request be acted on right
away. At the very least we need to meet to discuss my situation and arrange to
get a second opinion. If you believe I would benefit from therapy, I have to
think that there are better options.
He read it over again and bolded the part about doing
everything to make it work out. He thought it sounded, well, sane. And
non-accusing. He got it ready to mail and dropped it in the mail chute at the
admin, building when he went in for supper.
The dreams came like heat lightning in summer,
terrible dreams that illuminated those places in Seph's soul that were better
left in the dark. The violence was sometimes physical, sometimes emotional, or
both. All of his fears and insecurities surfaced and became weapons against him.
The worst of it was that he never knew what to expect. Sometimes he would
struggle to stay awake, then fall asleep in the early hours and sleep
untroubled until his alarm sounded. Sometimes he dreamed three nights in a row,
then nothing for three days.
The bizarre occurrences that had always dogged Seph
seemed to intensify. He touched a light switch in his room and the electrical
power in three buildings went out. Cakes fell and milk went sour in his
presence. Hawks and ospreys collected on the roof of his dormitory and escorted
him to his classes, swooping down on faculty along the way. The water froze in
the pipes of the administration building, and trees bloomed out of season. A
pack of wolves haunted the campus for a time, gray shadows lurking among the
trees.
Seph constantly second-guessed his decision. He knew
there was no guarantee he could find help outside of the Havens. Maybe
Leicester's offer was his only option. Maybe his magical outbursts would
increase until he had to be shot like a rabid beast.
The leaves on the aspens had been turning when Seph
mailed his first letter to Sloane's. They lay like gold dust on the ground when
he posted his second. He began to write several times a week so he could feel
that he was really doing something. He gave up on sane and nonaccusing and
resorted to desperate and threatening. There was never any response.
He tried to phone off-campus a half dozen times, from
various phones and under assumed names. He was always intercepted by polite
staff members who referred him to Dr. Leicester.
He continued to eat dinner at the Alumni House. They
were his only potential sources of information, his only avenue of hope. They'd
been trained in wizardry; they already knew how to manage their power. He
reasoned that if he could win some of them over, they might share the secret
that would prevent the dreams.
He focused especially on Peter Conroy. That first day,
Peter had been eager to talk with him, obviously had information he wanted to
share. But now Peter practically ran the other way when Seph approached. If he
managed to corner him, some of the other alumni would intervene. Something had
happened to frighten him away.
Others of the alumni worked hard to win him over. They
shared no useful magical secrets with him, but plied him with offers of food,
liquor, and illicit drugs. Faculty and alumni mingled at parties where he
seemed to be the unwilling guest of honor. Maybe, he thought, drugs and alcohol
would help.
But something told him they wouldn't.
Bruce Hays whispered to Seph about the unlimited power
that lay within his grasp. “Maybe you report to Dr. Leicester,” Hays
explained. “But when you think about it, the rest of the world reports to
you.”
Aaron Hanlon advised him that, given the current
unsettled political situation, it was best to shelter under the protection of a
powerful wizard. “There's going to be bloodshed,” he warned.
“Though Dr. Leicester is doing his best to prevent it. Just like during
medieval times, it wouldn't hurt to have a patron.”
It was like being rushed by a desperate and diabolical
fraternity. But, given the fact that Trevor and the other Anaweir were avoiding
him, Seph found
away. At the very least we need to meet to discuss my situation and arrange to
get a second opinion. If you believe I would benefit from therapy, I have to
think that there are better options.
He read it over again and bolded the part about doing
everything to make it work out. He thought it sounded, well, sane. And
non-accusing. He got it ready to mail and dropped it in the mail chute at the
admin, building when he went in for supper.
The dreams came like heat lightning in summer,
terrible dreams that illuminated those places in Seph's soul that were better
left in the dark. The violence was sometimes physical, sometimes emotional, or
both. All of his fears and insecurities surfaced and became weapons against him.
The worst of it was that he never knew what to expect. Sometimes he would
struggle to stay awake, then fall asleep in the early hours and sleep
untroubled until his alarm sounded. Sometimes he dreamed three nights in a row,
then nothing for three days.
The bizarre occurrences that had always dogged Seph
seemed to intensify. He touched a light switch in his room and the electrical
power in three buildings went out. Cakes fell and milk went sour in his
presence. Hawks and ospreys collected on the roof of his dormitory and escorted
him to his classes, swooping down on faculty along the way. The water froze in
the pipes of the administration building, and trees bloomed out of season. A
pack of wolves haunted the campus for a time, gray shadows lurking among the
trees.
Seph constantly second-guessed his decision. He knew
there was no guarantee he could find help outside of the Havens. Maybe
Leicester's offer was his only option. Maybe his magical outbursts would
increase until he had to be shot like a rabid beast.
The leaves on the aspens had been turning when Seph
mailed his first letter to Sloane's. They lay like gold dust on the ground when
he posted his second. He began to write several times a week so he could feel
that he was really doing something. He gave up on sane and nonaccusing and
resorted to desperate and threatening. There was never any response.
He tried to phone off-campus a half dozen times, from
various phones and under assumed names. He was always intercepted by polite
staff members who referred him to Dr. Leicester.
He continued to eat dinner at the Alumni House. They
were his only potential sources of information, his only avenue of hope. They'd
been trained in wizardry; they already knew how to manage their power. He
reasoned that if he could win some of them over, they might share the secret
that would prevent the dreams.
He focused especially on Peter Conroy. That first day,
Peter had been eager to talk with him, obviously had information he wanted to
share. But now Peter practically ran the other way when Seph approached. If he
managed to corner him, some of the other alumni would intervene. Something had
happened to frighten him away.
Others of the alumni worked hard to win him over. They
shared no useful magical secrets with him, but plied him with offers of food,
liquor, and illicit drugs. Faculty and alumni mingled at parties where he
seemed to be the unwilling guest of honor. Maybe, he thought, drugs and alcohol
would help.
But something told him they wouldn't.
Bruce Hays whispered to Seph about the unlimited power
that lay within his grasp. “Maybe you report to Dr. Leicester,” Hays
explained. “But when you think about it, the rest of the world reports to
you.”
Aaron Hanlon advised him that, given the current
unsettled political situation, it was best to shelter under the protection of a
powerful wizard. “There's going to be bloodshed,” he warned.
“Though Dr. Leicester is doing his best to prevent it. Just like during
medieval times, it wouldn't hurt to have a patron.”
It was like being rushed by a desperate and diabolical
fraternity. But, given the fact that Trevor and the other Anaweir were avoiding
him, Seph found
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