(Co-authored by Seuzz)
Of course, you're not inclined to leave your "library" in the hands of a stranger, no matter how charming he is. Joe's heaped a lot of praise on you, but he does sound a bit swindly, and even with Taylor around, you fear they'll just swindle him and then you'll be out of your stuff completely.
So although you don't mistrust them, exactly, you decide you'd rather risk your dad's anger. "That's okay", you tell Joe. "I'll just tell my mom I got delayed. Should be no biggie."
Frank replies curtly. "Sounded like your thing was important."
"Parents always make things sound important. How 'bout that school you were talking about?", you ask Joe.
Joe looks at Frank, and chuckles.
"Listen to that, Frank! Sure, I can tell you a thing or two", he tells you, and settles his ass on the edge of the desk. "You'll wanna know a little about the curriculum, right? So." He points at the primer on sigils. "This sort of thing you've been playing with—"
"It reminded me of computer code", you blurt out.
"Oh really?" Joe's eyebrows go up, and an unfriendly light come into his eye. "I thought you said you didn't take computer science."
"Well, it's kind of the impression I got from—"
"Oh, okay", he says, and his tone turns as cold as clay. "If that's the way you want to think about it, yes, sigilistic logic is like computer science. Then there's alchemy", he continues, his tone turning colder and colder, "which would probably remind you a lot of chemistry, except it has a totally different periodic table and sets of transformations. Then there's numerology, which is like math except with alephs and zahirs, and cryptozoology—the real stuff, with ettins and fae and draugar, not Bigfoots and lake monsters and thunderbirds. And geomancy and astrology and ... Is this making it sound like a real school yet?"
You blink. "Yeah, I guess."
"In a good way or a bad way?" There's an undertone of fury to the question that you don't understand.
"Um ..."
"Joe", says Frank. "I'm going to smack you."
Joe glares at him. Then as though striving to master some overpowering emotion, he sucks in and lets out a couple of deep breaths.
"Okay, so here's the thing", he sighs, and all that mysterious anger has drained from his voice. "There's much less difference between magic and science than you'd think. It's just that each one cuts up the world in different ways and juggles the pieces around differently. So, take alchemy and psychology for example. You might think—"
"Joe", his brother interrupts, "control yourself. If you throw the word 'incommensurable' at him, you'll lose him for good."
Joe turns a very hard stare onto Frank. Then he turns back to you. "Incommensurable," he says with careful enunciation. "Did I just lose you for good?"
"Um—"
"Hang on", Taylor interrupts. "If magic and science are basically just the same, how come there's so many scientists and so few magicians?"
"Who says there are?", Frank retorts. But Joe says, "Because they're always blowing themselves up. Dur." Then he turns back to you.
"Look", he says, "I'm just going to assume, based on what you've been getting up to here, that I don't have to sell you on magic as a career. So you were asking about the school."
"Yeah, is it like a university?", you interrupt. "Or a boarding school?" There’s a boarding school west of town: St. Francis Xavier, which is full of rich, elitist snobs. You don't think you'd like to end up someplace like that.
But Joe takes it a different way. "You mean like Hogwarts?", he cackles. Behind you, Frank audibly groans. "Sorry", Joe says as you feel yourself reddening. "It's not like that. It's more like you'd be studying with a bunch of tutors, and you'd travel around the world to meet and live with them. But at the end of it, you'd get a degree in kicking warlock ass."
"Does it cost anything?"
"What?" For the first time, Joe looks wrong-footed. "No! Well, not technically ... Look, you'd get a full scholarship. Think of it that way. Why are you worried about the cost?" he demands, and is clearly flustered.
"Because I don't have any money of my own. And my parents—"
Frank interrupts. "We can talk about the money later. We can talk all about the school later. My brother is being very blonde, Prescott, and you're doing a first-rate job of bamboozling him."
"Frank!"
But Frank continues to give you a very heavy look. "There's a warlock out there we need to deal with, and there's no point talking about what comes later if we don't deal with him now. Joe, what are we up against?"
You give Joe a sidelong glance. Red spots are showing in cheeks that have lost some of their color. He winces, and gives you a dirty look.
"Tell you what", he says as he picks up Blackwell's notebook. "Let's give you an entrance exam. Each of these is a separate spell, right? And you reconstructed ... this one?" He points to the page for "emplastrum." "Did you reconstruct any others?"
You take the book and flip back a page, to point to "persona." Joe studies it, then cocks his head to regard you. "Think you could reconstruct it again?", he asks.
Again, you feel as though all eyes are upon you. You hesitate, then drop into a seat and pull the notebooks toward you. From your bag you take a pencil and a white sheet of paper. Joe drops down by your side to watch.
--
He leans in very close as you work, as though boring through the paper with his eyes. Your hands get cold—it's like taking a test in front of a teacher—and you work very slowly. Joe says nothing when you draw the bounding box and the pentagram and activate them with the magic word. Step by step, consulting Blackwell's notes and yours even when you are sure of what you are doing, you proceed. Joe stops you once or twice before letting you continue, and you have the impression he comes close to stopping you a couple of more times. Once, you become aware that he is holding his breath, and when he releases it he murmurs something in an undertone. But as you get closer to the climax you grow more confident, and you make the last few sweeps of your pen with a near-mechanical precision. Joe holds his head in his hands as the box unfolds into the finished, wheel-like sigil, and he groans and pulls the paper toward him, to study it with burning eyes.
He doesn't move for the longest time, not even when the door flies open and footsteps sound on the stairs. You look up. It's Lucy.
"What's going on in here?", she demands.
Frank steps in front of her. "Business", he says.
"What kind of—? Oh Jesus! You—"
"Please do not profane the air with vain oaths." Frank glances back at his brother. "Is everything okay, Joe?"
"I don't think we have to worry about stray voltage", Joe replies without looking up. "But take Miss Vredenburg back outside," he adds, and you're struck by the soft lilt he gives her name. "Take Taylor with you too", he adds, "so she doesn't feel singled out."
Frank seizes Taylor, who resists. Then he seems to fall off his feet as Frank drags him toward the stairs. Lucy, her face white, stumbles backward up them. A minute later, all three are back outside.
Though you and Lucy haven't gotten along, you feel compelled to defend her. "She doesn't like that I've been playing with this stuff."
"Neither do I." Joe's head remains bent over the sigil. "Unsupervised, I mean."
"She thinks it's just plain evil."
"It often is. It depends on how you use it. And people can be such shits, you know."
Yes, you do know. But then you have to wonder: Can I be sure you and your brother aren't a couple of shits as well?
Before you can worry too much, though, your phone rings. It's your dad. Your heart sinks as you answer. "Dad? Listen, I know I promised you that—"
"Where the hell are you?" he demands, his voice a compressed fireball of fury. "Your mother says you haven't been home all day!"
"I—"
"Get home. Now."
The line goes dead, and suddenly the basement feels a lot colder.
"Something wrong?", Joe asks. He looks up at you from under his brows.
You swallow. "I have to get home."
"That was your dad, right? Is he at home?"
You nod.
"And didn't you tell Taylor you were worried about him?"
You gulp. "Yes."
Joe holds your eye. Then he starts putting your stuff away. "Good. My brother and I are so looking forward to meeting him."
--
"Just leave it to us," Frank says. "In five seconds it'll all be over, one way or another."
He drove you and his brother home in his truck, and you are just now pulling into your driveway. It seemed easiest to take two vehicles—Taylor and Lucy are following in his truck—rather than three. It also gave you a chance to plan out the attack, if there is to be one.
The trouble, as far as you're concerned, is that your mom and brother will be at the house too, and the last thing you want is to scare them with a home invasion.
"We just need to get your dad alone", Frank says. "You distract the others—"
"We need Will to help get the mask off him, if there is a mask", Joe says. "Besides, he's the one his dad wants to yell at."
"So someone goes in with me?", you suggest. "Every one else can try distracting my mom and brother."
"Me and Joe'll go in with you", Frank says. "Taylor and Lucy can entertain everyone else."
You say nothing. But Joe speaks for you. "Will knows his family best, Frank", he says. "Let him pick who goes in with him."
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