All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [33]
Fiona didn’t have a clue what Robert was doing here, but she didn’t care.
She moved to meet him, and started to reach out and hug him, but that felt wrong in front of all these people . . . and besides, Robert made no such move toward her, stopping a short distance away.
“You didn’t call after our vacation,” she whispered. “Was there trouble?”
Robert looked away. “Some,” he said. “After I got kicked out of the League, I had to lie low for a while. Mr. Mimes says I can’t go back to work for him . . . so he got me in here. Kind of a going-away present.”
“You’re on your own?”
“Yeah,” Robert said. “I’ve always been on my own. It’s no big deal.”
Robert spotted Eliot and waved. His gaze then fell upon Jezebel and darkened.
Fiona felt something wrong—very wrong—between her and Robert. The week they’d spent on a tropical island this summer was a distant dream. She wanted to take his hand, give it a reassuring squeeze, but the air between them chilled . . . and something inside her protectively curled away from him.
An older boy strode her way. It was the student she and Eliot had met before—the one who hadn’t helped them find Paxington. His chiseled Italian features broke into a smile as he saw her. “I’m glad you passed the entrance and placement exams,” the boy said. “I had a feeling you and your brother would.”
Then to the rest of the group, the older boy said in a commanding voice, “I will be your guide today, Team Scarab. I am Dante of the family Scalagari. Please follow me.”
Dante turned and they fell in behind him: Jeremy and Sarah Covington introducing themselves to the Scalagari boy, Jezebel parting with her entourage, Mitch Stephenson, and Robert, herself, and Eliot . . . followed at last by Amanda Lane.
“Scalagari is an old family,” Robert whispered to Fiona and Eliot. “They weave magic. Usually the best-dressed guys in the place.”
“What about the Covington clan?” Eliot asked.
“They’re conjurers,” Robert said. “Nine times out of ten, troublemakers to boot. I wouldn’t waste time worrying about them, though. You’ve got bigger problems on your team.”
He had to mean Jezebel.
Fiona wanted to ask Robert what exactly a conjurer was, but Dante turned, walking backwards, and said, “Paxington was founded in 329 C.E. in Rome by Emperor Constantine. He wanted to study Jewish and Pagan influences on Christianity. Called Curia Deus Pax, or ‘the Court of God’s Peace,’ many believed its true purpose was to secretly eradiate those influences.”10
Sarah Covington lagged behind and turned to Robert (completely ignoring Fiona and Eliot). “I’m Sarah,” she said, and smiled so her freckled cheeks dimpled. She held out her hand.
Robert took her hand, clasping in a way that was more than a handshake . . . and only a little less than an embrace.
“The pleasure is mine,” he said.
Fiona felt her blood heat.
“A most impressive scuffle to get our token.”
“I do my best,” Robert replied.
“Then you’ll be an admirable addition to Team Scarab,” Sarah said. “I look forward to working together.”
Sarah maneuvered past them toward the end of their group, all the pleasantness draining from her features as she approached Amanda Lane.
Amanda tried to move away, but Sarah sidled up next to her.
Their group crossed a quadrangle the size of football field. Its flagstones were quartz with sparkling veins of amethyst and topaz. It was like walking on rainbows.
“I don’t recall inviting you onto the team,” Sarah told Amanda.
Amanda didn’t make eye contact. Her shoulders hunched, and her head lowered as if she were shrinking. “I . . . ,” she started. “I was just there, and your cousin gave me a token. . . .”
Fiona wanted to tell Sarah to back off. Amanda hadn’t done anything wrong. They were supposed to be on the same side. But she didn’t know how to confront Sarah without incurring her anger as well.
Before she could puzzle out the social complexities, Mitch broke ranks and dropped back, walking along the other side of Amanda.
“Did I hear you correctly, Miss Lane?