My heart did a flip. Did they see a ghost? Was the woman going to jump out like the crazy old Dean did?
I scrutinized the portrait, looking for a sign of whatever it was that had spooked the twins. I was half expecting some scary demon to jump out of the frame but nothing untoward occurred.
It was just a picture.
The woman in the portrait was a stunning woman with honey blonde hair. She was dressed in a floor-length ball gown made of royal blue silk on which a flying phoenix was embroidered with fine gold thread.
The sleeves of her dress were slit at the shoulder, showing off her creamy arms, ending with button cuffs at her wrists. The front bodice was cut low, exposing the swells of ample breasts and a high, regal neckline.
The woman was highborn, or at the very least, drenched in wealth.
In her ears were dangling pendants of crystals and on her head was a gold crown encrusted with diamonds. Between her breasts hung a huge single tear drop of the deepest blue sapphire I had ever seen.
As opulent as she looked, it was not the lavish show of wealth on her that attracted my attention. Rather, it was the enigmatic expression on the woman's face that truly caught my eyes.
There was nothing simple about her at all. She looked like a mischievous sprite, ready at a moment's notice to play tricks on the viewer, but deeper within her bright green eyes lurked a darker shade of grey.
The first, and most obvious anomaly was her surroundings. Why was an elegant and breathtaking queen wearing opulent court clothing standing in such a blighted grim place, filled with cobwebs and a thick layer of dust?
And what were those shadowed beings in the corners with the dull glints of red in their eyes? The reflective gleams hinted that there was a source of light in front of them.
In deed, the woman's face was also bright, as if a light was shining directly on her.
The only problem was, the only obvious source of light was the open window behind her which spilled golden sunshine into the darkened interior. She should have been back-lit, but she wasn't.
The scene outside of that painted window was the very familiar red, rocky hills with scattered dark green scrubby trees that surrounded the Academy.
That room was real. It had to exist somewhere at the Academy.
I shivered inspire of the warmth of the room.
"Holy cow, that looks like Nana!" Connor said, letting out a low whistle.
Corwin's face turned pale. "That's not Nana."
"And you would both be correct!" Dean Blackstone said. "That painting is over a hundred years old. It is a portrait of woman in her mid-twenties so obviously it can't be a representation of our Inanna here, who is no more than fifteen years of age."
"I'm almost eighteen," I mumbled. Not that anyone heard me.
"Who is that?" Corwin asked.
"That is a painting of a famous thaumaturge named Chloe Belladonna. Inanna bears a rather striking resemblance to this young woman here, but that is where the resemblance ends." The Dean cackled.
"She was a powerful thaumaturge, able to control the elements and wield them with a master hand." He tapped his pipe to his palm.
"She was also a master necromancer able to command a good number of demons from beyond—whereas this girl here," he flicked his wrist in my general direction, "can barely maintain enough control of a tamed cooking fire to make a pot of soup."
I glared at him from the corner of my eyes.
What a poop on a stick this old Dean was.
"So, how do both of us get to be right?" Connor asked. "If this mage died over a century ago, wouldn't that mean it's definitely not Nana?"
The Dean raised his eyebrows and leaned towards Connor. "Did I say that she died? I only said she lived over a hundred years ago." He chuckled and slouched back into his chair.
"Of course, I'm also not saying that the painting is of Inanna, I'm merely saying the painting is a good likeness of the child…if she were to have honey blonde hair and if her eyes were like emeralds."
He shot her an appraising eye. "Instead, she has hair the color of melted chocolate and eyes of warm taffy shot through with amber streaks of bourbon whiskey."
Corwin and Connor looked at each other. Then they turned to look at me.
"Boys…emeralds dipped in honey are not the same as chocolates laced with taffy and filled with bourbon whiskey."
Dean Blackstone laughed as the twins blushed at whatever they were thinking about.
"Now, Inanna may not have the same powerful gifts that Chloe Belladonna possessed in spades, however, remember that Nana's family comes from a very long and convoluted lineage of very powerful mages."
"What are you trying to tell us, Uncle?" Corwin was starting to become impatient.
"I'm trying to tell you, boy, that Inanna is a direct descendant of the Lady Chloe Belladonna."
"What does she have to do with all those vanished books?" Corwin scratched his head, trying to draw the old wizard back to the original question.
"Are you saying the old lady came back from the grave and stole them?"
Connor snickered, hiding his mouth behind his hands. "Only you Corey, could come up with something that macabre."
"Now wait just a doggone minute," Dean Blackstone barked, "when did I ever say she died?" He puffed himself up as large as his small dwarfish form would allow.
"Lady Belladonna disappeared over a hundred years ago." He recited as if reading from a history book. "Nobody knows what happened to her."
"Whether it was foul play or if it was magikally induced, we will never know."
"Again, what does she have to do with the books?" Corwin interjected with impatience.
"Patience, my young nephew," the Dean sucked on his pipe and blew a purple smoke ring at Corwin. It settled around his head like an angel's halo.
Scowling, Corwin batted the smoke ring away with an annoyed hand.
The Dean laughed and leaned forward, whispering in a conspiratorial tone.
"The grande dame has much, if not everything, to do with the disappearance of these books. She herself was the person who sealed the door to the classroom at 142 Alder Alley."
That caught our attention. My eyes widened with surprise.
"What's more, she was the one who wrote this book over a hundred years ago." He smirked, holding up the book.
The spot designated for the author's name was clearly inked: Lady Chloe Belladonna.
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
How did I miss the author's name? I was completely focused on the front cover with the Demon's symbol that I didn't even think to look at who the author was.
My brains ached trying to squeeze the facts together and scramble them into some semblance of reasoned logic.
"So you're telling us that Lady Belladonna wrote the book, sealed the classroom, and then sent the books over a hundred years into the future so that one of her descendants—namely me," I pointed to myself, "would find a way to open up the sealed door and deliver the books to a classroom filled with students that existed at one point, but are not currently in existence as of this moment. Is this correct?"
Dean Blackstone grinned and nodded. He pointed his pipe at me with excitement.
"Ah, I knew the girl was smart." He laugh, slapping at his thigh and winking at the twins.
"I knew you boys were onto something good when you kept her out merry-gandering about till all hours of the day and night."
Cackling with glee, he banged his pipe on the table.
"Good! Good! I approve. I heartily approve! Carry on, boys!"
"Oh good grief!" Corwin sighed, rubbing his temples. "Nothing of what you said comes together logically at all."
Connor scratched his head. "It also does not address the reason why the books disappeared or how Nana was able to open the sealed doors when nobody on this sweet earth could."
"Then, there's the matter of Simon, who's disappeared. We have no idea where he is or how to get him back." Corwin concluded.
"All in good time, young man. One thing at a time." The Dean made a show of rolling his eyes. "All you young kids today are so impatient."
He levitated onto the table top and began humming a strange melody.
His body began twitching—first his legs, then his arms, and finally his head started to roll around his shoulders. His movements were steady and rhythmic, almost as if he was dancing to the sound of his own humming.
I stared at him not sure what to make of this strange behavior. Beside me, Connor and Corwin were sitting there, equally baffled.
"Is he…is he okay?" I leaned forward wondering if I should intercept and give some type of medical assistance to what was obviously a physical or mental ailment.
"He's—" Connor reached out with his palms outstretched, his eyes narrowing in concentration, "not in any kind of pain. Nor is he epileptic or having seizures. His brain waves are fairly normal, as if he's wide awake."
"Wide awake in dream land," Corwin said with a shake of his head. "He's probably out tripping the light fantastic on that horrid magenta stuff he keeps smoking."
"What is it?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
Connor completed his magikal diagnostics. He lowered his hand and turned to me.
"It's a magikally derived form of an hallucinogen that is similar to a plant mixture of ayahuasca and chacrona that the ancient people used for divinatory and healing purposes."
"What exactly does it do?"
"It is said to open the pineal gland and allows a person to be able to see and comprehend things which cannot be seen in this dimension—or so we've been told." Connor shrugged.
"I didn't know we had plants like that growing here in Topaz."
"We don't." Corwin replied. "Our climate is too dry and too cool. The only other place that it would be able to grow would be the Hydroponics building, but since it's on school grounds, it's not a place where ayahuasca and chacrona would be cultivated."
"Since Uncle Blackstone is also an Alchemist First Class, he probably knows the alchemical properties of these plants and probably just reproduce their alchemical signatures in the lab with basic chemical ingredients."
Connor sighed. "One of these days that nasty magenta stuff is going to make him go stark raving mad."
We had been talking for at least a full five minutes before the Dean finally stopped twitching and opened his eyes.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving. It's—" he paused and squinted at the grandfather clock behind us with myopic eyes, "almost dinner time. Please join me for an evening meal."
Connor rubbed his eyes and laughed. "Did you work up an appetite after doing all that table dancing?"
"Table dancing?" Corwin scoffed. "I thought he was having a seizure."
He turned back to the Dean. "What the hell just happened there?"
The Dean reached out with his pipe and clocked Corwin on the head.
"Ow!" Corwin howled in pain, rubbing at his tender head and glaring at the old wizard.
"You need to learn to respect your elders, young man, especially those who can turn you into a bald-bellied sloth should he so choose." Dean Blackstone said in a haughty voice.
Corwin shot him a baleful defiant glance.
The Dean sniffed in feigned indignation. "For your information, I was traversing the planes, looking for that student that you so carelessly misplaced."
He levitated off the table and hovered to the library doorway. "He seems to be in perfect health, and not much the worse for wear. I do believe Barnaby has some medium-rare steak and asparagus tips waiting for us in the dinning room."
"It sure beats eating out of the canteen!" He floated out not waiting to see if we would join him.
We did not need a second invite. Food was a great motivator, especially for young adults who had skipped a meal or two.
As we trooped out of the library, I heard the twins whispering and grunting amongst themselves behind me in their usual enigmatic twin-speak.
Although I was sorely tempted to eavesdrop on what they were saying, it was nearly impossible to figure out their twin-speak. Still, I did manage to catch a few key words, and once or twice, I heard my name mentioned.
Once we reached the dining room; all whispering ceased.
There, sitting at the table, was a very dirty, very disheveled Simon, swallowing his steak and asparagus whole, as if he hadn't eaten for days.