Chapter 8
Gwendolynne
Harrisford insists on walking me back to my dorm room, though I know it’s only because he’s worried I’ll run off and snitch about the lizard he snuck into the gala.
As we walk, he tells me about how his father has been acting weird for the past few months. Which is, coincidentally, precisely when Harrisford noticed the first magical power surge—at home.
“It was just a small one,” he explains, cradling Pudding with both arms. “We were having breakfast when all the lights went out, even the chandelier.”
I squint sideways at him. “You eat breakfast beneath a chandelier?” He just shrugs, and doesn’t respond.
My magic levels started rising a few months ago too, Percy says, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
Hugging the cat tightly, I consider this new information.
“Percy was the first, I think. His magiphilia started at around that time, too. And at some point since then, it started in the other familiars.” I purse my lips, thinking hard.
“I suspect they’ve all been channeling slightly higher levels of magic for a while now, else the surge tonight would’ve killed them. ”
Harrisford nods. “That’s probably why Samuel’s polar bear blew up. I’m sure he bought it new and only enchanted it for the night. It hadn’t had a chance to acclimatize.”
My mouth pulls down in a frown. “But what does it all mean?”
Harrisford’s expression mirrors mine. “I don’t know,” he says. “But given my father has been acting so peculiar, I wonder if he—or Magecorp—is involved?”
I throw him a look. “You think it’s Magecorp, and not the MLO?” Glancing at the scorch marks that flare up the corridor walls, I involuntarily give a shudder. If it was the MLO, then it means that somehow they’ve infiltrated us here, at Seamere.
Harrisford pauses for a moment. “I rather think it could be either, at this stage.”
We’ve arrived in front of my room. I’m suddenly hyperaware of how shabby our surroundings are. How messy things are inside. I mean, if we were to open the door we’d see a rank, open tin of tuna, torn-up bits of beef jerky, and pieces of dried-out cheese strewn across the worn, stained carpet.
“Well,” I say, falsely jovial. “This is me.” When Harrisford doesn’t move but just continues staring at me, I add, “Good night, then.”
Adjusting my grip on Percy, I reach my free hand out and turn the doorknob.
But Harrisford’s own hand whips out and clamps around my wrist. His touch is hot, almost burning.
We both jerk our heads down to look at where he’s grabbed me, and for a moment I sense we’re both holding our breaths.
But by the time that detail registers, he’s already let me go.
It might just be the light, but his pupils are blown so wide his eyes—even the blue one—look almost black. “Wait,” he says, his voice low and slightly hoarse.
I start to panic, my heart pounding. What does he want? Not to come in, hopefully? I really don’t want him to see the inside of my room. “Why?”
The faintest line has appeared between the graceful curves of his eyebrows, and he runs a hand across his chin. “Don’t you think we ought to…you know…investigate things?”
I let out a most undignified, and skeptical, snort. “You don’t mean together, Briggs? Surely!” I’d already been pondering the magical surges, of course, but Harrisford is the last person I want to ponder them with.
Somehow, the expression in his eyes morphs from liquid to steel in less than a single heartbeat. “I don’t fancy the idea much either. But don’t forget: We both have a stake in this.”
“No, we don’t,” I clap back. “It’s your father involved. Your father, your father’s company, possibly the MLO. It’s got nothing to do with me.” Huffing, I push open the door, which is slightly ajar, trying to slip inside.
Harrisford, displaying impressive reflexes, catches the door handle so that it stops swinging. I smack face-first into the cheap painted wood. My nose throbs and I cry out, more from shock than pain.
“Let go!” I shriek, not caring whether anyone—like Bridie or Pen—might hear me. But Harrisford gives me a look of grim determination and continues holding the door.
“Listen, Chan,” he says, through clenched teeth.
“It has everything to do with you. If there’s some sort of cover-up happening, over whatever is causing these magic surges, then it has the potential to affect everyone.
And not only that”—his lips pull up into a sinister smile, though his eyes stay remote, detached—“but if our familiars are affected, or the flow of magic is disrupted, do you really think we have any hope of passing exams?” His smile curves even more when he sees my sharp intake of breath. “You hadn’t thought of that, had you?”
My heart lurches. Harrisford has pulled out the big gun, the golden ticket, the one thing he knows will stop me in my tracks.
And annoyingly, he’s right. The final exams aren’t run by Seamere, but by the Magical Education Regulatory Authority.
And based on past years, MERA doesn’t give concessions for extenuating circumstances.
The idea is that we graduating students are supposed to be resilient and adaptable and capable of doing our job under actual, real-life conditions.
With a third of our final assessments being practical exams, we really need a stable, reliable flow of magic in order to demonstrate our skills. And with these surges randomly occurring at unpredictable times, they definitely have the potential to put our academic performances at risk.
I hadn’t thought about how the surges might affect me, personally or academically. But if I can’t perform at my exams, and I can’t come first, then it’s not just me who will suffer. It’s my family too. It’s my parents’ livelihoods. And we definitely need the money more than Harrisford Briggs.
A faint, pounding pain is building behind my eyeballs.
If there’s one thing I can’t bear, it’s the thought of Harrisford-fucking-Briggs working this out on his own.
I bet if he did, he’d keep the knowledge to himself, fixing his own flow of magic so that only his spells worked. He’d get top marks, and I—
The Ministry position hangs between us, unspoken for, like an existential carrot dangling between our noses.
I need to come first, I tell myself. Drawing a deep breath, I correct myself. I will come first.
So, despite the fact that my pulse is hammering like a warning drum in my ears, I raise my face to Harrisford’s, speaking through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll help you investigate the surges, Briggs.”
In my head, I add, And then I’ll fucking win.
Harrisford and I had grudgingly agreed to meet in the library after class the following day.
The aim? To track down any historical precedent for magical surges and research how often—and where—they’ve been occurring recently.
Before we parted, we’d both conducted a cursory search on our straps.
Except for what had happened at the gala, which was too big an event to cover up, we’d found that none of the surges had been reported by mainstream media.
“It’s very odd,” Harrisford had murmured, scrolling with a frown.
I don’t much want to meet with my nemesis tomorrow, but right now I have to put it completely out of my mind.
Tonight my priority is to stash Percy safely in my room, so he’s hidden, and then go to see Heloise.
After the incident earlier where she’d been dragged by her unicorn familiar, I really need to check to make sure she’s okay.
Heloise Chapman is who I consider my closest friend at Seamere—though in truth, she kind of intimidates me.
I’ve always been a little confused as to why she bothered befriending me at all, considering the Chapmans are, like, the richest Black family in London.
Her parents are both doctors: her mum holds a prominent position as president of the British Magical Medical Association, and her dad teaches magical biomedical sciences at a prestigious university.
He’s famous for having invented a spell that gives gymgoers the effects of hours of cardio from just minutes of moderate exercise.
Apparently it’s the magic solution to our modern, sedentary society.
Years ago, he and his research group sold the patent to Big Pharma and basically set themselves up for life.
Heloise’s older brother and sister are both doctors too, and Heloise often jokes that she tried to rebel against following in her family’s footsteps. Instead, she became an animal doctor—about as rebellious as she’d dared.
When I find Heloise in the infirmary, she’s reclining in a hospital bed, against a heap of puffy white pillows.
Several floral arrangements are clustered around her, and Dr. Dennis, the school healer, is busy dabbing at a cut on her cheek.
The wound needs to be cleaned before it’s magically healed so it doesn’t become infected.
She’s wincing at the sting, but when she spots me her face brightens immediately. “Gwen,” she calls out. “Hey!”
I hurry over, eyeing all the gifts on her table, wishing I’d thought to bring something too. Not that I can afford to buy flowers, especially after hours. And it’s not like I have anything suitable in my room—I highly doubt she’ll want a pack of Knobbly’s Premium Unsalted Nuts.
“Hiya, Heli,” I say, pulling up a chair beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”
She flashes me a wide smile, her perfect rows of white teeth a striking contrast against her dark skin.
“Oh, you know. I’m much better now. Dennis has healed most of my major injuries.
” She leans forward, her eyes widening. “I had three cracked ribs, a compound fracture of my left tibia, and bilateral shoulder luxations!”
I wince. “Ouch,” I say. “Sounds nasty.”
“It was.” Heloise frowns slightly, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know what got into Lightning. He’s normally so placid, and tonight he just…wasn’t.”
I glance around the room to make sure we’re alone. Dr. Dennis, having finished healing Heli, has put away her medical supplies and disappeared into her office at the far end of the ward. And there’s only one other patient here, who I think might be a fourth-year, sound asleep in the far corner.
Still, I lower my voice. “Heli, I don’t know if you realize, but…Lots of familiars went kind of wild tonight. There was a surge of magiphilia. It was really weird.”
She lets out a little gasp. “Really?”
I nod. “Really. I’m actually surprised there aren’t more injured folk here. Some of the familiars were like, biting their own humans and stuff.”
Heloise scrunches up her face. “It did get kind of busy earlier. I didn’t take much notice ’cause I was really zoned out on pain meds. But there was a flurry of activity and then everyone left, except us.” She gestures at the sleeping student, then raises her eyebrows at me. “What gives, Gwen?”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “Did you hear there was an explosion at the Natural History Museum earlier? At some sort of charity gala.”
“Yeah. My mum and dad were supposed to go, but they got hit with gastro, so they stayed home.” Heloise wrinkles her nose. “Lucky, huh?”
“I think it might be related.” I bite my cheek, wondering if I should tell her about Percy, and the fact he’s had slowly elevating magiphilia for the past few months. And that somehow the magical surge bonded him to me, so now I happen to have a familiar.
But I decide against it, because the fewer people who know about him, the safer.
I’m already deeply uncomfortable with the fact that the only person who knows my secret is my enemy, Harrisford Briggs.
It’s already a precarious enough situation, considering I’m relying on Percy, a rather capricious cat, to keep quiet enough so Nathaniel Price doesn’t notice his missing pet is still alive.
So I veer away from talking about familiars. “Do your parents know if anything like this is happening in humans?”
“Magiphilia?” Heloise reaches beneath one of her pillows and whips out a brand-new-looking laptop. “Hang on,” she says. “I’ll ask.” She takes a Magecorp-branded powerbank and plugs it in, booting the computer up.
I lean back in my chair as Heloise taps out a message to her mother, her long fingers flying across the laptop’s pristine keyboard. It’s not long before we hear the ding that tells us Dr. Chapman has replied.
Heloise’s eyes scan the screen, and she reads out her mother’s message, paraphrasing it slightly.
“She says that there are sporadic reports of magical surges affecting humans too.” I grip the armrests of my chair as my friend continues reading aloud.
“People have been randomly disappearing. Apparently there have even been deaths, though they can’t identify a pattern.
There’s been an increased incidence of bites and scratches from magical familiars.
And some hospitals across the country have been experiencing random magic outages.
” Heloise raises her big brown eyes to meet mine. “It’s chaos.”
“Deaths.” My mind has snagged on that word, which tumbles from my mouth like a stone. I do a quick search on my strap, tapping the cracked screen. My heart starts pounding until all I can hear is roaring. “People have died, Heli…” I shake my head in disbelief. “But it hasn’t made the news.”
Heloise frowns and returns her attention to her computer screen.
“Listen to this: Mum also says she’s been trying to secure some grant funding to study this phenomenon, since nothing like this has ever been reported in any of the medical literature.
She says there’s a group in Bristol who are keen to spearhead the research, but the Ministry keeps on declining their application…
” Heloise trails off, two fingers pressed against her lips.
“That almost never happens, Gwen. Everyone knows that with my mum’s connections, if she backs a grant application, it almost always gets approved. ”
My stomach churns, and all of a sudden I feel sick. Deaths in the magical community. Explosions at a charity gala. Familiars going feral. Hospitals randomly losing magical power.
And behind it all, Darghan Briggs acting strange, and the Ministry declining grant applications that should technically be a shoo-in.
I force myself to dig my fingers into the cracked vinyl of the hospital chair to keep from clawing at my face.
As much as I’m loath to admit it, Harrisford Briggs is right. This problem is big. Bigger than I’d initially thought. “All the way up to the Ministry” big.
And if we don’t figure out what’s behind it, it could destroy us all.