The Wizard Heir (4 page)

“Come up to my office after dinner. I think it's
time I explained a bit more about our program.”

Seph nodded and walked on, into the trees.

A
Magical Collaborative

Seph awoke to a loud pounding. Still groggy, he
stumbled to his door and opened it. It was Trevor, dressed for the outdoors,
smiling tentatively.

“Seph. Supper's at seven thirty. We have time
before then, if you want to look around.”

Seph rubbed his eyes and looked back at his bed.
“Sure. Thanks. I'm glad you knocked. I might've slept right through.”
He yawned. “Do we have to dress for dinner?”

“Collared shirt or sweater. No jeans or
sweats.”

“Okay. Give me a minute.”

Trevor hovered by the door while Seph changed his
clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. They descended the stairs and
pushed through the front doors.

The frail autumn daylight had already fled. It would
have been pitch-black under the trees, save for the tiny lights that outlined
the paths between buildings. Seph braced himself for questions or comments
about the peculiar events in the cove, but none came, so Seph said, “That
was pretty weird. What happened at swimming, I mean.”

“You never know what's going to happen around
here,” Trevor said, shrugging.

“What do you mean? Are you saying weird things
have happened before I—before now?”

“I mean nothing.” Trevor hunched his
shoulders like a turtle retreating into his shell.

“I ran into this guy in the woods. A student, I
think, kind of stocky, with glasses and an inhaler. Do you know who that
would've been?”

Trevor looked him in the eyes. “I don't recollect
anyone like that.”

Seph debated whether to force the issue. He guessed he
could get what he wanted from Trevor. But decided not to push it. It's my first
day, he thought. I can use all the friends I can get.

Trevor took his role as tour guide seriously, pointing
out features of the campus: the tennis courts, the amphitheater.

“There's almost a hundred students here, freshmen
through seniors. They come from all over, and a lot of them get scholarships.
There's also a bunch of alumni living here on campus, doing research with Dr.
Leicester.” They passed more dormitory buildings. “All the dorms are
pretty much the same. The alumni have their own dorm, cafeteria, and commons
area.”

“Why would alumni hang around on campus after
graduation?” Seph asked. “What about college?”

Trevor looked away, focusing on the path ahead.
“You'd have to ask them.”

They walked through Gareth Hall, the classroom building,
past empty lecture halls. “School's been going for a couple weeks, so
you're going to have to catch up with your assignments,” Trevor said.
“Let me know if you need help with anything.”

The art and music building was farther north along the
shoreline. “They make us all take a musical instrument,” Trevor
explained. Seph nodded. Typical. He'd brought along his saxophone.

Next Trevor led him down to the waterfront and out
onto the dock. “Dr. Leicester's a sailing fanatic. Our sailing team has
held the Atlantic Seaboard Scholastic Cup for three years. Everyone
helps.”

“Mmmm,” Seph replied, committing himself to
nothing. He couldn't very well tell Trevor he expected to be gone by Christmas,
given the start he'd made at the cove.

“This is our boathouse.” Trevor pushed open
the door to the small, weather-beaten building Seph had noticed when he
arrived. It was a plain, square wooden structure with a rough planked floor. A
narrow wooden walkway ran along the far side of the room, surrounding the boat
slip. The water sucked and slapped at the pilings underneath. The building
smelled of marine gasoline and what Seph assumed to be fish guts.

“They keep the motorboat in here most all the
time, and sometimes the sailboats if they need to be fixed. You'll get really
good at slapping on varnish, believe me.”

That was no problem. Seph was used to hard work. He'd
spent every summer cleaning and changing beds and washing dishes at Genevieve's
bed-and-breakfast.

“Time to eat,” Trevor announced, and turned
back toward shore.

The dining hall was on the first floor of the admin,
building, with a full wall of glass overlooking the water. Servers circulated
through the room, clearing tables and refilling water glasses.

In addition to burgers and pizza, there was
hand-carved roast beef, a fish entree, a sauté of the day, a vegetarian wrap,
grilled sandwich, and a salad bar. Could be worse. Seph had been raised to
appreciate good food, but he wasn't a snob.

Seph scanned the dining room, but he saw no sign of
the boy with the glasses.

He and Trevor carried their trays to a large,
rectangular table by the window. A half dozen boys were already seated there.
Conversation died away when Trevor and Seph sat down, but then everyone took
turns introducing themselves. Troy was a small, scholarly-looking black
student, dressed in a white dress shirt and bow tie. Harrison had the kind of
clean-cut, preppy look that is often misleading, while James was blunt and
cocky with overdyed black hair and multiple piercings and tattoos.

Troy was from Philadelphia. “I've been in public
school, private school, every religious school you can think of,” he
explained. “They said I was hyperactive.” Seph found that hard to
believe, given his buttoned-down appearance. Troy was a senior, and said he
hoped to attend Yale the following year.

Harrison and James were juniors, Harrison from San
Diego and James from Houston. Both readily admitted to a history of heavy
partying.

“I had a trust fund, you know?” Harrison
said, stuffing down the last bite of a burger and chasing it with soda.
“So I didn't see much point in school. I got high a lot, cut class a lot.
Meanwhile, my parents were spending all their time getting a divorce. Then my
grandfather said I had to come here, or there would be no more money. I guess I
forgot that a trust fund has a trustee.” He laughed loudly and punched
Seph playfully in the shoulder.

This place is full of misfits, Seph thought, rubbing
his shoulder. Just like me.

Well, not exactly like me.

Once again, he waited for mention of the incident of
the cove, but it didn't come up. It might as well have never happened.

“What about you?” James asked Seph.
“How'd you end up here?”

“I had to leave my last school.” Seph tilted
back a bit from the table, resting his palms on the edge of the hardwood,
rocking back in his chair. “I had a difference of opinion with the
administration.”

“About what?” Troy leaned forward.

“They thought I should come to class,” Seph
replied, making eye contact with each of them. “I had other
priorities.”

“Like what?” Harrison grinned in
anticipation.

“You know. Hanging out with girls. Hacking into
the school computer.” He rocked forward, so all four legs of the chair
struck the floor with a bang. “Skinny-dipping in the faculty pool.”

This brought hoots of laughter from Harrison, smiles
all around. An end to the inquisition.

Time to change the subject, he thought. Seph never had
any difficulty directing a conversation. “How do I get my schedule? I
guess I should've asked Dr. Leicester about it.”

“They'll deliver it to your room before Sunday
night, with the books you'll need,” Trevor replied.

Seph went through the rest of his usual list of
questions. All the students had mailboxes in the administration building. He
could get money at the cashier's office, but there wasn't much to spend it on.
He could use his student card to rent movies and order pizza through the
bookstore.

“So what do you do for fun around here?”
Seph asked, pushing a last bite of fish around his plate.

“Not much,” Troy replied. “Watch
movies, hang out. And hey, you can go see the bears and raccoons at the
Dumpster.”

Harrison added, “There's lots of sports, like
crosscountry skiing and snowboarding. Sailing's over, but it'll start up again
in the spring. Over at the rec. center you can do tennis and racquetball.”
He shrugged. “That's about it.”

“Don't worry about having nothing to do,”
Trevor said, rolling his eyes. “They work us pretty hard.”

“What about girls?” Seph had attended boys'
schools before, but mostly in cities, where there was ample opportunity for
socializing.

“You'll have to wait until summer,” Harrison
said regretfully. “Or winter recess, anyway.”

Seph took this news philosophically. N'exigez pas
beaucoup et vous ne serez pas déçu. Don't expect much, and you won't be
disappointed.

One thing he did expect was Internet access.
“What's this deal about not being able to go online?”

“It's weird,” Harrison said. “They're
up-to-date in a lot of other ways.”

“Let's go ask Dr. Leicester about it,” Seph
suggested. This was greeted by a notable lack of enthusiasm. Which was
surprising, because people always liked his ideas. He tried again. “We
could get up a petition. Have a demonstration.”

Troy cleared his throat. “Um … I don't think
that's such a good idea.”

“Don't you even care?” Seph demanded,
exasperated. Being online was like having access to oxygen.

“You could
ask Dr. Leicester about it,” James ventured, making it clear Seph was on
his own. “But I wouldn't get your hopes up. I think the alumni go online,
but that's it.”

“That's another thing,” Seph said. “The
alumni. What's up with them? What are they doing out here in the middle of
nowhere?” He looked around the table, but nobody met his eye. “I
mean, aren't you curious?” There was some shrugging of shoulders and
clearing of throats. But no real response.

“Okay. So you're not curious.” Seph pulled
out his cell phone, wondering if the change in location would make any
difference. It didn't. “My cell phone isn't getting a signal. Should I change
providers?”

“I guess there's no transmission towers around
here,” Trevor said. “Nobody's phone works. You'll have to use a land
line.”

This was the most passive group of students he'd ever
met. It was as if something had taken the rowdy right out of them.

“Is there a Catholic church near here?”

“There are no churches of any kind that you can
get to,” James said. “You'll have to make it up to God in the
summertime.”

“There's nothing?” Seph looked around the
table. “I can't believe that.”

“They have an outdoor chapel here, though I can't
tell you why, in this climate,” Trevor said. “There are ecumenical
services once a week, either there or in the admin. building.”

Genevieve had been a devout Catholic, so Seph had
attended Jesuit schools until she and the Fathers had disagreed on how to deal
with his magical extravagances. The Jesuits had proposed an exorcism. Genevieve
had declined.

Church had always been a sanctuary. The Latin Masses
relaxed him. He liked the reassuring cadence of the old language, like ancient
charms against the darkness, the perfumed smoke rising from the censers, the
cavernous architecture within which his problems seemed small and manageable.
He seemed to have an affinity for ritual.

No Masses. Well, he didn't expect to stay long.

“Which one of you is Joseph McCauley?”

Seph looked up, startled, realizing that the table
conversation had died away. Two young men, perhaps college age, stood at the
head of the table. One was tall and whippet thin, with hair and lashes so pale
as to be almost transparent. The other was dark haired, broad shouldered, and
bulked-up. The kind of guy who had creases in the back of his neck and needed
two-a-day shaves.

“That's me,” Seph said, raising his hand and
waggling his fingers. “What's up?”

“Dr. Leicester would like to see you in his
office.”

Seph noticed that everyone else at the table was
focused on the floor. Like in class, when you hadn't read the chapter and were
afraid the teacher would call on you. “Oka-ay. And you are … ?”

“I'm Warren Barber,” the blond one said.
“This is Bruce Hays.” As if that explained anything.

Seph glanced at his watch. Almost eight o'clock, and,
despite his nap, he was bone tired. Best to get this meeting over with so he
could go to bed. He pushed back his chair and smiled around the table.'
“Hey. Good to meet you. Thanks for all the inside. Guess I'll see you
later.”

They all studied him as if they were trying to fix his
image in their minds, like they might forget what he looked like after he was
gone.

“Good luck, Seph,” Trevor said softly.

“Welcome to the Havens,” Hays said as they
climbed the stairs from the cafeteria level to the administrative offices on
the third floor.

“Thanks. Ah—are you faculty members?” Seph
asked, while trying to imagine what these two could possibly teach.

“Nah. We're alumni,” Barber replied.
“We're the alpha wolves in this organization. Hate to tell you, but you've
been dining with the sheep.”

“I … um …” Seph had no clue how to respond
to this.

“Dude, you're going to like it here,” Hays
said, clapping him on the back. “We promise.”

Dr. Leicester's office occupied the choice position at
the front of the building, with the best view of the ocean. It was like no
headmaster's office Seph had ever seen: sleekly modern, with a fax, computer,
printer, and scanner. He saw none of the usual diplomas, awards, and other
detritus of interschool competitions, save several large sailing trophies.

Seph looked longingly at the array of cutting-edge
hardware, then leaned his hip against a table by the window. “So. What
exactly do you do here?” he asked Hays and Barber. “Are you like,
teaching assistants?”

Hays and Barber looked at each other. “I guess
you could say we're more like, you know, research assistants,” Barber
said, grinning.

Seph thought they looked more like, you know, thugs.
If you saw Hays and Barber walking down the street, you'd cross to the
other side.