“Did Dani ever do or mention anything that seemed odd to you? Any spells she asked for your help with?” Max asked, keeping his voice light, though I could tell from the tightness in his shoulders that he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the man either.
Strauss arched an eyebrow. “It’s divine astrology; we don’t do spells. And here I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius.” He didn’t drop his smile, though it lacked any warmth.
Max halted. If there was anything he hated, it was condescension. There were so many times over the years when I’d wondered if academia was really not the place for him, and why he did it at all. If it was just for me.
Still, Max kept his expression carefully neutral, carefully friendly. “Ah.”
“Though there was a time, shortly after Danica first entered my classes as a freshman, when she seemed … distracted. Obsessed with finding a book of some sort—one of Magic, I assumed—though it seemed, after a few conversations, she determined I didn’t have it. I never heard any more of it, but several of her papers that first year had a fervent quality to them, some underlying obsession with arcana and the pursuit of knowledge. I admit much of it didn’t make sense, and she had to rewrite them.”
Nothing really out of the ordinary there; plenty of students came to this school looking for spellbooks. And there were plenty of them to be found, but the majority were fake, filled with junk spells. The real Magic texts, the old books that hadn’t all been destroyed in the Inquisition and book burnings, were few and far between. Whenever any were found, they were kept in a locked room until they were approved for study.*
The wooden floor creaked as we walked. I tried to see it all from Dani’s perspective, to imagine what it must have been like working up here. The observatory smelled like the dry, hazy air blowing across the mesas, tinged with smoke. Incense, maybe? I imagined I could spend a lot of time up here myself.
I ran my hand along the length of a telescope. “You don’t do spellwork because you divine Magic streams from the paths of the stars, like in the old days of astronomy.”
“Very good, Cella,” Strauss said, his voice liquid and deep. “Magic of the gods is what they called it. Though now, of course, we all know it’s not gods that are responsible for Magic. It’s a force in its own right, like the wind or tides. Many of my students’ objects lie outside of their reach. So we study. We look for the paths of the stars coming down, the threads of scattered Magic to find the best way we may channel those objects.”
That seemed to be the one constant of Magic—many hours of study. Magic was complicated. There were few people who truly understood the intricacies of it, and fewer still Magic books had survived the ages to shed light on the subject. It was a lifetime of study, thousands of hours of practice, of meditation, of finding the texts. That was why many students here, despite being at a Magic university, didn’t attempt much other than trivial spells. They weren’t willing to spend days sweating over a spell, practicing until their lips cracked and their voice went hoarse. Until their fingers bled from clutching their objects and their minds felt like jelly from concentrating for so long. They took their discipline: mathematics, physics, language, biology, and hoped that they’d pick up a few things in Magic, too, to help them along. Spells to keep their coffee warm, or to find lost car keys, or to jot down notes in class. They kept their objects near, but the more difficult spells, the complexities where Magic really shone, they mostly gave up on.
The only thing the students really needed to understand about Magic was that it was always there, hovering beneath the surface. Just like the ocean: you enter at your own peril, because it wouldn’t care one bit if you drowned in the process.
Strauss stepped toward me. “I had you in one of my classes, didn’t I? Phys 303.”
“Yes,” I said, blushing. I was surprised he remembered.
He tapped his temple. “Never forget a face. Especially yours. One would be remiss to forget the dimidium pair who took the world by storm.”
“For a time, at least.”
He considered me thoughtfully. “Sometimes the brightest candles burn the quickest.”
To my embarrassment, I found myself grinning like an idiot. The man frightened me, but there was something exciting, too, about his attention. As if by gaining it, you became somehow more significant in the world. I shook my head. It was a silly thought.
Max scuffed his boot against the ground, the cord bulging in his neck the only indication of a hitch in his pleasant demeanor. “What about her classmates? Were there any students Dani disliked or fought with? Anyone who had reason to hurt her?”
“These kids are applying to some of the most prestigious graduate programs in the country. MIT and Stanford only take a handful of PhD candidates a year. Joselyn, one of our seniors, was crushed after just narrowly missing a position at MIT. My students don’t have time to waste on grudges.”
“Uh huh. And these are spots they’re competing for?”
“They’re better suited to focus on their own applications.”
They both smiled with their teeth at each other, Strauss with his icy Scandinavian looks, Max with his golden tan and dimples. The two fought to keep up the friendly façade.
“Ah, come on. They’ve got to be competing.” Max shrugged innocently. “Only got so many spots, right?”
“In the strictest sense of the word, I suppose you could call it that,” Dr. Strauss admitted. “But I would never let anyone harass any of my students. At any rate, Dani kept to herself. She was kind, and well on her way to becoming a brilliant physicist, but reclusive. She was most at ease up here, working.”
“And what about you?Youhold any grudges against her?” asked Max.
I nearly spewed coffee down my shirt. His meaning certainly wasn’t lost on Dr. Strauss. I remembered what the girls on the hall and Grace had said.You can’t really ignore his reputation, can you?Strauss’s smile grew even wider, and I had the distinct impression of a wolf baring its teeth.
I quickly stepped between them. “You know, I think we’ve bothered you quite enough for today, sir.” I prodded Max out the door with my elbow. “We can’t thank you enough for your help.”
“Cella,” Dr. Strauss said, the light touch of his fingers stopping me before I made it into the hallway. My stomach swooped dangerously. “It wasn’t so long ago that you yourself were enveloped in rumors. I’d hate to think you’d let something so silly influence your opinion of me.”
I bit my lip. “Um. Yeah, of course,” I said. I couldn’t deny he had a point—how badly had I once wished someone would give me the benefit of the doubt? I nodded before disappearing into the hallway.
When I shut the door behind me, Max was there, leaning lazily against the wall. I shoved back my bangs. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
