Page 6 of Heir of Autumn
I looked to Sylvain for confirmation, then to Satchel. We were all on the same page, then.
“Ladies?” I said, voice steely with conviction, my body humming with heroism. “Consider it done.”
3
Dr. Euclidea Fang’sfingers tightened around fistfuls of my shirt. She slammed me against the door once more for good measure. The doorframe clattered. I cried out. I’d never seen her so angry.
“Why, Lochlann? Why didn’t you take your blasted phone with you?”
“I wasn’t thinking, Doc, I promise!”
“A portal opens up in the floor in front of you, and instead of taking the pocket-sized device that can help you document everything with photos and videos, you leave it idling inside your backpack. How many times have I yelled at you for texting in class?”
“Too many,” I whimpered.
“And yet this one time when it mattered, you untethered yourself from your tiny idiot box?”
I flinched, convinced that Dr. Fang was about to unhinge her jaw and bite my head clean off. “Please, Doc. This is super unprofessional. Is this any way for a professor to treat a student?”
“You’re not my student anymore, remember?” She bared her teeth, bending so close I could smell the mint on her breath. “You’re just some guy who lives in the castle. I should skin you right now and turn you into a trench coat. Use the leftovers for a pair of shoes.”
Sylvain yawned. “Honestly, the one time he forgets.” He examined his nails from the safety of an armchair, legs crossed, chin in his hand. “He goes in the lavatory with that thing, you know? Probably watches his pornographic movie-films on it while he’s in there.”
“Sylvain!” I snarled. “It’s your fault I forgot all my stuff in the first place.”
Dr. Fang’s expression somehow darkened even further. “Don’t blame your eidolon for your failings, summoner. How many times have I — gods, never mind.”
She released me and stepped away, heels clicking as she sloped back toward her desk. I smoothed down the wrinkles in my tunic, gathering myself, defraying my nerves.
“Hey, it’s not all that bad, Doc. They asked us for a favor, which means we’ll see them when we finish the job. We’ll see the unicorn sisters again for sure.”
Dr. Fang took her seat and rolled her eyes away from me. “Until then you’d be well advised to strap a camera to your forehead. If you miss another opportunity to take a picture of a living unicorn, Lochlann, I swear.”
Clearly I wasn’t the only summoner at the Wispwood who had strong feelings on unicorns. Very strong feelings, in fact. In a world already full of rare mystical creatures, they truly were rarer still. Since the encounter at the library, I’d racked my brains trying to think of any grand summoner who had ever contracted a unicorn for an eidolon.
I kept coming up empty. Sure, unicorns weren’t as physically imposing or intimidating as Grand Summoner Dorian’s dragons, or even Celestina’s army of angels. For a split second I considered the glory of contracting a unicorn as my eidolon. Definitely something to rub in Evander Skink’s face.
And then I quashed the image, knowing it was just that — a dream, a wish, a fantasy. Because unicorns really would make powerful allies in battle. They had their own mysterious forms of magic, casting spells to protect themselves from those who might seek to harm them, or worse, harvest their body parts.
Those who understood little of mythical creatures would underestimate their appearance as well. Lithe and graceful, yes, with manes like flowing rainbows. But those metallic hooves and horns weren’t just for show. A unicorn could easily kick a man to death, faster and more efficiently than your average horse. A unicorn could charge with her head lowered and stake a vampire in the heart, kill them on the spot.
Satchel piped up from Dr. Fang’s desk, gripping the edge as she peered over it on her side. Was he inspecting a drawer?
“Hey, Doc? Is this where you keep your sewing supplies? Mind if I swipe a couple of things?”
Dr. Fang’s mood changed instantly, a gentle smile replacing her terrifying expression. “Of course, Satchel. It’s very nice of you to ask, but you don’t have to. Help yourself, please.”
“Yay,” he sang out, diving off the desk and into the open drawer. From somewhere within, muffled, he called out again. “Thanks, Doc.” What in the world was that little scamp up to this time?
Dr. Fang looked up at me again, stern as ever, but at least this time it didn’t look like she was planning to turn me into fine leather goods.
“Remind me again why you’ve come to visit me today. Surely it wasn’t to torment me over your rendezvous with — gods, three unicorns, Lochlann? Really?”
I took the chair next to Sylvain, right across her desk, hurriedly changing the subject. “A briefing, or something like it, you said. We were going to talk about preparing for the Oriel of Water.”
“Oh. Right. That.” She took a deep breath, then a quick sip of her coffee, relaxing somewhat. “And have you visited the library for a water-breathing spell?”
“Well, you see, about that? We did find one, except Evander Skink swooped in like a vulture and took the spellbook first.” I congratulated myself for refraining from calling him a bastard, even though he deserved it.
