Chapter 44

“Caliban’s missing too, of course,” Alastair told the teachers around the faculty table. “And, well—Mr. Shelley… Quicksilver went to House Aurum to do the count, make sure everything’s all right.”

“Wherever is Mr. Shelley?” Ms. Snapdragon asked. “Why wouldn’t he be here?”

Probably visiting his mother.

Alastair didn’t want to give the man’s secret away, so he just moved on with a shrug. “I’ve consulted the map, and the two boys are nowhere in the castle. I’m guessing they’ve found a way out into town again.”

The teachers reacted with shock and horror.

“Again?” Mr. Banner asking the question most were probably thinking.

“It happened a few weeks back,” Alastair admitted. “We had a talk over tea and cookies. They promised it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Guess they lied,” Amaryllis said without emotion.

“Seems that way,” Alastair said. “However, I’d like to maintain giving them benefit of the doubt. I know, I know. But those are good kids. Let’s assume the best.”

Everyone remained quiet. Even down in the kitchen, they could hear the mob outside shrieking with rage. And there was something else out there this time too. He could feel it in the air, though the wards shielded them from its energy.

Dark Magic.

And a lot of it.

“This is bad news,” one of the Rock brothers said. Alastair couldn’t tell which one. After six months at the school, he still couldn’t tell them apart.

“We need to get them back,” Alastair said. “As headmaster, it’s my responsibility. I’ll go out—”

“You’re not going alone,” Eloise said. She stood and rested her hands on the table to steady herself. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not—”

“Ally, I’m not interested in arguing about this. If something goes wrong, you’ll need help. We’re not leaving you out there to be ripped to pieces by a bunch of angry townspeople.”

“That’s unlikely. I’m a mage—”

“I’m coming too,” Amaryllis said. “Let’s face it—you’ve gotten better, but you’re still not very good at Scrying. You’ll need a decent Scryer to search the city properly.”

“You’ve never seen me really work, Ally, outside of class,” Eloise said. “Come on. Aren’t you a little bit curious about what I can Summon?”

He had to admit, he kind of was. But—

“It’s too dangerous,” he said. “We need you to defend the school.”

Eloise crossed her arms and glared at him. There was no arguing with her when she got that look.

“Okay,” he said, admitting defeat. “Fine. Just you two. The rest of the faculty should stay here with the students. One teacher per House. The rest split up and spread throughout the grounds. Make sure the wards hold and no one breaks in. If any Dark Mages start to unpick the defensive spells—well, you know what to do.”

They agreed, and Alastair started preparing for what might end up being battle, wrapping a complicated series of armor spells around his body. Eloise and Amaryllis did the same, air flickering with thick lines of blue magic that ran the length of their arms and legs. They itched unpleasantly on his bare skin.

“Ready?” he asked when they were done.

“Ready.”

He squared his shoulders and led the way out. There was a tricky moment at the side door—they had to loosen the wards enough to get out without risking letting anything in—but a quick casting provided shield coverage between them. That would not, however, work on their way back in.

Eloise and Amaryllis stayed back to Shield the door from the inside, while he took lead and went out into the street.

Outside, everything was chaos. Swathes of townspeople sprinted through the streets carrying whatever they’d been able to take from the stores near the castle. It wasn’t much—after the last time, the shops were well-warded—but there was a crackle in the air that suggested things were about to get worse.

No Dark Mages in sight, though. Not yet.

A crowd gathered at Emberstone’s front gate; not many were privy about the castle’s side doors. Alastair threw up a Shield on his side of the wall, and signaled for the others to come through. Then they reset the wards before scanning the area.

“Do you feel—” Amaryllis started, eyes closed as she cast a basic Recon Scry. “There’s something walking.”

Alastair nodded. “Yeah. Really bad energy. It’s like—”

He knew that magical signature. Semi-sentient undead.

Dammit.

And sure enough, here they were—a shambling crowd of rotting corpses in various states of decay, their hollow eyes gleaming with malevolent hunger. Whoever’d raised them must’ve emptied out half of Watermere’s cemetery to beckon forth such a number. The mob fled before them, screaming, and soon, they were alone on the narrow street with the undead army.

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Eloise grinned beside him. “You wanted to see what I could Summon. Here we go. Give me cover for a minute.”

She pulled out a piece of chalk and started drawing a casting circle, and as asked, he and Amaryllis stepped forward to guard her. The undead lurched toward them, red eyes glowing in the darkness, bony jaws sagging open like wet sacks. Amaryllis closed her eyes and beckoned a cascade of shooting stars that rained down upon the skeletal army. Each star exploded when it hit the ground, scattering bone and sinew across the cobblestones.

“You… did that with Scrying?” Alastair asked, flabbergasted.

She gave him a level stare. “I do other forms of magic, you know.”

“Right.”

“Did you think I’ve been doing everything with Scrying alone?”

He didn’t respond, just sent a tempest of wind and lighting sweeping through the undead ranks as Eloise spoke the words of her casting behind them.

“Come on, Asmodeus,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The air burned with purple electricity, and a massive demon made of smoke and shadow appeared, hovering above their heads. His chin might as well have been carved from the cliffside. Two horns—no, three horns—sat atop its head, black as midnight. Its eyes, twin orbs of crimson flame, surveyed the undead with a hunger that mirrored their own.

“CANS I EAT THEM?” it boomed.

“Go for it,” Eloise said. “Do what you want.”

“SNACKS…”

The demon descended on the horde with a snarl, all wispy claws and teeth. It tore through the undead ranks with savage glee, each strike leaving a trail of black smoke in its wake. It opened its shadowy mouth wide—far wider than should have been possible—and swallowed three skeletons whole. Alastair nearly retched when he spotted them moving inside the Asmodeus’ throat. Then it bit down and all went still.

“This is your Summon?” Alastair asked as the demon shoved undead monsters down its throat. “I was expecting something a little friendlier.”

“Asmodeus is awesome.”

“THANKS.”

The demon’s laugh was chilling—like bones breaking or a chainsaw against marble. Alastair shuddered. He’d be fine if he never saw this thing again.

Finally, it was all over. Asmodeus slurped down the last of the undead attackers and turned to face its Summoner, shadowy tongue hanging out of its mouth like a dog.

“THAT WAS FUN. THERE’S MORE FOR EAT?”

“No,” Eloise said. “We’re done.”

“LOTS OF HOOMANS RUNNING WITH ROCK AND STICK. LOOK YUMMIES.”

“We’re done, Asmodeus. Begone.”