CHAPTER 6

T hat afternoon, when I wove a blanket shield for Master Adolphus, he studied it for several minutes, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.

“Quite ingenious,” he finally said. “It took me weeks to figure that out when I was your age. It’s a good start, keep working on it.”

I felt like I’d won the lottery.

“Master? Amelia said I was to study medicine here, to become a doctor. I looked at my class schedule for the fall, and I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing.”

His smile had some of the quality of a smirk.

“I’m sure my granddaughter told you that I would train you to be a healer, didn’t she?”

I nodded.

“Well, we shall see about that. Do you want to be a healer? You’re young, and you may decide you want to do something else. I think Amelia wanted to be queen when she was your age—and that may still be her goal. Two years from now, you may be telling me you want to study architecture, or business, or that you would be happier living your life as a tracker. That is something for you to decide—not me, not Amelia, not Elias Greenwood.”

Sometimes I felt that I was destined to live in a state of confusion.

“You’re not going to teach me how to look inside people’s bodies?” I had done that once, though the person was dead at the time.

“Ah, no, I’m not going to do that. The reason is that I don’t know how I do it, let alone how you do it. Do you think you can teach me how you track a person?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I can, you know, just read a person’s trail, like a scent, like their essence, I guess. It’s not something I turn on or off.”

He chuckled. “Just as I can’t tell you how to scan a person. I just do it. No one taught me. Most spirit mages have the ability, but not all. That is why the people at the Guild in Colorado had such high hopes for you. But your life is not theirs—or mine—to direct. Perhaps you’ll become a doctor—but spend most of your life in a cabin up in the hills, fishing and painting pretty pictures. It’s up to you. Now, let’s take a look at sorting out the various types of magic in the ley line.”

And off we went into a metaphysical discussion that almost no one in the world would have understood. I already knew that every mage I’d ever met—except for Master Adolphus—saw, felt, heard, tasted magic differently than I did. For the most part, they didn’t see, hear, or taste magic. People just gave me odd looks whenever I tried to explain how I experienced and used magic.

“People who have tried to explain spirit magic,” the Master said, “often talk about it as being a magic that separates and binds the other four elements. But they can’t explain it better than that. When we look at the colors of the threads in a ley line, we can identify certain colors and associate them with the four elements. But what about the other colors, and especially the ones that are outside the spectrum the human eye can identify? Those are the true threads of spirit.”

By the time our lesson ended, and he cut me loose, my head was spinning. What made it even weirder was that I understood everything he told and showed me, but it certainly belonged to a realm far beyond anything I learned about in the physical world growing up.

As our session ended, I said, “I’ve been assigned to Captain Le Pen’s company. I hope you don’t have a problem with his politics.”

The Master gave me a brief smile. “The captain is very capable. I have no problems with you being under his tutelage.”

“Uh, there’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“The cat.”

He chuckled. “There are three cats who live here.”

“The kinda black or dark brown one, with the orange or yellow spots and streaks. She’s larger than the others.” She also looked and moved differently. Where the other two—a white calico and an orange tabby—strutted around with their tails in the air as though they owned the place, the cat who insisted on sleeping with me crept along the walls, darting from one source of cover to another. Stealthy.

“We call that a tortoiseshell.”

“Okay. Uh, she wants to sleep on my face.”

“I suggest that if you don’t want her to sleep with you, put her out and close your door.”

“That doesn’t work. She finds her way back in. I’ve tried to figure out how. I checked all the closets for hidden doors or gaps.”

He shrugged. “I suggest that you and Serafima—we call her Sima—negotiate a settlement. Of all the entities sheltering in this house, the cats are the ones I have no control over.”

* * *

“D o you have anything planned this evening?” Siobhan asked while serving my dinner.

“No. What is there to do in Zürich on a Friday night? I assumed everyone just retired with a book and a cup of chamomile tea,” I said with a wink.

She laughed. “That is true if you’re Frau Buckner. But if you’re a hundred years younger, you might want to go out to a nightclub and go dancing.”

Part of the deprivations of my childhood included having never gone out to a nightclub to go dancing. Of course, I was barely old enough to do that legally in Colorado.

“Sure, I’m game.”

“My boyfriend is coming to pick me up at my grandparents’ house,” she said. “I’ll write down the address for you.”

“Or I could just go with you when you get off work?”

“Oh, of course. That will work.”

And so, two hours later, she came up to my room and made suggestions as to proper attire. I got the impression she thought my wardrobe was a little tame for the occasion. I had seen some of the skirts girls were wearing that summer, and I was sure Frau Buckner would have a stroke if I bared too much thigh, let alone my butt cheeks. I did have a pair of designer jeans that fit me like a glove, and a burgundy wrap blouse.

When I was living on the streets, I did everything I possibly could to avoid the gaze of men, but Dierdre was determined to dress me advantageously. She supervised my packing before I left Queen City, and some of my most comfortable clothes stayed behind.

“I love that blouse,” Siobhan said. I was sure it would show her cleavage to advantage. On me, it hinted that I had boobs.

We walked to her grandparents’ house, and Siobhan introduced us. A nice couple around one hundred years old. They knew Amelia, of course, being around the same age as her and Colonel Sorento. Mage society in Zürich was similar to that in Queen City—most mages didn’t interact much socially with normal humans, and certainly didn’t go to school with them.

When Siobhan’s boyfriend showed up, he had a friend in tow, and I felt a little ambushed. I should have guessed that the temptation to play matchmaker would be too strong. The new girl must be lonely. I could sympathize with Siobhan, though. Having me tag along would get a bit old if she was my only friend.

Siobhan was a year older than I was, and Conrad, her boyfriend, was in his early twenties. He was a little over six feet, with dark hair and eyes—definitely good-looking—and appeared to be in good physical shape. His friend Hans was taller and leaner, with curly light-brown hair and hazel eyes. His face was long and narrow, with the kind of cheekbones I saw on models in magazines. Very pleasant to look at. Very pleasant to look at. I hoped he could talk about something other than soccer—or futbol , as it was called in Europe.

Hans looked a little surprised when we were introduced and gave me a ready smile. I assumed he had been dreading his blind date and was relieved I wasn’t a gorgon. He was noticeably taller than I was. I had learned in Queen City that shorter men and boys were often uncomfortable dancing with me.

My experience with dancing came from the formal occasions at the Guild Hall in Queen City: Beltane, Solstice, Samhain, the Longest Night, Imbolc, and Yule. The orchestra would sometimes play rock songs, along with some English and Irish folk music. But most of the dancing involved touching your partner, and Amelia had packed me a couple of ball gowns for such occasions.

As we strolled along the river on our way to the nightclub, I discovered that Conrad and Hans were both Enforcers, and Hans was in Captain Le Pen’s company.

“Siobhan told us about your run-in with the strigoi,” Hans said. “You’re a tracker?”

“Yes, for the past four years. We didn’t have a formal army, or militia, or whatever the Enforcers are. The Guild posted bounties for rogues, and trackers or hunters registered to hunt them and collect the reward.”

“So, you operated independently? Alone?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you’d survive very long doing that here. The strigoi and lycans are hunting us just as much as we’re hunting them.”

“So I’ve heard. What about the Knights Magica?”

He sighed. “And then there are the Knights. That’s a whole different matter. But let’s talk about more pleasant things, shall we?”

I turned my questions toward Zürich, and Switzerland, and things to do and see. Hans was from a small town south, nestled along the foothills of the Alps. He liked to hike and ski, and he also had a small sailboat that he took out on the lake. He was a graduate student at the university, studying engineering.

He didn’t follow futbol , although he was a fan of ski racing. By the time we reached the nightclub, he was showing every sign of being high-quality boyfriend material. Only one problem: I wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend.

I had never been much of a drinker, so I stuck with ale at the club. I danced with Hans and Conrad, and another guy who asked me. It was fun, and Siobhan also introduced me to a young woman named Gertrude, another university student from someplace in Germany that I’d never heard of.

As we were getting ready to leave around eleven o’clock, a young man approached me and asked me to dance. He was quite drunk but not yet stumbling. He had been eyeing me for the past hour, and he and his buddies were laughing whenever they looked in my direction.

“Hey, come dance with me.” The slightest slur signaled his state of inebriation.

“Sorry. Maybe another time. We’re just getting ready to go,” I said.

I noticed Hans edging closer to me, and the look on his face was wary. The drunk’s three or four friends were watching us closely, which I found a bit strange.

“Oh, you don’t need to go yet. It’s still early.”

“Thanks, but really, I do need to go.”

Hans stepped between us. “Roland, leave off. We need to take the girls home.”

Mr. Drunken Fool pushed Hans. “You go on home. I’ll take care of her.”

As if his actions weren’t enough, the leer he gave me cemented, for all time, that I didn’t like him.

I tried to duck away. “Come on, Hans, let’s go.”

It didn’t work. Roland stepped in front of me and reached for me, trying to grab my arm. I shook him off, took a step back, and squared off.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, no? Think you’re an Enforcer now? Rough, tough, and tumble? Hey, a tumble is just what you probably need.”

He reached for me again, and the toe of my shoe caught him right under the chin. His head snapped backwards, and he was unconscious before he hit the floor.

I turned toward his buddies. “Anyone else want to bully the new girl?”

No one volunteered. I grabbed Hans’s arm. “Get me out of here,” I said.

Siobhan leaned close to Conrad, and I heard her say, “I told you she can take care of herself.”

We caught a tram and then walked to Siobhan’s house.

“Who was that asshole?” I asked. “Is he an Enforcer?”

Hans sighed. “Yes. Roland Müller. His family owns a pharmaceutical company, and his grandfather was mayor of Zürich at one time.”

“He certainly thinks he’s entitled, doesn’t he?”

No one answered me, except for three pairs of rolled eyes and rueful grins.

Hans wanted to walk me home, but I refused. I gave him a raised eyebrow and said, “Where I grew up in Queen City was pretty rough. I'll be fine, and Master Adolphus doesn’t want me bringing anyone to the house.”

Siobhan stepped in. “Hans, she’ll be okay. And she’s right—you’ll only get her in trouble.”

“Okay, but it still bothers me,” Hans said. “What are you doing tomorrow? Would you like to go sailing?”

That took me by surprise. I would have said no to a dinner invitation or any kind of normal date, but the chance to get out on the water, in the open air, was far too enticing to refuse. Weekends were mine, free from lessons with the Master or Frau Buckner. And the Enforcers hadn’t claimed any of my weekend time, either. I had seen boats out on the Zürisee, sailing by on graceful wings. It looked like they were flying.

“Sure, I’d like that. I’ve never been sailing before, and it looks fun.”

We arranged a place to meet, and I walked off, adopting a glamor that made me essentially invisible as soon as I turned the first corner. I could take care of myself, but it was easier to just avoid trouble—and to avoid any followers.