The Magickers (19 page)

“As you may note,” Gavan said dryly. “The crystals can help you unlock any number of abilities. It is important, mortally important, not to attempt to do anything with them until you've been instructed how to handle them. Bailey is fine, that much I know. That is not always the case.”

“What do you mean mortally important?” Rich leaned on his elbows, tossing his crystal up and down, up and down. A faint sneer curled one corner of his mouth. He seemed very unconcerned about what had happened. Jason felt a glower creeping over him.

“He means,” Eleanora said, frowning, “your lives will depend on it.” She moved quickly, sweeping the unchosen crystals into trays and setting them aside, covered. Although every move was briskly efficient, her usually bright eyes seemed shadowed with an expression of worry.

“It didn't zap me,” Jason murmured, as he realized something. His hands itched vaguely in memory of holding Bailey's crystal.

“No, it wouldn't. It's been attuned to Bailey.” Gavan turned the crystal over and over. Afternoon sunlight gleamed throughout the purple walls tumbling through his fingers. “It's imperative we find her as soon as possible.”

“But . . . what happened?” asked Ting faintly.

“Miss Landau is gone,” Eleanora said.

“D'uh,” commented Rich. He nudged Stefan's thick shoulder.

“Once you have learned a bit,” she returned smartly, “you will realize there is a world of possibilities that could have happened. This is the most dangerous time in any Magicker's life, the beginning, when you first learn how to handle yourself. It's when you make the most mistakes, of course . . . and when you are first hunted.”

At her last words a hush fell over the campers. Jason looked at her pale face. He should put his own crystal in a pocket, he knew, or some place safer, but he felt better with it in his hand where he could grip it, feel it. Ridged edges pressed sharply into his fingers as he curled his fist tightly about the object.

“Hunted?” echoed Jon.

She nodded to him. “By those who can't understand or are jealous. And by those on the Dark side, whose nature it is . . . to hunt.” She glanced at Gavan who stood very still, cupping the amethyst, and who looked back with a faint frown, and shook his head, again, very slightly. He pocketed the amethyst.

Ting stared with wide, dark eyes. She held her faintly pink crystal at her throat, and stared at the blank space where Bailey had vanished. A cold shiver ran through her slender figure.

Jason put one hand over the other, covering his mark, his own crystal still in his fingers. Who were the hunters? Of what and why? And was he now marked forever as prey? Was he hunted? He tried to hide a shudder, echoing Ting.

Jennifer moved over next to Ting and rested her hand on the girl's shoulder. “They'll find Bailey.”

“Of course we will!” Eleanora nodded emphatically and added, “Because Gavan and I will be busy, I'm going to dismiss the class today, with homework. All of you were asked to bring a jeweler's glass or loupe to camp. I want you to take a look at your crystal with it and see if you can draw what you discover under the lens. There will be facets, angles, and chambers. Let's see what you can translate to paper, if you can, those of you who have studied geometry. Even more importantly, I want you to note the colors in your crystals and see if they have a feeling for you. Color is the result of light energy, and energy is what we Magickers draw on.” Eleanora clapped her hands lightly.

“And most importantly, do not look too deeply into your crystals or try to enter them . . . or we will lose you as well. There will come a time for that, with training,” Rainwater added tautly. Eleanora's slight form dipped for a moment as if she lost altitude suddenly, and she put a hand out to Gavan to steady herself. They exchanged a low word or two that Jason could not catch. She then inhaled very slowly. “This is not as serious as it looks. We'll have Bailey back by dinner.”

Stefan snorted. “The question is . . . in how many pieces?”

Gavan shot the boy a hard look. Stefan and Rich backed into each other, suddenly silent, and milled around as if both were trying to leave quickly.

Trent shook Jason's shoulder as they trudged back to the cabin. “Bailey will be all right.”

“You can't be sure of that. They aren't.” He rubbed his hand again. “I wonder what happened. Do you think something took her?”

“I think they have some idea, but they're not going to tell us, at least not yet. They don't need anybody else disappearing. That thing still bothering you?”

“Yeah. It's sore, like a stone bruise or something.” Jason rubbed his hand again.

“Just let me know whenever you decide to brush your teeth, so I know when you're foaming at the mouth for real.”

“Great. Thanks.”

His buddy grinned. “You're welcome.” Trent tossed his crystal up and caught it. Jason had a glimpse of the opaque, frosted gem. The thought of losing touch with his own, at the moment, made him slightly queasy. He frowned and fidgeted.

“Aren't you afraid of dropping yours?”

“And vanishing like Bailey?” Trent scratched the corner of his eyebrow. “Nope. At least not yet. I can hardly wait to get a closer look at it though. My dad had fits trying to find one of those jeweler's glasses. What about you?”

“My stepmom is very organized. If she doesn't know anything about something, she knows how to find someone who does. She bought me a very nice one.”

“Wait a minute. You've got a stepfather . . . and a stepmother?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, I don't get it.”

Jason brushed his hair from his eyes. “It's complicated. First . . . my mom died. A long time ago, I don't really remember her. For a while it was just my dad and me. My aunt helped, then she married and moved away, and my dad got married to Joanna. Then he—” Jason's throat tightened, and he looked away, across the twisting trails of the camp and to the brief, blue glimpse of the lake. “Then he died. So I just had Joanna.” He took a breath. “Then she married William McIntire, or the Dozer, as a lot of people call him.”

“Wow,” said Trent. His friend looked at him. “Here I am bunking with you, and I had no idea how twisted you are. You've got a lot of potential to be really screwed up. You could get away with a lot.”

That made Jason laugh in spite of himself. As they pushed inside their cabin and threw open the shutters to let the light flood in, and the fresh afternoon air stirred through the pools of heat inside, he said, “What do you think happened to Bailey? Seriously.”

“No way of knowing.”

“
They
know.”

“Well.” Trent pulled his chair up. “They probably have some ideas, but if they absolutely knew . . . they'd have gotten her back already. They're probably figuring out how to track her.” He opened his backpack, rifling through it, before getting out pencil and paper and his small, closed-up magnifying glass made especially for gems.

“Track her? I don't like it. Anything could have happened to her. Stuck in her crystal like a genie in a bottle?”

“Sure. Don't you think Magick leaves some kind of trail? Maybe an aura. Something. I bet they're in conference right now, mulling it over.”

“Maybe.” Feeling a little better, Jason stared out the screen door. He tried to imagine a comet tail of sparkling motes left behind Bailey as she vanished. What convoluted saying of astonishment would be trailing after her? Across the way, Danno and Henry tumbled into Skybolt, with Jon trudging up the steps after them, in his older, more dignified way. A moment later he came bolting down the steps, pillows flying through the air after him. He laughed once, then straightened and shook his fist at the cabin. “Don't you have any place to go!” Fits of giggles welcomed him as he gathered up the pillows with the dignity of being older, and went back inside.

Jason's air splints felt hot and heavy on his leg. Reaching down, he let the air out and then unfastened them, putting them aside on the tabletop while he laid his crystal down on a piece of crisp, white paper. His own jeweler's loupe was folded up in a neat, black leather case. It was almost like opening up a Swiss army knife, bringing out the tear-drop shaped lenses. He set his crystal down and looked at it with his own eye first. It was a stone of flawed beauty, but the flaws themselves were intriguing and beautiful. The bands divided a third of the stone into a chamber which had a quartz texture all its own. The most serious flaw, though, was cold and hard granite, nearly shearing the stone in two. It wasn't supposed to have been out on the table, yet it had called him. What did that mean?

Across from him, Trent hummed as he looked his frosted stone over, tumbling it between his fingertips. Again, for a slight moment, Jason felt horribly queasy at the movement, then looked away and gripped his pencil. What did Trent feel trying to look into the foggy depths of the rock he'd chosen? What had Bailey felt? What
had
happened to Bailey? He frowned at his crystal. The sooner he had some understanding of it, the sooner he might have a hint. He wished he had not let Gavan take the amethyst . . . surely there was something there which could tell him what she had done, or had had done to her. This was going to take some time. The cabin creaked slightly, wood against wood, as the afternoon wind began to pick up.

Something tickled the back of his ear, and he scrubbed at it, scratching the itch. After a moment or two, the other ear tingled, and he brushed at it. Trent looked up as the table wobbled.

“Problem?”

“I'm worried about Bailey. And there's a gnat or something in here.”

“I'm worried, too. As soon as it gets dark, I figure we need to find her crystal and look at it. I mean, they're not telling us everything, and we might know more than they do anyway.”

Jason grinned at Trent, pleased to have found a coconspirator. “Great. We'll plan later.”

Trent's face split in a lopsided smile. “I'm always scheming.” With a laugh, he brought his jeweler's loupe back up to his eye and peered through the magnifying lenses at his quartz. “Pretty rocks, you know? Easier to carry about than a crystal ball.”

Jason ran his finger over the bands. “Gavan didn't want me to get this one, did you notice?”

“I saw that.” Trent stood up and came over, peering over Jason's shoulder. “That almost looks like a crystal melted into an agate or something, the way it's banded. I like it. It's neat looking.”

“My dad used to say that it was a person's flaws that made them interesting.” Jason shifted in his chair. “How do you suppose these are used . . . and for what?”

“I imagine they're just a focal point, for discipline or meditation or such. So you can concentrate on whatever and learn to harness it.” Trent sat back down after twisting his chair around so he could face Jason.

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “Well. Rocks in themselves can't be magical, or anybody could just pick one up and use it. I doubt they're batteries or channels. I mean, don't you think that what makes you a Magicker is inside you—not the crystal?”

“I haven't had much chance to think about it. It all hit so quick.” Jason sat back in his chair. “It's like . . .” He paused to scratch at his ear tickle again. “It's like someone said to me, okay, you're everything you ever wanted to be, now—what are you going to do first? And there's so much to do; you can't decide what to do first . . . only there's a catch. You have to know how to do it.” He hung his arm over the chair back. “ 'Sides, I'm worried about Bailey right now. What about you?”

“Bailey worries me, too.”

A slight breeze caught at Jason's sketch paper and began to waft it off the table. He grabbed at it, anchoring it down with his left forearm as he began sketching again. “No, what I mean is, what do you think?”

Trent didn't say anything for a long time. Jason looked up to see his friend sitting quietly, eyebrows knotted together. He put his pencil down. “You don't believe them.”

“It's not that. Although, you've got to admit, it's a hard one to swallow. They could all be conning us. What better way to make a kid think he's special than to tell him he's Magick? Hey, you! Ever wanna be one of the X-Men? Darn right I do! But . . . do I want it to be real? Yeah. Every book I've ever read, every computer game I play . . . is something like this.” He let out a soft sigh. “But is it real? I don't know yet, and I don't feel different.”

“But you want it.”

“Of course. Don't you?”

Jason looked at the back of his hand. The crescent there had healed into a thin, pale ridge. It still hurt if touched or bumped accidentally, and he thought of the snarling, green-eyed beast which had left it. “I'm not sure,” he answered slowly. “I think there's a lot more to this than any of us can guess.”

The bug that had been tickling decided to bite, in a quick, hot pinch. “Ow!” Jason leaped to his feet, swatting at the curve of his ear. He whirled around and saw nothing, but the hot sting of his ear told him
something
had definitely just taken a bite of him!

“Quit rocking the table!” Trent threw a colored pencil at him. Jason threw one of his splints back. In moments, the fight had carried out onto the pathway between the cottages with Henry and Danno joining in until Jon came out and threw a bucket of water on all of the participants, grumbling about a nap. Trent looked at Jason who looked at Henry who looked at Danno who promptly tackled Jonnard into the muddy puddle and in a few more moments, no one could tell anyone apart except for his height and general eye color in a mass of mud. Bailey would have loved the mock fight, providing them with teasing remarks and laughing at them.