Foretold Read online

  “I’m not Legacy like you and your dumbass friends. You had a family and a community to coach you up. Everything here’s new to me. I want to learn. You might not care, but I do.”

  “Whoa, relax. It’s… are you crying?” Griffin looks horrified.

  Tessa slaps her mirror down on the table and rushes off the terrace, back inside the building.

  “Griffin, you’re a complete waste-of-space-asshole. Grow up,” Regan shouts, running off after Tessa. Sebastian nods to Nua and halts Noah’s pursuit of Regan, then goes rushing off after them himself. Of course he does. It’s kind of my job to sweat it.

  Griffin looks like he just caught a punch. He glances around and locks onto me. “She really thinks I’m…? I thought that was our thing…”

  I shrug. Noah shakes his head.

  “No, seriously. I know I mess around, but I thought we were having fun,” Griffin insists.

  “I think you’re an asshole,” Noah offers.

  “Please stop using that word,” Nua interjects.

  “Your great-grandma teach you that word?” Griffin sneers.

  “She sure did. Best used when someone chases away two girls in tears.”

  “Shut it,” Griffin says, wholly without heat. He stares down at his mirror.

  Regan and Tessa return sometime later, Tessa’s eyes noticeably red. They both ignore Griffin. Sebastian doesn’t return.

  With no more interruptions, Nua lets us give it one more try. A few manage to scry out minor visions, casting their lines out into the future and pulling in minnows.

  I end up with a waning moon-charged mirror, according to Nua. I don’t get much from it, though. Nothing to help with Colin, or explain what my red blessing vision from Pict’s office was about, or even just to tell me what happened to Samara Trefoil. No, instead I have a vision of Theodore from the front desk smiling over a cupcake. Not exactly an earth-shattering revelation.

  I look over at Griffin, who’s glumly staring out across the river. It looks like he finally realized, as Noah so finely put it, that he's an asshole. If so, I think he got the biggest reveal of the class.

  Chapter 15

  Button Field, a large Coil-culled courtyard in the center of Theban Group, has gone from feeling like a vast grass ocean to a tiny bathtub, packed to the gills with picnicking scryers attempting to beat the heat. Between the Frisbee playing and sun worshipping, you’d be forgiven for forgetting where we are. Regan has set our blanket out on one of the only spaces left open, the incline leading up to the ring of knotty pines sitting sentry around the basin-shaped park.

  I look down at my ICARUSS again and blow my bangs out of my eyes. I have no idea if the spell I’ve located to help Mrs. O will work, but I’ve resolved to give it a try tonight. Colin, though… this stupid thing hasn’t kicked back a ritual that can help him yet. Closest I’ve gotten is something to change traffic patterns, and another spell to ward against a broken leg. I hold the ICARUSS in my hand and concentrate again, begging my scryer energy to reel something in that can save him. Colin’s emailed video from earlier today runs through my mind. It began with the camera trained on his face as he walked, his smile mischievous and his blue eyes twinkling.

  “Hey, Cass! So, while you’re over there playing capture the flag or whatever, check out the laugh-a-minute you’re missing here.” The camera angle turns so a neatly organized shelf of boxes comes into view. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Mrs. O’s dusty shelf is now unrecognizable. And look at her desk!” He pans over an equally tidy desk, then turns the camera to Mrs. O, who is approaching the office. “Mrs. O, for the cameras please, can you tell Cass how much fun we’re having?”

  Mrs. O shakes her head. “Cassandra, he’s as ridiculous as you. Ninety degrees outside, gorgeous day, and he’s in here organizing my office. I’m going to have to pack it all up soon enough anyway, you strange—”

  “You’re supposed to stick to the script!” Colin yells. Mrs. O gives him a look of tolerant affection, a smile playing about her lips. Colin’s mimics Mrs. O’s voice, moving the camera as if she’s speaking, and her smile widens. “Oh, Cass, this dear boy and I have been having loads of fun in your absence. Why, just yesterday he was juggling a few cans and sent sardine juice everywhere. Wasn’t that just the cat’s meow?”

  Mrs. O laughs. “You’re lucky you’re such a card or I’d toss you out of here. We miss you, Cassandra. I hope you’re having fun, little one.”

  The camera turns back to Colin. “What she said.”

  A palm-sized crystal ball rolls alongside my leg, knocking me out of my reverie. Noah sits up from his spot on the blanket. “Sorry about that!”

  I roll it back over to him and he lies back down, throwing the ball into the air again. I notice, not for the first time, that he and Regan keep exchanging little loaded glances, and she brushed her hand against his when she thought no one was looking. They think they’re slick, but even Griffin caught that one.

  My ICARUSS makes a sound, and I eagerly watch the moving icon of wings on the screen until a ritual appears… Becoming a Crossing Guard. I set my device down and rub a hand over my face in frustration.

  “That’s not right!” Regan says. She glares at Griffin, who grins back at her. “People aren’t toys, and Triggs said no more scrycasting pranks.”

  Griffin claws at the loose dirt next to our blanket, digging a small hole, and drops in a sprinkling of herbs. “Relax. We’re supposed to be practicing for the Agon, right? Button Field Billiards is how I practice. Okay… red shirt guy with the football over to the duffle bag girl,” Griffin says. He spits onto the herbs, buries the whole thing, and whispers something over the hole. He wipes his hand on the blanket, squinting at his red-shirted victim. The guy runs to catch a football, leaping, and landing right in front of the duffle bag Griffin mentioned.

  “Almost, Griff,” Noah says.

  “Patience, young Skywalker.”

  The guy takes a step back and catches his foot in the bag’s strap. He flails as he falls backwards onto a blanket belonging to a pretty girl I’ve seen in the halls from time to time. The guy jumps up, apologizing, and she smiles, setting down her book, murmuring something reassuring by the looks of it. It isn’t more than a few seconds before they’re both smiling and settling in for a chat.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad. I made a love connection, probably,” Griffin says.

  “What did you sacrifice for that?” I ask.

  “Minute off the end of my life.” Griffin shrugs when Noah gives him an incredulous look.

  “Besides the fact the sacrifice is insane, you had no idea they’d like each other,” Regan responds.

  “I did. That girl kept eyeballing that dude. I got him to notice her. Bam, love connection.” Griffin fires an imaginary arrow, doing his best Cupid.

  “Say they do end up together. Maybe there was someone better for her than that guy. Maybe there was somebody better for him. Maybe their lives would have been better before you messed with things you don’t understand. They’re not puppets,” Regan fumes.

  “They’re perfect for each other. I’m a keen observer of the human condition, Renée.”

  “Observe this human condition.” Regan gives a one-finger salute. “And the name thing is getting old. Work on new material.”

  “Just because—”

  “You guys are like Pict and Ms. Fenice,” I interject, driven by my ICARUSS frustration and my fear. If a fall over a backpack cost Griffin a minute of life… I still have no idea what saving a life will cost me.

  A red blessing approaches. Look to the glass.

  “I was reading about that blue moon Ms. Nua mentioned in class. Gloaming Moon. The one next Friday?” Noah murmurs, probably to cut the tension. “Pretty neat. Scryer’s Almanac says—”

  “If we’re Pict and Fenice, you two are douchey gameshow contestant blue-hairs,” Griffin interjects.

  “Can you loan me your Almanac?” I ask, letting Noah know I stand in solidarity with other trivia nerds. “I�
��ve run through Regan’s magazines and need something new.”

  Noah nods, a smile shining through his light brown eyes.

  Regan picks up her Agon study guide. “Let’s just get this over with. ‘Individual exams before the Coil Walk are designed to measure how well an initiate understands scryer history and theory,’” she reads, “and gauges if one can scry using different tools and methodology. They include a mix of written questions, oral presentations, and some live demonstrations.” She groans. “Ugh. Public speaking is the worst.”

  “Is it? Somewhere a starving kid is crying for you,” Griffin says.

  “Knock it off, Griff! Leave her alone,” Noah says, raising his voice.

  “I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Regan snaps. She swallows and softens her tone. “But thank you.” Noah puffs up and leans back against the tree.

  “Alright, so that covers the exams,” Regan continues, flipping ahead in the book to where she's inserted a sticky note. “Then comes the Coil Walk. We go in as a group and we walk the thing to try and get to the Laurel Plain. It’s at its mildest during the Agon. That’s why it’s tough but not impossible. Closer you get, better your grade.”

  “Even still, it’s not easy,” Griffin says. “If it were, everyone’d be an Oracle. Most people have to hunker down and wait to be fished out by the rescue crews. And my mom told me that when she walked the Coil for the first time, three initiates from her year died. Guess somebody in the group had a mental problem and the Coil fed off that. Three people gone, all because of the nightmare in one dude’s mind.”

  Regan looks struck. She gives me a pained look, and I inwardly quake. I’m okay, I’m okay, okay, okay, okay.

  “I heard that’s what happened to Samara Trefoil.” Noah makes a face. “Most initiates were pretty much out before whatever was in her head popped off.”

  There’s no way I can walk the Coil. Not now, not if something like that can happen. I’ve got to escape. I’ve got to run, get home, get far away.

  But not yet.

  Milk your training for whatever you can, help Mrs. O, save Colin, and then leave this place far behind.

  The thought brings a pang. I’ve started to finally feel like I belong somewhere. If… when I leave, my friendship with Regan will be over.

  But that’s not what you’re here for. I found a ritual to help Mrs. O. Now, I need to figure out how to save Colin.

  And what you’ll need to sacrifice to make it happen, my mind whispers.

  I pluck the guide from Regan’s numb fingers and flip through it, hurrying beyond this subject. “According to this, the Coil Walk will push scryers and their abilities to their limits. Most scryers will not reach the Laurel Plain—” Griffin nods and gestures in an I-told-you-so way. “—but those who do will be anointed Oracles. All scryers, regardless of whether they reach the Laurel Plain, may use the Coil to shortcut to any place within Theban Group with relatively little risk of danger after the Agon. Footnote here says that the ‘controlled introduction of scryer Initiates to the Coil works to limit or suppress the Coil’s immune system response so that scryers may later traverse the Coil. This inoculation is only possible during the Agon.’”

  Griffin peers at the book over my shoulder. “What the hell is that?”

  “Minotaur,” I say. “Mythological half-man, half-bull. If the Coil sucks up what people are afraid of, then I guess it’d draw on what each generation fears.”

  “Each generation? I'm so scared.” Griffin rolls his eyes. “What’s it going to give us? Bad online dating and global warming? The movie CATS?”

  “It stores fears, too,” Noah adds. “Once something’s brought to life in the Coil, it stays there, becomes real. Mr. Khalid told me during our mentor meeting last week that there’s a full-on ecosystem in the Coil. Predators and prey, this whole fear-fueled food chain.”

  “What about that?” Griffin whistles, still peering at the book's illustrations. “Is that a pit filled with spikes? Dude, that’s some Indiana Jones shit. Well, Reggie here is a loon, so we’re already screwed.”

  “Maybe you’re screwed. We will be fine,” Regan says. She gives me a firm look, willing me to believe, then looks over to Noah. Noah winks at her, and she responds with a small smile.

  “What’s up with your eye, man?” Griffin says, squinting at Noah.

  Noah flushes. “We’ll have to stay together, try and control our thoughts, and scry our way through,” Noah says firmly, looking downright sunburned. “We’re the first class to use the ICARUSS, so we’ll have our abilities, each other, and some help.”

  “And if anyone falls behind, the rest of you have to remember that you can’t go back,” I say.

  “What do you mean ‘the rest of you?’” Regan asks, eyes narrowed.

  “Us. The rest of us,” I say. I pick at my thumb.

  “Alright, so let’s practice,” Griffin says. He rummages through our bag of supplies and makes to toss a mirror at Noah.

  Noah holds up the tiny crystal ball in his hands. “I’m good with this,” he says. He kneels next to me. “Here, Cassie. Let me help you with that.” He takes the sticks I’ve gathered and waves away the matches I hold out, briskly rubbing the sticks together to efficiently build a small fire.

  “That was really cool,” I say, blowing on the little flame the way he shows me and ignoring the creeping gloom inside me.

  Noah shrugs. “No big deal. I was a Scout. Troop 137! Merit badges and all that.” Regan looks over at him with interest. Uniforms are her weakness. Even Scout ones, I guess.

  Noah and Griffin busy themselves with their crystal balls while Regan reaches for the bag, pulls out a few things, and begins messing with her mirror. I examine the smoke from my fire, reading the flames licking the air and interpreting the crackling sounds. The air around us smells like summer pines and smoke.

  “I can build a fire in two seconds, but I’m still not the best at calling on visions.” Noah says. “They come when they feel like it.”

  “Here, try it this way.” Regan settles next to Noah and reaches for the ball in his hand. Noah inhales sharply as she leans against him.

  Griffin frowns, watching them. “We’re supposed to be scrying, not making out.”

  Noah widens his eyes and gives his head a little shake as if to say, What the hell. Griffin goes back to his crystal ball, a frown still etched onto his brow.

  “Maybe we should try to bring on visions of danger? I mean, that’s what we’re going to be looking for in the Coil,” Regan says, pressing a dark curl behind her ear.

  “Good idea!” Noah says, with a little too much enthusiasm.

  If only Colin’s feelings were that easy to read. Does he miss miss me, or is it like a friend? I squelch the lick of envy and concentrate on being happy for my friends instead.

  Regan gives Noah pointers on technique. I tip my water bottle to snuff out my fire, then dump the rest into a small palm-sized copper bowl, along with a dribbling of oil. Scrying the patterns in the rainbow oil slick reveals just as much as the smoke: nothing. I pull my pendulum from around my neck and dangle it over the liquid. When tuning fork-like vibrations ring through my core, I gently blow on the horn-shaped onyx crystal to set it swaying, willing the air from my lungs to lead me to knowledge. The pendulum swings, slowly at first, then picking up momentum until it begins tapping symbols on the lip of the copper bowl. I sketch out each symbol on a pad and consult my ICARUSS to translate the message.

  The meaning behind the string of symbols strikes like a hot poker. “Red blessing approaches,” I whisper.

  Regan and Noah look up at me sharply. I grab for the book I stashed in my bag and with shaking fingers ask a question to verify my scried message. I let the text fall open and run my fingers in circles, waiting for the pull to stop. I read aloud:

  “‘Death twitches my ear / 'Live,' he says… / 'I'm coming.’”

  “Well, that sounds like confirmation to me,” Griffin says. “Okay, so necromancy, I guess. Now what? Who
is it? Who the hell is sacrificing a person? When is it? How do we narrow it down?”

  Regan looks up from her mirror, her face ashen. “It’s Sid. I saw him. Alone in the dark, scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s happening now.”

  “Mr. Ford? Where was he?” I ask.

  Regan shakes her head.

  “We should tell someone. Fast. Maybe they can find him. Help him.”

  Noah shoves his stuff into his bag and leaps to his feet. “Are you guys coming?”

  We race along after him, entering Theban Group’s halls, an electric knowledge crackling along my bones. The red blessing approaches. Look to the glass.

  Griffin flags down a guard. “Hi, yeah, listen, we just had a vision or two about Sid Ford and—”

  “Record it in your ICARUSS.” The guard yawns as he starts to walk away.

  “But it’s life and—” Noah calls out.

  “There isn’t time!” Regan cries. “It’s close, I have this feeling. Don’t you feel it, too? It’s happening now!” She turns her huge gray eyes on me. I always have that feeling; it’d be weirder if I didn’t feel like everything was about to fall apart.

  “Follow me. I know where he is,” Griffin says.

  We chase after him, following his twisting and turning path—until the feeling of being doused in cold water hits me. Regan gasps.

  We’re in the Coil.

  “Stop!” I shout, blind terror coursing through me. “We’ve crossed into the Coil. No one try to go backwards. Sebastian told me it’s really bad.”

  The space around us is barren and gray, like the inside of a meat locker scrubbed of carcasses. I can see my breath when I exhale.

  “We don’t have a scryer escort,” I say. “We’re not supposed to be here. If this place is bad during the Agon, it’s—” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I try and clear my thoughts.

  Don’t think of the time with Sebastian. The hands, hands everywhere, touching, gripping…

  We hear a muffled sound. Then another. It comes from all around us, echoing off the metal walls. Griffin and Noah instinctively press closer, their shoulders pressed to mine and Regan’s as we huddle together.