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STUDIED FOR SORCERY
MAKINGS OF A WITCH BOOK 2
MELODY ROSE
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29

A Note from the Author

 1

I made my way through the cafeteria toward the table in the back
where seven young men were waiting for me. My face must have
given away exactly how I felt because I didn’t even reach the table
before their expressions all shifted to looks of concern. When I
reached the empty seat at the square table next to Silas, I plopped
down with more of a frustrated air than I intended to have and
reached up to rub my temple.
“So…” Brayson was the first one to speak. Standing, he was just
over six feet with light white skin and smooth chocolate-colored hair.
Over the winter break, he’d grown out a mustache and a little bit of
a beard around his chin. The oldest of the guys I was seeing at
Salem Bridge, he was usually one of the most rational people in our
group of friends. He also, however, was fairly sarcastic. “You look
like it went well.”
I rolled my eyes and cracked a bit of a smile. “Yeah. It went
great.”
“Then you clearly don’t need to bother everyone with it,”
Corduroy, the lanky, towheaded fourth year, said dryly. Unlike
Brayson and me, he was not being sarcastic. He was, however,
harmless. At this point, at least.
Things had shifted a lot in the past few months since the eight of
us sitting around the table banded together to stop the power-
hungry monster who was apparently my birth father. Before that,
Corduroy and I didn’t get along very well. He tried to attack me on
multiple occasions, and I accidentally spread a rumor that he was a
murderer.
But things were better now.
Since Iverson killed two professors at Salem Bridge Academy and
then went to prison for probably the rest of his life, the remaining
months of the fall semester were strange for everyone. The teachers
were spread thin trying to cover all the classes, and it was clear that
everyone was losing their patience. To make it even better, I had
more trouble than anyone. There were quite a few reasons for that,
and that was what I’d met with Mr. Swathe about. Classes hadn’t
even started back up from Christmas break, and I already felt lost.
“He said that they’re, and I quote, just as frustrated as I am, and
everyone wants a solution,” I sighed.
Eli, my roommate, raised an eyebrow. He was the first friend I
made at Salem Bridge, and we were extremely close. He was a
third-year, like Brayson, and as soon as we met, he became the
older brother I never had as well as my best friend. It was nice to
finally live with someone who looked like me. I’d been adopted as a
baby by parents who were white with an older sister who looked like
a redheaded barbie doll, so Eli was the first person I’d ever lived
with who was black, like me. While Brayson and Corduroy towered
above me, Elyas was also five foot eight like I was, with skin a few
shades darker than my own. “Great. They want a solution, but do
they have one?”
“Not really.” I brushed my hair out of my face. It had gotten
longer over winter, so I’d gotten it put in normal-sized box braids
that came down to my collarbone now. The change from natural
curls to braids seemed sudden and dramatic to everyone except Eli
and Eason. “He said they’re bringing in those new teachers for the
semester and that some of them have volunteered to help me try to
catch up, but he didn’t seem very optimistic about that.”
“What makes him think these teachers will be more helpful than
the ones here already?” Silas frowned. Silas was another first-year
student and one of the guys I was seeing. He was only an inch
shorter than I was, and his warm ivory skin was complimented well
by his silver hair that framed his soft Korean features. I’d finally
gotten him to admit he used regular bleach and dye on his hair, but
he’d enchanted it with a spell to make the color permanent until he
felt like changing it. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met someone who was
more thoughtful than he was. He was a very introverted person,
which was why it was shocking to discover how truly cocky he was
once he finally came out of his shell.
I shrugged. “I don’t think he does. He said at the very least, now
that the teachers aren’t covering extra classes, they’ll all have time
to help me. But if--”
I dropped my head in my hands and leaned on the table, not
even wanting to think about that aspect of my conversation with Mr.
Swathe.
“If what?” Oliver asked with concern. Oliver was the last guy I
was romantically involved with and another first year. Six feet
exactly, a light brown tan, and dark brown hair that was nearly
always messy in the most perfect and flattering way. When we met,
the Hispanic mage was a massive prick which turned into the two of
us trying to one-up each other for weeks. That dissolved into a
strong sense of chemistry between us, and now he was one of the
people I was closest with.
“If I don’t get the hang of things soon,” I muttered, “then at the
end of the semester, they’ll make arrangements to transfer me to a
school in Europe…”
When I looked up, most of the boys had expressions of concern
or even anger, except Corduroy, of course, who seemed apathetic.
“No way.” Eli shook his head. “There’s no way you’re going
anywhere besides Salem Bridge.”
“Europe is a good place for schools,” Eason offered. He was a
fourth-year and Corduroy’s roommate. If you met him sitting down,
you’d swear he was taller than five foot ten simply because of the
way he carried himself. Eason had the darkest black skin I’d ever
seen and sharp features that sat atop a stocky form. When he
wasn’t offering playful commentary, he was usually the most level-
headed of our friends, and as the only one of us who was actually
from outside the US - he hailed from Manchester - he was the only
one whose opinion on European schools I would take. “If that’s the
best place for you—”
“No way,” Oliver cut him off. “You’re about to graduate, so you
don’t get a vote. Besides, you left the UK and came here for school.
That’s not a glowing review.”
Eason nodded and shrugged as if to say Oliver had a point. That
wasn’t giving me a vote of confidence. Not that it mattered. Even if
they offered to send me to the best magic school in the world, I
couldn’t imagine leaving my friends at Salem Bridge.
Omar set down his fork. Omar was another first year, a childhood
friend of Eli’s and Silas’s roommate. He was barely taller than Eli,
with medium tan skin and a short bed of brown curly hair. Omar was
by far the most intelligent and well-read of us, which didn’t stop him
from making as many jokes as he could fit into any conversation.
Still, he knew when a situation warranted a serious attitude. “I don’t
understand. What’s the problem? You get all the magic in class way
faster than everyone else. You’re doing great.”
“That’s part of the issue,” I explained. “I get things too fast, and
I don’t understand anything. They bring up concepts that everyone
else understands because you guys grew up with magic, so I’m
confused, the teachers don’t know what to do with me, and the
other students are pissed off that I’m getting things faster than they
are.”
“It’s ridiculous.” Silas rolled his eyes.
“It’s how I would react,” Corduroy said simply, “if I’d been
studying this my entire life only to be shown up by a little girl who
thought magic was just a fairy tale until a week ago.”
I glared at the fourth year, but Oliver responded before I could.
“Honestly, I understand. I mean, yeah, it’s shitty the way they
take it out on you. It’s not your fault. But, y’know… I get where
they’re coming from.”
That was certainly true. Oliver was actually the first person I’d
spoken to at Salem Bridge. When I arrived on the first day, I asked
him for directions, and he took the opportunity to embarrass me in
front of the rest of the students and let me know I didn’t belong
there. In the eyes of most of the students, I didn’t. For over two
centuries, there hadn’t been a single woman to wield the power of
magic in the entire world. Despite witches being vital to the history
of sorcery, no mage alive had ever met one. Then I showed up at
the school full of boys and shocked everyone.
“You got over that, though.” I sighed. “Why can’t everyone else?”
“Maybe you should sleep with all of them too,” Corduroy offered.
“Amber,” Oliver said with a sudden playfully serious tone, “if you
sleep with everyone in this school, I swear I’m going to lose my
shit.”
I laughed and winked at him. “I’m good with what I’ve got now.”
I’d never been much of a relationship person. I dated in and
after high school, but there wasn’t much about it I enjoyed. My last
boyfriend made sure as hell that I didn’t enjoy anything about our
relationship. So I didn’t expect that to change when I got to Salem
Bridge.
Now, I sort of had three boyfriends.
My relationships with Brayson, Oliver, and Silas were each unique
in many ways, but the common thread was that we took care of
each other. I felt like I could go to any of them for anything, and I
would give the world to keep them safe.
That might be a dramatic thing to say in most relationships for
people in their early twenties, and I would agree if it weren’t for the
fact that they’d all put themselves in danger just to save me when
we learned my birth father was secretly a killer who wanted to rule
the world. Luckily, I didn’t seem to take after him.
I did, however, have his magic now. The only way to stop him
was to use an ancient spell to steal all of his power and make it my
own. Because of our lineage, my father and I were both abnormally
powerful, so now, I had magic that was stronger than any of my
peers and most of my teachers. On paper, that seemed like a pretty
damn good deal.
It also happened to be the source of all my problems at the
moment. In short, I had more power than I could handle, with a
fraction of the knowledge my peers had. In classes like Magic History
and Theory, where every other mage had been studying since they
were kids, I was so far behind on what were considered basic
concepts. But in Incantations or Introductory magic-based classes,
exercises that took other students months to complete, I would
succeed immediately.
No, not succeed. I would exceed.
As cool as that sounded, when the assignment was to levitate a
book by a few inches and instead it went flying across the room or
an attempt to light a candle nearly blinded everyone and set the
whole desk on fire, it became more terrifying than anything else.
Even in Potions, where we had to imbue the brew with magic to
activate it, simple concoctions meant to drive away spiders became
poisonous to anyone who smelled them. And when my professors
were all overworked and frustrated, none of them had much
patience for the fact that I wasn’t learning at the right pace.
“Maybe this semester will be better,” Silas said with an
encouraging smile, putting his hand on my back. “With the new
teachers, no one will be as overworked. It’ll be harder for those
assholes to get away with shit like that.”
“Do you really think so?” I sighed.
“I think you should eat,” Eli interrupted, “so you feel better, and
we can go watch movies before we have to start classes tomorrow.”
“A movie day?” Brayson smiled. “That sounds great. I’d love--”
“Nooope,” Eli shook his head. “Sorry, but I made her promise just
us. I got to spend hardly any time with her the last couple of months
of school because you guys are always around. Today, she’s all
mine.”
I laughed until I felt a buzzing in the back pocket of my jeans. I
pulled out my phone and saw my sister’s face staring at me. With a
sheepish glance at Eli, I answered her phone call.
“Hello?”
“Oh, no way,” Eli groaned.
“Shh,” I rolled my eyes and stood up from the table. “Kim?”
“Hey,” her voice cracked over the phone. Salem Bridge was on an
island that couldn’t be seen, so it essentially didn’t exist to non-
magical humans, which meant the service here was horrendous.
“How is it going so far?”
 “It’s… eh.” I sighed as I made my way out of the cafeteria.
Technically, according to mage laws, I wasn’t supposed to reveal
anything about magic to anyone who wasn’t a mage. Kim, like the
rest of my adoptive family, was definitely not a mage.
“You had that meeting with the professor, right? How did it go?”
“As well as possible, I guess. They’re bringing in some new
teachers this semester, and he’s hoping that’s going to help get me
on track. It’s just a weird spot to be in, to be so far behind and far
ahead all at the same time. He didn’t seem hopeful enough to give
me much confidence, though…”
Kim sighed on the other side of the phone. She was always a
hard worker and studied hard, so even in high school, she never
quite understood my struggles when it came to grades. It wasn’t as
though I got poor grades either. She just always thought my B’s
were the end of the world and I should be embarrassed by them.
And now, when she had even less of a reference point for what I
was experiencing, her assumption was that it was all my fault.
“Amber, I know last semester was hard on you,” she encouraged,
“but this is a chance to fix all of that and get back on track.”
I rolled my eyes as I walked through the main hall toward the
front door. “Thanks.”
My voice must have made it clear exactly how helpful I found her
comments because she quickly grew defensive. “You know you’re
the only one who can stand in your own way when it comes to your
classwork. No one else is at fault when you fail.”
I walked out the front door and sat down on the front steps.
There was a big clearing on the island where the school grounds sat,
surrounded by trees with a path that led to the shore. I went on a
run almost every morning, and if I had enough time, I’d run to the
shore across the bridge that led to Salem, Massachusetts. The
bridge was invisible to non-mages as well, in addition to being the
school’s namesake.
“Kim, please refrain from criticizing me when you don’t actually
know what’s going on.” I rubbed my forehead in frustration. I loved
my sister, but unhelpful and condescending were her middle names.
“It’s not like I’m just not studying or anything.”
 “I just don’t understand how you can have so much trouble with
something that you’ve been studying for months.”
“You can’t understand! You can’t do magic!” I groaned. “So
please try to consider that this isn’t the same as studying for a damn
math test.”
No one in my family could do magic. Iverson was my birth father
and a mage, but my parents adopted me as a child. My sister Kim
and the two of them were completely normal, and none of us knew
magic existed until last summer when I got a letter and a school
uniform in the mail saying I’d been accepted to Salem Bridge. I kept
it from my parents, but I told Kim before I realized there were rules
against that sort of thing.
I don’t think anyone really realized how alone that left me. All the
other students at Salem Bridge had one parent who could do magic,
so they had a family member who completely understood them, not
to mention their friends were all guys who had also been aware of
magic their entire lives. I just had Kim, who wasn’t known for being
understanding. And I had my friends here, of course, but there was
one major thing that none of them could relate to even if they tried.
It was an odd experience, being Salem Bridge’s only female
student. No one knew why there were no other female mages, but
we knew my magical abilities came from having an especially
powerful heritage. Every woman in biological lineage since the
seventeenth century had been the seventh daughter of a seventh
daughter, extending back to one of the most powerful witches in
American history. Still, being the only woman at the school wasn’t an
inherent magical handicap. As a matter of fact, I had been more
powerful than most of my peers since my arrival. The real impact
was simply that I felt much more isolated than I’d anticipated. It was
the source of most of the hazing I’d experienced since arriving here,
for sure.
Kim sighed. “Sorry, Amber. I’m sorry. It’s hard to remember
sometimes that you don’t go to normal school and study normal
things.”
“It’s fine.” As if her patronizing comments would be any less
obnoxious if that were the case.
 “I know you had a pretty awful time last semester, with the… the
guy and all.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Well, not having a power-hungry murderer for
a professor should hopefully make this semester a little easier.”
 2

A few hours later , Eli and I had all our blankets on the floor, 90s
rom-coms on his laptop, and pints of ice cream in our laps. Normally
I’d have been enraptured watching Meg Ryan fall in love for the third
time that evening, but I found myself rather distracted. I noticed Eli
sticking his spoon into my tub of cookies and cream, but I let him. I
was finding a surprising lack of appetite.
After a minute, he paused the movie just as Billy Crystal began
gesticulating to “Surrey With the Fringe on Top.”
“What’s wrong?” I blinked, looking from the screen to him.
Eli stared at me with an incredulous expression. “Excuse me?
That’s the third bite of your ice cream I’ve taken, and you haven’t
smacked me or anything.”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” I shrugged. “I don’t really feel like eating
anymore.”
I plopped the spoon into the tub and set it down, leaning my
head against my bed. He continued to stare at me.
“Amber? What the hell is wrong?”
“Um…” I sighed. “I guess I just feel off.”
“Yeah.” He frowned, shifting around to lean against his bed so he
could look at me. “I can tell. What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. Kim just got on my nerves earlier, and that
stupid meeting pissed me off. We can go back to the movie.”
 “No, that doesn’t matter. What’s wrong, really?” He set his ice
cream down next to mine and gestured at the pints. They floated up
into the air, and over to a box he kept under his desk. We didn’t
have a fridge or anything, but you didn’t exactly need something like
that when you were a mage at a magic school with magic at your
disposal. When the ice cream was in the box, he shut the lid, and I
heard ice form within the box.
I tried to do it once, and we ended up with an ice rink for a floor.
I shook my head and bit my lip. “I’m just worried this semester is
going to be like the last one. I mean, at first, everything was really
cool and exciting. It still is, but after everything happened with
Iverson, I just felt like I was running into a brick wall every day.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Last
semester was hell. I thought you handled everything pretty well,
though.”
“I just can’t do it again.” I leaned my head on my hands. “I don’t
even realize how behind I am in most of the classes, like in History
when they were talking about Barinelle and the rose or whatever. I
asked if he was a mage, and the whole class started laughing
because he’s a character in some children’s book you all read. And
I’m so terrified of losing control, I don’t even want to do magic
anymore.”
“Come on.” He frowned, kicking my foot with his. “You can’t just
sit back and watch everyone else the rest of the year.”
“What if I hurt someone, Eli? I hurt myself plenty of times last
semester. I had just barely started getting the hang of my magic
when I absorbed Iverson’s; now it’s doubled, tripled actually.”
“Amber, you’re probably the most powerful mage in the world. Do
you really see that as a bad thing?”
“As long as I don’t know how to control it, yes, I do.” I rubbed
my face and took a deep breath to keep calm. When I got worked
up, things started flying off shelves, and I didn’t want to deal with
that at the moment. “I’m leagues behind in half my classes, I’m
dangerously ahead in the rest of them, and I have so many
questions I don’t even know how to find answers to.”
 Eli was silent for a moment, and then he scooted over so that he
was sitting next to me and pulled me against his shoulder.
“Listen, babe. Everything is going to be okay. They have four
new teachers. No one is going to be overworked this semester, so
they’ll be much more help. And you’ve always got me, not to
mention however many boyfriends you have now. I can’t even keep
track anymore.”
We both laughed at that, and I felt myself begin to relax, albeit
only slightly. I sighed and closed my eyes. “Thank you. I do
appreciate that… It’s just been on my mind since that meeting. I
think I just needed to talk about it. Kim was no help, either.”
“Well, I could have guessed that,” he chuckled and kissed my
head. “Everything’s gonna be peachy, Amber. I swear.”
I blew all the air out of my lungs and held up my hand. “Pinky
swear?”
He grinned and wrapped his pinky around mine. “Pinky swear.”
I nodded, laughing as I stretched my legs out in front of me.
“Ugh. Do you really think these teachers will help?”
“Sure. What subjects are they teaching again?”
“It would be everything Mr. Noble, Mr. Kilman, and Iverson
taught,” I said thoughtfully. “Iverson taught Magic History and Magic
Theory. Kilman taught Incantations.”
“And Spellbooks,” Eli added. “Noble taught Spell Composition and
a few fourth-year electives. Did he say anything else? Where they’re
from or anything?”
“No, actually. He didn’t mention anything. What do you think
they’ll be like?”
“Hm… I think one of them is gonna be muscly and young and
hot.”
“Eli!” I laughed and elbowed him.
“Ow! Come on, are you saying you wouldn’t like that?” he
teased.
I rolled my eyes. “I think you would like it more than I would.”
“Hey, just because it’s true, that doesn’t mean you have to say it
so loud, alright?” He held his hands up defensively.
 I pointed at the box under his desk. “Okay, get my ice cream
back out. When are you going to get a boyfriend, anyway?”
“It’s not as though I’m not trying.” He laughed. Steam rose from
the box as the lid lifted, and the ice cream tubs floated up and back
over to us. “If you have any extras you want to throw my way, I’d be
ever so grateful.”
“Shut up,” I giggled, grabbing my cookies and cream out of the
air and picking my spoon back up. “Ugh… I don’t want to leave.”
He grabbed his own tub of rocky road and frowned. “I’m not
gonna let that happen. If I have to start tutoring you myself, you’re
staying here.”
“You’re too busy for that!”
“I’m not letting you leave before my fourth year.” He shook his
head, reaching for my ice cream with his spoon. This time, I did
swat his hand away. “After I graduate, you can go to school in
Timbuktu, but not before!”
I laughed and took a bite of ice cream. “I want to stay here too.
Maybe you’re right. Maybe these new teachers will be more helpful.”
“I think so.” He nodded. “And if they’re not, I’ll pop over to Salem
and get us ice cream anytime you need it.”
“Good. Get yourself cookies and cream, so you stop stealing
mine.”
He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. Pass me a blanket, and
we can get back to the movie.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a knit throw from my bed.
“Good. I’m dying to hear the rest of Harry’s song.”
There were a couple of books stacked on my bed that slid off
with the blanket. I flinched, expecting them to hit me when they
froze midair.
“Thanks,” I laughed as I saw Eli’s hand upturned and posed in
the enchantment gesture that prevented the books from causing me
head trauma. We each reached up and plucked them from the air.
He handed one to me with a faded green cover and some French
title embossed on the spine.
“Have you read all of these?” he asked.
 “Not yet.” I shrugged, stacking them back up and sliding them
under my bed. “I will later this week.”
Eli nodded and covered our laps with the blanket as we
readjusted to face the laptop. He hit play, and we were immediately
pulled back into Crystal’s nasally performance.
 3

T he next morning , I’d gone on a run with Brayson, showered, and

put on my uniform before breakfast. Our uniforms were black
sweaters with the school’s emblem embroidered on them: a red tree
surrounded by flames. Of course, all my peers wore black slacks, but
once in a while, I opted for a black skirt, and no one said anything.
Today was one of those days. Most mornings, Brayson, Eason, and
Silas joined me for breakfast while the rest of our friends slept in.
Once in a while, I could drag Eli to the cafeteria before class. Today,
all of them sat at the table with me.
They weren’t the only ones. Behind my seat, Samson was lying
across the floor. Samson was my familiar, a full-grown tiger. He
arrived last summer along with my letter and uniform. I didn’t have
to worry about him all the time, and thank goodness, because what
on Earth would I do with a tiger?
No, he existed to protect me. Most of the time, he was nowhere
to be found. Of course, if I ever wanted to see him, he could sense
it and would arrive in an instant, but other than that, he usually only
showed up if I was in danger.
Because of that, I tried not to worry about the fact that he hadn’t
left me alone all morning.
“Why is he here?” Corduroy frowned.
I bit my lip and looked back at him. He wasn’t alert. He was
practically asleep.
 “I’m not sure. Should I be worried?”
“No.” Silas shook his head, reaching down to pet him. Silas knew
a lot about familiars, and he was the one who helped me name
Samson. “He’s probably just here because you’re feeling anxious.”
He pulled his hand away from the tiger and leaned in to kiss me.
“You need to relax.”
I took a deep breath and sighed. I was anxious. But Silas was
right. He usually was.
“His eye looks good,” Corduroy commented. “You know,
considering.”
I smiled and leaned back to pat his head. Samson had lost his
right eye last semester. I was sick about it for weeks, but he had
completely healed by now. There was a scar running vertically
across his eye where the fur hadn’t grown back, but it was
completely healthy.
Eli was still rubbing the sand out of his eyes as he sat at the
table, a skewed button-up wrinkled beneath his sweater. “They’ve
never forced us all to come to eat breakfast. Why am I here? Since
when does Mr. Swathe care if I’ve eaten breakfast before class?”
“Mate,” Eason laughed, “I don’t think it has to do with breakfast.
They’ve probably got some kind of announcement to make.”
“They can send me a text,” he groaned, laying his head down on
the table.
“I second that,” Oliver sighed next to me.
I giggled and kissed his cheek, rubbing his back. “You’re all right.
You only had to get up, what, half an hour earlier?”
“That half-hour makes a big difference,” he whined. “You’re
gonna have to hold my eyes open during class.”
Omar laughed. He usually slept in, but he wasn’t as hopeless as
the other boys before eight am.
“It’s probably about the new teachers. Or the fact that two of our
professors were murdered last year. Or maybe it’s a seminar on how
a few hundred horny twenty-somethings should all refrain from
staring at the ass of the only woman on this damn island.”
“I’m gay, I should be excused.” Eli raised his hand.
I scoffed. “They don’t all stare at my ass.”
 All seven of them turned to face me with expressions of disbelief
at what I’d just said. My cheeks quickly got hot, and my eyes darted
around the table.
“You’re joking,” I muttered. “Please tell me you’re joking. Half the
damn school hates me.”
Oliver’s hand squeezed my ass, making me jump. “In their
defense, it’s pretty damn nice.”
I smacked his arm and covered my face with my hands. “Do I
have time to go change into slacks before class?”
Silas chuckled and patted my shoulder. “You might if Mr. Swathe
weren’t here.”
I dropped my hands and looked up to see the professor standing
at the entrance to the cafeteria, accompanied by five men I didn’t
recognize. Samson caught my attention out of the corner of my eye
as he stood up. It was as though he could somehow see past the
sea of students before him. Though he tensed up, he didn’t growl. I
put my hand on his neck to keep him calm.
“I thought there were only four new teachers?” Omar muttered.
Corduroy frowned as he scrutinized the men. “That’s what they
said. The one on the end doesn’t look old enough to be a professor.”
Before we could exchange any more questions, Mr. Swathe got
everyone’s attention. He didn’t shout, but his voice was magically
amplified throughout the room as though he were speaking through
a microphone.
“Good morning, students of Salem Bridge. Thank you all for
coming this morning. I didn’t want to interrupt your classes, but I
wanted to take this opportunity to introduce you all to the new
faculty members.”
“Any of them muscly enough for you, Elyas?” I whispered across
the table.
“Three of them.” He sighed with an almost dreamy tone to his
voice. “The youngest one on the end is hot.”
“As you know,” Mr. Swathe continued, “last semester, we lost two
valued mages, in addition to the expulsion of a third from our school
and the magical community. Let me first apologize to each of you for
the rest of the semester. Our staff was not equipped to handle the
sudden loss of three professors, and we’re aware that your
education suffered. As a result, we’ve been able to bring on these
four established mages who are all eager to contribute to enhancing
your time here, whether that’s only a few more months or three and
a half more years.”
A few students glanced at me when he mentioned the loss of
three professors. A lot of them blamed me for that. It was ridiculous,
given that Iverson had planned to kill even more of the teachers at
Salem Bridge. He only failed because I was there to stop him. Still, I
was an easy scapegoat.
“Without further ado,” Mr. Swathe nodded, “I’ll let them introduce
themselves.”
Mr. Swathe started a round of applause that rippled through the
cafeteria, though it ended quickly as no one wanted to miss anything
the new teachers had to say.
A man with dark skin, darker than both mine and Eli’s but a bit
lighter than Eason’s, stepped forward. He was the tallest of the
teachers, standing at the entrance with a short Caesar cut. He
opened his mouth to speak, and it took me a few seconds to process
his accent. I could tell everyone else in the room had a similar delay
in comprehending what he said before his French accent began to
compute in our brains.
“Bonjour.” He bowed. “I can’t tell you how honored I am to join
your academy. My name is Henri Levasseur, and you may all call me
Monsieur Levasseur. I’ll be happy to introduce myself to you each
during class or during my office hours. I will be teaching first-year
Magic Theory and fourth-year World Culture. However, I am still
finalizing a few personal arrangements, so if you have either of
those classes, we will not be meeting today. Once again, I look
forward to working with you all.” Monsieur Levasseur bowed, and
the cafeteria clapped for him.
The next man to step forward was about Eason’s height and had
jet black hair and sharp, angled features. He looked to be in his mid-
forties or fifties and had Chinese features. When he spoke, it was
with a very stereotypically prim British accent, similar to Eason’s. As
soon as we all heard that, it hit everyone that these teachers were
probably all from outside the U.S.
“Hello everyone. My name is Chris Ashford. You can all call me
Mr. Ashford. I’ll be teaching upper-level classes in Spellbooks and
Spell Composition, but my office is open to anyone. I hope to be a
helpful addition to the staff here.” He waved and stepped back to
signify that he was done, a much less formal ending than Monsieur
Levasseur’s.
The next teacher to step forward was the youngest, aside from
the man on the end who didn’t look like a teacher at all. He had
longer, messy, dark brown hair, cool tan skin, smartly trimmed facial
hair, and a smolder that immediately gave Eli butterflies. I could tell,
of course, because he looked at me with wide eyes, as though he
had just woken up.
“Good morning. My name is Cesar Betancourt,” he said with a
wave. He didn’t speak with much of an accent at all until he said his
name. It sounded Spanish, but it was so light I couldn’t tell where it
was from. “I’ll be teaching Incantations and the Crime and
Punishment elective.”
I smiled in amusement as Eli pouted. As a third-year, he was in
neither of those classes. He looked at me and mouthed the words,
“Lucky bitch,” to which I simply stuck my tongue out at him.
The fourth man stepped forward. He had square features, a
warm tan, and chocolate brown curls sprouting from his head. When
he spoke, I couldn’t immediately place what sort of accent he had.
“Hello.” He bowed his head. “I’m very proud to be here joining
your renowned school this year. My name is Orestes. Orestes Terzi,
but please, Orestes is fine. I’m here to cover your Magic History
course. I’ve brought with me an apprentice of mine, Nicolo Ricci.”
I finally placed Orestes’s accent as Greek. He gestured at the fifth
and final man, the one who looked too young to be a teacher, who
bowed. Everyone clapped, and Mr. Swathe took a step forward.
“Thank you all for your attention and your respect. I hope you’ll
all make an effort to make our new faculty feel welcome here at
Salem Bridge. They’re here for you, just like the rest of your
professors are. Now, enjoy the rest of your mornings, and don’t be
late for your first classes.”
The cafeteria quickly dissolved back into a cacophony of noise as
the teachers all turned and left the cafeteria. I noticed Nicolo hung
behind, but my attention was immediately pulled by the guys at my
table.
“How much time do we have before class?” Oliver asked.
Eason looked at his watch. “Half hour til.”
“I could’ve slept in so much longer,” Oliver groaned.
“Every one of you damn first years is fucking lucky.” Eli frowned,
finally grabbing a plate from the center of the table that immediately
filled with toast and bacon.
“Why?” Silas furrowed his brow cluelessly.
I laughed. “He thinks our new teachers are hot.”
“They are hot,” he corrected me. “Especially that last one, the
guy’s assistant. And that name! That’s such--”
“Elyas,” Eason said sharply.
“No,” Eli continued, “you know I’m right. Nicolo has got to be the
hottest damn name I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you.”
Everyone’s attention was pulled from their plates or from Eli to
the man standing behind him. And man was certainly the apt word.
He was obviously younger than any of the teachers, but up close, it
was clear that he was older than any of the students at Salem
Bridge. He was over six feet tall, granted not by one or two inches.
His jawline had four sharp angles to them that the shadow of facial
hair around his jaw defined further. It was almost like a cartoon
outline, it was so drastic and dark. It matched his hair, which looked
like dark brown silk, and his thick eyebrows. His skin was paler than
Orestes’s, but there was a distinctly even tan to it. That created the
perfect contrast to his light blue-ish green eyes. As if none of that
was attractive enough, even those two words made it perfectly clear
that he had a distinct accent as well.
And despite the conversation he’d walked in on, he had a bright,
white smile on his face.
 I think in the months that I’d known Eli, this was perhaps the
first moment he was truly speechless. No one really knew what to
say. All of us just stared at Nicolo with a mix of curiosity and gleeful
enjoyment at the embarrassment our dear friend was experiencing.
The first one to speak was Samson, who let out a low growl. I
jumped at that, immediately turning back to wrap one arm around
his neck and grab onto his fur with the other hand. I wasn’t the only
one who reacted. Everyone in a six-foot radius of the tiger flinched
at the sound, immediately staring.
“Shit! Samson, shh,” I whispered, desperately hoping that my day
could somehow start normally, without my pet tiger mauling the new
teacher’s assistant.
Silas stood from his seat to come to kneel in front of Samson,
clearly concerned about the same outcome I was. He muttered a
few sweet words before Samson finally lowered the back half of his
body slowly to the ground, though he didn’t completely relax.
“You have a familiar?” Nicolo asked, surprised. I could place that
his accent was Italian.
“Yeah.” I looked up, keeping my hands on Samson. “I’m so sorry.
He’s been on edge this morning. I swear he won’t - um, I don’t think
he’ll hurt you.”
Nicolo held his hands up defensively, keeping his smile. He
looked at Samson as though the tiger would understand his words.
“I’m not a threat. You have my word.”
“Hi.” Eli finally seemed to find his voice. He stood up from the
table and extended his hand to the visitor. “Sorry about that. My
name is Elyas. Eli. I was just kidding around.”
Nicolo took his hand and smiled. “No problem, Elyas.”
I managed to keep from bursting out in laughter at the
absolutely dreamy look in Eli’s eyes when Nicolo said his name with
the Italian accent. Omar, however, did not. Eli shot him a death glare
when he laughed.
“Will I see any of you in class?” Nicolo asked.
Silas stood up from Samson and nodded. “You’ll have me, Amber,
Omar, and Oliver. I’m Silas.”
 “Nice to meet you, Silas.” Nicolo shook his hand. “I’m looking
forward to having you all in class. At the moment, I’m here for
Amber.”
Behind Nicolo’s shoulder, Eli rolled his eyes and huffed, and I
blinked.
“Sorry, me?”
Nicolo nodded. “Mr. Swathe would like you to join the new
professors for a meeting. Is that all right? He’s not going to make
breakfast out of them, is he?” He pointed at Samson.
“No.” I laughed. “He’ll be fine. Yeah, I can come.”
I grabbed my bag and hung it on my shoulder, waving at the
boys. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I could feel eyes on me as I patted Samson on the head and
beckoned for him to follow me before walking with Nicolo out of the
cafeteria, and they weren’t all from my friends. Of course, the
feeling of half the school staring at me wasn’t new. The concern that
they were all staring at my ass, however, was.
“I haven’t seen many familiars,” Nicolo said as we walked. “And
I’ve never seen a tiger before.”
I smiled at him and looked down at Samson, who walked
between us, keeping close to me. “I’ve never seen another familiar.
I’m very lucky to have him.”
“What happened to his eye?”
“Oh, um… That’s a long story.” I shrugged.
He nodded. “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime. You must have a
lot of stories.”
“Why do you say that?” I tilted my head.
“Are you kidding?” he smiled. “You’re legendary. You’re the first
witch in over two hundred years.”
My brows pulled together in disbelief. “Are you serious? People
know about me?”
“Everyone in the world of mages knows about you,” he assured
me. “It’s an honor just to meet you.”
I blinked. That was shocking. I knew I was the only female
mage, but I never considered what that meant to the rest of the
world. To be fair, I was pretty much only around assholes who
thought I was a bitch because I could do magic better than they
could.
Nicolo led me to Mr. Swathe’s office, where the five professors
were waiting for me. Everyone in the room tensed and jumped up
against the wall when they saw Samson enter the room ahead of
me. Mr. Swathe was quick to hold up his hands.
“No, no worries! He’s all right!”
“Sorry.” I bit my lip and knelt down to pet Samson to keep him
calm. “He’s just on edge today.”
“Does he usually follow you to class?” the French teacher asked.
All of their names had completely left my brain.
“That’s amazing,” the British one said. He very slowly stepped
close to Samson. The tiger glared at him, but he didn’t growl. “I’ve
seen quite a few familiars, but never a tiger.”
“That’s what Nicolo said.” I blinked. “What are familiars
normally?”
It made more sense to me for it to be some sort of large
predator if they were meant to protect you.
“Familiars usually manifest as comforting creatures like cats or
birds,” he muttered.
“Really?” That was shocking to me. “How do they protect the
mage then?”
He laughed and carefully reached out to pet Samson’s head. The
tiger glared at him but didn’t make a move. “The majority of mages
don’t face life-threatening circumstances as often as you have, my
dear.”
That had me taken aback. I mean, it made sense. I just hadn’t
thought about it like that. The majority of my time as a mage had
been rather dangerous.
“Right…” I said slowly.
“He doesn’t usually follow her to class,” Mr. Swathe assured
them. “And he’s quite restrained. Nothing to worry about.”
All the teachers relaxed. The British one stood but kept his eyes
on Samson in fascination.
“Amber,” Mr. Swathe nodded. “These are your new professors.”
 “Um, right.” I stood, a nervous pit in my stomach. “I’m so sorry, I
can’t remember any of your names…”
“That’s alright,” the one with long black hair said with a
reassuring nod. “I’m Betancourt.”
“Monsieur Levasseur.” The French one nodded.
“You can call me Mr. Ashford,” the British one said, flashing me a
smile before reaching out to shake my hand.
“Orestes,” the last one nodded. “And that’s Nicolo.”
Nicolo chuckled. “She knows my name.”
“Nice to meet you all.” I smiled, holding back a laugh. I was
never going to let Eli live that moment down. “I’m Amber Hollow.”
There was an irritated growl from the tiger at my feet. I resisted the
urge to roll my eyes. “And this is Samson.”
“Amber,” Mr. Swathe began, “obviously, we’ve hired the new
professors to take over the classes Iverson left empty. But we hired
these four specifically because of their potential to help you. I
mentioned yesterday in our meeting that some of them have
volunteered to make sure you’re on track with your studies, but
they’ve all agreed to help you in any way they can.”
“Really? How so?” I blinked.
“I’m going to be tutoring you on a daily basis,” Orestes said.
“We’ll meet throughout the week to assure I have a handle on your
progress and you don’t feel as though you’re falling behind on the
academic subjects.”
“Unfortunately,” Mr. Ashford nodded, “I don’t have as much time
as Orestes and Nicolo, but I can meet with you at least once a
week.”
“Monsieur Levasseur and Betancourt will both monitor your
progress closely during class,” Mr. Swathe added.
“Don’t worry.” Betancourt gave a reassuring smile. “I’ve tailored
my lesson plans to allow more leeway. Obviously, I’m responsible for
teaching the entire class, so I have to focus on their progress, but if
I notice you need any extra assistance or have any trouble, I’ll be
sure to address it. Incantations will be the perfect class to practice
your abilities in. I understand that’s where you’ve had the most
trouble, yes?”
 I stayed silent for a second, struggling to process all the
information that had just been given to me. “Oh, uhm, yeah.
Definitely.”
“Could you tell us more?” Monsieur Levasseur asked. “Obviously,
Theory is a much less hands-on class, but if I know what you’re
struggling with, I’ll tailor my plans as well.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “So, classes like History and stuff, I’m just
behind. I don’t know I’m behind, though, until halfway through class
when I realize everyone’s been talking about something they all
learned as kids.”
Nicolo frowned. “Your family didn’t teach you about magic as a
child?”
Apparently, all that was famous was my name and the fact that I
was a woman.
“No, my family isn’t magic,” I explained. “Non-mages adopted
me. I’ve known about magic for about seven months now.”
“Oh!” His eyes went wide. I could deal with his surprise. None of
these new teachers seemed hostile toward the fact that I was a
woman, and that was a relief in itself.
“But, my magic,” I continued, “that’s the biggest problem.”
“It’s not uncommon for new mages to struggle to develop
magic,” Monsieur Levasseur said, clearly under the impression that
was what I needed help with.
I shot a look at Mr. Swathe, who shook his head.
“No, gentlemen, please forgive me. I failed to make this clear.
Amber’s problem is the opposite of that. She has magic far beyond
what she should be able to possess at her stage.”
“Excuse me?” Orestes blinked. “What does that mean?”
“I can’t control it,” I explained. “That’s the problem. I’m behind in
some classes, but I’m too far ahead in others.”
“How old are you?” Betancourt frowned.
“Twenty-one. I turned twenty-one last summer, and my power
started manifesting after that. Then halfway through last semester, it
doubled.” I didn’t quite feel like explaining everything that had
happened with Iverson at the moment. “For a while, it was okay, but
now, I can’t handle it.”
 “Incantations class was especially difficult,” Mr. Swathe said to
Betancourt. “Last semester, we had to stop having her do some
exercises.”
“What on Earth could be the cause for something like that?” the
dark-haired professor asked with a glare.
“I got hurt. I almost hurt a few other students.” I bit my lip.
“There were a lot of incidents like that last semester. There’s a
garden out by the courtyard that I set on fire with a spell meant to
light a candle…”
“And that was before her power doubled,” Mr. Swathe clarified.
“Since then, things have gotten worse. She knocked down a wall,
gave herself frostbite, hell, she turned my skin green for two days.”
The teachers all stared at me in disbelief.
“How does that happen?” Orestes questioned.
“I don’t know,” I sighed.
“Could you demonstrate?” Monsieur Levasseur asked. “With
something safe, like scrying?”
I shook my head quickly. “N-no. I tried scrying over the break,
and I shattered every mirror in the room.”
“So,” Betancourt nodded, “it sounds like we’ve got our work cut
out for us.”
I tensed up with a mixture of concern and guilt for all the trouble
my magic had caused when Orestes smiled. “Don’t worry, Amber.
We’re here to make sure you reach your full potential, and we won’t
stop until that happens.”
 4

I managed to get Samson to leave me alone by the time the school

day started. My first class was Introductory Conjuring with Mr. Sun,
but after that, I had Incantations with Betancourt. Next, I was
supposed to have Magic Theory with Monsieur Levasseur, but since
his classes were canceled for the first day, I was only going to get to
check out Betancourt and Orestes.
I walked into the room with Oliver and went to sit next to Omar
on the second row. Betancourt seemed very focused on looking over
some notes on his desk, but when he saw me, he looked up and
nodded with a slight smile, returning his gaze back to his desk while
the rest of the students filed into class.
“Which one was this?” Omar asked.
“Mr. Betancourt,” I said, pulling out the notebook I used for
Incantations. I didn’t take as many notes a few months ago, but
since I’d stopped participating in the exercises in class. After
everyone sat down, Betancourt set all his papers on the desk and
stepped up to the front of the room.
“Good morning, everyone. I believe you were all in the cafeteria
this morning, but just in case any of you missed it--” He lifted his
hand in a very noncommittal gesture. Behind him, a piece of chalk
lifted in the air and began writing ‘Cesar Betancourt’ on the
blackboard. “My name is Cesar Betancourt. You can all call me
Betancourt. Professor or mister isn’t necessary.”
 He made a come hither motion in the direction of his desk, and
the chair slid across the floor behind him so he could sit on it.
“I’d like to go over my background, so you’re all confident in my
qualifications. Once I graduated from my alma mater in Brazil, I
became a researcher for the World Society of Science and Magic. I
spent two years traveling around South America before my projects
took me to Asia, North America, Africa, and Europe. I’ve not
technically been employed as a full-time teacher before, but much of
my position involved speaking at magical academies and giving
lectures, and I’m young enough to recall what being in school was
like.”
He laughed at his own little joke, and a few of the students
chuckled along with him.
“Does anyone have any questions about that?” Betancourt
smiled.
A few guys raised their hands, and the professor pointed at one.
“What did you research?” someone behind me asked.
“It varied year to year and country to country.” The teachers
crossed one of his legs over the other. “The majority of my research
had to do with broaching the limits of magic and examining how
they interacted with science. For example, one of those studies
focused on the reactions of elemental spells, specifically water-based
ones, and if they had any long-term effects on the surrounding
environment. If a mage summons a thunderstorm, is it isolated?
When it disappears, is everything back to normal? Or does it alter
the weather pattern?”
He pointed at another student in the first row with his hand up.
“How long have you been a researcher?”
“Oh,” Betancourt sighed thoughtfully. “I graduated at twenty-five,
and I’m thirty-six, so that’s just under eleven years at the moment.”
“Are you just here for the semester?” Omar asked.
The professor smiled. “I hope not. Actually, I’m looking forward
to joining your academy full-time. So unless you all hate me, let’s
look at this as a long-term thing.”
Someone else asked where he was from, Colombia, and what his
strongest area of magic was. Apparently, Betancourt excelled at
things that took long-range magic like teleporting, scrying, or even
conjuring. He did, however, assure us that he was adept when it
came to Incantations.
“Speaking of which,” he stood, and his chair jumped back behind
his desk, “now for business. I’d like to try to get a sense of where
everyone is. I’d like you all to perform a small incantation for me,
just so I can get a sense of where everyone is at.”
I immediately tensed up at the thought of doing magic around so
many people, not knowing what was going to happen. As if that
wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, the room around me immediately
filled with irritated sighs and groans.
“Why does it even matter what the rest of us can do when she’s
just gonna blow something up?” I heard someone behind me mutter.
Oliver put his arm around my shoulders and rubbed my arm,
kissing my head. “Ignore them.”
I sighed and nodded. Betancourt clocked the irritated vibe that
took over the room, but he looked puzzled as to what the origin of it
could be. He looked at the first student on the first row and gestured
for him to stand up.
“What incantation, sir?” he asked.
The professor shrugged. “Your favorite.”
The guy on the first row nodded. He focused his attention on an
unlit candle sitting on one of the shelves.
“Ignis.”
It took a second, but the wick finally sputtered before a flame
popped into existence.
“Good,” Betancourt smiled. “Next.”
He walked around the desks so he could stand next to each
student as they spouted off incantations. Most students used ignis or
carpe vinum, which was my personal favorite. I was afraid if I used
that one, though, which was just a party trick meant to refill a glass,
I’d drown the entire class in wine.
Omar was the first out of the three of us. He grabbed a book that
the guy on his other side had with him and placed his hand on the
cover.
“In libras libertas.”
 One of the most useful spells for any student, when done
correctly, that spell would allow the reader to absorb all the
information in a book without actually having to read it. I knew
Omar had that spell down, so I was expecting him to start reciting
some new facts or chapter titles out of whatever book he’d just
borrowed. Instead, everyone watched as Omar’s face fell into an
expression of shock, and he shared a look with the guy whose book
he’d taken.
“Oh shit, Terry, I’m sorry--”
“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes.
Betancourt blinked. “That’s a great incantation, but I’m afraid I
don’t know if it’s worked or not.”
“It worked,” Terry muttered, keeping his head down.
“Yeah.” Omar’s eyes were wide, and he nodded. “It worked.”
Students throughout the room rippled with small understanding
gasps and noises of “ooh!” as everyone realized at their own pace
that Terry was carrying something like a personal journal rather than
an academic book. Betancourt hesitated before it hit him as well,
and he laughed.
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it then.”
I felt my pulse double as I was next.
“Miss Hollow?” I heard his voice over my shoulder, and I took a
deep breath. I wracked my brain for the least dangerous incantation
I could possibly think of. Anything elemental was out of the
question. Scrying was, of course, a hazard. Hell, I was even afraid
the incantation that improved your hearing might burst my eardrum.
“Oh!” I felt relief suddenly hit me as I remembered I had a small
apple in my bag. I reached down to grab it and set it on the desk in
front of me. There was an incantation that was meant to ripen fruit.
Surely, there was no way that could hurt anyone. “Kǔ.”
The apple was a bit smaller than my fist and only about half red.
One side of it was still yellow. I assumed the apple would grow a bit
and brighten up to an even red. The spell was actually only meant to
alter the taste, but I was taking into account that it would probably
go a bit overboard. At least, I thought I was.
 The apple didn’t change for a second. I wondered if I’d
mispronounced the word when the fruit shifted, falling over on its
side. It began to swell - not grow, swell - and I began to panic that
it was going to explode somehow when the light yellow skin split
open and fell apart.
The half-ripe apple had completely ripped in half because there
was a fully red apple that had formed inside it. It grew to twice the
size of the original apple, with the remnants of the first one sitting
on the table next to it.
There were small murmurs throughout the room, a couple of
gasps and excited whispers, as well as a few irritated sighs from
behind me. Betancourt stared in shock before picking up the bright
red apple.
“That… That came from the seed within the original apple, didn’t
it?”
“I think so.” I bit my lip, glancing around the room behind me. I
couldn’t even begin to count the number of eye rolls directed at me.
“Very well.” Betancourt set the apple down and nodded. He
turned to Oliver with a sympathetic smile. “All right, follow that.”
Oliver looked at me with an almost nervous expression. “Carpe
vinum.”
There was an empty glass on Betancourt’s desk that everyone
had been directing that spell at. Everyone had different quantities
and appearances to their wine, but Oliver’s took the longest to
spout. It filled a little more than half the glass and was a bit darker
than a rose.
“Good,” Betancourt nodded, waving his fingers to make the wine
disappear, leaving the glass empty for the next person who wanted
to try it. He moved on to the next person, and the rest of the class
continued with their incantations.
I mostly zoned out, glancing at everyone as they said the spells.
Part of me wondered how an apple came from an apple seed when
the seeds were supposed to grow trees. Eventually, I settled on the
explanation that as badly as I wanted scientific answers to magic,
there weren’t many, so instead, I tried to think through my plans for
the rest of the day. There wasn’t much point in paying attention
when this was just for Betancourt to assess everyone’s abilities,
especially when everyone was using the same spells. Almost
everyone, at least.
From behind me, I registered that someone said, “Katabrecho.”
The next thing I knew, a massive wave of water fell on my head,
soaking me, my things, and splashing all over Omar and Oliver.
“Hey!” Oliver barked, standing up from his chair. I didn’t even
turn around to see who it was. I just sat there, shivering from the
cold water.
“Oops. Sorry,” someone laughed behind me. I recognized the
voice as belonging to James. James and Oliver had been good
friends at the beginning of the school year, but when Oliver and got
closer, James and his friends didn’t get over their prejudices the
same way Oliver had. “It was an accident.”
Oliver glared. “I’ll show you a fucking accident--”
“Stop!” Betancourt shouted, his voice booming through the room
as he amplified it. “Everyone, sit down!”
Oliver stayed standing. I looked up and put my hand on his
elbow. He sighed, finally sitting back in his seat, putting his hand on
my back.
Betancourt made his way to the front of the room. He said a
foreign phrase of some incantation I didn’t recognize, and before I
realized what was happening, I was completely dry. I blinked and
looked around and down at my stuff, but everything was dry. That
allowed me to relax, though a final shiver went down my spine as
the chilled feeling made its way out of my body.
The professor stood at the front of the class for the rest of the
exercise. Before every incantation, he instructed the student about
to perform to keep their eyes upfront, I assumed so no one could
make me a target again.
I appreciated that.
Once everyone was done, he thanked everyone for their
participation and dismissed class. I was quick to gather my stuff and
stand to go, especially because my class with Monsieur Levasseur
was next, which meant I could go back to my room before lunch. I
kissed Oliver on the cheek and waved goodbye to Omar before
scurrying out of the room.
I paused when I heard someone shout the water spell and a
large splash. Everyone in the hall turned around to see James
standing in the doorway, soaking wet.
“My class isn’t a place to target your fellow students,” Betancourt
said firmly from his desk. “Remember that next time.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I made my way to Corey
Hall, where my dorm room was. I had to admit, having one of the
professors come to my defense in such a strong way was a new
thing here at Salem Bridge. Coupled with the fact that Oliver had
stood up for me so quickly, things actually started to feel hopeful.
 5

T hat feeling stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon, which was
typical up until Magic History, my second to last class of the day.
That was Orestes’s class. I had Magic History with Silas, whom I
sat by near the front, both because it was a subject I felt like I was
behind it and because I was excited to get to know the new
teachers, especially after what had happened that morning with
Betancourt.
Before class started, I got out my notebook and turned to a new
page when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Amber,” Nicolo said, “Actually, Orestes would like me to work
with you today. Since he’s going to be your primary mentor, he’d like
an in-depth assessment of your abilities.”
“Oh,” I blinked. “Won’t I miss the lesson then?” I was just as
concerned about falling behind as I was about getting my magic
under control.
“No,” Nicolo shook his head. “Today is introductory. Don’t worry.
Follow me.”
I nodded hesitantly and began packing my stuff up.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I gave Silas a kiss before standing and
following Nicolo out of the room. I resisted the urge to look back at
the class and Orestes, not wanting to know who all was glaring at
me. I was sure it wouldn’t take half an hour for complaints to spread
that I was getting special treatment.
 I followed Nicolo to an empty classroom a few halls down. Unlike
most of the other lecture-hall-like rooms, this one was merely flat
and had a few large square tables like the ones in the cafeteria. I set
my stuff down at one of the tables and looked at him. I wrung my
hands slightly, nervous at the prospect of doing magic.
“Where should we start?” he asked brightly.
“Um… I don’t know. Somewhere small. I tried to ripen an apple
earlier, and instead, I got one of its seeds to grow into a whole new
apple, so… Yeah. I don’t want to go overboard.”
“Wow. Okay then.” He laughed. “How about this? Anything you
do, I promise you I can deflect or fix. I promise. I’ve been doing this
for a while, and I’m highly advanced for my age.”
I nodded. “How old are you?”
“I’ll tell you,” he winked, “if you show me something magical.”
“Right.” I hesitated, trying to think through the spells I knew.
Conjuring. Conjuring was advanced magic that I shouldn’t even
be able to do yet, but it was hard to make that dangerous.
I looked at the empty table in front of me and thought through
the items in my room. One of the books under my bed was an old
copy of an encyclopedia of potion ingredients with a faded red cover.
I knew where it was on the bottom of the stack under my bed. I
pictured it vividly, expecting it to take a few seconds to show up, but
it didn’t. Actually, as soon as I thought of the books, the stack of
three of them appeared before me.
I sighed and rubbed my face as Nicolo picked up the books.
“Why do you seem upset? This is phenomenal!”
“I was only trying to conjure this one,” I said, picking up the one
with the red cover. “I can’t hone in to make anything specific. Even
flying. When I manage to fly, now I take a bunch of other things
with me. If I tried to use this chair as a broomstick, the table and
podium would probably come too.”
He set the books in his hands down and nodded. “Alright. Then
show me.”
“Show you… what? Flying?”
He simply nodded.
 I tensed up. Flying was something I’d been very specifically
avoiding for the last few months. It was disappointing since before
that, I’d been making such good progress on it with Brayson as my
tutor. But I started having a harder time controlling where I was
going or what came with me, so I stopped.
With a deep breath, I sat down in the chair, holding my bag on
my lap, so nothing fell. I closed my eyes and began to imagine the
chair taking off from the ground. This was something that was
harder for mages my age to do. By now, I could manage it every
time I tried, it just took a few minutes of focus to enchant an object
to become a broomstick. Mages called whatever object or furniture
they used to fly a broomstick for the simplicity of the image.
I imagined the chair lifting off the ground and sat there for a few
moments before it finally did. My eyes fluttered open as my feet
lifted off the floor. For a second, I was just so relieved that it
worked, I almost didn’t notice that I had been right. Three more
chairs were up in the air with me, along with two of the tables in the
room.
Looking down, I saw Nicolo stare at me in absolute amazement.
“You… Even if you were trying to bring all that furniture up with
you, no one your age should be able to manage that. Hell, no one
my age can manage that.”
That made me nervous. If I was doing things even he couldn’t, it
meant he might not be able to stop or undo them too. I immediately
began trying to guide the chairs down to the ground. Landing was
not my strong suit, but luckily that was something Brayson had
worked with me on before my power got out of control. It was very
shaky, but soon I managed to get every leg of every chair and table
on the ground. I stood and walked away from the chair, leaning
against the wall to feel stable.
“You see what I mean?”
He hesitated for a second before turning to me and shaking his
head. “No, it’s all right. I’m impressed.”
“It’s not impressive. It’s terrifying.”
“Come on,” he said with an encouraging smile. “Keep going. How
about something elemental?”
 “That’s not a good--”
“Amber, come on,” he pressed. “Enchant something then. It’ll be
simple. Just move the cup on that shelf.”
I took a deep breath and turned to the bookshelf with empty
supplies on it. There was a glass cup on the top shelf. I reached my
hand out toward the cup from about five feet away. It didn’t move.
“Why is it doing that?” Nicolo frowned. “You just lifted half the
furniture up into the air. Are you telling me you really can’t move a
cup?”
I shrugged, dropping my arm. “I don’t know. It’s not working.”
He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, tapping his foot.
“Okay, fine!” I rolled my eyes. I looked back at the shelf and
raised my hand again. As I began to concentrate, Nicolo came up
behind my shoulder.
“You know how to do this, Amber,” he encouraged me. “You can
control yourself. It’s just like picking up a pencil. You could throw it
across the room, but you don’t. It’s restraint.”
That was a sensible way to think about things. Of course, it was
the exact advice that a few of the teachers had screamed at me
several times last semester when I accidentally broke things when I
couldn’t control my magic. Still, he wasn’t going to stop until I
actually made an attempt, so I took a deep breath and channeled
magic through my arm to lift up the cup. It trembled before jumping
into the air a few inches.
“Good!” He smiled. “Can you bring it here?”
I bit my lip, fairly certain how that was going to end. Still, I tried
to focus on restraint and bringing the cup to my hand as slowly as
possible.
In less than two seconds, it barrelled toward my hand. I dropped
down to a crouch quickly so the glass barely cleared my head before
shattering against the wall behind me. Once it did, I stood back up,
giving a sideways glance at Nicolo.
“Alright.” He nodded, a slight look of fear on his face. The cup
had barely missed him too. “I can see why you’re timid.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, walking over to the chair and collapsing down
into it. “Can we take a break?”
 “Of course,” he said as he came over and sat across from me.
“Can I get you anything?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. It just makes me nervous.”
“I don’t blame you. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like that.
What else has happened? You said you’d been hurt?”
“Yeah, a few times.” I rested my head in my hand. “A lot of
things like that, just trying to move an object, and it slammed into
my hand or my head. I had a goose egg the size of my fist for a
week a few months ago when I tried to move a big stone.”
Nicolo tilted his head. “A… goose egg?”
“Yeah, you know, like a knot.” I make a fist and put it to my
forehead. “Like a bruise.”
“Oh! Right.” He nodded. “What else?”
“Um… I was trying to freeze ice cream and put a three-inch thick
sheet of ice in my dorm,” I sighed. “I can’t even tell you how many
things I’ve set on fire. I’ve burned my hands twice. I flooded the
bathroom last semester. One time I was trying to brighten up a light
and nearly went fucking blind.”
He pursed his lips as I spoke. “Amber, this is quite an unusual
circumstance. No one your age has ever had this problem before.
You and Mr. Swathe said your magic doubled last semester. Do you
know how that happened?”
“Yeah, actually…” I rubbed my chin. “It’s a long story…”
“Well,” he sat back in his chair, draping his arm over the back as
though this were a relaxing lounge, “I’m here to listen.”
Of course, he was. Obviously, it was going to come up sooner or
later. I might as well tell him now.
“So, you don’t know anything?” I began. “No one told you about
the circumstances surrounding… why you’re covering for those
professors… what happened?”
“No,” he shrugged. “Perhaps they told Orestes. I wasn’t told
anything.”
With a deep breath, I began to relay the story about Iverson,
how he lost his magic when he was younger and got it back by
killing the mages responsible for taking it from him. I mentioned as
well how he was apparently my birth father who gave me up for
adoption because, as a girl, he assumed I’d never inherit magic. My
explanation included a brief history of Alse Young and the journal I
got, along with the spell that allowed me to absorb Iverson’s magic
and integrate it into my own.
Nicolo very quickly began to hang on my every word. By the end
of the story, his face was mixed with confusion and fear, almost like
he thought I’d take his magic from him too.
“Amber,” he exhaled a deep breath. “That’s… that’s unbelievable.”
“Trust me, if I hadn’t experienced it myself, I’d say the same
thing,” I sighed. “I looked through Alse’s journal a dozen times.
Either she never had trouble absorbing others’ magic, or she just
never wrote about it.”
“It sounds like she was a pretty powerful witch in the first place,
in order to compose a spell like that,” he said thoughtfully. “You had,
what, three months of experience when you did that? She probably
had years of practice.”
I bit my lip and nodded. He had a point. “Yeah…”
“Your concerns are sensible,” he said with a smile. “Truthfully, I
think every other mage in the world would simply take advantage of
their power, despite the consequences. You want to be sure that
your actions are safe and can’t hurt others. Most other mages would
simply consider any injuries they caused collateral damage. It’s very
admirable.”
That did bring a smile to my face. No one had phrased it like that
before. Everyone was either frustrated at me for holding back or
frustrated at me for being out of control.
“I appreciate that, Nicolo. Thank you.”
He nodded. “You can call me Nick, by the way.”
“Nick. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed his head and laid his hand on his chest.
I chuckled at the slightly dramatic nature of the gesture. “So,
how old are you?”
“Right!” he laughed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m
twenty-nine. I graduated from Athens Academy for Mages five years
ago. That’s where I met Orestes. He was my professor.”
 “How long have you been his apprentice?” I sat back in my chair,
relaxing a bit as the conversation seemed to move away from me.
“And what does that mean exactly?”
“I became his apprentice a year after I graduated,” he said. “I
returned to Italy at first, but I just found myself missing the
academic setting. At home, I just felt as though I was clawing my
way through every day, waiting for it to be over, waiting for the next
one to begin. At the school, I was constantly challenged and always
pushing myself to learn, but I didn’t have that motivation back
home.”
“You couldn’t study on your own?” I chuckled.
“I could have.” He shrugged. “But then I received a letter Orestes
sent to a few of his old students saying that he was considering
taking on an apprentice. A lot of the schools in Europe do that. I
think a few other places as well. I’d be his assistant for a few years,
and when he’s ready to retire, I will take over his position. That way,
the school doesn’t have to do any sort of search, and a lot of
knowledge is passed on without there needing to be a learning curve
on the part of the administrator.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. That system makes sense, actually.
But Orestes looks way too young to retire?” The man couldn’t have
been much older than Betancourt from the looks of it.
“He is. The school in Athens tends to bring apprentices in early,
in case they change their mind and quit the program.”
I nodded. “Betancourt said he was hoping to stay at Salem
Bridge after this year. But are you two returning to Athens? After this
semester?”
“I… I think so.” He blinked and rubbed his neck. “Orestes speaks
about it as though we will be, but we haven’t discussed it. As his
apprentice, I follow where he goes and do what he says.”
“Alright then,” I chuckled. “Do you want to take over for him? Be
a teacher?”
“Yes.” Nick nodded with a smile. “The academic environment
pushes me. I could see myself doing some form of research like
Cesar, but I think I’ll be the happiest teaching, pushing mages to
reach their potential, and pushing myself as well.”
Another random document with
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“cracked a smile” at the queer sights. Tragedy surrounded them,
which would not allow of an expression of humor. There was nothing
funny about a town burning down.
Just as Rob had anticipated, they found the other fellows in the
vicinity of the deserted building that they meant to destroy, in hopes
of staying the onward sweep of the flames. Andy and Tubby,
remembering what their chums meant to do, had taken up their post
close by, and anxiously counted the passing minutes, even while
also observing the many strange sights that continually cropped up
around them.
Tubby had read about Bedlam, and he wondered if it could “hold a
candle” to the mingled noises surrounding them. He had listened to
the crackling of flames before now, for Tubby had seen some pretty
big fires both in the city and in the woods; but those in the past were
not to be compared with what he now experienced. While Tubby was
standing there, now resting on one foot, and again on the other, he
heard Andy give a whoop of delight, and, on turning, beheld the
welcome face of Rob Blake, as well as that of Sim, and back of them
the tall figure of Mr. Jeffords, all of them carrying something in their
arms.
 Chapter XIX
Behind the Broken Door
“You got what you went after, then, didn’t you, Rob?” asked Tubby,
delighted to see the scout leader again.
They had gone off at such a furious pace that ever since Tubby
had been anxious concerning their safety. While watching the
advance of the devouring element, and the desperate efforts of the
gallant firemen to try and throw some obstacles in the path of the
flames, Tubby’s thoughts would constantly go out toward the absent
chums, with whose well being he was so greatly concerned.
“Yes, it’s here along with us,” Rob told him.
“But, say, what about Ralph?” demanded Andy, suddenly noticing
that the party he mentioned was absent.
“He came back with us, all right,” the scout leader replied. “Just
now he’s trying to find the Chief of the Fire Department. You see, we
couldn’t start trying to blow up this building here without his consent.”
“Land’s sake alive! I hope they get here pretty quick, then!”
ejaculated Tubby. “It’s coming closer and closer right along. Andy
and myself were getting ready to clear out of here when you showed
up.”
Rob had already noticed this for himself. His nervousness came
back, only instead of a fear lest some accident happen to the
speeding car, he now had something else to bother him.
They could feel the intense heat where they stood. Sparks fell all
around them, endangering their eyes if they ventured to look upward.
“Better turn your coat collars up, fellows,” advised Rob. “If you got
one of these flying sparks down your back you wouldn’t like it much.”
“That’s right,” commented Andy, “an ounce of prevention is better
than a pound of cure. Whew! just look at that cloud of sparks rise up!
Must have been a building collapsed then to make the shower.”
 “But I don’t see Ralph coming along yet,” complained Tubby, as
he strained his eyes to stare down the street where the other must
appear if he came at all.
There were plenty of people in sight, most of them onlookers who
were fascinated by the dreadful picture presented by the roaring
abyss of flames, though others were hard pressed firemen dragging
their hose about in the endeavor to find some place where they
might throw a stream into that old building just in the path of the
oncoming flames.
Precious seconds were passing, Rob knew. He wondered whether
he dared attempt to carry out his bold plan even without the consent
of the Fire Chief. One thing certain, unless Mr. Megrue came along
shortly, the last chance to attempt saving the mills would be lost. The
fire was already close to the ruined building, and at any moment they
might expect to see it burst into flames, for it must by now be getting
frightfully hot.
Tubby gave a sudden cry, and was seen hurrying toward a wagon
that, loaded with household goods, and drawn by a man and woman,
both foreigners, in place of a horse, had just passed them by.
Something had fallen off the load; it sprawled there in the street, and
lusty yells announced that it must be a fat baby.
Tubby picked it up and hastened to overtake the man and woman
who were tugging so lustily between the shafts. Then, having given
over the child into the charge of its mother, Tubby gallantly took hold
himself, and started to assist the man to draw his possessions
further away from the grip of the fire demon.
That was just like Tubby, whose heart always beat in sympathy
with any one in trouble. He would do without a meal in order to enjoy
seeing a hungry dog devour what had been intended for his own
consumption.
He did not intend going any great distance. After tugging for half a
block at the load, he felt that he had done his duty. Besides, if Rob’s
plan worked as they hoped, this section of the town would be
spared, and there was no absolute necessity for any one fleeing to a
great distance.
 So Tubby came back again, blowing like a porpoise from his
exertions. Ralph had not shown up yet, but Rob placed a hand
affectionately on his shoulder and it needed nothing more to tell
Tubby that his act had both been seen and appreciated at its true
worth by the one whose good opinion he chiefly cared for.
“I believe they’re coming, Rob!” Andy announced, greatly to the
satisfaction of everybody.
It turned out that way, and almost immediately the others also
discovered the figure of their companion hurrying towards them. At
Ralph’s side strode the tall form of a man wearing a glazed fire hat,
and a coat that was supposed to be immune to sparks and flames.
“I guess that’s Chief Megrue,” remarked Mr. Jeffords, eagerly,
“though his face is so black with the smoke and dirt his own wife
wouldn’t recognize him. Yes, I know his walk. Now we may see
something done that will bring results. I was just about to suggest
that you go ahead on your own hook, Rob, and I would stand for the
consequences. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, you
know. But there’s no need of our doing that now, fortunately.”
Ralph piloted his companion to the spot where the others awaited
them. Undoubtedly he must have already found occasion to explain
Rob’s scheme to the head man of the local fire department. Mr.
Megrue had been instantly seized with a conviction that it was
indeed the only thing left to them, since all the puny efforts they had
made to try and drown the fire out had been without avail.
Every fireman must know that such things are resorted to in all big
city fires when the violence of the wind makes it impossible to head
the flames off in any other way. Sometimes it turns out successfully;
and then, again, there may be no tangible result, owing to
circumstances over which even the use of explosives will have no
control.
Rob saw with more or less pleasure that the Chief was a man of
action, and not one of those old fogies sometimes connected with
local companies, all “fuss and feathers,” but lacking in the dash and
valor that should distinguish every firefighter.
Perhaps had he known where he could put his hand on a store of
explosives, the Chief might before this have considered the
possibility of blocking the flames by destroying that old connecting
link of a building.
“He says it’s the finest thing going!” called out Ralph, as he drew
near where his father and the boys were waiting for him. “As I know
how to handle the stuff, as well as the battery, he asks us to do the
job. Rob, I want your help only. Come with me. The Chief will smash
in the door for us, and we can plant the charge in a hurry. Then it
only means running the wires out to some place here, and
afterwards you can touch her off. That ought to be your privilege,
Rob, because you thought up the scheme. Right along this way,
Rob, please!”
Perhaps Sim and Andy, not to mention Tubby, might have liked
very much to be given a part to play in the game; but their common
sense told them there was no necessity for more entering the
building than just those two, unless Chief Megrue chose to
accompany the boys. At least, they could have the satisfaction of
being present when the big affair came off, and watching that
ramshackle building collapse into kindling wood after the charge was
fired.
The Chief fortunately had a fire ax with him. It may have been
used to batter in the doors of many a building that had commenced
to smoke, and give other positive signs of being about to burst into
flames. Besides, it is always a useful tool in the hands of your
country-town fireman, with which he loves to smash windows, and to
make a grand show of accomplishing things.
Straight up to the door of the unused building the three of them
hurried, the boys bearing the battery, the little cask containing the
dynamite cartridges, and the coil of wire necessary to complete the
outfit.
“The door is locked or barred!” shouted Sim, which remark told
that he had, during the absence of Ralph and Rob, made a little
private investigation on his own account, for it happened that Sim
Jeffords was of a very inquiring nature.
This information saved the others from wasting any time trying to
open the barrier. It also gave Mr. Megrue his clue, for, rushing
directly up, he commenced to wield that ax of his in a way that
proved him to be a born fire-fighter.
 With every blow Tubby and Andy and Sim gave vent to a whoop;
which helped get rid of their extra enthusiasm, and also showed how
they appreciated the work of the axman.
“Go to it, Chief!” shrilled Sim, excitedly. “That time the chips flew,
I’m telling you! Give it another smash like that, and you’ll see it go
down. Wow! look at that crackerjack hit, will you, fellows? It’s an
extra stout door, all right, but just the same it’s got to go! Once more
to the breach everybody. So, there!”
The ax sank into the door, and ripped the panels up. Again did Mr.
Megrue swing it back of him, and once more was that smashing
sound heard, so pleasing to the ear of the listening and watching
boys, who kept one eye on the little drama being played before
them, and at the same time managed to observe the close approach
of the sea of fire menacing the deserted factory.
Finally a shout from Sim announced that the door had been
beaten open, and that the way into the building no longer held any
obstacle to the advance of the trio.
They vanished from view, Fire Chief, Rob and Ralph. The three
boys, together with Ralph’s father, had to possess their souls in
patience while waiting for the reappearance of the bold invaders. At
any moment now they fully expected the building to burst into
flames, so overheated must the dry woodwork have become. It was
an anxious time for Mr. Jeffords, who had seen his son disappear
beyond that broken door. At the same time he knew that Ralph was
capable of thinking for himself, and also that he and Rob would not
attempt any foolhardy feat just for the sake of “showing off.”
There was a method in their madness in the present case. The
welfare of the whole community hung in the balance, for if the fire
could not be stayed by this master stroke of genius, then was
Wyoming doomed; and the morrow’s sun would rise upon the
smoking ruins of the entire town.
Seconds passed, and changed into minutes. When it seemed as
though something like two of these had drifted along, every one was
growing weak with apprehension. They had terrible visions of some
evil having overtaken those who had gone into the building. It was
old, and the floors almost in ruins, so that there was even a
possibility that the venturesome ones had fallen through some
unnoticed gap. Then, again, how were they to tell if some sort of
insidious gas had gripped their chums, and rendered them helpless?
These were the kind of strange fancies that took possession of
Sim Jeffords, always gifted with a lively imagination. He pictured Rob
and his cousin lying there inside the old wreck of a factory, victims of
a treacherous gas, and soon to be devoured by the oncoming
flames.
Sim could stand it no longer. He must ascertain the truth, for it
was always better to know the worst, according to his policy. He
would rush forward and cautiously enter the building, groping his
way through the smoke-filled interior, and calling out the names of
his cousin and Rob.
Filled with this resolution, Sim had even commenced to approach
the open door, paying no attention to the calls of his uncle from the
rear, when, to his great relief, he saw figures bursting out of the
structure. They were Chief Megrue, Rob, the scout leader, and Ralph
Jeffords.
 Chapter XX
The Struggle to Save the Town
Sim counted the figures that came trooping out through the
opening where the smashed door lay a wreck. When he found that
none were missing, a great load seemed lifted from his heart.
“Hurrah! it’s all working out as it should, and now we’ll see what
Rob Blake’s plan is going to do for Wyoming!” he found himself
shouting; although Sim was so greatly excited, he hardly knew
himself what he said.
Ralph could be seen with the reel of wire in his possession. He
was plainly unwinding it as he went, while Rob undertook to see that
there were no kinks in the strands as they came off the barrel of the
reel. Soon they were alongside Sim, who fell in step with the others.
The Fire Chief looked additionally anxious. He undoubtedly knew
what tremendous issues were involved in this last effort to save the
town. Gallantly had he and his followers battled with the destroying
foe, but so long as that furious breeze held out, all their efforts would
have been in vain. He knew that unless some such desperate
remedy as this explosion came to the relief of the outclassed fire
department, the fate of Wyoming was sealed.
He devoted himself just now to seeing that there were no
stragglers close enough to the doomed building to be injured when
the dynamite was exploded. Several men belonging to one of the fire
companies could be seen nearby, trying to turn the nozzle of the
hose they wielded so that a stream of water would fall upon the old
building; for it was recognized that unless the conflagration could be
halted at this particular spot all work was useless.
Chief Megrue shouted to them, and when he had by this means
caught their attention, he beckoned wildly. Although they might not
quite understand what his motions meant, at least they were
accustomed to obeying orders without questioning.
 Dragging their hose after them with an effort, they commenced to
head toward the spot where the Chief stood. This promised to take
time, for their load was heavy; and seconds just then counted
considerably more than a new supply of hose meant to the imperiled
town.
“Drop it, and come here as fast as you can run!” bellowed Chief
Megrue, using his hands in lieu of a megaphone; for it seemed that
he had lost his trumpet while hard pushed to escape from a fiery trap
when caught in a building that suddenly burst into flames, giving him
scant time to dash out again to safety.
The men looked as though they could not understand what he
meant. They evidently disliked abandoning a length of perfectly
sound hose when there seemed no absolute necessity for it. Again
did the Chief shout at them, continuing his wild beckoning at the
same time.
“Hurry this way! Drop that hose, and come as fast as you can! We
are going to dynamite that building, don’t you understand, you
fools?”
Perhaps that one word “dynamite” gave them their cue, for without
any further hesitation the three men dropped the hose, which
commenced to writhe like a snake as the force of the water passing
through the brass nozzle turned it this way and that. So they started
to run toward the Chief.
Meanwhile Ralph, assisted by Rob, had continued to move
steadily away. The wire would allow of their proceeding to a safe
distance, when the battery could be quickly attached, and a
connection made.
Sim had now been joined by both Tubby and Andy. All of them felt
their hearts beating tumultuously, for no one could do more than
guess at the result of the bold plan.
One thing sure, they had not left the old building a minute too
soon. Why, it was on fire even then, for Sim could see flames
creeping along the roof. He wondered whether there would be any
break in the wire sufficient to prevent the full current of electricity
from passing along it when Ralph came to making the contact. If
such a thing did happen, it would be much too late to try and remedy
the defect, because after that time it must be sheer madness for any
one to dream of entering the deserted factory again.
Surely Ralph and Rob must by now have gained a sufficient
distance to be safe from any debris that might be thrown up into the
air when the explosion came. Still, Ralph was the doctor in this
instance, for he had had the experience in blasting out stumps and
dislodging great rocks by the use of the dynamite.
Mr. Jeffords was there, too, watching his boy with eagerness.
Then, besides, there were the trio of bedraggled firemen who had
joined their chief at his command, all of them deeply interested in the
success or failure of the scheme that meant so much for Wyoming.
The clamor all around them was just as boisterous as ever, for
certainly nothing had occurred to tone it down. The citizens, facing
complete destruction for their town, were hoarse with shouting; but
their main thought now was to make sure of the safety of the women
and children, who could be seen fleeing through most of the streets,
awed by the terrible nature of the calamity.
Nevertheless, none of those who watched Ralph and Rob paid the
least attention to these outside occurrences. The fire might roar, and
the populace shriek in terror, but just then their undivided attention
was given to the little drama being unfolded before their eyes.
Ah! Ralph no longer pushed on. Whether he had reached the end
of his wire coil, or believed that it was useless to cover more ground
did not matter. What did count was the fact that he and Rob were
feverishly attaching the battery and switch to the wires, showing that
they intended to test their hastily arranged programme without
further delay.
“Oh! hurry, hurry, please!” groaned Tubby, speaking to himself, of
course, but in so doing voicing the feeling that held sway in every
heart; for the building was rapidly being clutched in the ever
extending fingers of the fire, and would soon be such a mass of
flames that to wreck it might do more harm than good.
“It’s all ready!” whooped Sim, as he saw by the actions of the two
boys that they had succeeded in making the attachments.
Then Ralph pushed Rob forward. It could be seen that he meant
to force the scout leader to press the button that would complete the
work. Even in that dreadful moment Ralph did not forget that it had
been Rob’s brilliant idea, after all, and to his chivalrous mind it
seemed only right and proper that Rob’s hand should be the one by
means of which Wyoming might be saved.
Rob did not hesitate. This was no time for expostulation. He
proceeded to do as the other urged him. Those who stood by held
their breath with awe, watching the old deserted factory the while, as
though everything depended on the result of Ralph’s efforts.
They saw the building give a distinct shiver. Then the very earth
under them actually rocked as if an earthquake had taken place.
Tubby was thrown down, and the rest had more or less difficulty in
keeping on their feet, such was the concussion of air as the
dynamite went off.
They also heard a heavy roar, and then, wonder of wonders, the
old building seemed to collapse, to fall down like a house made of
cards. There was a horrible series of crashing sounds; some
remnants even fell close by the boys, though luckily none of them
received the slightest injury. Then, as the smoke shifted and the dust
clouds settled, they saw a great gap where the deserted factory had
stood.
The Fire Chief was awake to the possibility of the debris
presenting a new peril. He immediately gave orders to the three men
to make their way forward, and if the hose were still in condition for
use to turn the nozzle toward the wreck.
Then he hastened away to fetch up others, so that all efforts might
be concentrated on that one section. The fight for the rest of the
town must be made then and there. Already a heavy blow had been
struck to beat back the fire; and if only it could be held to the other
side, the valuable plants might yet be saved.
Soon men came rushing along. An engine turned a corner and
stopped before a hydrant, with men jumping this way and that in the
endeavor to get connections with the least possible waste of time.
The explosion must have terrified most people who heard it, since
they could not but believe it meant the destruction of some mill. It is
wonderful, however, how news is flashed along from mouth to mouth
during such scenes of excitement as this; and, doubtless, when
people learned that the shock came from a desperate effort to
confine the fire to the side of the town where it had started, their
hopes would take a new bound upward.
“Will it force its way across in spite of everything, do you think,
Rob?” asked Tubby, solicitously, as he stood beside the patrol
leader, and watched the working fire-fighters battling so manfully.
“I hope not,” he was told, in a reassuring tone. “You can see how
they’re trying to soak the wall of that nearest factory so it can hold
out against the heat when the test comes. Besides that they are
getting more water on right along. Here comes another company,
and from the way the people keep cheering them I reckon they must
belong in another town, and have been rushed here by special train.”
It afterwards turned out that Rob had actually hit the truth when he
made this guess. Word of the dreadful imperiling catastrophe that
had come upon Wyoming must have been flashed to neighboring
towns by telegraph, as well as an appeal for assistance. Such a call
is never allowed to pass unheeded in American communities, and
just as soon as they could get the right of way a special train with the
engine and firefighters aboard had been dispatched, with the order
to “burn the rails” in making speed.
There was need of every available man and machine. The wall of
fire had by now arrived at the gap, and gave positive signs of being
disposed to leap across in order to complete its work of destruction.
Men fought madly to restrain it. Those who held the various lines of
hose pushed forward until their faces were scorched by the heat, but
in spite of all this they persisted, and would not be denied.
“They’re holding it there, mark you!” shrilled Ralph in the ear of
Rob Blake, as all of them stood watching these exciting happenings,
their hearts almost in their throats, so to speak, such was the weight
of their anxiety.
Rob was encouraged. He began to believe that after all the
devoted firemen were going to come out victors in their fierce battle
with the element that had started in to ravage the whole town of
Wyoming.
He bent most of his attention on the buildings close by, for if one
of them suddenly burst into flames it would mean that the worst that
could happen was about to commence.
Vainly did the flames dart forth, fanned by that still raging wind,
and endeavor to reach the buildings that had been cut off from their
grasp by the destruction of the old factory. The more they tried, the
greater the efforts of those who held the water nozzles continued.
Wherever a certain point was threatened there would be a
concentration of splashing fluid, and the enemy retreated, baffled
again and again.
Rob noticed presently that each time the fire made this attempt to
cross the divide it seemed to grow just a little weaker. He knew that
the fuel by means of which it was maintained was being devoured at
such a rate that, given time, the efforts of the Department would
prove successful. Even now matters had reached such a stage he
believed the worst to be over; and that victory was in the air.
 Chapter XXI
After It Was All Over
“I guess it’s all over but the shouting!” exclaimed Sim, which
remark proved that he too must have noticed some of the same
signs detected by Rob.
“Oh! do you really believe that?” cried Tubby, a little look of relief
appearing on his face, which lately had been screwed up in all sorts
of lines denoting his strained feelings.
“Well,” explained Sim, with alacrity, “you can see for yourself that
so far none of the sparks have set fire to the roofs of the mills and
factories, thanks to the men who are guarding the same, armed with
buckets of water. If you watch carefully you’ll learn that the blaze
keeps on getting weaker right along. It’s burning itself out, I tell you,
Tubby. We win, and most of the glory goes to Rob here for thinking
up such a grand scheme.”
“Don’t you believe that!” exclaimed the scout leader, energetically.
“Nine-tenths of it ought to go to Ralph, you’d better say. Didn’t he get
the apparatus for blowing up that factory, and wasn’t it Ralph who
piloted the car back home and here again, going like mad? But
perhaps you had better not say anything more about that business,
boys; neither of us want to pose as heroes. After all, what we did
was only the most natural thing in the world.”
“Just what it was, and we’re fishing for no bouquets, either,
remember,” said Ralph, who was close enough to hear all this talk.
It was now close on midnight, but no one in all Wyoming would
dream of such a thing as going to bed. Some had been burned out of
house and home, while all the remainder had suffered such a shock
to their nerves that sleep was quite out of the question for them.
The danger was past, and every one could take a good long
breath of relief. Why, even the wind had commenced to die down
now, as though conscious of its defeat in trying to aid its companion
element in destroying the bustling town.
 There would be plenty of work for all the firemen until dawn,
pouring a continuous stream of water on the ruins of houses, and the
lumberyard as well, that had been destroyed. Even when additional
companies reached town, coming from more distant places, they
were set to work rendering assistance to the stricken community; for
those gallant fellows would have been sorely chagrined if compelled
to return home without a chance to even wet their hose for
neighborly accommodation.
The boys knew that presently they ought to pull out and head for
the farm; but as long as Mr. Jeffords did not insist on going, it was
not their business to say the word. They felt that they would willingly
remain there for an hour and more, with so much going on to see
and to hear.
It was Rob who began to exhibit signs of impatience, for, to tell the
truth, the scout leader noticed that the crowd around them had been
growing of late; and he also discovered that a number of the more
prominent men of the town seemed to be talking very earnestly with
Mr. Jeffords.
Now, Rob began to take the alarm. He fancied that these people
were talking about himself and comrades, because often he could
see them look their way, and once a stout gentleman whom Ralph
had told him was the mayor of Wyoming actually pointed in their
direction.
“Don’t you think we’d better be starting home, Ralph?” Rob went
on to say.
The other chuckled as though he could give a guess as to what
was bothering his friend. At the same time he shook his head in the
negative.
“We’ve just got to wait till dad gives the word, you know,” he
explained. “Now he seems to be pretty busily engaged. Just hold
your horses, Rob. The fire has been gotten fully under control, and
there’s nothing more to be feared from that source. Unless I miss my
guess, the business men of this town have a duty, and a pleasant
duty to perform. I don’t mean to spoil it all by running away, not on
your life.”
Rob looked uneasy, but he was powerless to do anything.
 “Oh! well, I suppose we’ll have to stand for it, then,” he muttered,
as if making up his mind to take some punishment.
Ralph actually stared hard at him. Really, he had never before run
across a boy just like Rob Blake. Most of the fellows he knew would
have been only too delighted to find themselves in the limelight, and
called a hero. Nevertheless, Ralph was determined that Rob should
not escape by running away.
“They’re coming this way,” announced Tubby, who with Sim and
Andy doubtless had already “sensed” what was in the air, for all of
them were smiling broadly, and casting significant looks toward the
plainly annoyed Rob.
Mr. Jeffords led the dozen citizens straight up to where the little
group of boys stood, while a crowd pressed close around to hear
what was said.
“This gentleman,” began Mr. Jeffords, “is Mr. Perkins, our worthy
mayor, and these others are business men of Wyoming, some of
them owners of the costly mills and factories that have been saved
from destruction through a brilliant and bold scheme. I have
explained to them that though the dynamite that saved the town
belonged to me, and while it was my son Ralph who drove the car to
the farm to secure it, still the conception of the grand idea was wholly
Rob Blake’s. They want to congratulate you, my boy, on your bright
thought, and to thank you publicly for having been so instrumental in
saving our town from utter destruction.”
Rob opened his mouth to protest, but the stout mayor waved to
him that he had a few words to say; so the boy shrugged his
shoulders and held his breath. If they were so insistent, how was he
to help himself? Nevertheless, he could not think it fair that more of
the credit should be placed at his door than was given to resourceful
Ralph, who, once given the hint, had engineered the whole thing.
“I want to thank you, Rob Blake,” said the mayor, squeezing the
boy’s hand in his chubby palm, “in the name of all our people. Only
for your quick wit and ready brain we might at this minute be
witnessing the destruction of all our thriving industries, and Wyoming
would have been as thoroughly blotted out as some of those poor
Belgian and French communities have been before the vandal guns
of the warring Nations. And while I am about it I mean also to thank
Ralph Jeffords because of the valuable aid he gave once you
conceived the scheme of blowing up that building. Yes, let me also
shake hands with these other three lads here who wear the khaki, for
I feel sure that had you not been present, one of them would have
discovered some way to accomplish the same purpose you had in
view.”
Even Tubby blushed at the compliment. Plainly, then, these good
people of Wyoming were of an entirely different mind concerning
those who wore the khaki. Not so very long since, according to
Ralph, and they had settled in their minds that scouts were an
undesirable organization in a community, just because the first
attempt to raise a troop had been a failure, owing to the wrong sort
of leadership, and the poor class of lads enlisted under the colors.
“It may be that you boys have heard about the failure that
overtook a troop of scouts started in our town some time back,”
continued the mayor, and at that Rob began to show much more
interest than when he himself had been the object of attention. “But
some of us are now of the opinion that we were wrong in
condemning all wearers of the khaki because our own lads failed to
equal our ambitions. I am sure I voice the sentiments of this entire
community when I say that after having this lesson brought home to
us we realize that we have made a great mistake. For one, I am in
favor of urging that a troop of scouts be started here in Wyoming
without delay, founded on the broad and noble principles of your
order; and here and now I pledge you that my two boys shall
become charter members. And I also hope very much that Ralph
Jeffords will consent to take this enterprise in hand. All in favor of
this say aye!”
There came a unanimous shout from the assembled crowd, who
had been listening in absorbed attention while the mayor was talking.
After that other gentlemen came up, desirous of shaking hands
with the boys who chanced to be visiting at the Jeffords’ farm.
Evidently the story of how the scouts had been instrumental in
tracking the lost child, and restoring little Caleb to his nearly
distracted mother may have been brought to the town, for several of
the men mentioned something about it as they warmly greeted Rob
and Sim and Andy and Tubby.
 With such a wonderful background as that still burning section of
the town the picture was a striking one, which Tubby felt sure he
would never, never forget. He was particularly pleased that they had
cornered Rob, because on more than one former occasion Tubby
had known the patrol leader to slip away after having been
instrumental in accomplishing things worth while, just because he
could not bear to hear people making him out to be more than an
ordinary boy.
On his part, Rob was delighted to learn of the change that had
come over the good people of Wyoming with regard to their opinion
of scouts in general. They had seen a light, evidently, and would
know from this time on that those who wear the honored khaki, if
they are true scouts, are bound to be a credit to the community in
which they dwell.
Ralph, too, looked pleased. To tell the truth, ever since the coming
of his cousin Sim, and his acquaintance with such a fine fellow as
Rob Blake, Ralph had been wondering whether it would not be worth
while to make another attempt to organize a troop in Wyoming, if
sufficient encouragement could be received from leading citizens,
and the men at Scout Headquarters were also willing.
Now it seemed that matters had been taken out of his hands by
this strange happening, and the peril that had threatened the town.
Instead of it being Ralph who spent his time in going around and
beseeching citizens to allow their boys to join in with him so as to
form a new organization, it was the mayor himself who gave the
word, and even promised that his two sons should enroll their names
among the very first candidates.
Plainly, then, Rob and his chums had been able to show what
scouts are worth to any community and had made a deep and
lasting impression on these people; it would not be long before their
visit must begin to bear fruit to the honor of the whole organization.
Now that this ceremony had been carried through, perhaps Mr.
Jeffords would be willing that they start for home. Rob was beginning
to feel that a bed would not be unpleasant, for all of them had been
up very early on the preceding day, and so much had taken place
since then that they were tired.
 Tubby, too, was commencing to yawn, which was a pretty good
sign that he could not hold out much longer. All of them, in fact, were
glad when Ralph’s father came back and announced that they had
better start out to find the car, which it was to be hoped had not been
taken by any of the fleeing people.
This worried Tubby somewhat, for he wondered whether they
would be able to hire a rig, or another car in case their own had been
taken. All anxiety on this score, however, was soon set at rest, for as
they drew near the spot where Ralph had abandoned the auto they
discovered it still there near the curb.
They quickly found seats, Sim occupying one of the extra ones.
So they started forth, and many times did Andy, Tubby and Sim
crane their necks to look back toward Wyoming; but the angry glow
had faded from the heavens by now, and stars were beginning to
show themselves here and there through the clouds.
“Well, after all, we’ve gone and forgotten Peleg!” announced
Tubby, presently. “Too bad, and I hope he doesn’t have to tramp all
of those ten miles out to the farm.” But Rob somehow found himself
believing that Peleg had purposely kept away from them.
 Chapter XXII
Laying Plans
“Did anybody happen to see Peleg after the fire broke out?” called
Ralph, over his shoulder, as he continued to pilot the big car, the
headlights showing him all inequalities in the road, so that he could
avoid most of the “bumps.”
“I did,” spoke up Andy, immediately. “Let’s see, I think it was just
about the time that fat mayor was going around shaking hands with
us, and giving us that taffy about his change of heart regarding the
scouts.”
“Then Peleg should have known we meant to clear out pretty
soon,” interrupted Tubby, slowly, “so if he had a particle of sense,
and really wanted to come back home in the car with the crowd, why,
seems to me he’d have hung around.”
“Well, he didn’t,” added Andy. “I saw him grinning as though
tickled half to death about something. Perhaps now it pleased him to
see that mayor grabbing our hands so,—well,—I might say
effusively. How about that, Ralph; would Peleg care if he saw you
being patted on the back, and made a hero of?”
“He might, and then again perhaps it was something else that
made him seem so happy,” replied Ralph.
The other boys may not have understood the real meaning of
those words, but Rob did. He knew Ralph was hinting to him that the
farm boy may have held back from joining them because he began
to feel ashamed of what he had done, and could not bear to face the
owner of the stolen stamps so soon after selling the packets to the
curio dealer.
Even that failed wholly to convince Rob. When he believed in any
one it was hard to make him change his opinion. Why should Peleg
seem so well satisfied with himself? Surely, the getting of a few
dollars, more or less, in a shady transaction too, of which he must
later on feel ashamed, would hardly cause him to appear so happy.