The Unexpected Enlightenment of Rachel Griffin (Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 1) (4 page)

Confident she could pull it off, she dove. They plummeted, spinning as they went—her best imitation of a butter churn. The dragon flickered along beside them like a flag in the wind.

“Woohoo! Ride ’em, Cowboy!” whooped the boy. He shouted to his dragon. “Lucky, this is the greatest ride ever!”

Pulling up on the broom, Rachel glanced over at the red and gold creature. “Do you talk, too?”

The dragon floated backward until its head came level with Sigfried’s and whispered. “Uh…Boss. The girl asked me if I talk, too. ‘
Too
’…in addition to what? What do I say?”

The boy hissed back, loudly. “Shhh.” Aloud he said, “Of course not. Animals don’t talk.”

“I heard two talk last night,” Rachel blurted out, flipping the air cushion lever, so that the air became quiet around them.

“Did you? Do animals talk in the world of the Wise? Isn’t that what they call us magical folk? The Wise? As in anyone who doesn’t know about magic isn’t…wise, I mean? What do you call normal people? Ignoramuses?”

Rachel giggled. “No. We call them the Unwary.”

“Unwary? Wouldn’t Uninformed be more accurate?” Sigfried asked. “As to the Wise? Wise what? Wise guys? Wiseacres? Are your farms intelligent because they have such wise acreage? And where do these knowledgeable acres come from, anyway? Edinburgh? Oz? The moon?”

Rachel was giggling so hard, she could hardly answer. “If you mean: where do the members of the World of the Wise come from? We are descended from Immortals.”

“Immortal…what?

“Fairies. Elves. Ogres. Gods. Selkie. Mermaids. All sorcerers are descended from immortal creatures. We Griffins trace our lineage back to Abaris the Hyperborean, who could ride through the sky on a magic arrow—which I like to think of as the precursor to our modern brooms. Maybe that’s why I am such a good broom rider.”

“We’re all descended from something supernatural? That’s ace! Do I get to pick? I want to be a dragon!”

“Why a dragon?”

“Then Lucky and I could be brothers.” His voice sounded so fierce that Rachel twisted on the broom and looked over her shoulder. Sigfried’s eyes gleamed with fiery intensity.

“Lucky?”

“Lucky is my dragon’s name.”

“Oh!” Rachel said, delighted that the boy was so fond of his furry serpent friend. The dragon flew along beside him, his long whiskers flickering as he gazed fondly at his master.

“What about you?” Sigfried asked. “What do you want?”

Now it was Rachel’s turn. Her voice rang with conviction. “I want to know
everything
!”

“Normally, I would assume that was impossible,” Sigfried said seriously. “But a month ago, I thought sorcerers and flying brooms were impossible. Can it be done?”

“No,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly. “Not even among the Wise. I figure if my goal is to know everything, I’ll strive harder. In the end, I’ll know more than if I had settled for less.”

“Know everything?” Sigfried paused, perhaps thinking. She felt his body move as he nodded. “I approve. I give you my permission to continue your quest.”

Rachel snorted, but underneath, she was grateful. He had not laughed. No one else had ever taken seriously her desire to know everything.

“What about boring things?” Sigfried asked with great seriousness.

“I find nearly everything interesting. I read every book I can get my hands on, regardless of subject.” Rachel paused and then added thoughtfully, “I guess what I really want is to know about the things that other people don’t know.”

“You mean secrets! So you can hoard them?” Sigfried bumped knuckles with his dragon, who curled his claws inward. “I approve of hoarding.”

Ordinarily, Rachel refrained from telling people her deepest desires. Sharing them made her feel as if she were opening her rib cage and trusting her beating heart to other people’s grubby fingers. This time, though, the truth came tumbling out.

“So I can be the one to share these secrets,” Rachel whispered, her eye shining. “Do you know what it’s like? That moment when you look into someone else’s eyes, and you have their full attention? Their expression changes, their shoulders straighten, their pupils widen—because you’ve told them something they did not know, something that fascinates them, something marvelous or terrifying.”

“But…” Sigfried frowned. “If you tell them, you won’t be the only person who knows.”

“Then, I shall just have to find even more secret things, so I shall have even more things to tell.” Rachel flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “You can see how knowing everything would come in handy.”

“Huh…” Sigfried mused. Rachel could feel him shrug. “I guess so. But back to brooms. Your arrow-riding ancestor. Could he ride his arrow into his opponent and bash in his skull? And can everyone ride a broom? Or only your family?”

“Anyone can ride a broom,” Rachel replied blithely, ignoring Sigfried’s overly boyishness, “but very few people are as good as I am.”

She flipped off the air cushioning enchantments, as they interfered with precision flying, and flew up the coast, the wind in her face. As she rounded an outcropping of rocks, she skimmed too close to the river. The enchanted wake of the steeplechaser sent up a peacock’s tail of spray. Cold drops fell on the bare skin of her neck. She squealed, as much in delight as in dismay. Sigfried shouted in surprise.

Thick forests of hemlocks grew along the shore. Beyond the trees rose the rolling hills that made up the northern portion of the island.

“So, Sigfried, ahead of us…” she called.

“Call me Siggy. All my friends do. Or they would, if I had friends. I’m not sure that Freckles, Banger, and Shanks back at the orphanage count as friends. They were more like the enemies of my enemy.”

“I’ve never had a proper friend before either,” Rachel said shyly. “I realized today that I am not sure how it is done. Making friends, I mean.”

“Let’s just agree! We’ll be friends. You can be my first ever real friend! Other than Lucky, of course.”

“Very good.” Rachel grew pink with delight. “We’re friends! You, me, and Lucky! Well, Siggy…up ahead is the tor where the evil goblin is imprisoned. Shall we take a look?”

“You bet! Can we set him free?”

Rachel giggled again, a mixture of nervousness and joy. The sheer audacity of her new friend amused her. “Probably not today. We’d need to learn more magic first.”

“Too bad. It’s wrong to kill someone who’s tied up. It’s not sportsman like,” Siggy said seriously. “I’d like to see him blast something. With lightning, right? That would be ace!”

Above the hills rose Stony Tor, bald and rocky. Rachel circled it, making sure to glance at the entire landscape. Any detail her eyes fell on now, she could pull up in her perfect memory and examine at her leisure.

On the far side of the tor, a deep valley lay between its stony slope and the hills beyond. At the bottom, late summer flowers bloomed in a grassy meadow. The steep sides seemed to call to her, and Rachel could not resist. She dived down at high speed, slingshotting up the far side, Siggy whooping behind her.

As she circled back, an odd pile of boulders on the tor caught her eye. She flew closer. A cave mouth had been sealed with very large rocks. The stones surrounding the cave were carved with runes and arcane symbols. The place smelled of ozone.

“I bet this is the Heer of Dunderberg’s prison.” As she spoke the name, thunder crashed. The peal rolled out from behind the pile of boulders.

“It heard us!” she cried.

Shrieking in terror, the two of them sped away. Rachel did not bother flying up and over the forest this time. She shot through the trees, darting around trunks at breakneck speed. Sigfried’s grip around her waist grew tighter and tighter.

Flying through the woods at top speeds proved as much fun as barreling down long corridors and negotiating spiral staircases. Rachel’s favorite flying was always the kind that required split-second decisions. She pictured everything around her, calculating how moving the levers or leaning her body to the side would affect the torque of the broom, the speed of her progress, the sweep of the tail fan. Siggy’s grip became so tight that Rachel could hardly breathe. When they missed striking a gnarly oak by a splinter’s length, he screamed.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Rachel shouted cheerfully.

The moment the words left her mouth, she mentally kicked herself. Mocking her new friend was as bad as bringing up the subject of Aaron Marley. Apparently, this making a friend business was more difficult than she had expected.

To her utter delight, Siggy was not daunted.

“Right…” he muttered hoarsely, but the tone of his voice implied that he had accepted her implied challenge. He did not scream again, even when she deliberately took them directly at a giant oak, only swerving within a few inches of the trunk. She could feel him tremble, but he remained stoically silent.

Had she been alone, she would have flown even closer before she swerved, but she dared not put her passenger at risk. As Vroomie moved effortlessly, its cherry and walnut blades spreading and retracting as she moved the levers, Rachel grinned. She had not been boasting when she told the blonde girls that hers was the better broom.

Ahead, trees grew so close together that they formed a vast bark wall that marked the wards of the school. Rachel veered to the west and flew along the coast. As she rounded the rocky point, approaching the ruined castle, a flash appeared on the docks—a bright, narrow pillar of light that went up as far as the eye could see. It swirled, quicker than the eye could track, forming bones, organs, and then flesh, all made of glowing whiteness. Color flooded in, and a man stood there. He walked toward the stairs and the path to the school.

He was dressed in an Inverness cloak. The half-cape along the back billowed in the breeze. His dark hair was drawn into a pony-tail. Around his neck, he wore a medallion showing a lantern surrounded by stars.

“An Agent!” Rachel cried, delighted. She urged the broom forward. “My father is an Agent. I wonder what…”

The man turned toward them. He had a pleasant face with eyes of mild blue. There was nothing wrong with his face—except that Rachel had never seen it before—
which meant
…

A feeling like a thousand spiders crawled along her spine.

“Excuse me, children,” the man called to them. “I am looking for a student. Her name is Valerie Hunt. Can you tell me where to find her?”

Like the decision of which lever to pull when flying at an oak at thirty-five miles an hour, a choice lay before her, and she had less time to choose than it took flame to flicker.

Leaning forward, she let her eyes become wide and innocent. She was good at that. It was one of the few advantages of being so little. “Is that the girl with the short blond hair and the Norwegian Elk Hound? She came yesterday, but she was an Unwary. She did not like it here. She went home.”

The man scowled, muttered his thanks, and disappeared, turning into a narrow, tall pillar of light.

“Wow! That looked incredible!” Sigfried cried, “You could see his skeleton! And his liver? Or was that his spleen? If I grabbed some part of him while he was like that, would he arrive all twisted? What was that, anyhow? The flashy-disappeary thing?”

“It’s called jumping,” Rachel replied, only barely paying attention. She shot through the arch and barreled down the green wooded way, pushing her broom as fast as it could go. The trees whipped by. Wind streamed through her hair, pulling out her barrettes.

“That’s weird…” Siggy shouted to be heard over the winds. “That Victory Flunt, or whatever her name was, would go home without even staying the night, I mean.”

“Valerie Hunt. She didn’t. I lied.”

“Do you lie a lot?”

Rachel shook her head and shouted back over the rush of air. “No.”

“You did it very well for an amateur.” Siggy sounded impressed. “If you like, I can give you some tips.”

“Er…thanks?” Her broom picked up speed. “Now we have to go find Valerie Hunt! She was on the ferry with me yesterday. We have to warn her.”

“Why?” he shouted back.

“Because that man was pretending to be an Agent.”

“An Agent of what?”

“Of the Wisecraft.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the law enforcement branch of the Parliament of the Wise, our governing body. The Wisecraft is responsible for stopping rogue sorcerers and for hiding the World of the Wise from the mundane world.”

“Why does this Kraftcheese do that—hide the magical world?”

“To keep us safe. And to keep the Unwary safe from us. Real witch hunts tend to leave a lot of dead in their wake,” Rachel explained loudly. “The important thing is that Agents are our law enforcement guys. So don’t cross ’em.”

“You mean…they are the Coppers? The rozzers? Old Bill? The police?”

“In part. They also keep the supernatural world from hurting humans. They are part soldier, part magical policemen, part animal control—if you take animals to include basilisks and chimerae and dragons.”

“So this guy was impersonating an officer?”

“Yes.”

Siggy shouted over the wind, “If this agent is an impostor, let’s go find him and kill him.”

“We can’t kill him!”

“Why not? I’ve killed a dragon.”

“People are different.”

“Not evil people. So, how do you know he’s a fake?”

“Because I did not recognize him.”

“You know all the policemen?”

“I went to a Wisecraft banquet recently with my father, who is an Agent,” Rachel shouted, as the broom burst out of the forest and torpedoed toward the commons. The lily pond flashed beneath them. She did not bother to explain that her father was no longer a normal Agent. He still worked for the Wisecraft, but he had been transferred to some clandestine project, the nature of which Rachel did not know. “All the Agents in the world were present. They said so. I made a point of looking at everyone’s face.”

“Any chance there was a bloke at the banquet whose face you don’t remember?”

“No,” Rachel answered grimly. “None.”

The two children sped across the commons, passing the gym and the walled garden. The doors of the main building were open for breakfast. Rachel shot by the startled proctors, rocketed through the dining hall, glanced from side to side, and zoomed out the other side into the grassy interior courtyard. As she soared upward over the many spires of Roanoke Hall, she reviewed her memory of the children eating breakfast, rapidly examining each face in the crowd. The girl she sought was not among them.