but talented mage worthy of a place at Arcturus for training, just a clever kid who skipped a grade.” His gaze snapped to mine. “Your mage mark is hidden between your toes, so fortunately it’s easy to conceal. Make sure you don’t wander around barefoot, please.”

Every fire magi had a fireball-shaped mark on their body somewhere that characterized them as a member of our supernatural species. It was always pale to start with but darkened over time as their skills developed. Mine was as black as coal. Basil was right to want to keep it out of view.

“Sounds easy enough,” I replied.

But then he hit me with …

“Unfortunately, you’ll not be eligible for the top marks awards…”

“Wait, what? Why not?”

He gave me a look of tried patience. “Saxony, you’re a fourth-degree mage because of what’s happened to you. That alone disqualifies you from competing against the rest of the first years.”

“Then pitch me against the second years. If I lose a shot at the honors list because of stupid Ryan…”

“I can’t do that, Saxony. The second years would riot.”

Slumping against the sofa’s plush back, I couldn’t stop a groan.

“I’m sorry, Saxony. Even if your status wasn’t a secret, I could never allow it. We have no other fourth-level magi for you to compete against because they don’t train here, they train at the Agency. You and I are the only Burned under this roof.”

“Then why don’t we compete?” I shot him what I hoped was a dazzling grin of encouragement. I’d been wondering just how powerful the headmaster was ever since my initial visit. He’d tested me in the privacy of the empty training facility with only my father for an audience. Basil had tested the pounds per square inch of my best punch, but even when I’d goaded him to show me his fire-backed punch, he wouldn’t take the bait.

Basil shot me a withering look. “Very funny.”

I didn’t hide my disappointment. “It was worth a shot.”

“To your peers, you’ll be a second-degree mage—already a step above the other first-years—”

He said this like it was supposed to make me feel better.

“—And you’ll graduate to third-degree by years’ end. That will have to be enough for you, Ms. Cagney. Any more than that will trigger red flags.”

I pulled a face. Rating as a third-degree when I’d had my heart set on qualifying as a fifth-degree by the end of the year was no consolation at all. I crossed my arms, aware but uncaring that I looked like a petulant child.

“I have barely exchanged two sentences with Ryan since we arrived and he’s already a pain in my ass.”

“Mine too, Miss Cagney.” Basil retrieved a folder and opened it with a flourish. “Just imagine how I feel. The prat is my godson. I’ve foolishly agreed to a lifetime of Ryan Wendig out of some misplaced affection for his father.”

He caught my startled expression at his declaration and amended. “I exaggerate. Now, one thing before we talk about your schedule.”