Straightening, I met his gaze directly. His eyes were startlingly blue behind thick tinted lenses. “Maybe it is. Wouldn’t you be anxious in my shoes?”
“I most certainly would.” He permitted himself a small smile. “I’d be sure to trip over your dog. Might do that anyway. A man of my years gets clumsy.”
“I dare you,” Mr. Bixby shouted at him. I hoped his voice sounded like normal yaps to all but my friends. “A dachshund of my pedigree does not get punted by a puzzle man.”
Norris held up his hand. “Silence. First rule of witch school is to listen unless advised otherwise.”
“Witch school?” I asked. “You’re actually calling it that?”
His shoulders rose and fell under his trench coat, also omnipresent, it seemed. “Unless Mr. Parkin objects.” He pointed to the rows of chairs. “If he’s touchy about his masculinity, I’ll use ‘witch and warlock school.’ We’re here to learn about magic, not argue semantics. None of us wants to be here, I daresay, so the less time we spend on silly diversions, the better.”
Someone spoke. “I want to be here.”
It was Brianna Peck, tall, square-jawed and fair, sitting with Atticus, the English setter I’d brought back from ghost status. Her hand rested on his beautiful head and he greeted me, on our inside line. This dog was a prankster but I sensed he was already settling into his role as her familiar.
The room’s only warlock, Blaine Parkin, raised his hand next. “Cassie and I are happy to be here, too. It’s an honor, Mr. Strump.”
“No sucking up,” Norris said. “No flowers, no flowery words.”
“Then it’s a relief,” said Cassie, Blaine’s recent bride. I was surprised to see her, given that her father had died mere hours ago. She looked pale but resolute, and she certainly had a distraction from her loss in the form of Tiffin, the Boston terrier pup, who writhed in her lap. He had not settled one iota, judging by the chaos I heard on our inside line. He wanted to run and roll and jump and bite, like most pups. If this was his permanent state, the happy couple had better not consider children. There was no rehoming a dog like this. Tiffin had chosen them and he was there for a lifetime. Perhaps more.
Mr. Strump nodded. “Understandable in your circumstances, Cassandra. I commend you for showing up.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t want to end up like my father.”
The old man glanced around. “Show of hands. Who wants to end up like their parents?”
One hand rose. It belonged to the only person I didn’t know in the room, although she looked vaguely familiar. She was probably in her early twenties and very pretty, with impeccably highlighted long blonde hair, eyes as blue as Norris’s, and a dress I wish I owned.
“Hard, isn’t it?” Mr. Bixby said. “I’m usually the prettiest one in the room, too, but it’s good for our pride to be knocked down a peg, sometimes. Or so you tell me.”
I didn’t bother to hide my jealousy from him. As someone with unruly curls in a very damp town, I always wished for sleek hair. Constantly feeling disheveled did nothing for my confidence.
Mr. Crossword gestured for the three of us to take the vacant seats. One stayed empty. “Are we missing someone, sir?” I asked.
“Octavia,” he said. “She was obliged to decline.”
I got settled with Bixby in my lap. “I didn’t think that was an option. The invitation said attendance was mandatory.”
“So it is, but Tavi has special circumstances.”
One special circumstance, namely Oscar Knight, her husband. He was extremely overprotective and no doubt wanted to oversee Tavi’s training himself.
The stranger spoke up. “Mr. Strump, may I ask… why us?”
Norris blew out a sigh. “The bigger question is… why me? Ruthann must have been hard up.”
I couldn’t help laughing. In our short acquaintance, I knew him to be a man of few words—most of them written in daily crossword puzzles. “She chose you for a reason. You must have patience with novices.”
“That I do not. In my opinion, what you’re here to learn should be taught at home. The younger the better. Your neurons have already calcified, so we’re working uphill.”
Sinda spoke for the first time. “Then I’m really in trouble.”
He touched his fedora. “My apologies, madam. I suspect you’ll have an easier time than many.”
“Why her?” the blonde woman asked. “My neurons are firing and wiring just fine.”
“That’s why.” Norris picked up his pen and directed it at her. “It’s all about attitude. Humility. You have no idea what you don’t know. I do.” He cut her off with a slice of his pen. “Let’s do our introductions. State your name, your most potent magical strength, and your biggest weakness. Ms. Joffrey, you may begin.”
Sinda introduced herself. “My biggest strength, to my knowledge, is creating jewelry that brings good fortune to people. My weakness is that I don’t know how to do it with awareness. It just happens.”
Norris nodded. “Awareness. Exactly. We’re here to shine a light on the mechanics.”
The pen jabbed at Ren. “I’m Renata Scott. Until very recently, I had zero awareness of any abilities and my challenge is disbelief. So far, I don’t have much of any talent, except for seeing people’s auras. Sometimes. When I do, they tell me a lot about someone’s character and intentions.”
“And what does my aura say?” he asked.
Ren stared at him, eyes glazing. “It’s blue, on the darker side. I’d say you’re steady. Unflappable. And that’s why you got stuck with us.”
He tried to fight a smile. “Probably. Mr. Parkin?”
Blaine’s fingers twitched nervously and Cassie took his free hand while anchoring Tiffin with the other. “I see images of things before they happen. Usually bad things. And never in enough time to do anything about it.”
He glanced at his wife and she nodded. “He saw what happened to my father today, and even where. So by the time the police came to inform me, I already knew.” Her eyes darted my way. “Blaine even saw you, Janelle. And Mr. Bixby.”
The dog sat up a little straighter in my lap. “I’m a celebrity.”
“And your magic?” Norris prompted. His tone was gentle in consideration of her grief. No matter how vile Angus’s behavior, he was still Cassie’s father.
