The Magickers (33 page)

“Something dark prowling around?” He didn't want to think of it. He rubbed his hand. “Trust me, Trent. Wolfjackals are bad enough.”

“I'm not saying they aren't. But sometimes your worst enemy is the one inside of you.” Without waiting for an answer, he started toward their end of the lake.

With a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, Jason trotted after Trent. He wanted to ask just what Trent meant by that, but he was afraid he knew. The thought of being imprisoned in a body that wanted to hunt, to hurt, was animal wild . . . without being able to change or control it . . . made his blood run cold. The nightmare memory of the chill, silent tomb and the being that wanted to draw him always closer rose unbidden. What did the being want to tell him? What would he do if he got his hands on Jason? Was that what made a skinwalker out of you? How much longer could he even resist?

A shiver ran down the back of his neck clear to his feet.

A faraway howl echoed down from high jagged peaks that the night almost hid. Coyote. Or wolfjackal? He spun around on the path, grateful that it seemed a long way off, yet wondering if that was a lie. He heard Trent's fading steps and turned around to hurry and catch up.

Something dark and big reared up in front of him. It reached out and caught his elbow. Jason let out a squeak and tried to dodge. His ankle turned, sending a ping of pain all the way to his nose.

“Yeowch!” Jason flapped his arms for balance.

“Hold on there,” Tomaz Crowfeather said quietly. His hand tightened around Jason's arm, steadying him on the pathway. He waited till Jason caught his breath, then said mildly, “Out a little late?”

“We walked the girls back to their cabin. Ting is a little nervous, and Bailey is, well, Bailey,” Jason finished lamely. He didn't like lying, and he was almost certain that Tomaz could see right through him. He shifted his weight uneasily.

Tomaz watched him. “I have not decided if trouble sniffs you out, or you sniff trouble out. You're safer back at the cabin.”

Jason nodded as Tomaz released him and helpfully pointed him in the right direction. “Wolfjackals?”

“Many things travel the night,” Tomaz said. “Some evil with their quarry in mind, others . . . more confused than anything. But a frightened animal is as dangerous as a mean one, remember that.” He raised his hand and waved it in farewell.

Before Jason could take the hint and bolt for home, a scream split the night. Before the terrified wail stopped, both Tomaz and Jason were in motion. Jason led the way. “That's Ting,” he said, vaulting up the steps at Kittencurl.

Tomaz reached for the screen door, interrupted by a horrible jangling and clanging of bells and cans. Jason slowed down. Their trap had just gone off! “The thief! That's Bailey's thief trap!” Squeals and yells filled their ears as they entered the cottage.

Ting, still dressed, her pajamas clutched to her chest, stood on a chair, dancing and yelling, “It's a rat! A rat!”

Bailey, on her hands and knees, dove into the strings of cans and bells, trying to catch something that was scampering about wildly. Both Tomaz and Jason watched in total bewilderment.

“Thief?” the Magicker said to Jason.

Jason nodded. “Someone's been taking things.” His further explanation was cut short by Bailey's triumphant yell.

“Gotcha!” She stood in a jangle of sound and string, looking rather like an odd Christmas tree. There was something in her hands, a small ball of soft charcoal-and-white fur. Its long tail hung through Bailey's fingers, a little black tuft at the end, with a puff of dust and cobwebs dangling from it. Whiskers flicked back and forth desperately. Amber eyes stared at them, blinking rapidly as the creature searched for a way out of Bailey's clutches.

Ting stopped yelling. “It . . . it's a dust bunny.” She stared at Bailey who smoothed a fingertip over the frightened animal's head.

“Some kind of mouse,” said Bailey. She cooed to it. “Poor thing's scared to death.”

“It's a rodent,” corrected Tomaz. “Kangaroo rat, actually, although more related to the mouse part of the rodent family. This particular variety of kangaroo rat is often called a pack rat.” He eyed the creature trembling in Bailey's palms. “Missing items, you said? Small things, often shiny?”

“Well . . . yes.” Ting climbed off the chair.

With a smile, Tomaz began to walk about the cottage carefully, treading on each board. Everyone followed but Bailey who couldn't move in her tangle of traps. He listened to every moan of wood as he stepped carefully, until he stopped in a corner of the porch. Bailey and the pack rat were out of sight in the main cottage. There he knelt down and, with one hand, gently pried up a warped board.

Bailey called out, “What's going on? What's happening?”

“He's looking for something,” Ting answered.

Jason peered over Tomaz's shoulder, then added, “And he's found it!”

They looked into a little nest of strawlike twigs and colorful lint. In it lay a silver-toned watch, a shiny barrette, a handful of quarters and one cat's-eye marble, and a dainty silver-handled brush and mirror. “I think,” Tomaz announced, “we've found your thief.” He quickly collected everything and stomped the board back into place.

Bailey waited with a most perturbed look on her face. Ting laughed and began to carefully untangle her. The pack rat had settled down in Bailey's hands. Tomaz looked at her thoughtfully. He spread the booty out on the table. “I think everything lost can be found in here. They like to take and store pretty things in their nests.”

Bailey let out a sigh of relief as Ting unwound the last noisy string from her.

“That is a wild creature.”

“A very frightened one.” Bailey rubbed her thumb over the pack rat's head again. The creature relaxed her soft, folding mouselike ears and let out a soft chirr. “Can't I keep it till we can release her somewhere safer?”

“Safer?”

“Well.” Bailey nibbled her lip. “She could get eaten out there.” She stared out their screen door.

“Yes,” agreed Tomaz. “It is a dangerous world out there. Perhaps you should keep her safe for a while. I suggest something hard plastic or rubber or metal. She'll chew her way out of anything else. Something soft for a nest, something shiny to keep her happy.” He smiled slightly.

Bailey fairly beamed. “Thank you!”

“Do not thank me,” the Indian shaman said quietly. “The animal has made her own choice, I think.” He nodded to the creature who had settled comfortably on Bailey's palms and now groomed her whiskers carefully, much like a cat making herself at home. “Sleep well,” he said, guiding Jason to the door. “And remember,” he added, with a wink. “Unlike the rest of us, pack rats are nocturnal.”

Jason took the hint and headed back to the cabin where Trent was already in his cot, reading a book by flashlight. He sat up. “I figured you stopped by the restroom.”

Jason shook his head. “No, first I ran into Tomaz . . .”

“Really? What was he doing? Did he spot Stefan?”

“No, but I bet he was out scouting and patrolling. Anyway . . . the trap went off at Kittencurl! You should have heard the noise.”

“No kidding? We caught the thief? Who was it?”

“Bailey caught it.”

“It?”

“Yup. A wee little mousie thing, about this big. Tomaz said it was a pack rat.”

Trent rolled his eyes. “Pack rat? Don't they squirrel stuff away?”

“Anything and everything!” He described the nest while he stripped down for bed and tucked away his dirty clothes and laid out clean ones for the morning. As he lay down, they could hear muffled footsteps outside.

Rich's voice said, quietly and unhappily, “Next time I tell you to stay away from something, do it!”

Stefan let out a grunt. Then, miserably, “Bears like skunks, I guess.”

The noise of the two of them shuffling past faded, with a bold distinct odor left behind. Stefan was obviously back in human form.

“Skunk!” repeated Trent, snickering.

The two of them sank into their cots with peals of laughter. The last thing Jason remembered hearing was Trent, every now and then, echoing, “Skunk!”

23

T
HEY took my amethyst from me,” Bailey whis pered, as the group came together for Crystal Class.

Jason's hand went to his crystal in his pocket and he wrapped his fingers about it quickly before asking, “Why?”

She shook her head. Jennifer reached over and patted her hand. “I'm sure it's nothing. The sea salts and tubs are out. I bet we're just going to learn how to cleanse our crystals.” She smiled. “Once we know how to do that, and know our auras, then I can start showing you how to make items from them.” She touched her pendant, which consisted of her crystal wrapped in a spiral of silver wire and hung from a chain.

Bailey looked a bit happier. “Cool.”

Trent leaned on his elbows. “Ever get everyone's aura read, Jen?”

Blonde hair swung as she shook her head slightly. “Not even close. With forty-nine campers here, I don't even know everyone yet. But I'm going to try!”

Jon had been showing Danno something, with Henry and Tran looking on. It appeared to be a diagram of chess moves. He looked up with a slight frown. “But what if you're wrong?”

She gave him her attention. “What if I'm wrong?”

“You can make mistakes. You're not that far into training.”

“Anyone can make mistakes.”

Jon looked at her steadily. “But what if someone depends on what you tell them. Say . . . Henry here. He needs to know what his Elemental nature is, as far as his Talents are concerned, and you tell him . . . Water. You can see how dangerous that would be.”

The older girl smiled slightly. “Anyone can tell Henry is Fire.”

Jason stirred, saying, “I can't. I mean, it seems reasonable, but I can't.”

“It takes training, like anything else.”

“Tell me what I am,” Jon said quietly.

Jennifer paused, her face coloring slightly. “You know I can't. I've tried before. You've been working on Shielding.”

He shrugged as he turned away. “It's dangerous to rely on anyone but yourself.”

Jennifer bit her lip slightly but did not argue with him. She bent her attention to the small tubs on the tables in front of them, filled with clear water and little else. Campers milled around curiously as the heat of the day settled in and a splash here and there sprayed across the rocks. Crystals caught the sunlight and spiked it about in a rainbow of colors.

Stefan swiped his big paw of a hand across the surface of one tub, sending up a tidal wave of water right in the pathway just as Gavan walked into the clearing to start the class. Even as Ting gasped and Rich let out a cry of warning, he raised his cane, unconcerned, a brightness catching the water in midair, droplets splattering into a fine mist and raining down onto the dirt as though hitting an unseen barrier. Grinning, Gavan gave his cane a playful shake and growled before lowering it as he stepped to the front of the tables. He leaned on it, cape folded back on his shoulders, at ease in his light shirt tucked into faded blue jeans.

“Not that that wouldn't have felt good,” he said, glancing up at the sun overhead. “All right. We've been handling the crystals for a while now, learning the one that is bonded to you, and everyone is generally doing quite well.” His attention swept over his students, even Henry Squibb, who flinched as though he could duck behind Jonnard or somehow make himself invisible, and he drew something out of his pocket and laid it on the table. A great white quartz sparkled in the light, its many crystals shining almost completely clear. He tapped it. “This is an ordinary rock crystal, found quite commonly, although not always in this size or clarity. You've all been working with your bonded crystals, but a Magicker can use a master crystal such as this or bond with any number of crystals if his Talents are inclined that way. So, while we urge you never to drop your crystal,” and his clear blue eyes fastened on Bailey a moment, “it is possible to find and use a master like this if you have real need.”

“What's the catch?” asked Trent.

“Catch?”

“Why use a bonded one if any will do?”

“Ah.” Gavan picked up the quartz. “The catch is the performance. Let me think if I can put it another way.” He scratched the side of his crooked nose. “A bonded crystal would be like a race car, high energy and tuned to do one job, with one driver, quite well. A master crystal would be like a small subcompact economy model. It may get you where you're going, but much slower and without as much flash. Or it may be unable to get you where you really want to go but it will keep you safe while you figure out a plan if you're in trouble.”

“How will you know if you're in trouble? Other than the obvious?” Gavan pulled Bailey's amethyst out of his pocket and held it forth on his palm. The once brilliant purple crystal sat, dulled and dark, a shadow of its former self. Bailey sighed.

“Oh, Bailey,” breathed Ting. “I didn't know it had gotten so bad!”

“I didn't want anyone to know,” Bailey answered, her voice miserable. She sat down at one end of her table and cupped her chin in her hands as she leaned forward on her elbows.

Jennifer eyed the object resting on Gavan's palm. “I don't know,” she said slowly, “if cleansing will help that.”

“Nor I,” the Magicker responded. “I want everyone to take their crystals and get a feel for their aura. We've done this before,” he added as he began to walk slowly among them, “so you already know what your crystal probably feels like to you, but I want you to refresh that knowledge. Take a few moments, and then we're going to cleanse our crystals and see if the aura feels stronger or different.”