Even with the note, I kept up the sick act as I made my way to the cafeteria building where all the student lockers were located. I checked Britney’s first, keeping an ear out for hall monitors and members of the Will Guard. It was empty, and I guessed the police must’ve cleaned it out in their search for her attacker.
I moved onto Paul’s next. He was using the same locker he had been before. The e-mail Lady Elaine had sent me with his schedule also contained the location of his lockers and his new dorm room. As I slid the moonwort key into the master lock, it vibrated in my hand, the magic in the thing kicking on. A second later the lock clicked, and I swung the metal door open.
Aside from a math textbook and a handful of loose papers lining its bottom, the locker was empty. I sighed. I’d expected as much, but I couldn’t help being disappointed. Especially because this meant I would have to activate plan B.
Ignoring the sick feeling in my stomach, I shut the locker as quietly as I could and then made my way to the Phys Ed building, where Paul had gym first period. I quickened my pace as I spotted the door into the boy’s locker room and the empty hallway before it. If I hesitated, I knew I would chicken out.
A second before I reached it, I heard a door open behind me and a gruff male voice say, “Stop right there.”
I spun around, fear-fueled adrenaline rushing in my ears. Captain Gargrave stood a couple of feet from me, a suspicious scowl on his face. He held his wizard’s staff in one hand pointed at me. It was as long and straight as a broom handle, the top curved downward in a slight hook set around a red stone.
I flapped my arms at him in alarm as a vision of me dangling in the air flashed through my mind. “Whoa! I’m just on my way to”—I held up the balled paper in my hand, the panic-ruined remains of Miss Norton’s note—“the infirmary.”
Gargrave’s thick, bushy eyebrows sank lower on his forehead as he thought it over, the task appearing to be quite an effort. This was the closest we’d been, and I saw he had a slow look about him, as if whatever had squashed his face like that had squashed his brains, too.
“This isn’t the infirmary.”
Less nervous now that he’d lowered his staff, I touched a finger to my chin, and said, “Really?” I took a look around, doing my ditzy routine. Beyond the door marked GYMNASIUM I heard the squeak of sneakers. Sounded like Coach Fritz had his senior class doing laps. I turned back to Gargrave. “I wondered what that smell was.”
Yeah, he wasn’t buying it. “You need to get back to—” Gargrave’s words cut off so abruptly for a second I thought someone had hit him with a silencer jinx.
But then another voice spoke from behind me, this one familiar and as smooth as melted chocolate. “Is there a problem, Captain?”
I glanced over my shoulder, unable to keep from smiling as my eyes alighted on Mr. Deverell. He was dressed in his usual classroom attire of khaki pants and a short-sleeved polo shirt that displayed his tan forearms, but his hair looked wet. He must’ve spent his free period making use of the fancy whirlpool Coach Fritz had obtained for his gladiator team last summer.
I turned back to Gargrave. He seemed to be sizing up Mr. Deverell, as if he wasn’t sure who held more authority in this situation. I took a step nearer to Deverell. My bet was with him.
“She claims to have gotten lost on her way to the infirmary,” said Gargrave.
I coughed into one hand while I held out the other one carrying Miss Norton’s note to Deverell. He took the note, uncrumpled it long enough to read it then returned it to me.
“Well, the sick part is true, regardless,” Deverell said. He motioned toward me. “If you want, Dusty, I can escort you to the infirmary.”
I nodded, feeling flustered on multiple levels now.
“Is that all right with you, Captain?” Deverell arched his eyebrows.
Gargrave grunted and then turned on his heel and strode away, disappearing around a corner.
A smile teased Deverell’s lips as he looked down at me. “He’s not exactly friendly, is he?”
“About as cuddly as a hungry grizzly bear.”
Deverell chuckled. “An apt description.” The smile slid from his face, and his brow furrowed. “So you’re feeling sick?”
“Yeah, a little.” I considered coughing to play it up but decided not to. Deverell looked genuinely concerned for me, and the idea of deceiving him made me want to squirm.
“Not sleeping well, are you?”
I frowned, uncertain if that had been a question or a statement. “No, I’m not, but … how did you know?”
Deverell took a few steps away from me and leaned his back against the wall. He slid both hands into his front pockets. “I sensed it, connected to that image from your dream I saw when I was helping you with the projection cards.”
“Oh, that.” A vision of the plinth flashed as clear as a photograph in my brain, the B and E on its surface like pieces of art, lovely to behold even to my waking mind. I pushed the vision away. “It’s nothing.”
Deverell shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not true. I think you might have the beginnings of a block, as we call it in psionics.”
“A block?”
He nodded. “It’s when an abstract object such as an idea or an image or even a thought gets lodged inside your mind.”
“Ouch. Sounds painful.”
He shook his head. “Not really, but the longer the block is allowed to continue the deeper it can get lodged.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Only to your grades.” He smiled, heading off my horrified look. “It hampers your mind-magic.”
“Oh,” I said, catching his drift.
“Most of the time the block goes away on its own. But I do know a few techniques we can try to help it move along more quickly if you want.”
I bit my lip, uncertain. On the one hand, I would love to stop obsessing about the stupid thing, but on the other, I didn’t like the idea of anyone else besides me seeing the plinth and reading that word.
Still, I didn’t want to reject him outright. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it.”
“Sure. I understand.”
“But there is something else you could help me with,” I said, suddenly remembering my afternoon mission.
“Yes?”
I bit my lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “Do you know anything about how to extract memories?”
“A little,” Deverell said, his voice cautious now.
“Any chance you could show me how to do it?”
“Why?”
Knowing I couldn’t mention Lance, I spun the first yarn that came to mind. “I have this friend, you see. She’s a fairy, and well, she has a little bit of a sugar problem, you know?”
Deverell compressed his lips as if he were resisting a smile. “I do.”
Feeling encouraged, I flipped my hair back behind my shoulders. “Well, she went on this bad binge last weekend and thinks she did something really stupid, but she can’t remember what. Or with who, if you catch my drift.”
He nodded, still looking on the verge of smiling.
“And now she’s asked me to try to help her remember.” I stopped speaking and drew a nervous breath.
Deverell scratched his chin, and I could tell by the look on his face the answer would be no. “I’m very sorry, Dusty, but I can’t simply show you how to do something as complicated as that. It’s far too advanced and delicate a technique. Not to mention the moral complications involved in possessing such a skill.”
“Right.” I sighed, seeing his point.
Deverell nodded, checking his watch. “Now I suppose you don’t really need me to show you how to get to the infirmary?”
“I think I can manage.”
“Good. But make sure you’re feeling better in time for my class.”