Fire Games

Chapter One: Why Naples?

Gage thanked the Deliveroo driver and took the two paper bags containing our order, then stepped back as the scooter took off. It sprayed stones in its attempt to gain enough momentum to tackle the Academy’s steep driveway. I took a bag and fell in step with Gage as we passed under the arch and headed around to the stone tables at the back of the villa.

Dr. Price stood a short distance away on the lawn, murmuring into her mobile. She glanced up as we set the food on the table and began to unpack takeout boxes. Her eyes rolled heavenward and she mouthed, “Thank God.”

It was only mediocre Chinese food from the nearest restaurant, but given that Palmer and her kitchen staff had left for the summer, so it was delivery or opening a few tins of beans, it smelled like heaven.

Dr. Price said goodbye and came to sit across from Gage, watching as I spooned fried rice and chicken balls onto three plates.

“Basil is dealing with the funeral director and lawyers today.” Christy swallowed audibly as I doled out three servings of greasy green beans.

Gage set out the cutlery we’d taken from the kitchen. “Isn’t there anyone else who can do that? He just lost his father, for crying out loud.”

“Unfortunately, making funeral arrangements and dealing with lawyers falls on the shoulders of the grieving. It’s not fair, I know.” Christy replied.

I slid a plate of food in front of her and sat down beside Gage on the bench. Mouth watering, I speared a chicken ball and dipped it in some neon-pink goo that smelled a lot like cotton candy. I almost took a bite but paused, deep fried poultry-ball held in mid-air, as I noticed Gage showing exactly zero interest in the food. I glanced at Christy, then took the bite.

“Aren’t you hungry?” the doctor asked Gage before shoveling in a mouthful of egg-fried rice.

Gage threw a glance at his plate, frowning. “I don’t have any appetite, thanks.”

Swallowing, I chased it with a bit of water. “Christy got her SUV back and she’s not going to press charges. Is that what you’re worried about?”

It had been two days since Ryan had vanished with Dr. Price’s vehicle. The police had found it the following morning at Luton airport. Inquiries with airport authorities uncovered that Ryan had purchased a one-way ticket on the red-eye to NAP—Naples International airport.

The Arcturus students (except for me, Gage and Cecily) and most of the staff had gone home yesterday. Cecily was visiting a friend in London while her mom helped Basil and would return to the academy by train when Dr. Price was ready to go home to Inverness.

Mrs. Fairchild was currently—with an army of a dozen seasonal staff—giving every corner of the academy a thorough spring cleaning before she left for summer vacation. When they were finished, only Dr. Price, me and Gage, would be here when Basil returned. At least the villa would be gleaming when he came back.

I had called my parents and delayed my flight by five days. I didn’t feel right leaving Basil, Christy, and Gage after what had happened, but I couldn’t hang around the villa all spring. I felt some level of responsibility for what Ryan did, even though it had nothing to do with me.

“I’m grateful,” Gage was saying to Christy. “If you don’t press charges then he’ll be able to return to the UK without problems. I just wish I knew what the hell he was thinking, and what he’s going to do next. Why won’t he answer my calls? I know he can see my texts.”

“Have your parents tried calling him?” Dr. Price asked between mouthfuls.

“Of course, they have. They’re ready to get on the next flight out of Halifax. But showing up in Naples without knowing where he’s staying would be useless. We could arrive just as he’s leaving. I never would have thought my own twin—” He looked away and cleared his throat.

An awkward silence descended over our table. I put my fork down, swallowing food that suddenly tasted like ashes. I hated seeing Gage so fraught, and wanted to throttle Ryan for putting his family through this. Was I surprised? Not in the least. Especially not now that Ryan was Burned. Surely, his descent into thoughtless egotism had begun, though it was hard to tell if he was any worse. Ryan had been self-serving since the day I’d met him, but it didn’t make the current circumstances any easier.

I noticed that Dr. Price had stopped eating as well, and was now gazing off into oblivion with a frozen stare.

“Was it Basil’s father the triplets got their fire from?” I asked, as much from curiosity as wanting to break the tension and distract Gage from his misery.

Dr. Price’s focus returned. She looked at me, brow pinched in the bright afternoon light of an English spring. “Yes, Viscount Chaplin was the mage. Basil’s mother was a natural. She died not long after Bellamy was killed.”

The mention of Basil’s murdered triplet seemed to suck the remaining oxygen out of the air. So much for distracting from misery.

So Basil was an orphan now, if an adult could be considered an orphan, estranged from the other surviving triplet, and at only fifty years of age. At one time in my life, fifty seemed so old, certainly old enough to be without one’s parents. But my perspective had changed. No one was ever ready to lose a beloved parent, no matter how old they were, and Basil had been close to his dad.

Gage rooted his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. Probably typing out his hundredth pleading text to Ryan. He muttered, “Why Naples?”

Christy and I shared a look. Gage had murmured the question so softly it was obvious he didn’t expect either of us to have an answer. We did have an answer, or at least a pretty strong theory, which neither of us had dared mention to Gage yet.

“Gage, dear,” Christy began, her words halting. “Ryan is a newly Burned mage, he’ll be looking for a mentor. Saxony was only one factor in his survival. Ryan wasn’t taking chances. We think he contacted a … somewhat infamous Burned mage who resides in Naples, according to the Agency’s latest intelligence.”

Gage turned a stare toward the doctor. His cheeks were pale under two days’ worth of stubble. “What?”

Gage looked at me. When he saw my expression, he could tell that I was also in the know. He pushed his plate of cold Chinese food away and nailed me with another look.

“You knew about this, too?”

I wilted under his gaze, but nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? I’ve been going out of my mind—”

“That’s why,” I explained. “It’s just a theory, and it’s not good news.”

“Basil alerted Arcturus Agency of Ryan’s movements.” Dr. Price laid a hand on Gage’s forearm. “When they get eyes on Ryan, you and your parents will be the first to know.”

Gage dropped his head and laced his fingers behind his neck. After a few deep breaths, he loosened his hands and looked up. “Who is the mage in Naples?”

“His name is Nero Palumbo,” Christy replied, letting the name sink in.

Gage’s expression shifted. My stomach dropped as dismay filled his blue eyes. He wiped a hand across his pale lips. “I recognize the name. I haven’t heard it since I was little, but—” he paused, thinking. “He’s the guy who murdered Basil’s brother, isn’t he?”

Dr. Price nodded, looking miserable.

Gage was horrified. “Why would Ryan go to him?”

My chest ached. Gage was ever the tender heart, a little naive, always kind. How many times had Ryan disappointed him in their lifetime? How many times would Gage forgive? I already knew the answer because I knew Gage. His forgiveness was endless because his love was unconditional. It was something I admired, maybe even aspired to, but thought I would never achieve.

In calm tones, Christy explained to Gage how Basil’s report about what had happened back in 1988 between the triplets and Nero had been ‘borrowed’ by Ryan. The report detailed Nero’s claim that he’d found a formula, one that Basil believed was a fabrication, but—as written—might convince a reader it was factual. Ryan had reached out to Nero and made some kind of agreement with him in exchange for the formula.

I added my speculation that Ryan had promised Nero the artifact, and had gone to Naples to make good on his promise.

“He might even be back in a day or two,” I suggested, wanting to wipe the misery from Gage’s features.

Gage’s phone vibrated on the stone table. He fumbled for it with both hands, almost dropping it as he swiveled away from Christy and me.

“It’s Ryan,” he said, the muscles in his shoulders and back visibly tight.

Christy and I waited, watching Gage as he read the text. When he turned around, the relief in his face made us look at one another with hope.

“He’s okay.” Gage turned back to the table, tapping out a response. He hit send, closed his eyes and breathed, holding his phone close to his chest. Opening his eyes, he smiled at me. The blazing white grin almost knocked me backward. My heart surged against my ribs in response.

“What did he say?” I asked, dazed.

“He’s still in Naples. He says,” Gage lifted the phone and read aloud, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I haven’t been sure what to say. I am okay. I’m in Naples. I’m safe. Forgive me for embarrassing you, and tell Dr. Price I’m sorry for stealing her SUV. Tell her the brakes are a little warped and the alignment needs adjusting but it wasn’t me that wrecked either.” Gage chuckled and I could hear lightness in his laugh.

Christy rolled her eyes and shook her head. She began to eat again.

“I asked him if I could meet him in Naples,” Gage continued, “but he said: When my business here is finished, I’ll come find you, brother.”

Gage gave me a look of unadulterated relief. “I think you’re right, Saxony. He’s gone to give the relic to Nero. He’ll be back. At least now I know he’s okay and that I’ll see him soon.”

Ice-chips formed along the lining of my stomach. Why was it that no one else seemed concerned that Ryan would be delivering an artifact of some unknown power to a murderous Burned mage? Surely Basil had warned the Agency that the artifact had to be intercepted. With all my heart, I wished that Basil were here.

Gage pulled his plate toward himself, grabbed a fork and dug in.

“That’s cold by now,” said Christy.

Gage took a bite and shrugged. “Still good.”

Pushing my plate away, I massaged my temples with my fingers. Now I was the one without an appetite.

 

Chapter Two: The Imposition

 Gage and I stood on the second floor with our elbows on the banister, overlooking the foyer. The chandelier’s lights were out, leaving a few sconces and lamps to light the large, marble-floored expanse. Both fireplaces were dark and the plush furniture were mere silhouettes against the Turkish carpets and I couldn’t quite see the old-fashioned phone box. A lazy spring rain drizzled against the diamond-paned windows, sending cascades of water down the glass and a slur of mesmerizing shadows along the floors and walls.

Gage threaded his fingers together. “I always liked this old building. But I have to admit it’s downright creepy with no one but us running around and only half the lights on.”

Propping a chin in my hand, I partially agreed. “Creepy, sure. But also peaceful. If Basil’s father had to die, the end of the semester was the best time to do it. Imagine him trying to run exams while grieving.”

“Dr. Price would have taken over, kind of like now, except there’s no classes to oversee.” He straightened and cocked his head. “Listen.”

My ears perked but all I could hear was the soft patter of rain on the windows and the gravel outside. There wasn’t even any wind. I was about to say that I couldn’t hear anything when two car doors slammed, one right after the other.

We shared a wondering look.

“Christy said Basil wouldn’t be back until Thursday.”

“Maybe it’s not Basil.” I looked toward the big double doors. “Besides, I think he’d come in through the back. Whoever it is parked in the front, like they’re not planning to stay long.”

Foot falls and the murmur of a man’s voice and a woman’s voice preceded the double doors being flung open wide. The woman came in first. The man, who was at least a foot shorter than her, stumbled in holding a brolly over her head until she was well out of range of any moisture. The large black umbrella was snapped closed, shaken off outside, then propped in the umbrella holder around the corner from the phone-box.

The woman wore a black wide-brimmed hat, black gloves, and a raspberry colored trenchcoat I was certain was a very expensive Burberry. She swept the hat off in one smooth gesture, looking around with a self-satisfied sigh. Shoulder length auburn curls coiffed in a neat forties-like do lay against her shoulders. Without looking at the man—a rotund, balding, but well-dressed fellow with a close-cropped ring of silver hair—she handed him her hat. He found a home for it on one of the many brass hooks lining the paneling.

I was about to greet them when Gage’s hand closed around my bicep. He put a finger to his lips and jerked his head toward them; a ‘just listen’ gesture.

Neither of them called out to let whoever might be nearby know of their presence. The woman tugged off her gloves, gazing around the room in obvious pleasure, and handed them to the man as well. Taking those, he set them on a nearby side-table, a table she could have easily reached herself.

Working at the belt of her Burberry, she shrugged gracefully out of her coat. The man appeared at her back to take it, finding a home for that too, on the hooks beside his own coat. It was like watching a doting husband and spoiled wife arrive home after a long vacation.

A glance at Gage revealed that he was as bemused as I was, only he was holding back a laugh. I didn’t feel so much humor as annoyance. Unless they made themselves known, and soon, they were trespassing.

The woman smoothed the wrinkles out of her snug-fitting purple dress; a knee-length frock with three-quarter sleeves and a bow at the throat.

“Let’s begin.” She didn’t look at the man as she gave this command. Her voice was so soft it was barely above a whisper. She sounded like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. It was so fake that the hair on the back of my neck lifted.

The man produced a small notebook from an inner pocket of his sports coat, followed by a pen. “Here, madam? In the foyer?”

“Why not?” Her black patent leather pumps clicked against the marble, then went quiet as she passed onto carpet. Moving with the turnout and posture of a dancer, she walked slowly through the furniture to reach the fireplace.

She gestured to the Arcturus logo set in the mantel, a delicate ‘A’ in the middle of an ornate crest. “These will have to go. When you send Christopher through, be sure to have him count them and note every location.”

“Yes, madam. I won’t place an order until we have a complete inventory and measurements.” The man drifted along behind a sofa, scribbling furiously.

So far, neither of them had looked up. The compulsion to yell at them was strong, but Gage’s hand on my arm kept me silent. Annoyance transitioned smoothly into alarm as she addressed the crests and fixtures.

“This furniture is hideous. Old, moth-eaten, and ugly. We’ll replace all of it.” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate she meant everything in the entire room.

“Yes madam.”

Gage and I exchanged another wide-eyed look. The furniture was old, sure, but it was antique and well cared for. It went perfectly in the lobby. Getting rid of it seemed a crazy idea, and replacing it all would cost a lot of money.

The woman moved toward the exit leading to Victory Hall and paused there, looking into the corridor where the cases of academic memorabilia were on display behind glass.

“Ah, yes.” Her feminine voice drifted up to us, turning derisive as she continued. “Victory Hall. What a shame.”

She disappeared from view as she passed through the archway, her footfalls echoing once more on marble.

Gage and I moved as one. Leaving the balcony, we ran silently through the corridor toward the stairwell leading down to the ground floor at the other end of Victory Hall, keeping to the carpet runner. At the top of the stairs, we descended like shadows to the landing. The woman’s voice drifted through the cavernous Victory Hall, increasing in volume as she closed the gap between us.

“All these years of teaching,” she clucked, “wasted on an inferior syllabus. Accomplishments. Top Marks. Achievements.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Madam?” Her minion was a little impatient to get on with it.

“All of this goes in the trash, not the least of which is this hideous thing. Ugh.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth. Judging from how far away her voice was, I knew exactly which ‘hideous thing’ she was assigning to the trash heap. The beautiful onyx sculpture of the male and female magi, the Top Marks trophy. Basil must have spent a fortune on it.

I made to take the rest of the stairs down, steam whistling from my ears, but Gage’s arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me back against him and whispered, “Wait.”

Anger kindled, my mind began to spin like a top. She came in like she owned the place and clearly had plans. By the time she was through, it sounded like there would be no Arcturus left.

“Might it not be best to keep these things for posterity, madam?” The man asked in a placating tone. “History has always been important to you, and while the way things have worked out might be ah, an unpleasant thorn for madam, erasing the history of the building might be something you’ll regret. Down the road.”

Silence.

I couldn’t see her face and wondered if she were going to blow up on him. She struck me as the volatile type. But her answer was calm.

“Perhaps you are right, Mr. Bunting. Thank you for being the voice of reason during these times of transition.”

Her voice was full of emotion, pure pageantry. I cocked my head, wondering if she was crying. She sniffled. My stomach clenched with nausea. She sounded as genuine as a Louis Vuitton bag purchased from a street vendor in Istanbul. Dislike for the woman burned at the back of my throat.

Gage’s arm released me at the sound of her lament and I didn’t let the opportunity slide. He didn’t stop me from taking the rest of the stairs down into Victory Hall.

I rounded the corner and stopped at the end of the trophy cases. “Shame on you.”

The woman—who had had her back to my end of the hall—whirled and lifted a hand to her mouth. Her auburn hair bounced against her neck and shoulders. “Goodness!”

Her minion—standing behind her—poked his head from beyond his madam, adjusting his glasses for a better look.

“Headmaster Chaplin isn’t here right now.” I crossed my arms and sat into a hip. “Don’t you know it’s rude to come into a private estate unannounced? You’re trespassing.”

Unabashed at my admonition, the woman lowered her hand. Her eyes gleamed with fire and curiosity but her tone was sweet. “Who are you, dear?”

The kindness in her voice took me off-guard, this time it sounded genuine.

“I’m Saxony, a student here. Who are you?”

The man provided the answer. “You’re speaking to the Viscountess Barbara Chaplin.”

My anger deflated like a pricked balloon and I felt like smacking my forehead. I should have known. Basil had told me that her moral values had deteriorated after her Burning—enough for him to believe that the Burning process really did pose a danger for some mages—but she was still family. Nothing would change that.

A tumult of emotions crashed through me. Maybe she did have the right to come into the villa unannounced. Surely though, the changes these two were discussing weren’t at Basil’s permission. Of course they could have had a conversation I wasn’t aware of. I hadn’t spoken directly to Basil, not that I expected that Basil should share private family business with me. Still, it was weird. Gage and I were students here, and Basil and Christy knew we were here. If there were going to be big changes coming up, surely we might have been given some kind of notice? Then again, grief did different things to different people and Basil had been unusually absent-minded lately.

Her voice penetrated my fog.

“I see you’ve heard of me.” She seemed pleased. I noted she had a hand on the forearm of Mr. Bunting, as if to prevent him from speaking.

“You’re Basil’s twin, one of a set of triplets.” The words were just out and I second guessed them, following them up with an awkward, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Her eyes widened, but not unpleasantly so. “Thank you, but I’m surprised to hear my darling brother shared such a personal event with a student.”

I didn’t know what to say; I wasn’t about to blurt out that I was Burned. She could guess that from my voice if she was astute, which I was certain she was. The reason for her put-on Marilyn voice struck me then. Babs was also Burned. She was trying to cover up the sound of it.

She approached, walking casually. Her eyes flicked once to my left as Gage joined me.

“Two of you,” she said, still closing the gap between us. “How many students remain here, though school is out for the summer?”

“Just us. We’re here to support Basil.”

“And you call him by his first name.” She was close enough now that another step and she’d be able to offer a handshake, but she stopped there. Mr. Bunting had shadowed her down the hall and stopped just behind her, still looking out from behind her like he was afraid of us.

“Basil is my godfather,” said Gage. “I’m Gage.”

“Ah, you’re one of the twins!” She threw her hands up then pressed her palms together, seemingly delighted. “Of course, you wouldn’t know me. But I did meet your handsome father once. Chad Wendig, right?”

Gage nodded.

“And you?” Her eyes—hazel, I saw, now that she was close enough—fell on me. “Why do you call him Basil?”

Prickling with discomfort, I clasped my hands behind me. It was difficult to break the habits of a well-behaved student who had always respected authority figures, or even just adults who acted like they had authority.

“He told me to,” I replied.

“Then you must both call me Babs.” She reached out a hand for a shake, suddenly and rather aggressively. I fought the urge to cringe away from her.

This was a pivotal moment. Shaking her hand meant skin on skin contact, which meant the question of whether we were bonded or not would be answered. And how might that change things? She was Basil’s sister, and I was bonded with Basil. Ryan and Gage were twins. Basil and Babs were two of a set of triplets. The odds were good, weren’t they? I reached out, fully expecting a flare of heat to pass between us.

Our eyes glued meaningfully to each other’s as we received our answer. No bond.

I worked to hide my surprise. Her expression fell, just a little, as she let go of my hand and shook with Gage. She released him and took a step back. I thought I could guess from her face that she didn’t share a bond with Gage, either.

“Sorry about your dad,” Gage said.

I also murmured a condolence, embarrassed I’d addressed her long-dead brother and not her recently deceased father.

“Thank you.” Babs brushed at her cheek in a delicate motion. “He was a good man. No doubt you’re wondering how it is that I’ve come to be wandering these halls, discussing the changing of the drapes, as it were.”

“Perhaps it would be best to wait until after the signing—” Mr. Bunting began.

“Nonsense.” She cut him off with a wave. “These are academy students. The fate of Arcturus affects them, I’ll not keep them in the dark.” She clasped her hands. “My father’s will has been released. My dear brother and I are to inherit the estate fifty-fifty. It was our father’s wish that we run the school together. So you see, I have every right to be here. For too long my meek and timid brother has hobbled the fates of young mages. I am here to change that. I am here to push you to your maximum, to improve the syllabus, to open the doors to heights Arcturus students could never achieve in their wildest dreams under Basil.”

My skin marbled with goosebumps of horror as her tone hardened. This woman seemed as changeable as the wind, and she wasn’t finished.

“Arcturus Academy will become Firethorne Collegiate. My students will migrate here in the new school year, doubling the student population and putting these marvelous facilities to real use.”

“What about Headmaster Chaplin?” I rasped as I took a step back and bumped against Gage, who took my hand.

“He’ll be my second, of course. He has some value in certain subjects. Now, run along home. It’s nice that you’re here to support my brother in his grief, but you’re no longer needed. I’m here now. We’ll see you in September.”

She turned away and began to discuss the changing of stained-glass windows which lined Victory Hall. Not all of them. Just the ones with the Arcturus crest in the center.

***Bonus***

He released me and rolled onto his back, flexing both hands like he couldn’t feel his fingers. Sucking in air, his chest rose and fell. His lips were kiss-bruised and his cheeks were flushed a bright pink, like he’d been slapped several times. Spots of red dotted his neck and forehead.

I lay beside him, gasping. I put a hand over my heart and one to my lips, where I couldn’t feel the touch of my own skin. Sweat coated our foreheads. We shared a look of dismay.

“Do you ever get the feeling that our fire doesn’t want us to be together?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Not until today.” He wiped a hand along his forehead and frowned, perplexed at the amount of sweat that had gathered since our little makeout session had begun. He tugged the neck of his t-shirt up over his face to mop up the moisture.

Thinking that was a good idea, I did the same. When I tugged my tank top back into place and looked down, a dark stain marked my shirt.

He came up to sitting. Some of his blush had begun to fade. “Your face is so red. Are your lips numb?”

I nodded and sat up, facing him. “I can’t feel my tongue either.”

“Same here.” His voice broke.

All of a sudden I wanted to cry. My breath hitched and I felt my lower lip tremble. I ran a hand over my face to hide my feelings, brushing away at the moisture in my eyes. It was silly, but… Then, it hit me like a wrecking ball, taking my breath away. I was in love with Gage. Truly, madly.

He was one of the kindest, most loving people I’d ever met. The selfless, unconditional love for Ryan which made me want to throttle him, also made me love him even more. I wanted to be loved like that: blindly, unconditionally, completely. I wanted to be closer to Gage than I’d ever been to anyone else. I was ready to give him all of me. The thought of being with him, of feeling his ardor rise to meet mine sent a wash of desire through me so powerful it left my hands shaking.

So why did our fire sound the equivalent of an alarm whenever we got physical? It was like our fires had their own consciousness and they didn’t want us to be together. Which was crazy, wasn’t it?

Initial contact between Gage and me was so wonderful. It lit every nerve ending with a sparkler, made me yearn to have him under my hands and to be under his. But once we passed first-base, things started to get uncomfortably warm, then unbearably hot. Strange for a fire mage–who could stand inside a blast furnace without any discomfort at all–to feel overheated.

We looked at one another as our breathing slowly returned to normal. He didn’t smile, and I couldn’t either.

What might at first blush seem novel and exciting, was revealing itself to be a serious problem.