Морган Райс - The Obsidians

Oliver felt dread rise through him. Who was the boy and why was he homing in on them like that, with a look of pure anxiety?

He ran up to them and began to speak in urgent, rapid Italian. Oliver looked helplessly to Hazel and Walter, who looked just as clueless as he must have.

David took the lead. He stepped forward and nodded along as the boy spoke.

When the tanned-skinned boy finally finished, David looked over his shoulder at Oliver.

“He’s a seer,” he said.

Oliver’s eyebrows pinged up his forehead. “A seer? How did he find us?”

“He says that when we activated the portal it sent a beacon alarm to his school. He says we must follow him. It’s too dangerous here.”

“But why?” Hazel asked. “What’s dangerous about standing innocently in the streets?”

“Beyond the roaming livestock and beggars, you mean,” Walter quipped.

David translated her question to the boy. He shook his head, seemingly growing more and more exasperated. He spoke in a quick, exaggerated manner, throwing his arms around theatrically.

“Well?” Oliver asked, growing increasingly anxious with every second that passed.

“The beacon,” David gasped, relaying the message back to the others. He locked eyes with Oliver, his expression now deeply troubled. “It doesn’t just send an alarm to the school. The alarm can be picked up by all seers.”

Hazel gasped. “You mean…”

“Rogues,” David finished for her. “We’ve sent out a signal to them that we’re here.”

Oliver felt the warmth drain from his face. Finally he understood why the Italian seer boy was so frantic. They’d practically sent out a signal for any rogue seer to come along and mess up history!

“Quick,” Oliver told his friends. “Let’s get out of here.”

Hazel grabbed his arm. “Are you sure we can trust this boy?”

“He risked a lot just to come here and get us,” Walter said.

But Oliver wasn’t so sure.

“David, can you ask him more about himself? Find out if there’s any way to prove what he’s telling us?” he asked.

David looked back to the boy and asked him something in Italian. “His name is Gianni,” he relayed to the others. “He said he can prove that he’s trustworthy.”

The boy, Gianni, took a step forward and pulled from his pocket a bronze key. He held it out to Oliver, nudging it into his hand.

Wondering why Gianni seemed to want him to have it, Oliver took the key, frowning, and turned it in his hands. Then he understood.

There on the back was a familiar symbol. A ring with three evenly spaced eyes. The symbol of the School for Seers.

Oliver felt a smile tug at his lips. That symbol felt like home to him.

He showed it to the others. Walter nodded, satisfied, but Hazel folded her arms.

“I still don’t know,” she said.

Her skepticism reminded Oliver of how he’d felt toward David. But David had proved himself back at the portal and he now trusted David fully. His bodyguard would not lead them into danger.

“If David says we can trust Gianni, then I think we can trust him,” he told her.

A look of pride flashed across David’s features. “I promise you, Hazel. Gianni is exactly who he says he is. A seer. A friend sent to get us.”

Hazel chewed her lip as if deliberating. But finally she nodded. “I supposed statistically speaking we’re more likely to get caught by rogue seers if we stand here than if we go with him. So I’m in.”

Walter rolled his eyes. “Trust Hazel to make a decision based on statistics!”

Guided by Gianni, the seer boy from Renaissance-era Rome, the friends began to run.

Mistress Obsidian sat in her office, staring into the vision bowl. She’d been keeping a near-constant vigil over it, ignoring all signs of fatigue inside her that demanded she sleep, all signs of hunger telling her to eat. Nothing was more important to her than finding Oliver Blue and destroying him once and for all.

But the weariness was becoming hard to fight. She’d lost track of the days. Two? Possibly three? Her life had become staring obsessively into the vision bowl, listening to the constant shouts of Colonel Cain from outside her window as he trained Christopher Blue in the dark arts.

The thought made a smile twitch across her lips. There was no chance of failure this time. Christopher had the most dangerous magic inside of him. Along with the best training the dark army could offer and Chris’s unparalleled murderous desire to kill Oliver, this time they would succeed.

She just wished their mole would hurry up. What use was it sneaking a spy into the Amethyst School for Seers, to set the trap that would lure Oliver out, if they were going to take so long enact the plan?

She may have to conjure up another, one that would speed things along a little. Perhaps she could find someone within the school to manipulate. Throw in a little bit of time travel for fun. In fact, the more she thought of it, the more she realized just how enjoyable it would be. There had to be a student inside the School for Seers who was feeling dissatisfied. Molding an impressionable young mind—just as she had with Malcolm Malice, and now with Christopher Blue—was one of her favorite things to do.

Yes, she would dupe one of the students into doing her bidding.

No sooner had she decided on the new plan, than something in her vision bowl flickered.

Mistress Obsidian jerked up, straight-backed, and leaned closer to the bowl. Through the dark storm clouds that had obscured her view for days, she now saw a shimmering purple light, swirling.

She knew at once what she was looking at. It was a portal. Oliver Blue was on the move.

Excitement crackled through her veins. She watched intently as the image cleared even more. Then her heart jumped in her chest.

There he was! Oliver Blue!

He was standing on a very ornate street. Mistress Obsidian frowned, trying to place the architecture.

“Rome?” she muttered under her breath. “Fifteen hundreds?”

She watched on, revulsion swirling in the pit of her stomach, as Oliver and his pesky little friends all gathered around. Then she noticed another boy hurrying them through the streets.

The group reached a brick wall and the boy pressed a sequence of bricks. The wall hinged open.

Mistress Obsidian knew immediately what was happening. The other boy was a local seer and he was leading Oliver Blue into the safety of his own school! The second they were inside, she’d no longer be able to see him!

Frustration overcame her. She slammed her fists onto the tabletop as fury overwhelmed her. A growl of anger came from her chest.

“No matter where he goes, that pipsqueak always manages to get help!” she cried angrily.

Fuming, she paced over to the window and gripped the sill. She would not endure another three days staring into the vision bowl. She’d seen enough to work out that Oliver Blue was in 1500s Rome. He already had a head start. And support. There was no time to waste.

She threw open the window, ignoring the driving rain that pelted her.

“It’s time!” she roared into the black sky.

Her voice, magnified, boomed through the evening like a peeling bell.

She thundered back to the table and slunk down into her throne. A moment later, she heard the door open. In came Colonel Cain, Christopher Blue, and Malcolm Malice, responding to her summoning. They looked like drowned rats, covered in mud, their cheeks bright red with exertion. It was satisfying to see them that way.

“Sit,” she told them all brusquely.

They did as she commanded. Absolute obedience was Mistress Obsidian’s favorite thing.

“I’ve tracked Oliver Blue,” she announced. “There is no time to waste. You must travel to him immediately.”