I thought it was best not to tell him that. Not with that stern look pulling on his face.
“Get dressed. I’ll wait here for you.”
Faith eased the door shut. “Shoot, I forgot to tell you. The man is Philip Attwood. Actually, you should call him Professor Attwood. He’s very strict about ceremony.” She fell back onto the throw pillows. “You’d better hurry. He hates tardiness.”
“You think? He’s very uptight.” I dashed across the tiled floor, flinching at the coldness under my feet.
“No need to be nasty.”
“Me? You could’ve told me I had a lesson.”
“I said I forgot.”
“Okay. Whatever. That man is full-on scary, just saying.”
I ran to my backpack then dragged out jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt. After dressing, I yanked the door open. “See you later,” I called back into the room.
“Chivvy along, now.” He walked off, and I shadowed him down the hall. “I have too many duties to have an inconsiderate girl waste my time. I only agreed to work late because your training must start straightaway.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to meet you. No one told me. If they had, I’d have been there on time.” He didn’t need to know I was a perpetual tardy violator. I made a quick mental note never to be late for lessons with him. Hopefully I’d learn enough helpful magic to make it worth putting up with his attitude.
He swung around to face me. “I fear, Gianna, we have gotten off to a bad start. I’m Professor Philip Attwood and you’re to call me Professor Attwood. Not Mr. Attwood or Philip, you understand?”
“Yes.” The man was definitely intimidating, so I didn’t correct him on my preferred nickname.
“I am your mother’s half brother.”
“You’re like my uncle?”
“I am, but don’t assume I’ll be easy on you because of it.” He spun back around and continued down the hall. “Follow me.”
Obviously. I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes behind my back.”
“How did—”
“I’m intuitive.”
I slumped.
“Posture, Gianna.”
I straightened my back, searching the walls and the ceiling for mirrors, but there weren’t any. We rounded the corner and scaled a narrow stairwell. Professor Attwood stopped at a door with his name etched into a wooden plaque attached to it. He unlocked the door with a fancy long key and then pushed it open.
Several lamps placed around his office emitted a harmonious glow over the furniture. Pink and yellow notes had been pinned or taped onto the wooden faces of the bookcases occupying every wall. Stacks of books covered the dark wood floors, and mounds of papers and books landscaped the top of a large desk. For a man bent on promptness, he sure was messy.
In the far left corner of the room an enormous glass globe sat securely in the hawk-like claws of a pedestal. Bolts of bluish light zapped within the transparent sphere.
A white cockatoo rested on a thick wooden roost beside the globe. A round, clear stone dangled from a leather cord hanging from its neck. Smoke puffed up from what looked to be incense in a metal bowl on a table between two reading chairs, emitting a cedar scent into the room.
The bird’s eyes were vacant and gray. “Is that bird blind?”
“Well, at least you’re observant,” he said in clipped tones. “He may be blind, but he can see more than anyone with eyes—”
“Who is it?” the bird squawked. “Arrrk!”
“Pip, this is Gianna,” Professor Attwood said gently. “You aren’t able to sense her because she’s shielded with a charm.”
“It’s Gia,” I asserted, then, at Professor Attwood’s disapproving glance, instantly added, “Um, I mean, I prefer you call me Gia, please.”
“Arrrk! Good day, Gia.” Pip’s head turned from side to side. “She be wizard?”
“No. She’s Asile’s missing Sentinel.”
Pip fluttered his wings and paced his perch. “More. Arrrk! Something more.”
The professor gave him a biscuit. “Calm down, mate.”
Pip gobbled the biscuit. Then he stretched out his lovely white wings, rested them on his back, and lowered his head.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s sensing the globe. Pip is a Monitor. The globe is how he sees. He can only view what comes over its sphere, what comes across the surveillance eyes, or what goes through the gateways.”
“Surveillance eyes? That sounds like spying.”
Professor Attwood let out a frustrated sigh. “The eyes only go in public areas. Should Pip sense a threat in what the eyes see, he sends out an alarm. Pip couldn’t care less about any private matters.”
“How does that work?” I touched the glass and then snatched back my hand. Its ice-cold surface had