Chosen (9781742844657) (6 page)

‘You really should sign up for the newsletter,' Aunt Leanne was telling Angela as a plate of pancakes appeared in front of me. ‘It's not like those mortal newsletter people, where they pass on your details to marketing companies. The White Elm's not like that. Your details are safe; it just opens up a direct channel of contact between you and the council. It means they can send you updates and information at any time. And if you signed up, I wouldn't have to bring over mine every month.'

She said that, but she would, anyway I knew, just like she brought over bread rolls, milk, junk mail and random coupons. Aunt Leanne wouldn't want us to go without a thing – especially not potentially important news direct from the magical government.

My entire family were witches (people with old magical blood, the opposite of mortals) and sorcerers (people who could produce spells). Some witches were not powerful enough to do sorcery, and hence were only witches, and some who practiced sorcery were not witches. Blood didn't necessarily determine power or ability to use magic (after all, there were cases of powerful sorcerers born into families in which there was absolutely no witch blood) but it was generally a pretty good indicator. Magic went back a really long way through Dad and Aunt Leanne's family, the Byrnes, beyond the scope of the family tree, but none of us had ever been able to produce particularly impressive magic when we tried. Except me – just that once.

We didn't know anything about Mum's side, except that
her
mum was Greek and her dad (a writer, apparently) had disappeared just after she was born.

‘I will, I just keep forgetting,' Angela said, glancing at me significantly and returning to the kitchen to retrieve her own plate. Aunt Leanne had been on her case to sign up for the monthly White Elm newsletter ever since the Lisandro incident half a year ago. What she didn't know was that the White Elm had managed to find us without us ever signing up to the newsletter, and that next time we received anything from the council, it was likely to be much more informative than a public newsletter.

‘The White Elm needs as much support as it can get these days,' Aunt Leanne said, cutting her pancakes into little pieces. ‘It's important to show where your loyalties lie.'

When one of the council's most prominent members had very suddenly and publicly mutinied, our society had been rocked in a very real way. The White Elm council had always been trusted and followed, if sometimes grudgingly, so what reason could their most popular councillor have for wanting to leave? It had to be a good reason, many people determined, and they'd cancelled their subscription to the White Elm's newsletter, trying to cut off the council's ability to contact them further. The White Elm had been fiercely discouraging this, especially as whispers of Lisandro's travels became louder and more persistent. Rumours said that he'd been seen in Hungary recruiting followers, and that Jackson, who had left the council with him, had been spotted repeatedly in parts of Western Europe and along the east coast of the USA. According to Aunt Leanne, however, by the time these rumours reached the White Elm, there was no trace of any of their former councillors. Some people thought that this was a good thing – that Lisandro was clearly much cleverer and more gifted than the council, and a powerful contender for their loyalty should he ask for it.

Aunt Leanne was not like those people. A staunch believer in the council, she read the newsletter every month and occasionally wrote in to share her support. She frequently quoted the newsletters like they were scientific journals, and religiously drilled into her daughter and nieces the importance of supporting your chosen side.

‘They're being very careful with their words these days,' Aunt Leanne commented as she skimmed over her newsletter for the thousandth time. ‘They've put into action a long-term plan to protect communities and the council's future from threat, but they haven't written what they're actually going to do.'

I silently ate my breakfast, avoiding everybody's eyes. All things going smoothly, I was part of that plan. If I were on a council and I had spent half a year looking for a former colleague who had managed to totally evade all attempts to locate him, and I had absolutely no clue where he was or who among my society were even still on my side, I probably wouldn't be publishing my grand plans in a monthly newsletter, either.

‘And they aren't putting photos in anymore,' Kelly complained. ‘They haven't published a single picture of any of the new three councillors. Usually when they bring somebody new on, they do a huge feature so you can sort of get to know them. Then they hired these new people and just did a small article, with no pictures or last names or anything! No one seems to have seen them or to know who they are. You don't even know if they're real people. What're their names again, Mummy?' Kelly paused and looked to her mother, but Aunt Leanne's mouth was full, so Kelly took a guess. ‘Jadon, Therese…Audrey?'

‘Aubrey,' my aunt corrected once she'd swallowed, ‘Teresa and Jadon, from France, Romania and America, respectively. That's all we know.' She took a sip of her cooling coffee. ‘I suppose they've got their reasons for withholding their youngest councillors' identities. It's not that important that we know what they look like, after all. It was good to see that they brought on another sorceress this time around – brave girl.'

‘More juice, Aristea?' Uncle Patrick asked me. I looked up at him. Uncle Patrick shared no blood with me, but a lot of the time I liked him more than either his wife or daughter. He was easy-going and slow to anger, a perfect combination in a mentor, which he'd become for me when I hit adolescence. A former teacher, he'd home-schooled me through my secondary school years and also worked with my mother to correct my various emotional issues.

At that moment there was a sharp knock at the door. Angela looked straight up at me.

‘Uh, yes, please,' I said, looking over my shoulder towards the front room as my sister got up to answer the door.

‘Are you expecting someone?' Aunt Leanne asked, always nosy. I shrugged while Uncle Patrick poured me another juice. It had been almost a week since Qasim had appeared and told me about the White Elm's academy, and so far we'd heard nothing else.

Angela returned a few minutes later with a thick stack of envelopes.

‘Post on a Sunday?' Uncle Patrick asked. Angela shook her head.

‘Who was it?' I asked, wishing we'd mastered telepathy long ago so she could tell me everything without ever opening her mouth.

‘It was Qasim,' she said, handing me most of the letters. I shoved my plate away and ripped the first envelope open. My aunt frowned.

‘Qasim? There's a Qasim on the White Elm.' She opened her newsletter and began skimming through it.

‘Yes, he was just here,' Angela said, sitting down again. ‘He was here last week, too.'

Aunt Leanne said nothing for a few seconds, and though I knew she was dying to ask a thousand questions, she was also feeling slightly insulted that we hadn't thought to tell her this already. She was extremely interested in everything anyone in her family got up to, from what I was doing on the weekend to what Angela got up to at her dull but well-paying receptionist job at an optometry clinic in town. I understood the possessiveness – her baby brother had died suddenly and tragically, and she'd taken it upon herself to take his place in loving and protecting us, his daughters – but that didn't make it any less annoying at times. 

‘We were asked not to tell anyone he was here,' I told Aunt Leanne, guessing from Angela's openness that that rule had been lifted. My aunt visibly relaxed, and I felt it, too, as she decided that this made it okay.

‘Of course, they're being very careful these days,' she agreed, buttering another pancake. ‘Didn't you want to invite him in to join us for breakfast?'

‘He had lots of other people to visit,' Angela answered, her blue-green eyes skimming the letter she'd opened. I finished reading my first letter and waved it at her excitedly.

‘They want me at their school!' I said, because this handwritten letter made it feel more official. ‘I can start on the first of March!' I looked around for the calendar and spotted it on the wall. I silently counted the days. ‘That's less than two weeks away!'

‘You'll be boarding there – you'll have to quit your job,' Angela commented. I felt a twinge of regret for that, because I liked my little job at the crystal and occult store. I liked being surrounded by the pretty things, the books and the positive energy of my eccentric customers. It would be a worthwhile trade-off, I reminded myself, when I learnt to scry.

‘I'll tell them tomorrow,' I said, because I always worked Mondays.

‘I'm very confused,' my aunt said pointedly. ‘Which school is this that you're talking about?'

‘The White Elm has started a school for gifted sorcerers, and they've offered Aristea a place,' Angela said before I could answer. ‘It could lead to a position on the council one day.'

‘Oh,' Aunt Leanne said, clearly too surprised to think of anything else to say. In the silence that followed, I reread my letter.

Dear Aristea Byrne,

Congratulations on your acceptance into the White Elm's Academy of Sorcery. We hope that you will enjoy the classes being prepared for you and your classmates. Along with this letter, you will also have received a letter addressed to your sister and guardian, a list of items you are required to bring, a list of classes you will be studying, a key to your dormitory at the Academy, and a contract you and your guardian will be expected to sign before your enrolment in the Academy is finalised.

Upon arriving at the Academy on March first, the date of term commencement, you will find your shared dormitory, which is home to three other students besides yourself. Each student will be supplied with a bed, a closet for clothing and a second cupboard for excess belongings.

Please advise the White Elm of your travel needs as soon as possible. We are happy to provide displacement services to families requiring this.

Please be advised that pets are not permitted at the Academy. We apologise for any inconvenience but this is for the comfort of all students.

Please do not bring electronic equipment, such as mobile phones, CD players, MP3 players, laptop computers, hair dryers or electric toothbrushes onto the Academy grounds. These will not function due to interference from the many layers of magic encasing the estate.

Please be advised that consumption of alcohol and the use of illicit drugs are strictly prohibited at the Academy. Smoking will be allowed in a designated outdoor area only. It is suggested that students begin planning for these lifestyle restrictions now.

Students will not need money during their stay at the Academy. All food and other necessities will be provided to students at no cost. Due to restrictions on movement in and out of the school grounds, it is unlikely that opportunities to spend money will arise.

Meals will be provided and prepared by Academy staff. Students with special dietary requirements should detail these in immediate return correspondence. Students from all cultural backgrounds are encouraged to supply the Academy with recipes for favoured dishes and will have opportunities to share culinary knowledge and skills with house staff through the preparation of meals.

Please keep your key with you at all times throughout the school year. It is only with this key that you will enter your room, your closet, your cupboard, many of your classrooms, and other various places around the school.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter, for accepting this opportunity to take up your offered place at the White Elm's Academy of Sorcery and for your support in our creation of this facility. Without enough numbers, the school would not have gone ahead.

We anticipate your reply. 

Sincerely yours,
Glen
Blessed be.

 

I was in! I was in a magic school!

‘It's right here in Northern Ireland,' Angela said, finishing her letter. ‘It's inland a bit, but it's really close to Coleraine City.'

‘The school?'

‘Yes. It's only about an hour's drive south from here.'

When our parents and Aidan were alive, we lived north of the city of Coleraine, near the ocean. After the storm, Angela and I moved south to the city, where freak storms rolling in from the sea couldn't hurt us.

‘Well…Well done, sweetie,' my uncle said finally, forcing a smile at me. ‘It's very impressive. I'll be very proud one day to say I have a niece on the White Elm.'

I smiled back. Uncle Patrick was so nice.

‘Do you think I'll get a place in the school?' Kelly asked her parents. I loved my cousin, my only cousin, but she totally lacked the maturity of Angela.

‘We're too old,' Angela said, letting Aunt Leanne take the letter from her hands and begin to read. ‘It's for younger people; they're looking for apprentices.'

I opened the other envelopes and tipped their contents onto the tabletop. My booklist was for a few exercise books, some pens, a set of runes and a wand if I had one. I did. I'd inherited my Greek grandmother Anthea's old one on my thirteenth birthday. I was also advised to bring as many clothes as I wanted/could fit into one small wardrobe and four drawers, and that there was a laundry service organised by the house staff.

A small silver key tinkled as it fell to the tabletop amongst the paperwork. This was the key to my future, I knew it. It was so pretty and delicate, very complex-looking.

‘This will be interesting – you'll be sharing rooms,' Angela said, amused.

‘What's wrong with that?'

‘It'll be just your luck to be put in a room with the nastiest girl in the school. I know I always was on school camps.'