He tries to speak, but I cut him off again.
“And while I fully acknowledge I’ve got a lot to learn on the magick front, and I shouldn’t take stupid risks like ditching my phone and heading off on a three-day solo backpacking trip, I’m not going to stay locked up in my room while you guys fight this battle yourselves. You need me.”
Doc offers a small smile, but it’s not enough to outweigh the doubt in his tone. “Your loyalty is honorable, but—”
“You think this is about loyalty? To what? Some made-up secret society and a bunch of ancient spell books? To the First Fool? To my dead parents? No, Doc. I’m doing this because I want to protect the peopleIcare about, just like you do. You want to try to take that from me? Be my guest. Then you’ll havetwowars on your hands, and you’re definitely going to lose this one.”
Doc stares at me for so long I worry I’ve given him that heart attack after all. I’m just about to check his pulse when he finally shakes his head, glances down at his watch, and says, “So what was it you wanted to chat about, aside from the vaguely stalkerish tendencies of yourelderlymental magicks professor?”
Laughter rises up inside me, and soon Doc is smiling again, too.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asks.
“Depends. Does this mean I’ve finally made my points?”
“All but one.” Doc leans in close, his hand finding its way to my shoulder again. In a teasing whisper, he says, “I’m not twice your age, Miss Milan. Not even close.”
“I’m twenty-three,” I remind him.
“I’m aware.”
“So you’re—”
“Running out of time before class starts.” He heads back to his desk, gesturing for me to follow. “Now tell me what’s on your mind. Is it too much to hope for good news?”
“Yes.”
“No sugar-coating, I see.”
“Truth in advertising. Remember?” I take the chair across from him again and unzip my backpack, fishing out the real reason for my visit.
“What in Goddess’s name is that?”
“Oh, just a little barbecued bush, courtesy of our dark-side Arcana counterparts.” I hand over the Ziplock bag containing the charred evidence. It looks even worse now, dried and desiccated, the blood-red berries crusted with ash. “I brought it back last night.”
“From where?”
“My nightmares.”
Nine
STEVIE
Doc listens attentively, his flint-gray eyes never leaving mine as I tell him about the dream battle, the charioteer, the fires, the injuries, all of it.
“I was healed by the time I got out of the shower,” I say, “but there was still blood and dirt all over the floor and bedding. That’s how I knew I didn’t imagine it. Well, that and the holly.”
“No, Stevie. You didn’t imagine it. Dreamed it, yes. But not imagined.” Doc removes the branch from the plastic bag, crushing one of the dried leaves between his fingers and bringing it to his nose for a whiff. “Holly has been associated with the Winter Solstice since ancient times.”
“The day we honor the Dark Magician.” Goosebumps erupt across my skin. “Was this a vision, then? A warning about what’s coming?Whenit’s coming?”
“That’s one possibility—a strong one. What’s more concerning to me at the moment is how this branch traveled back with you from the dream realm. Any chance you were sleepwalking?”
“I thought of that, too. But I checked my security settings this morning, and my door hadn’t been opened all night. There was nothing weird on the video feed either.”
“What about your familiar? Could he have flown you out magickally again?”
“I don’t think so.” A prickle of guilt pokes at my heart. “I actually haven’t seen my owl since the night of the attack.”
