CHAPTER NINE

SOMETHING WICKED. OR ROTTEN. OR BOTH.

A COUPLE OF suits waited for me as Norma, the senior secretary, waved me into the administration office as campus police delivered me. The so-called perp walk had been a little awkward, and I still had no idea what I might have done. The impulse to back out and run washed over me, and curiosity tried to cancel it out. Why would anyone use security to get me to Administration, unless they wanted to be certain I’d respond to a summons? Who were these two impeccably dressed people and what branch of law enforcement did they represent? The woman wore her hair glossed back into a French knot, her trousers creased, dark stockings covering her ankles, and her shoes so modest in height I almost wondered what the point was in wearing heels. The man looked a little sleeker than she did in what I felt sure Evelyn could identify as Armani, although he wore his Maui Jim sunglasses perched on top of his head, and he didn’t have a handkerchief popping out of his chest pocket. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the handle of a Glock did, frankly. And they both looked like Northerners. From DC, if I could guess.

Administrative Dean Moreno beamed at me. “Come in, Tessa.” He beckoned a welcoming hand at me, indicating for me to take a chair. He occupied the back of the desk, nearly as wide as he was, and behind him a small curio cabinet held the pennant of his own college and the trophies his team had won in football, and an imposing picture of him as a linebacker. I think he kept them not only for the memories but as a warning he could hold a student accountable if necessary.

He meant for me to sit down in my chair, but I really wanted to wield it like an old-fashioned lion tamer. I perched on it cautiously, feet gathered under me, calculating where and how fast I could run. And if I might need the maelstrom stone as I did. By the pricking of my thumbs, to paraphrase both Shakespeare and Ray Bradbury, something wicked looked my way. Again, I regretted not wearing my bracers. I would have to remedy that, and soon.

“Good morning,” the male suit intoned. “I’m Agent Danbury and this is Agent Naziz.”

“Agents of what?”

Dean Moreno looked appalled for a fleeting second. He forced his smile to return. “Forgive the caution; Tessa has been through some traumatic times. Tessa, your academic record and test scores have drawn some attention and, it looks like, the offer of an internship.”

“My test scores?”

He tapped a folder on his desk. “This first quarter.”

They didn’t look like scouts from a major university nor were recruiters usually titled “Agent.” Since my mother taught locally, I had a fairly good idea what academia looked like, and these two definitely did not fit the mold. And since when did anyone scout off first semester grades? I decided to play, anyway.

“So you’re from MIT or Stanford?” I looked from Danbury to Naziz.

“Not exactly. We’re from a private university which has a campus on the edge of Richmond, and from time to time, we take in interns to work in our offices and library. It’s a great opportunity for higher education, and provides a modest income as well.”

Dean Moreno folded his large, fleshy hands. “Sounds promising.”

“Oh, more than that,” Agent Naziz offered. “We have international connections that will reflect on her resume in the future.” Her eyes sparkled gleefully in tandem with her smile.

If I had a future. The maelstrom warmed a bit inside my glove, but whether it woke on its own or my nerves alerted it, I couldn’t guess. “I’m a bit confused. Do I take a class on your campus or assist a professor or do administrative work?”

“A bit of all three. Twelve to twenty hours a week, depending on how ambitious you feel.”

“What sorts of classes are available?”

“Anything you might be interested in. We do suggest you study courses that might not be conventionally available at this college level, to round out your education.” Agent Danbury leaned forward, his posture conveying keen interest and ambition of his own. They wanted me at their private university, but I couldn’t figure out why. Nor how they’d found out about my so-called great scores. I knew I hadn’t earned a perfect on the SATs or any of the other tests given in high school. Good, but not perfect; that was my general performance level. Nor had we gotten far enough into field hockey season for them to be scouting me.

Or perhaps they sensed the maelstrom stone as strongly as it sensed them. I fought to keep from curling my hand shut as if I could hide it away, wishing I had the professor or Carter or even Steptoe whispering advice in my ear. I realized everyone waited in silence for me to say something. I had the feeling I sat in the sales office at a used car store where the offer was today, and today only. “An interesting offer. Have you got brochures I can take home for my mother or more information on your website? I discuss everything with her.”

“We don’t extend an internship like this to just anyone,” Agent Naziz said crisply. “It would be a mistake to turn it down without thinking about it.”

“Oh, I’m not turning you down. I just don’t know about it. Committing for a few quarters seems like a big step that I don’t want to take without my mom. And what if it interferes with my team practice and schedule?”

Danbury pushed out of his chair and onto his feet. He put his hand out for a shake, his left hand, and he gripped mine tightly. No doubt he felt the stone in my palm, glove or not, and he looked into my face with a confident expression. “I think, when you investigate and consider us, you’ll make the right decision. We can do a lot for you, Miss Andrews, and your family.”

He waited at the office doorway while Agent Naziz pulled a few colorful pamphlets from her purse and handed them to me. She also shook, but conventionally right-handed, and smiled. “I look forward to seeing you. We can arrange a campus visit whenever you want, to help in your decision.” She paused as she joined Danbury. “Oh. And you might be interested to know the hourly wage,” and she named a figure well above the national minimum wage. It staggered both me and Moreno as the two suits left his office.

He managed another beaming smile at me. “Well. How about that?”

“I don’t know,” I told him frankly. “How did they learn about me?”

“Nobody said a word here, but I know the national grading company that handles the scores occasionally puts out advance word about exceptional students. You might remember some of the essays you did? The optional work?”

That set off a little light bulb. I’d had a packet of forms that few other students had gotten, but I thought maybe my mom’s school had brought a special set for me because they did offer discounted rates for family and dropped all the way down to free if the employee had tenure or other qualifications. I’d processed them and promptly forgotten about them, graduating high school in January and soldiering onto community college last spring, when everything odd began happening in my life courtesy of the professor and his dilemma.

Looked like I’d been wrong about her university, though. These two, wherever they acted for, most certainly did not represent her school. I studied my brochure as I gathered my backpack and made ready to leave.

Red-brick and ivy-covered buildings. Quaint sidewalk pathways throughout the campus. Smiling students. A few professor types in long black robes in the background, no doubt going to classrooms—hey. Wait a minute.

Nobody at Mom’s workplace wore robes except for graduation services twice a year. In fact, most of them dressed little differently from the students, my mother being an exception as she continually tried to make a good impression on the staff.

What was this place?

I flipped the pamphlet over. The page reflected blankly up at me.

“Well,” Moreno muttered. “What do you think?”

“Don’t know.”

“Keep an open mind, Tessa. Now, if you don’t mind, you’ve got classes and I have another appointment.”

“Yes, sir. And thank you. I’ll let you know.” A smile flickered across my face, and I left before the unbetter part of me started to rant at him about the lack of support to either my mom or myself when my father disappeared. He’d been vice principal at my high school and had frowned more heavily than most at me whenever we’d crossed paths. My mom and I had both held the title of probable ax murderer, here and around town, for months until the next city scandal popped up. Scorn and pity, in equal measures, and I was pleased to duck out of it all as soon as I could. Hence the early graduation.

Norma put her hand out as I passed her desk. “Everything all right?”

She never changed. Her light brown hair stayed twisted and pinned in its updo, her seemingly starched blouses always had clean cuffs no matter what office work she’d been doing, and her pencil skirts always ended mid-calf. She wore fashionable but sensible shoes, and her manicured nails were finished off squarely so they wouldn’t be susceptible to chipping or breaking. I think Moreno had been hired by Sky Hawk, just to poach Norma and bring her with him. When a student came in who lacked cafeteria funds or owed back debt, she had a cash drawer always full of just the right amount needed, no questions asked. No one went hungry at our high school. A lost or stolen or maimed textbook got replaced without recriminations. And whenever I’d needed to hide somewhere, away from reporters with cameras who wanted to know why my father disappeared, she always had a secure corner office available. I had no doubt she worked similar miracles at Sky Hawk.

I waved the brochure at her. “I’m just baffled.”

“Life can be like that.”

“Seriously.” I tapped my paper. “Ever heard of these people?”

She took it from me. “Silverbranch Academy? Can’t say that I have.” She flipped through the five pages, ending up at the back, where the brochure now proudly proclaimed internships and scholarships available for the qualified. Diversity encouraged. And so forth. Norma put on her reading glasses and studied it closer. She returned it. “As they like to say: Google it.”

Oh, I intended to. “As my mother would say, it merits consideration.”

Norma winked at me. “That’s our girl. Now get on with you, classes start in about”—she consulted her watch—“forty seconds.”

I skedaddled.

Despite my promise to scour the Internet on Silverbranch, I held doubts. That blank page suddenly popping up with encouraging propaganda? It reeked of the professor’s brand of wizardry. For that matter, as I thought back, so had the two agents. I rubbed the stone under my palmed glove. Not only my shield, it seemed to be my b.s. locator.

In English, my teacher said not a word about the supposedly outstanding essays I’d written in the past, even if they’d attracted Silverbranch. Evelyn sat behind me, slender enough she could cross her legs at her desk and still have seated a squirming toddler on her lap with room to spare, and sent little texts to me whenever she thought she could get away with it. A row closer to the teacher’s desk and podium, I had trouble reading what she sent, let alone replying. I drew enough attention from Mrs. Gill that I caught the privilege of diagramming not one but two very complex sentences. I managed to pull it off with only one correction from her.

Out of Mrs. Gill’s domain, I caught Evelyn by her earlobe.

“Ow!”

“Stop texting in class!”

“It’s important.”

“Dean the wonder boy can wait till lunchtime.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Maybe.”

“I know, and maybe I’m just a little bit jealous.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Then you need to. Save me a seat for lunch, and don’t you dare invite Dean over if you want to talk about him.”

She agreed, and we split up again. I had a break before my next class and ducked into the library for research. As I suspected, the Internet provided pretty much the exact same pictures that the brochure offered up, along with two glowing recommendations from former students, and a “Study Overseas for a Semester!” opportunity. I went through the tabs, not finding anything substantial or even interesting until I caught the barest glimpse of a familiar face among students crossing the picturesque grounds. It wasn’t even a glimpse, really, except I knew that face. Crushed on it, misplaced cleft and all.

A younger, paler, but just as compelling Carter Phillips strode along those hallowed halls of Silverbranch Academy.