Apprentice needed, p.1
Apprentice Needed, page 1
© 2019 Obert Skye
Interior illustrations by Brandon Dorman
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®, at permissions@shadowmountain.com. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.
Visit us at shadowmountain.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Skye, Obert, author. | Skye, Obert. Wizard for hire ; bk. 2.
Title: Apprentice needed / Obert Skye.
Description: Salt Lake City, Utah : Shadow Mountain, [2019] | Series: Wizard for hire ; [2] | Summary: Ozzy thinks his life is finally becoming normal until someone delivers a mysterious plane ticket, and Ozzy, Sigi, and Clark find themselves in dire need of a wizard again.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018039672 | ISBN 9781629725291 (hardbound : alk. paper)
Subjects: | CYAC: Friendship—Fiction. | Wizards—Fiction | Magic—Fiction. | LCGFT: Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.S62877 Ap 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018039672
Printed in the United States of America
Publishers Printing
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Book design © Shadow Mountain.
Cover illustration: Brandon Dorman.
Author photo courtesy of the author.
Art direction: Richard Erickson.
Design: Sheryl Dickert Smith.
To my brother Mike
a wizard of words.
This Is a Good Intro
Through the Dark
Tearing Me Apart
Slipping through the Door
Scared of What the Morning Brings
No Cars
The Forest before the Creep
Compact Yet Sprawling
Left Behind
Object
Tossing Away Greatness
Boarding but Not Bored
Deep Inside
Bland but Not Boarding
The Sun Rises Slowly
The Man in Charge
Waking the Bird
Arriving Where One Should
All That Glimmers Is Not Gold
Money Makes the Madness
Hope
Staring at the Enemy
Return of the Rin
Rin
In the Subway
Reasons to Worry
Stopped Short
Being Pulled Apart
I Just Don’t Care
I Stare at the Window
Sticky Situation
Controlling Others
F-I-R-E
Ashes, Ashes, We All Burn Down
Different Levels of Fear
Stare at Nothing
And I’m Wondering Where She’s Been
More Frightened
Can You Help Me?
You Ask Me Questions
Sleight of Hand and Talon
Horrible People
A Lit Fuse
Roadside Attraction
Afternoon Jaunt
Cyclops
Bibliophile of Corvallis
A Piece of Knowledge
Accuracy
Everything’s Coming to a Grinding Halt
The Enemy Within
Through the Bushes and Into the Dark
There Are Right Times to Scream
Finding a Spot of Ink in a Tube of Tar
Caves Are Heavy and Complicated
No People
Dragged Down, but Not Under
Bound and Determined
Don’t Try to Talk to Me
And Hold So Tightly
The Moment Has Arrived
Everything Is Connected
Discussion Questions
About the Author
The phone in the study rang as Ozzy sat in the room reading The Dark Is Rising. The ring was an alarm, indicating to the senses that a response of some kind was needed. Ozzy leaned over and looked. The caller ID read:
Unknown Caller
Ozzy sat up straight—there was only one person he knew who fit that description. He dropped his book and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“No time for small talk,” the voice on the other end said. “You know who this is.”
“Rin?”
After a few moments of silence, Ozzy spoke again.
“You know I can’t see you if you’re nodding yes.”
“I forget you’re limited in your abilities as a non-wizard.”
“Where are you?”
“Not important,” Rin said kindly. “You need to know that things are happening.”
“What things?”
“Again, we don’t have time for small talk. Just know that the time has come.”
The phone went dead. Apparently, the wizard didn’t even have time to say goodbye. Ozzy held the receiver in his hand for a few moments before placing it back on the base. It was the first he had heard from Rin since he had disappeared in the mountains of New Mexico, and it had gone about as well as he could have expected.
“Things are happening,” he whispered to himself.
Ozzy jumped up and walked quickly from the study toward Sigi’s room. He had some good news to deliver. According to Rin, the time had come. Of course, it was unknown just what time had come, but for the moment that didn’t matter. The wizard was returning.
The day had departed, dashing off like a frightened child as the first slender fingers of dusk gripped the sky. In its absence, darkness arrived at 1221 Ocean View Drive. Like a large visitor whom nobody had invited, the inkiness came early and in force, its arms filled with fatigue and exhaustion. It sat down on everything and moaned like an old man with tired legs and no intention of getting back up anytime soon.
Amidst the black, the home struggled to keep its glow.
The windows of the large manor were lit, and dozens of porch lights circled the abode, trying their best to remain seen. A strong wind twisted through the air and began to push around anything weak or loose that it could find.
Through the bay windows of the kitchen, a person with nerve or audacity or a desire to be intrusive and out of line could easily peep in and see what was going on.
Inside, sitting around a large table, there was a boy, a girl, and a bird.
The boy, Ozzy, was tall even sitting down. He was fifteen and possessed brown hair that came down over his ears. He was handsome in a way that he wasn’t aware of, with grey eyes that typically did a fine job of matching his emotions. His nose was straight, but his head was tilted as he looked at the playing cards he had in his hand.
“Come on,” the girl said.
Ozzy looked across the table and his eyes settled on Sigi. Her mop of curly hair was tied back, the overhead chandelier spotlighting her face. Her dark skin was beautiful to Ozzy—something he thought he’d seen in a giant box of crayons. She had turned sixteen two weeks before, but she carried herself with an unusual confidence that made her look years older.
“Seriously,” Sigi said with a smile of teeth and tease, “you’re slower at this game than Monopoly.”
“You should see him play Pictionary,” a small bird chirped in.
Clark was no ordinary bird. Quite the opposite. He had been created by Ozzy’s father many years before to aid him in his scientific endeavors. Clark was mostly made of metal. His body and wings were black, but his tail was tin, his beak was gold, and the tips of his talons were copper. He was sentient, sarcastic, and something to behold.
“I’m not that bad at Pictionary,” Ozzy said defensively.
“It took you like an hour to draw a rock,” Clark reminded him. “You’re a good drawer, but you shouldn’t add shade and dimension while playing Pictionary.”
“I do,” Ozzy said. “Rocks are important.”
“You sound like Rin,” the bird said without thinking.
Ozzy stared at Sigi and Clark as an awkward silence dropped in. The truth was they all wished Rin were there, but the wizard was gone. He had slipped away after the great fight at the top of the stormy mountain in New Mexico. Rin said he was going to Quarfelt, a place for wizards that may or may not exist. He had vanished like a ghost, and all three were constantly looking over their shoulders (or wings) in hope that he would reappear. The only contact any of them had received was a short phone call to Ozzy two weeks before, on Sigi’s birthday. Even though he had made no mention of his daughter’s birthday, the call had still filled them with hope—but since then, nothing.
“Rin does like boulders,” Ozzy said.
Clark hopped off the table onto the top of Ozzy’s head. Hoping to make the hair more nest-like, the bird began clawing at the boy’s scalp with his copper-tipped talons.
“Ouch.”
“I bet people would pay good money to have their heads scratched like this,” the bird pointed out.
“I don’t think they would.”
“Well, then, it helps my feet,” Clark sai d. “I get restless talons if I don’t move them around.”
“It’s been two weeks since he called,” Sigi complained. “I’m surprised he’s not back.”
“Me too. He said something’s happening.”
“I don’t know about that phone call,” Clark said, being the chirp of reason. “Mr. Wizard was probably just talking about getting a haircut. Or maybe he’s gained weight and that’s his way of telling you.”
“I don’t think so,” Ozzy said.
The three of them had discussed the short phone call many times over the last two weeks. All their thoughts and theories were pointless, though, because there was no way to predict what a wizard like Rin ever meant, or to know what someone like him would do.
Sigi yawned. “You know what? I’m sorry, but I think I’m done for the night.” She tossed her cards onto the table. They’d been playing a slow game of cards for an hour, but the dark wind outside made it feel like the world was shutting down. And Sigi, it seemed, felt the same way. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”
Ozzy set his cards down. “Good. I was about to lose anyway.”
“Goodnight, Ozzy,” she said with a smile.
He smiled back, and Sigi slipped off to her first-floor room near the home’s library.
“Is your face okay?” Clark asked once she was gone. “I mean, is that supposed to be a smile?”
“Yes,” Ozzy said as he stood up.
“Human mouths are so messed up. I like a straightforward beak.”
“We can’t all be perfect.”
“Your smile just proved that point.”
Ozzy put away the cards and moved out the side door of the kitchen. Outside was a short breezeway and a steep set of wooden stairs that led up to a room above the garage. It was dark and windy as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Clark fought the wind and flew beside him.
“What’s the deal with you and Sigi anyway?” the bird asked.
“What do you mean?”
“In all the movies I’ve seen, people fall in love much quicker than you two. They go bowling together, maybe sing something at each other, and then get married.”
“What movies are you watching?”
“I just saw the one about the magic pink elixir.”
“That was a commercial for Pepto-Bismol.”
“Well, it had a happy ending—isn’t that what everyone wants?”
“How would I know? I’m not sure what a happy ending feels like.”
Clark hovered inches away from Ozzy’s nose.
“Really? You can’t take a guess?” the bird asked. “I think it would feel like owning the motor of a 1968 Mustang.”
Clark had been binge-watching a lot of videos about engines lately.
“You and I have different definitions of happy,” Ozzy said. “You love things that are metal, like engines, and I’m looking for an ending that feels complete.”
“Well, if Rin was here, you know what he’d say.”
“What?”
“I don’t know—I’m a bird, not a wizard.”
Ozzy stopped three stairs from the top. His left hand began to buzz and he could feel the sensation rattle through his entire body.
Clark fluttered in front of Ozzy’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I think I’m just tired.”
Ozzy climbed the last three steps and opened the door into his room. Clark flew in and glided over to the desk in the corner. He hopped into a nest he’d made from a small pile of orange yarn.
“Keep the desk light on,” Clark said. “With Sigi’s mom gone, I want to make sure I stay powered up. I promised Patti I’d keep an eye on things.”
Three hours before, Sigi’s mom, Patti, had taken a shuttle to the Portland airport. She was on her way to be the keynote speaker at a five-day conference in Seattle. She had been hesitant to leave Sigi and Ozzy, but Clark had promised to act as chaperone and guard-bird. He took the task very seriously.
“Thanks for keeping us safe,” Ozzy said kindly.
“It’s what I’ve done from the start.”
Clark was right—the bird had kept an eye on Ozzy from the moment they’d met. And now, even though things were calm, they both knew trouble had not ceased to exist in the world. What they had gone through months before had been dangerous and life-changing. It had involved people who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. And knowing that made it hard for them to ever feel completely at ease. Having to have a guard-bird was just a sign of the times.
“Goodnight, Clark.” Ozzy patted the bird on his small head.
“Really?” Clark said. “It seems too windy outside to be good.”
“Okay. Night, Clark.”
The bedroom above the garage was small with two large windows that ran from floor to ceiling on the west wall. The windows overlooked the backyard and the beach that spread out in front of the Pacific Ocean. At the moment, however, they simply overlooked darkness.
The wind rattled the windows.
Inside the room was a bed with an iron bedframe, its mattress covered in white linens and topped with four white pillows. Next to the bed was the small desk Clark slept on, along with a chair and a trash can with pictures of seashells painted on it. Across the room from the bed was a door that led to an attached bathroom and an open closet. All the doors in the room were painted blue, while everything else was white.
Ozzy washed up in his bathroom and then turned off the overhead light. He left the desk lamp on for Clark, who was lying still in his nest, his eyes closed. Ozzy sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to calm his mind.
His left hand buzzed again, and the soft vibration felt uncomfortable.
He held his hand in front of him and stared at his digits in the dimly lit room. The pointer finger on his left hand had a birthmark that wrapped his entire finger like a purple sheath.
“Is this what you mean by ‘Something’s happening,’ Rin?” he said aloud.
The wind outside howled, but the question went unanswered.
At the age of seven, Ozzy’s parents had been taken from him—ripped away in front of his own eyes. He’d been left alone in a small house in the middle of an isolated forest to raise himself. When he had grown old enough to begin looking for answers, the quest had been long and filled with some less-than-happy endings, one of which was coming to know that his father and mother were no longer alive. That ending had also included Rin’s disappearance. The wizard had become an important part of Ozzy’s life, and now he too was gone.
The wind chuffed and stuttered against the glass.
Ozzy lay down on his bed and closed his grey eyes. For the first time in many years he had a place where he belonged with people who loved him. But even with nice sheets and soft pillows, sleep didn’t come easy. He missed the cloaked house he had grown up in—his attic bedroom with its round window was a part of him that he’d given up to live as the lawyers and guardians in his life saw fit. Now he had things like electricity and warm showers—but he missed the forest.
His finger buzzed again.
When Ozzy was younger, he had believed the strange birthmark meant something. He thought it might be a powerful sign, an indication of some great ability. But it wasn’t until his struggle on the mountain that his finger began to feel like anything more than just a finger. That night, he had felt it trigger something in his mind, something strong and confusing. Since then, however, nothing had happened until tonight—when his finger had begun buzzing.
It took a while, but eventually Ozzy fell into a sort of half-slumber, a fitful sleep, his body twitching like the whiskers of a worried cat in the throes of curiosity. His breathing fluctuated between shallow and deep. Sweat ran down his forehead and covered his sheets. He closed and opened his fists as his back arched and he shivered from hair to soles.
Ozzy gasped.
Struggling to get air, he shook. Then, as he relaxed, his lungs did a spot-on imitation of a boiler slowly bellowing.
“Ooooooooooom.”
Ozzy’s head rocked back and forth, but his dark hair stayed fixed, plastered to his top like a puddle of muddy tar.
“Sig—!” he tried to yell, but his mind wouldn’t let him.
The wind outside pressed its stormy face up against the glass, rattling the panes, curious to see what was happening.
Ozzy stopped shaking and sat up in bed. His blankets fell to the floor. The birthmark on his finger buzzed like a reminder had been set by his soul to wake up his body and cause great alarm.
