Page 4 of Bonds of Blood
My mother tutted. “Oh, Lochlann. If only your father were here. He might have one or two ideas about what to do. No offense meant, Dr. Fang, headmasters. He was just a man of — well — let’s just say that he had peculiar means and methods.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her, gazing at her profile. How much about my father did she really remember?
And then there it was in the air, this odd, tingling feeling of excitement, fear, and exhilaration mixed all together at once. It was stranger still because I knew those emotions weren’t my own. Yet they invaded a particular corner of my mind, one that I knew was attuned to my very flighty and sometimes emotionally volatile familiar.
I straightened up in my seat, frowning at nothing. “Headmasters, Dr. Fang? I’m sorry, but are we done here? It feels like Satchel needs me for whatever reason. Or at least he really, really wants to tell me something.”
Dr. Fang turned to the others for approval. All the headmasters nodded. Cornelius spoke up first.
“But of course, Mr. Wilde. I believe we’ve discussed everything on our agenda. Thank you for your time, you and Marina both.”
I gave a slight bow of my head and patted my mom on the shoulder, pressing a quick kiss against her hair. She smelled like the sea — a bit unusual because of all the talk of her home lake. But maybe that was just how undines were built.
Speaking of how undines were built, I still really needed to pee. I headed straight to the door, a burning sense of anxiety in my stomach. Was that the pee, or Satchel’s external influence? No sooner had my hand touched the knob did I hear the thumping of tiny fists outside the door.
I turned the knob and pulled it open. “Satchel,” I hissed under my breath. “This place is enchanted so you can’t zip through, and for good reason. You knew that this was an important meeting, and it’s very rude to — ”
“Listen to me, Locke,” he squeaked, flying straight into my face. His tiny hands grabbed at my cheeks. “It’s him. He’s back.”
Five chairs scraped against the stone floor as the others in the meeting chamber sprang to their feet. My mouth hung open, my entire body freezing for far too many moments. With tears in his eyes, his emotions a tornado of joy and terror, Satchel spoke again.
“It’s him, Locke. Grand Summoner Baylor is back.”
3
Words could not describethe flurry of activity that followed the announcement of my father’s return. And yet that would be my one and only job, to tell you things as they happened.
It was as though someone else had taken over my body, my feet carrying me automatically out of the secret meeting chamber. My footfalls were sluggish, like my boots had turned into iron. Half of me was dragging, slowing me down, even as the other half was excited to see the truth in the flesh.
But was it excitement to begin with? Wasn’t it anger, this long-held desire of mine to demand an explanation for his disappearance, to find out where he’d been all these years? Why he abandoned me at the Wispwood, why he lied about Mom’s death. Why he hid her in the well and never bothered telling me.
I knew she wasn’t far behind, either. I checked over my shoulder, throwing glances down the corridor. Satchel fluttered by my ear, chattering excitedly to me, to himself, but mostly hyperventilating. Mom clearly didn’t feel as the two of us did, her face filled with nothing but earnest excitement.
She hurried down the corridor so quickly that she was close to overtaking me. Dr. Euclidea chased after her, clickety-clacking in her high heels, breathily shouting something about how Mom needed to take it easy. Headmaster Butterworth was quite the sight, lifting his robes like a woman might gather her skirts as she raced through the hundred rooms of her countryside manor, rushing to meet her husband returned from the war.
I wished I had more than a moment to internalize the absolute coolness of seeing both Headmaster Shivers and Headmaster Belladonna actually flying down the hallway. Shivers drifted through the air, riding on the subtlest current of wind as if they were nothing but a wisp of fog, because they were. And Belladonna quite literally defied the laws of physics, propelling herself through sheer willpower, reminding the world around her that she was in charge.
Sylvain met up with me somewhere on the way down the steps to the courtyard, the two of us almost colliding. He reached out and grabbed my hand, easily keeping pace, the pair of us thundering down the stairs.
“Is it true, Lochlann?” he asked. “The whole castle is afire with activity. Word has spread. Is it true?”
I licked my lips, shaking my head at him as I ran. “I don’t know,” I breathed. “I don’t know at all.”
But it was Satchel who’d delivered the news to me. Who else but a familiar could correctly detect the presence of his former master? Every mage’s soul had its own arcane signature, something that a magically perceptive person like Satchel could easily see. Even the rest of the academy had swirled and buzzed into life, students and faculty alike hurrying through the halls, heading down to the courtyard.
My heart raced as I took the first few steps down the last flight of stairs, a little prayer in my heart that I wouldn’t stumble face-first, crack my head open on the floor below. Good thing Sylvain was there to support me, truly in every sense of the word.
I screeched to a halt, gasping for breath. The courtyard continued to fill with the sounds of boot soles hitting the stone tiles, with the relentless chatter of gossipy, rubbernecking students. But who could blame them? There he stood by the Wispwell, a man once known only as myth, a living legend. Handsome, vital, solid as stone itself. Baylor Wilde gripped the edge of the well, staring into its waters.
Satchel hovered by my ear, as silent and unspeaking as me, only something like whimpering coming from the back of his throat. My mother pushed past us, running straight toward the Wispwell.
“Baylor,” she shouted. “It’s really you.”
My father turned away from the waters, his mouth agog as his eyes met hers.
“Gods above and below,” he said, in the same strong baritone that I remembered. “It’s you. You’ve left the waters at last.”
She fell into his arms sobbing. He closed them around her, huge hands stroking her back, wrapping her in a tight embrace. His eyes fell to the ground as he savored the contact, and then they lifted to meet mine.
