Nat shakes her head. “My mom said the family is fearing the worst—no one has heard a word about her, not from the authorities. They seem to have lost her records. Mom wants to visit them, but she’s too scared to go. With the police and military in the city, she doesn’t want to make waves.”
“Given the circumstances,” Trello continues, “and out of an abundance of caution, we thought it best to tighten our security—at least for the time being. We’re asking all students and faculty to limit travel through the portals to a minimum, and be prepared for additional security precautions coming and going. First years, this is a reminder that you are not to travel off-campus without an escort. Any attempt to do so will result in disciplinary action and additional restrictions.”
“Talk about militarizing,” Isla grumbles.
“We’ve also brought in three additional team members to help with the investigation and to ensure your continued safety.” At this, she motions to her right. From behind the wall, two men and a woman emerge onto the stage, all dressed professionally in dark suits and light-colored shirts, some kind of ID badges clipped to their lapels.
“These fine folks are from the Association for the Preservation of Occult Artifacts. I’ll let them tell you a bit more about their role here.”
“APOA?” Nat whispers. “Why would she bring those guys in?”
“No idea,” I say. “Maybe just to fill in for Phaines at the library?” A sliver of panic edges into my gut. Did Trello tell them about the Arcana artifacts? Can we trust them?
“Good morning,” the first man says in a clipped British accent. He looks to be close to retirement age, with deep lines in his face and eyes that say he’s seen someshitin his day. “I’m William Eastman. I realize many of you are under the assumption that APOA is nothing more than a bunch of stodgy old librarians living in the past, but I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. In recent years, APOA has come to encompass a great many divisions, all tasked with protecting magick and serving those who wield it, both inside and outside our revered magickal institutions. My colleagues and I are from the field division tasked with investigating magickal crimes.”
The second man steps to the podium, nervously flicking his badge.
“I’m James Quintana,” he says. American, by the accent. “I… don’t do speeches.” A few people chuckle at that, and the man loosens up. “But Idoprotect witches and mages. That’s my job here. So… right. Thank you.”
He steps aside to make way for the last APOA agent, a woman who introduces herself as Casey Appleton. She sounds American, too, and something about her energy feels familiar, but I don’t remember ever seeing her before.
“Thank you for inviting us here,” she says. “These are difficult times for everyone, APOA agents included. Some of us have friends and family attending the Academy. Others are graduates. All of us have faced adversity, and all of us have come through it, just as we will again now.
“I realize having security on campus may feel intrusive—that’s not our intention. We don’t want to limit your freedoms or put you under the microscope, but wedoneed you to be vigilant—now more than ever. Please help us do our jobs. If you see anything out of the ordinary, any new faces on campus other than the people you've seen up here today, any unfamiliar magick, anything that pings your intuition as even the slightest bit off, please tell one of us. In the meantime, we will do our best to keep the disruption to your lives at a minimum and to wrap up our investigation as quickly as possible.”
The curious murmurs turn into groans as students begin to speculate just how intrusive and disruptive this “quick” investigation is going to become.
“Students, please,” Trello says, reclaiming the mic. “As I’ve explained, this is for your own safety out of an abundance of caution. Our goal is to return everything to normal as soon as possible. But we cannot do that until Professor Phaines has been captured and we’re certain no additional threats remain. Now, are there any questions?”
Someone in the front row a few seats down from us stands up and says, “Is the stuff with Professor Phaines related to the attacks going on outside?”
Casey Appleton takes this one. “At this point, we have no reason to believe the two are connected, but given the dangers of both situations, we are exercising extreme caution and investigating all possibilities.”
“How can they say it’s not related?” Isla whispers. “It has to be.”
Yeah, no shit.Appleton is definitely hedging. I can feel her evasive energy from here.
There's another question from somewhere behind us. “What happened to the student Phaines attacked? Are they okay?”
Trello finds my eyes across the room, but there’s no emotion behind them—not even the tiniest flicker of warmth or compassion. “The student is recovering from the injuries, will still be attending classes, and I'm sure appreciates your thoughts and healing energy.”
“Do we still have to go to class?” This from the back wall—a voice I recognize. One that sends shivers up my spine.
Baz.
Most of the students snicker—a little levity to break up the intensity. Unfortunately, Trello doesn’t see the humor in Baz’s question.
“Not only do you have to attend class, Mr. Redgrave,” she says, “but you'll find your classes more intense and rigorous than ever before. This situation is a stark reminder of just how crucial it is for all witches and mages to take their studies seriously and learn to harness and control magick. This is not a laughing matter, but one of life and death. Not just because of what happened with Professor Phaines. I don't think any of us will soon forget what we saw on television last month.”
“So much for the ‘abundance of caution’ stuff,” Nat whispers. “Look at her. She’s fucking terrified.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Nat’s totally right. Trello may be projecting her usual detached authority, but she’s practically white-knuckling that podium, and when I tune into her energy, I find subtle waves of fear and uncertainty.
“Professors and other Academy staff will be meeting one-on-one with APOA agents to share anything relevant to the investigation,” she continues. “Again, this is more out of an abundance of caution than anything else. We all want to bring the matter of Professor Phaines to a swift conclusion and ensure nothing like this happens again.”
Ensure nothing like this happens again? Has she learned nothing from the prophecies, from the last several years of vicious crimes against our kind? Professor Phaines, the setups and attacks going on outside… It’s all just beginning.
I press my lips together, biting back my frustration. I understand Trello doesn't want to cause mass panic, but she owes us a reality check here. Instead, she’s glossing over the scary parts, hiding under the blankets, and hoping for the best.
