Tangled by Erica O'Rourke Page B

used to it,” he said absently, guiding me through the foyer. “This is what I wanted you to see.”
    In the movies, it would have been the ballroom—glossy parquet floors, a soaring ceiling, Palladian windows and French doors lining one wall. The same debutantes who would make a grand entrance in the foyer would glide across this room on someone’s arm, twirling until their dresses were a blur.
    But here, now, it wasn’t a ballroom. It was a school. Scattered across the room, groups of kids, from grade-schoolers to teenagers, practiced different spells. The room fell silent as we entered, everyone bowing their heads and extending a hand, palm up, to Luc—a gesture of respect. He cut a glance toward me and then returned the gesture, almost self-consciously. The kids went back to their activities, but many of them darted nervous glances at us as we passed by.
    In one corner, I watched a girl a few years older than me work with a group of five or six little kids. She held out her hand and a ruby red flame appeared in the center. Nimbly, she passed it to the cupped hands of a gangly looking boy, whose thin face was screwed up in concentration. He passed it to the next child, whose shaking hands made the flame gutter and nearly go out, until she passed it to the next. Faster and faster, the flame traveled around the group, the teacher nodding encouragement and offering words of advice, until a pudgy redheaded girl dropped the flame. There was a faint pop as it went out, the scent of sulfur lingering.
    “Beginners,” Luc said, nodding at them. “Once they’ve gotten some control, they’ll call it up themselves.”
    In a far corner, three kids Constance’s age practiced pulling objects out of thin air. Oranges, a book, and a skateboard, of all things, would appear in their hands and then, just as suddenly, be shoved into space and disappear. “Always liked that lesson,” Luc said fondly. “You find a little pocket of Between, stake your claim, and it’s like a moving storage unit.”
    “Your sword,” I said in sudden understanding. “That’s where you keep it? Between?”
    “Can’t expect me to carry it everywhere, can you? But it’s good to have at hand.”
    Since that sword had saved my life on more than one occasion, I had to agree.
    In another group, kids practiced going Between. The older ones were playing tag, dodging in and out of the room trying to catch each other, while a little girl cut a flaming rectangle in the air, tongue caught between her teeth. Before she could close the shape, the flames dissolved and she stomped her foot in frustration.
    The whispered language of the Arcs surrounded us, glimmering and diffuse. Everything was drenched in magic, overwhelming me. My knees buckled and I barely managed to stay upright.
    “This is what we could give her,” Luc said, surveying the room with obvious approval. He didn’t seem to notice I was struggling. “A safe place to practice and learn. She’d meet other Arcs of her kind. Make friends.”
    “They seem so young,” I murmured. The magic was filling my head with a strange pressure, and I tried to concentrate.
    “Most of them shouldn’t be here. They only come to a House for training once their powers come through. This room should be filled with kids sixteen, seventeen. With the surge in the magic, we have to take them in early.”
    “Because of me,” I said. Across the room, one of the children holding a flame in her hands cried out as it flared up, burning her. With a word, the teacher healed the injury and resumed the lesson.
    Luc watched the scene unfold and took my hand, running a finger over the scar on my palm. “You’re the Vessel. You’re meant to take care of the magic. I know you don’t like hearing it, but if we don’t fix this, more Arcs are going to suffer. Flats, too.”
    My head spun. “Can we go?”
    His eyebrows drew together, but he led the way back through the house. “I’d give you more of a tour, but the