The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) (38 page)

Her
world
.

It might seem ridiculous to think a thirteen-year-old girl and her fourteen-year-old friends could save the world. But there was a precedent. Wendy MacDannan had not been much older than Rachel when she helped defeat the Terrible Five. True, Wendy had not fared well, but she had done terribly brave and wondrous things before she lost her sanity.

During that fight, she and James Darling had been the front line. That was what Mr. Fisher had called them:
the front line
. They might have been young, but where they were—that was where the war was fought. Now, the front line was here: Valerie and the man who was trying to kill her; Nastasia and her visions; and maybe even Rachel herself. No one else could see the Raven who was the omen of the World’s End.

It was frightening to find oneself on the front line, and yet…

When danger came, a person had a choice. Run away, or step forward and confront it. Rachel refused to run.

If death was inevitable, she wanted to stare it in the face before it took her.

It took forever for her to corral Sigfried and Nastasia and get them away from the others. Finally, Valerie hurried off to get her books, and Joy detached herself from the princess’s side to speak to the second of her six sisters. Rachel led the two of them into the outdoor courtyard inside the walls of Roanoke Hall.

The weather was especially nice. Thunder rumbled from the north of the island, but there was not a cloud in the sky. The sunlight beat down warmly on the children’s faces. A breeze caught the hair that had escaped Rachel’s black and white bow. A long lock tickled her face.

The princess tilted her head back and admired the perfect heavens. “What a lovely day!”

“It is,” Rachel agreed, then she sighed, “which makes it all the more odious that we need to discuss snitches.”

Sigfried stared up at the towers and spires of Roanoke Hall. Lucky snaked through them, dodging in and out, a red and gold ribbon against the brilliant blue. “You mean Sneetches? The kinds on beaches with ‘stars upon thars?’”

Nastasia actually giggled. She pressed her fingers against her lips, as if she hoped to stop the noise from escaping.

“No.” Rachel sighed. “The kind who betrayed us to the kids in Drake Hall.” She told them what Cydney had said.

“So…there really is a spy?” The princess had been watching her Tasmanian tiger chase its tail, a happy smile on her face. Now, her face fell. “I thought maybe they had a magical device, like Sigfried’s.”

“I am bloody glad they don’t!” Sigfried shot back. “It would be very hard to hide from. Just standing here, with my hands in my pockets, doing nothing, I can see the smudge of mud on the shirt of that football player over there. I can see the two kids hiding in the alcove by the far edge of the wall, smoking. Don’t they know smoking is bad for them? Lucky, demonstrate!” Up above the towers, Lucky let out a long plume of flame. Below, some of the kids playing soccer stopped and gawked. “And I can see the leaves that have collected in that flat area on the roof that is lower than everything else around it. It would make a good hide-out. But, if someone was up there talking, they would never have any idea that I could see and hear them.”

“We have to decide who we are going to tell things to in the future,” Rachel confided seriously. “And who we should not share them with.”

“We need an Inner Circle!” Siggy declared. “Lucky, you decide. Who’s in? Who’s out?”

The dragon came diving down to join them. “You should include the members of your harem,” Lucky said in his deep gravely voice. “Who’s in the harem?”

“Good grief! That’s enough about harems!” Rachel spluttered.

She kicked her feet, her heels making an indentation in the soft earth. The princess’s face had drawn into a moue of distaste.

“Only Valerie is in the harem,” Siggy replied stoutly. “I am a one woman man. My philosophy is you remain utterly loyal, until the other person betrays you—then you kill them.”

“That could be a bit severe under certain circumstances,” the princess stated thoughtfully.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Can we please stop talking about Siggy and his murderous rages and discuss the matter at hand?”

“I will point out that it is Lucky who brought up harems, not me.” Siggy tackled the dragon. The two of them rolled back and forth across the grass, wrestling.

“Lucky!” Rachel glared at him.

The dragon broke free and then ducked behind Sigfried, his long scarlet whiskers and serpentine body protruding on either side. Rachel shook her head, amused in spite of her impatience. Sigfried took advantage of the distraction to pin Lucky to the ground.

They debated the topic for fifteen minutes, finally coming to the conclusion that the Inner Circle would consist of the four of them—Rachel, Nastasia, Sigfried, and Lucky—plus Valerie. Rachel would have liked to limit it to those present. For one thing, it was easy for them to get together, as they lived in the same dormitory. For another, she was not sure whether Valerie was repeating everything to Salome, and Salome had not yet been properly vetted. Sigfried refused to keep information from his girlfriend, however, which Rachel had to admit was admirable. Nastasia pointed out that it was unlikely that Miss Hunt would have arranged her own murder. So, reluctantly, Rachel agreed.

“Okay, we have an Inner Circle. How do we discover the identity of the snitch?” she said.

“Do we need to?” asked Siggy.

“Certainly. Otherwise, we may be excluding people who could otherwise be valuable members,” Rachel explained. “The best way would be to give different information to different friends and see what ends up at Drake Hall. Maybe Salome will help us…if she is not the Sneetch…er, I mean snitch…herself.” Out of the corner of her eye, she eyed both of them warily. Then, gazing up at the sky, she asked casually, “Do you think we should make up stories and pass them out to different friends? That way we don’t have to put any real secrets at risk.”

“Great idea!” Siggy grinned. “Can I be in charge of concocting lies? I’ll make up some doozies.”

The princess’s brow furrowed. “That would not be honest.”

“True, but if we tell the truth, the enemy will learn our secrets.” Siggy countered. “If we lie, the bad guys will get their comeuppance, and we can apologize to our friends later.”

“Lying is wrong,” the princess spoke firmly. She smoothed out the skirt of her robes. “We must do the right thing at all costs.”

“You may be willing to do it at all costs.” Siggy lounged against a tree. “Me, I’m only willing to spend forty-nine ninety-five on honesty. After that, I’d rather save my money for something more interesting. Like crossbows. Or frogurt.”

“Do not be so frivolous,” the princess lectured him, a furrow of concern marring her brow. “Are you not my knight? Did you not swear to me?”

“I’ll take orders. Are you ordering me to spill our few remaining secrets to the enemy? If so, can we use your secrets? I’m not keen to have people know mine. Oh wait! Yours already got spilled. So, is it my secrets you are ordering me to spill now?”

They talked on, going in circles. Exasperated, Sigfried said, “If we are going to accomplish anything, we need to agree on our purpose.”

“Purpose?” Rachel cried, amazed anyone could even ask such a question. “That’s obvious! We’re trying to save the world!”

“Of course,” Sigfried nodded, “but how? And at what price?”

“Save the world?” The princess arched an eyebrow of her own in obvious surprise. “I thought we were forming a social club.”

If the sun had dropped out of the sky, and the princess had punted it across the lawn like an American football, Rachel could not have been more surprised. She would have squawked an objection, but shock paralyzed her vocal cords. Sigfried, too, goggled in astonishment. His jaw flopped open.

Had Nastasia not heard the part about the death of worlds?

Before Rachel could recover, Alexis Romanov came running across the grass toward them, her blond ponytail bobbing. She looked a good deal like her younger sister, only she was just a pleasant-looking young woman, not mind-blastingly, astonishingly gorgeous. Her eyes were so wide with distress that the whites were very prominent. Her face was unusually pale.

“Nastasia! It’s Father!” she cried. “He won’t wake up! Mother says he was trying to protect you from the being that attacked you. The winged one. He’s captured Father! Come quickly, Ivan wants to talk to us, and then we are to go downstairs and call Mother on the talking glass!”

Alexis grabbed her sister’s hand, and the two princesses ran off. Rachel was left staring after them, sympathy for their plight inhibiting her from giving voice to her outrage at the princess’s blindness to their current danger.

Lunch was followed by Music and Friday’s only free period. Searching the grounds, Rachel found a hunk of granite, too big for her to lift easily, and an unused trash can. Using the
Tiathelu
cantrip, she maneuvered the rock into the garbage can. Slowly, with many breaks, she used the cantrip to waft the can, stone and all, up to her favorite hallway.

She practiced blowing the rock off the table. This proved difficult. She only succeeded once. The wind she could whistle up was not powerful enough. Yet, the fact that she succeeded at all gave her hope. She refused to be daunted, trying again and again and again.

She also practiced lifting and twirling the trash can. It was not as big or as heavy as Cydney Graves, but it was awkward and bulky enough to give her trouble, which was exactly what she wanted. She worked at this diligently, lifting the can and slowly turning it end over end. She had been at this for nearly thirty-five minutes, sweat pouring down her forehead, when something warm brushed against her ankle. Looking down, she was surprised to see the tiny lion.

“Hello, Leander.”

The lion rubbed against her leg again. It walked a short distance. Then, it turned and looked over its shoulder at her, gazing up with its large golden eyes.

“You want me to follow you?” Rachel wiped her forehead on her sleeve. “Look, I know you can talk. Can’t you just tell me what you want?”

“Come,” said the lion in a voice that was much deeper than Rachel expected from such a small frame. “Your friend needs you.”

“Which friend? Never mind!” she cried. “Whoever it is, I want to help!”

“Then, come.” The lion loped off.

Rachel followed at a run.

The tiny lion darted downstairs, stopping before the ladies room. Rachel charged through the door. She ran to a stall from which she could hear crying. The door was ajar.

Inside, Valerie Hunt sat on the floor next to the toilet, sobbing, a paper towel pressed against her nose. Bright red blood dripped over her fingers. A pile of blood-soaked towels lay beside her. The water in the toilet was reddish. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her tears were slightly pink.

Looking up in shock and fear, Valerie cried even harder.

Rachel’s first urge was to drop to her knees and hug her. Before she let herself do this, she had to make sure that they were not under attack. She looked around the bathroom and thought back a few seconds, searching for a wraith, or the Raven, or anything else not visible to her ordinary sight. She checked the other toilets and the rectangular shower-stall-like area filled with litter for familiars but saw nothing unusual.

Running to the dispenser, she grabbed a handful of toweling paper. Then, she knelt beside Valerie. Handing her the fresh paper towels, she laid a hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right? Can I help?”

In between choking and sobbing, Valerie whispered, “I’m the snitch.”

“Wha-what? Did someone find out and beat you up?”

“I know it’s me.” Valerie trembled. “I can’t remember doing it, but I did it.”

“Wh-what?”

“Someone cast a spell on me, but I don’t remember who or how. I went to the Wisecraft Offices in New York City. Mr. Iscariot had arranged for me to meet some Agents—I had a lot of questions about the World of the Wise, and I really admire spies and cops. When I arrived at their office, one of them mentioned I was late. But I wasn’t late. I arrived there early.”

“I don’t understand,” Rachel’s heart was pounding in her ears. The smell of blood was making her lightheaded.

“I remember I got there early, on purpose. But I can’t…” Blood spurted from Valerie’s nose more profusely. “Can’t remember what happened between arriving, and when I met the Agents. I never thought about it afterward, but I should have. Even now, I can tell something is trying to keep me from thinking about it. I feel it pushing in my head. It hurts!”

Valerie, who had been trembling the whole time, began shaking harder.

Terror gripped Rachel. Blackness crowded around the edges of her vision. The very idea of something blocking her memory made her chest tighten, and her stomach twist with nausea. But she could not panic now. Valerie needed her. Swallowing with effort, she invoked the dissembling techniques of the ladies of the Family Griffin that she normally used to mask her emotions and forced herself to think clearly.

A calmness came over her thoughts.

“First of all, don’t worry about snitching,” Rachel instructed her with gentle firmness. “If it was you, and it was because of a spell, it’s not your fault. We all love you, and we’ll stand with you through this! Second, if trying to remember hurts, don’t try to remember!” Those last words nearly stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. “Now we know about the spell. We can figure out how to break it—then you will be able to remember without…pain.”

“I…I can’t…” Valerie murmured, trembling.

“Okay,” Rachel forced herself to keep calm, though her legs were shaking. “We’ve got to get you to the infirmary. Can you stand up?”

Valerie did not seem to hear her. Rachel knelt and hugged her. Valerie slumped against her shoulder.

“I think…I…want my mom…” Valerie’s eyes rolled up, and she passed out.

Rachel shook her, but the other young woman did not respond. Blood continued to run down her upper lip. She was extremely pale. Her breathing had become raspy and shallow. Valerie’s body was pressed against Rachel, nearly pinning her down. Her heart was racing unnaturally quickly.