..…CHAPTER 21…..
November 11th
“The school called,” Oscar said.
Oliver groaned. By his tone of voice alone, he knew it wasn’t Cara and Micah’s school Oscar was talking about. Oscar laughed.
“Please tell me you didn’t.”
Oscar’s voice somehow managed to sound both amused and apologetic. “I did.”
Oliver muttered a curse under his breath. “Goddammit, Oscar, what the hell? First the catchment, now the Academy? Am I an agent or a city witch?”
“Both, Oliver. You know they wouldn’t call on us unless they were desperate. And you know Joe has issues. He’s in the hospital this time.”
Oliver looked up, suddenly contrite. “Is he alright?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “They called to ask you to teach today.”
Oliver shook his head. “I’m no teacher. And we have work to do.”
“Not a teacher? And who, pray tell, has been teaching Phoebe? Not sure who you think you’re foolin’. It doesn’t take a teaching license for witches to teach other witches witchcraft. Besides, we don’t have a raid, we’re between cases, the two we have are stalled. It can wait. You can go in, show off for awhile and call it good.”
Oliver glared at him. “Show off?”
Oscar grinned. “Isn’t it?”
Oliver maintained his glare.
Oscar laughed at him. “You show off, and you know it.”
“I do not. If I’m going to teach them, they’re going to get a lesson.”
Oscar’s laugh turned into a guffaw. “If you say so, teach. I’ll drive you over, but it might be Tracy that picks you up. I have to take the kids to a dentist appointment.”
Every state had a federal school for witches—and a few privatized schools, too—where every witch that was registered was required to learn how to control their magic, their responsibilities, their restrictions, and their legal rights—such that they were. All on top of academic schooling, which didn’t stop. Denver, being the center of all things FBW&R, had a very large school. It was necessary, because on top of being the hub, Denver was a large and busy city.
He hated going back to the Academy. After escaping the catchment, he’d been caught right away by an agent, registered, and dropped into the school and forgotten. Classes, magic, and a dorm room with five other boys, he’d been homesick for his brother and sister, he’d been traumatized by his time in the catchment, and he’d endured culture shock from the sudden return to society—a society he didn’t recognize, because now he was publicly a witch.
Oliver stared out the window of Oscar’s car at the grim brick building and the wide grounds. Witch children played at recess inside the chain-link fence. Older children grouped together, heads nearly knocking in whatever hair-brained scheme they concocted today. This looked like any other school, outside of being simply massive. They not only taught these children and trained them in their magic, which required a huge open space, they also had to house them—and the witch teachers, too.
“Hey, it’s just for today. Principal Harper told me they’d have a replacement for Monday should Joe still be out.”
Oliver nodded, still watching those children. Using their magic was against the rules, so he saw no sign that these were any but normal children. Every witch was trained that their magic wasn’t to be used unless they were told to do so. Magic was reserved for the people, not the witch.
“Go on, Oliver. It’ll be okay.”
Oliver shrugged and opened the door. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah. Stay at home tonight?” As opposed to staying at the House.
Oliver nodded. “Sure.”
“Hey.”
He looked at his Handler.
Oscar’s gaze was full of sympathy. “It’s not the catchment. You’re safe.”
Oliver gave a rueful little laugh and a grin. “I know. Sorry.”
“Have a good day. And try not to show off too much.”
“No promises.”
Oscar grinned back and winked.
Oliver hurried up the stairs to the gate and the little hut where security waited for guests. Unlike the Gridhouse, here he was granted entrance without more than a flash of his badge. Wesley recognized him not only as a substitute teacher, but as a former student, the man had been here so long. “Oliver,” he said with a nod.
“Hey, Wesley. Any news about Joe?”
“In the hospital. It’s his usual complaint, so he’ll probably be back in a few days.”
“Good. I hope he’s doing alright. I don’t recall him needing hospitalization before. Has he been there often?”
Wesley sighed. “Yeah.”
“Shit,” he sighed back. “When you see him, give him my best. I hope he’ll be home soon.”
“Me, too. Good guy, Joe.”
“The best.” Oliver meant it, too. With a nod, Oliver strode down the cement walk to the main doors and went straight to the office. Melanie, the office manager, handed him his badge with a small smile. “Thanks for coming in, Oliver.”
“You’re welcome. What classroom, and what am I teaching today?”
Mischief lit her eyes. “It’s an example day. You can show these kids how it’s done.”
Oliver scowled. “I really don’t show off. Where is this coming from? Oscar said something similar.”
Melanie laughed. “Uh huh. Go on, Oliver. The kids will be climbing the wall if you don’t hurry.”
Oliver took her seriously. That was not idle chit-chat. A good Earth witch could do exactly that.
His class today was a large group of teens, somewhere between fifteen and eighteen. Some looked ready to graduate for sure. He called them to order, standing by the whiteboard. “Alright, first, tell me what your teacher is going over right now.”
“Micro-spells,” one girl said with a vague wave of her green-glowing hand. A small pile of sand on her desk lifted smartly into a perfect pyramid shape.
Oliver smiled with real enthusiasm. Oh, this is going to be fun. Tilting his head side-to-side and rolling his shoulders, Oliver then held out one hand and beckoned the other at that pile. Yanking the magic from her mental grip, he danced the sand across the intervening distance to his waiting palm, where he piled the particles into a replica of the state capitol building.
Eyes went wide around the room.
“Some people blow off micro work. Micro might seem easy, because it’s small, but micro is as hard if not harder, than any spell in the macro. Get ready to work your asses off today.”
A small sound at the door caught his attention. He glanced over.
A pair of suits stood there watching. When they saw him, one lifted his brows, the other pretended he hadn’t seen Oliver noticing them, and both moved to sit together, uninvited, in a pair of chairs off to the side of the room.
Oliver stared at them for a moment, puzzled and wary. “Can I help you?”
“Nope,” the brow-man said. “Carry on. We’re just observing.”
“Observing what?” His tone was demanding.
Oliver sensed the surprised unease of the students. He was a witch that had just questioned authority. Because whoever they might be, they were clearly a pair of men in authority.
The shorter one waved a hand dismissively, as if it were nothing to worry about. “Your teaching methods. It’s standard. We’re observing lots of teachers.”
Oliver didn’t believe a word of it, but he turned back to the class. He’d seen plenty of observers of the teachers over the years. He didn’t believe them, because their attitude and their suits just screamed law-enforcement, not Department of Education.
Over the next hour, he showed techniques, helping the kids refine their work, even those of other Elements. Magic was magic, and using it was nearly the same. It was the individual’s body that interpreted the magic. The ability to control on the micro level applied to every Element and their Aspects.
By lunchtime, the men hadn’t left, had barely moved. Oliver had unobtrusively observed them right back. They did watch the students as they worked through his instructions.
But the majority of their attention was on him. Oliver restrained a chill of disquiet.
At the end of the day, the two slipped from the room. Oliver dismissed the kids with the homework assignment of creating millimeter sized shapes, from spheres with no sides, to as complex a shape as they could make, as small as they could make it.
He turned in his substitute’s badge and walked down the front path toward Tracy’s car, who greeted him with a wide grin. “Hey there, teach! How’d it go today?”
Oliver tilted his head against the headrest with a groan as he pulled the door closed, and Tracy laughed, put the car in gear. He turned his head to him, still tilted back. “It sucked. But it wasn’t the kids this time. When we get home, Oscar needs to hear about this. Some suits were watching me today.”
Tracy lifted one eyebrow, and his eyes tightened slightly, but the smile didn’t diminish. “Understood,” he said pleasantly. Anyone watching would think their conversation was still upbeat and fun.
Facing forward again, he shrugged the seatbelt into place. Oliver didn’t miss the sight of the two suits coming out of the building, talking to the principal as Tracy put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
They were both standing with Principal Harper…but one of them was watching him as he rode away.