“Hello.” He stops on the other side of the gate and slides a clipboard between two of the iron pickets. “I just need you to check in.”
Awkwardly balancing the clipboard, I fill out the visitor form. “I have an owl with me. Will that be a problem?”
“Not as long as you clean up after him,” he answers, his tone bored, like they see owls in the college all the time. And maybe they do. Pixies are weird, but mages aren’t exactly normal.
He looks over the form when I return the clipboard. “You’re a summer pixie?”
“That’s right.”
“What business do you have with Professor Bellview?” He pulls his wand from a narrow sheath that hangs from his belt, draws a glowing icon in the air, and then flicks it toward the lock. Seconds later, the gate rolls open as if electric.
Dumbfounded and delighted, I stare. Once I get my wits about me, I say, “My friend studied under him. I wanted to ask about an experiment he was working on a long time ago.”
A little too cheerfully, like maybe my magic got away from me again and I infected him with a dose of happiness, he says,“Well, that sounds just fine. Welcome. Drive straight in and turn left at the sign marked 'Visitor Parking'. If you need a map of the grounds, stop by the office.”
I glance at the seemingly empty wooded area behind the farmhouse. “Okay, thank you.”
“And be sure to check out before you leave, all right?”
I nod, returning to my car as he walks back up the lane. Once he’s out of the way, I drive slowly through the gate. The asphalt doesn’t turn to bumpy dirt as my eyes suggest it should, but remains smooth.
The illusion drops as soon as we’re fully inside the grounds. The farmhouse mirage fizzles like smoke, and the college appears behind it. It’s a massive brick building, many stately stories tall, with ivy crawling up the walls. A wide expanse of manicured lawn stretches out in front of it, along with a courtyard, a fountain, and several flower gardens. There are trees and walking paths, and the pretty picture is topped off by several squirrels that scamper around the grounds.
“It’s beautiful,” I say to Rowan. “How old is it? Do you know?”
“The college was established in 1802.”
He sounds a touch sad, and I turn to him. “How old were you when you graduated?”
“I didn’t complete my final year. I was working on my capstone project when I did…this.” He flaps his wings.
“What was your field of expertise?” I offer him a smile. “Not botany apparently.”
“Metamorphosis.”
I nod, having suspected as much.
“What career were you hoping to go into? Were you going to be a sorcerer?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I worry I overstepped my bounds. But finally, he says, “Yes. I wanted to focus on spell creation.”
“Ah,” I reply softly. Then, in hopes of lightening the mood, I add, “Next time, you should probably find a willing test subject before you start experimenting.”
He turns his head to look at me, his golden eyes incredibly expressive for a bird. “Ihave.”
“Right,” I say, a touch uncomfortable, acknowledging that test subject isme.
Is it really a good idea to let a man who turned himself into a bird attempt to manipulate my magic? My parents wouldn’t be impressed, that’s for certain.
I park in the designated lot and then step into the sunshine, leaving the door open so Rowan can fly out. “It’s strange to think everyone here is a mage.”
“Why?” Rowan lands on my shoulder, startling me.
“Whatare you doing?” I demand, craning my head to the side so I can look at him.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, and we need to stay together. You’ll get lost on your own.”
“So, you’re going to use me as a perch? Shouldn’t you land on my arm at least? Isn’t that how it’s done?”
