Lock and Key Page 7

  “It might be more accurate to say they each have a dragon inside them,” Kaitlyn said quietly, entering the conversation again. “It’s supposed to have a whole separate personality and everything.”

  I stared at the two of them in disbelief.

  “Oh come on. You’re not serious!”

  “Of course we are!” Emma exclaimed indignantly. “Just don’t get one of them pissed off if you don’t want to meet his dragon directly.”

  “Him? He?” I asked, looking at the girls sitting at the Drake table. There weren’t many of them—maybe six or seven to the twenty or thirty boys I saw—but they were there.

  “Oh—female Drakes don’t have a dragon inside,” Emma explained, following my gaze. She shrugged. “Don’t ask me why—everything I just told you is the sum total of what I know about Drakes except that they have nasty tempers.”

  “They really do,” Kaitlyn put in.

  Which brought to mind the split second when Sanchez’s eyes had seemed to turn yellow back in English class. Had that been his dragon peeking out at me? And was I really believing all this crazy stuff?

  Somehow it seemed like I was—at least partially.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “It sounds bizarre and I feel like Alice after she went through the looking glass but…okay.”

  There was only one group left and I had a feeling I didn’t really want to know about them—but I had to ask.

  “What about the Sisters?” I asked, looking at the all-female table where Nancy Rattcliff was sitting. She was eating something in slow, deliberate bites and glaring at me—probably my first lunch which she had thrown on the ground.

  This told me two things—first that the Headmistress must have real power for Nancy to be eating the floor-food even when the older woman wasn’t standing there to make her. And second…

  I had made a lasting enemy.

  Great. Just great.

  I looked away from Nancy and back at Emma.

  “So the Sisters,” I said again. “What are they and are they all female?”

  “They’re witches of course,” she said frowning. “But are you really going to tell me you didn’t at least know that?”

  “Isn’t your aunt a witch?” Kaitlyn asked. “How else could she get here to apply you for admittance? The Guardian won’t let just anyone come up and knock on the Academy’s door, you know.”

  “My aunt…” I sighed. “Well, I mean she’s a practitioner of Wicca and all that but I don’t know if you’d call her a real witch.”

  “She’s a Latimer—it doesn’t get much realer than that. Latimers are Sister royalty,” a new voice declared. “Which makes you, Megan Latimer, a princess of the blood!”

  11

  This new voice came from right over my head and startled me so much I dropped the forkful of salad I had been conveying to my mouth. Looking up, I saw a short boy with golden-blonde hair and friendly blue eyes grinning down at me.

  “Oh Avery!” Emma exclaimed. “You’ll scare poor Megan to death sneaking up on her like that!” She turned to me. “This is Avery Connor—you’ll like him.”

  “Are you a Drake or a Nocturne or a Fae?” I asked bluntly. Since everyone at this damn school seemed so intent on segregating themselves, it seemed like a fair question.

  “None of the above.” Avery’s friendly grin widened.

  “So…you’re a Norm?” I glanced from him to Emma. “I thought you said you and Kaitlyn were the only Norms at this lunch period?”

  “They are and I am not a Norm. Perish the thought!” Avery waved one hand dramatically. “I am…drum-roll please, girls. No?” he said, when Emma and Kaitlyn just gave him exasperated looks. “Okay then, I’ll have to introduce myself without a drum-roll. I am the one and only Mister Sister—the only male witch currently in residence at our lovely Alma Mater.”

  He made me an elaborate bow and Emma and Kaitlyn clapped, shaking their heads in amusement.

  “But…I thought a male witch was called a warlock?” I protested, frowning.

  “Oh no, not at all. Though it’s true that a warlock is a male with magical powers,” Avery conceded. “But warlocks—like my dear father, I might add—have very masculine powers. They do things like Geo-political Magic and Climate Mastery. My father is in Antarctica at this very moment, trying to keep the ice caps from melting.” He leaned closer and whispered behind his hand to me. “That’s not working out for him so far, but it’s only because the Norms are screwing everything up faster than even magic can fix it.”

  “But…if you have magical powers and you’re a male then how are you a witch and not a warlock?” I asked, still confused.

  “Well, because…Hang on—I need coffee before I can explain.”

  Avery sank down in the chair beside me and began dumping creamer and sugar into the black coffee which was the only thing on his tray. I counted seventeen sugar packets and ten creamers before he was done—the coffee was a pale blonde color when he finally took a sip.

  “Ahhh. I live on this stuff. Because,” he said, taking up where he’d left off. “As I told you before, newbie, a warlock has big, important, male magical powers. Whereas I do not. Do you know how I first—as we in the witching community put it—‘Flamed Up?’ And no, I am not making that phrase up, we really use it—isn’t that deliciously ironic?” he took a slurp of his coffee and grinned at me like a Cheshire cat.

  “Uh…Flamed up?” I asked, not understanding.

  “How I first manifested my magic.” Avery gave me a surprised look. “My Goddess, newbie—you’re a Latimer. Do you not know any of this?”

  “She’s completely new to the Other world,” Emma said. “Only found out this morning she’d been accepted to Nocturne and before that, she didn’t know a Fae from a French Fry or a Drake from a dill pickle.”

  “Stop—you’re making me hungry for real food,” Kaitlyn complained, picking at her congealed orange casserole.

  “Sorry—just thinking about my job. I work at the I Scream diner on the weekends and some days after school—I got special permission to go off campus,” Emma put in. “Anyway, go on, Avery.”

  “All right. Well,” he went on, giving me another incredulous look. “The very first time I manifested, I was only six. Yes, I know—I was a precocious child.” He preened and took another sip of his coffee. “Anyway, my poor dear mother had sewn herself a little black dress. Ma-ma, you must know is a Null—she can’t do a lick of magic. So the poor dear has to do things the hard way, like those poor Norms.”

  He gave Emma and Kaitlyn a pitying look and Emma promptly shot him the bird while Kaitlyn stuck out her tongue.

  “Ah, that’s right—they’re envious. And who can blame them?” Avery sighed and took another sip of his sugar and cream with a tiny bit of coffee.

  “Avery, get to the point!” Emma exclaimed.

  “Ah yes—my first flame up—in more ways than one.” Avery gave me an arch look. “So, my mother had made a little black dress for herself because she likes creating things, even though she can’t use magic to do it. But I, being only six years old, found it dreadfully plain and dull. I thought it would be so much prettier with just a little—oh hell, let’s be honest—a lot of colorful embroidery. So I called my little magic needle and that was what I did.”

  “Your…magic needle?” I asked.

  “Show her, Avery—she needs proof about the whole Other business anyway,” Emma advised.

  “Well, if you insist on seeing my rather prodigious talent…” Avery began.

  “He’s humble too,” Kaitlyn said, snickering. “As well as talented.”

  “Why should I be humble?” Avery demanded.

  From the pocket of his uniform trousers, he produced a clean white linen handkerchief like the kind men had carried in their pockets fifty years ago. He shook it out like a stage magician, showing me that both sides were completely unmarked.

  “Now tell me,” he said, turning to me and taking another sip of his coffee. “What are your init
ials and what is your favorite color?”

  “Um…My initials are MEL—Megan Elizabeth Latimer,” I said, having already gotten used to dropping my old last name in favor of my mother’s maiden name. “And my favorite color is turquoise blue.”

  “A lovely shade—excellent choice. Very well.”

  Avery spread out the handkerchief on the table in front of him. Then he stared at it fixedly, as though he expected it to do a trick. As he stared, he started humming under his breath—a tuneless little ditty but somehow catchy anyway.

  And then, to my surprise, my initials began to appear in turquoise thread on the white linen surface in flowing calligraphy. It looked like an invisible needle was stitching away at the cloth, embroidering and embellishing until not only my initials appeared but also a number of flowers and leaves and climbing vines—all in jewel tones that complimented the original color.

  “And there you are,” Avery said at last, as the final stitch manifested on the now gorgeously embroidered handkerchief. The whole thing had taken less than a minute. “Here you go. A gift from me to you, Princess Latimer.” He handed it to me and I took it and stared at it, disbelieving.

  “That was…amazing,” I breathed at last. “And this is beautiful. You really did it all with your mind?”

  “I did it with my magic,” he corrected me. “Just the same way I embroidered my mother’s little black dress when I was six. It came out just gorgeous—my mother still has it hanging in her closet. My father was devastated of course.”

  “What? Why?” I exclaimed. “You’re so talented!”

  “Why thank you.” He stared at Emma and Kaitlyn in triumph. “Finally, someone who appreciates me—unlike you two cretins.”

  “Oh, Avery…” Emma laughed and Kaitlyn giggled behind her curtain of hair.

  “Well, to answer your question, newbie—my father was devastated because as impressive as it might be, one can hardly argue that a talent for elaborate embroidery is manly magic,” Avery went on, taking another sip of coffee. “Nor are the other decorative magical traits I excel at. So you see, I’m just not warlock material. My parents despaired of what to do with me before Headmistress Nightworthy came to our humble abode to ask that I be enrolled here, as one of the Sisters.”

  “Is that a regular arrangement for a male witch?” I asked. “Being enrolled in an all-female class?”

  “Absolutely not,” Avery declared emphatically. “But our dear Headmistress is known for thinking outside the box—which is, I suspect, one reason you yourself are here in the hallowed halls of Nocturne Academy. Being that you are a Latimer but also a Null.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I protested. “I mean, I get that a Null is a person who can’t do magic but I really don’t understand what me being a Latimer has to do with anything.”

  “Well—” Emma began.

  But just then a bell chimed politely. It was very different from the blaring bells of my old school, which had sounded more like alarm claxons going off in the crowded halls to chivy the reluctant students to class. But it still meant the same thing—lunch period was over and it was time to move on to the next period.

  “We’ll talk about it more tonight,” Avery promised as we gathered our trays. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Unless you’re in the South Tower in the Sisters’ dormitory?”

  “No,” I said, feeling extremely glad I wasn’t. “I believe the scary receptionist told me she was sending all my things to the dungeon.”

  “Oh goody—that’s where Emma and I are too,” Kaitlyn said.

  “And me,” Avery remarked. “Although I’m in a separate room of course, for propriety’s sake.” He made a face, to show what he thought of propriety.

  “We can meet in the Norm Dorm after dinner and discuss it then. Supper is too crowded and noisy because everyone is there—not just the third of the school you get during lunch period,” Emma said. “What’s your next class, Megan?”

  “Um…Elementary Casting,” I said, looking at my schedule. “Is that a witch thing?” I asked, looking up.

  “A very basic witch thing,” Avery said loftily as we all dumped our trays in a chute in the wall and left the Dining Hall. “And it’s in the South Tower, of course.”

  “The South Tower? With the Sisters?” I couldn’t keep the apprehension out of my voice.

  “Well yes—why?” Avery asked.

  “Nancy Rattcliff already tried to assault her once,” Kaitlyn told him. “I imagine she isn’t eager to go for round two.”

  “Ooo! And you didn’t tell me? What happened? What?” Avery demanded, his blue eyes glowing with excitement.

  “It wasn’t all that interesting,” I said, trying to play it off. “She basically called me a, uh, “charity case” and slapped my tray out of my hands.”

  “That bitch!” Avery said with absolute conviction. “She probably felt threatened by you because you’re a Latimer and she’s only a Ratt…cliff,” he added, making Kaitlyn giggle again. “Don’t worry, Princess—I’ll walk you to your class—if you promise to tell me everything that happened.”

  “If you really want to know,” I said doubtfully.

  “I do—I love hearing dirt on the other Sisters.” And stopping in the middle of the hallway, he gallantly offered me his arm.

  I took it hesitantly and Avery patted my hand and grinned.

  “Let’s go. See you later, girls,” he called to Emma and Kaitlyn, who were going in the other direction. Then he turned to me as we walked. “All right now, newbie—spill it. I want to hear it all.”

  12

  Avery was immensely likable and by the time he got me to my class in the South Tower, he had me laughing so hard I nearly snorted when he told me the story of how he’d accidentally conjured a rabbit the size of a horse into the middle of his family’s living room when he was eight.

  “My father was trying to teach me manly magic of course,” he remarked. “He told me to manifest a big, powerful animal. I think he was hoping for a grizzly bear or a tiger or something like that. He was so disappointed. Not for the last time, unfortunately.” He made a face. “The problem was that we couldn’t get rid of the damn thing.”

  “You couldn’t just make it disappear?” I asked, wiping at my streaming eyes.

  Avery shook his head.

  “Nobody could. My magic is very tenacious. I wound up keeping it as a pet in our back yard—which thank the Goddess has a very high fence around it. It only lived about six months but you should have seen the grocery bill! It ate fifty pounds of cabbage a day. And if you’ve ever seen a regular-sized bunny, you know how many pellets they make—to put it nicely. Just imagine a rabbit pellet the size of a football. Now imagine that times a hundred.” He paused dramatically. “Every day.”

  “Oh my God!” I laughed again. “You have to be kidding me. Could you make that disappear?”

  He shook his head. “No part of this ridiculous animal—I named it Miguel by the way, don’t ask me why, I was only eight—anyway, no part of Miguel was remotely interested in disappearing.”

  “What in the world did you do with all of it’s, uh, leavings then?” I demanded.

  “Well, as I told you, my mother is used to doing without magic which makes her eminently practical. So she convinced some of the local farmers to buy the stuff—told them it was bison dung, of all things. And somehow she got them to believe it. The money she made just barely paid to feed Miguel—otherwise I would still be paying it back out of my allowance. My mom…she’s crazy.” He got a fond look on his face and I realized he and his mom must be really close.

  I felt a sad little tug at my heart and some of my laughter leaked away. God, I wished I could talk to my own mom right about now. Had she known about Nocturne Academy? Had she attended here with Aunt Dellie when she was my age? But if so, why had she never told me? Why had I been raised without any knowledge that this whole Other world existed?

  “Well—here we are—Elementary Casting,” Avery said, nodding at a w
ooden door bound in elaborate silver curlicues which led into the base of the South Tower.

  “Will I, uh, see Nancy in there?” I asked a bit nervously. I would have liked to think I was immune to the Weird Sister’s nastiness but to be honest, I just wanted to avoid her.

  To my relief, Avery shook his head.

  “Oh no—she probably took this class back when she was eleven or twelve. I know that’s when I took it. I told you—it’s very basic.”

  “Eleven or twelve?” I frowned. “But I thought Nocturne Academy was a high school? Do they have a middle school section too?”

  Avery frowned.

  “No, of course not. Nocturne isn’t divided into grades the way Norm schools are. You’re admitted when you’re ready to explore your powers and you graduate when the Headmistress and your teachers believe you have mastered them.”

  “But…I’m a junior this year,” I protested. “That means I only have two years before graduation, right?”

  “You have however long Headmistress Nightworthy thinks you need,” Avery corrected. “That’s why some students graduate early and some have been here for years.”

  I couldn’t imagine being stuck in high school for years and I said so.

  “Don’t worry, Princess Latimer.” Avery chucked me under the chin. “You’ll be here exactly as long as you need to—just like we all are. Now you’d better get to class before the bell chimes again. The Other Studies teachers around here are way stricter than the ones teaching the Norm classes.”

  Then he strolled off down the hall in a leisurely manner whistling to himself and apparently in no hurry to get to his own next class, despite his warning to me. I watched him for a moment, feeling like I had made a friend—or at least an extremely amusing acquaintance. His self-deprecating humor was hilarious—but I had to wonder if he was hiding some kind of hurt beneath it. Clearly he wasn’t nearly as close to his father as he was to his mother.

  Well, at least he still had a mother. I sighed, still feeling a little envious…a little sad.