Outbreak

by Annabel Chase

  The lights went out and it took my eyes a moment to adjust. Immigrant Song—the same song from the other room—blasted my eardrums and Ariadne seemed to use the music as fuel, pedaling faster and faster as the song progressed. I watched as fine silk threads slid from the front wheel of the bike and into the air. They glimmered in the darkness, reminding me of constellations in the night sky. At first, I thought the web would form a map, identifying Bryn’s location with the outline of a recognizable landmark. I quickly realized the absurdity of my assumption. Oracles and their ilk weren’t textbooks; they rarely gave precise answers.

  I became mesmerized by the spinning and whirling of the glowing silk. The name ‘web spinner’ couldn’t have been more accurate. The music continued with its wailing cry and repeating riff. I found myself drawn to the catchy tempo as I stared slack-jawed at the imagery forming above our heads.

  I was so enamored that I didn’t notice when Ariadne stopped pedaling. The web shifted and threads realigned until I could discern the silhouette of a lion but with the tail of a scorpion and a human head.

  “A manticore,” Peter whispered.

  Next to the manticore, an outline of a woman emerged. The two images seemed to be engaged in battle and I wondered whether this meant another attack was imminent. I knew that just because I’d asked a specific question didn’t mean I’d get the answer I sought. Maybe the gods believed that a warning of another attack was more pertinent than Bryn’s whereabouts, though I was sure Bryn would disagree.

  The woman had no discernible features, so I had no idea whether she was intended to represent me or Bryn or no one in particular. The shining web illuminated the manticore’s tail as it lashed out at the woman. Finally, the music came to an abrupt halt and light exploded in the room, forcing me to shut my eyes. I waited a moment before peeking open one eye. Ariadne was standing beside the bicycle with one hand resting on the seat. Her head was tilted upward as she admired her handiwork.

  “Well, it’s not the clearest answer in the world,” Peter said. “I don’t know if it means Bryn is being held by a monster like some Beauty and the Beast situation, or whether you’re at risk of being attacked again, or something else entirely.”

  Ariadne sighed. “I’m sorry it’s so murky. You know how it goes.”

  Peter gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “There’s good information here, Ariadne. It’s up to us to figure out how it connects to the question.”

  “Sadly, the gods don’t always lead us down a straight path,” Ariadne said.

  Peter pointed at the web, still visible in the artificial light. “We need to find that manticore. If we find him, I think he’ll somehow lead us to Bryn.”

  “It can’t be too hard to suss out manticores,” Ariadne said. “They’re not a common species.”

  “What if we’re wrong?” I asked. “What if that figure isn’t Bryn, but me?” I barely survived the last attack and a manticore was far more intimidating than the two goons that got the better of me in the alley.

  “The only way to be sure is to track down the manticore before he has a chance to track down you,” Peter said.

  I narrowed my eyes at the outline of the large creature, my resolve strengthening. “It’s a start.”

  Chapter Seven

  With Robin’s help, Warden Armitage was able to dig up two manticores with a connection to the Liberty Project. The first one was Marlon Hanks, a mechanic with his own business in Chicory Heights.

  “How does a mechanic get the attention of an organization like the Liberty Project?” I asked. I scanned the file, searching for any plausible reason.

  “Maybe there’s a personal connection,” Armitage said. “There’s nothing obvious in the file. Hanks went nuts in a bar brawl and sent two trolls to the healer’s clinic.”

  “So he’s a fighter,” I said. My mind went straight back to the web on Ariadne’s ceiling.

  “Apparently,” Armitage said.

  I snapped the file closed. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  The warden grabbed me by the elbow. “Hold your unicorns, there, Degraff. What makes you think we’re going to let you go alone?”

  “I can handle it,” I said. I ignored the stubborn note that I heard in my voice.

  “Not on my watch,” Armitage said. “I’m not losing two trainees inside of a week.”

  “Don’t you need to go through the proper channels?” I said, putting ‘proper channels’ in air quotes.

  Armitage didn’t find me amusing. “Take Davies and Holmes with you,” he insisted. “Three witches ought to get his attention.”

  Except maybe we didn’t want his attention. Maybe we wanted to poke around quietly for information and then slink off into the sunset before he noticed us.

  “I’ll ask them,” I said. Of course, I knew they’d say yes. They were eager to find Bryn, too. I’d been hesitant to involve Cerys because of her own kidnapping experience. I hated to trigger any more traumatic memories.

  “Bring your wands,” Armitage said, “but keep them hidden. You don’t want this guy to see you as a threat.”

  “No,” I said, as an idea began to form. “If I handle this the right way, he won’t even realize he’s been interrogated.”

  Armitage held up his hand for a high-five. “That’s thinking like an agent, Degraff.”

  I slapped his open palm and tucked the file under my arm. It was time to round up the troops.

  “You don’t mind if I have a mechanic fiddle with your truck, do you?” I stood in Fonthill’s driveway, circling his blue pickup truck.

  “Why would you do a fool thing like that?” he asked. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my truck. I keep it in excellent condition.”

  Sure, except for the rust, I thought. “I just need a believable reason to see this mechanic,” I said.

  “If there’s nothing wrong with the truck, then what’s the believable reason?” he asked.

  I stooped to examine the back tire. “I’ll think of something.”

  “There doesn’t need to be an actual reason,” Mia interjected. “We can claim we heard a popping noise and we’re worried that something broke. We need to have it looked at before we get too far along the highway.”

  “Three clueless females traveling in an old truck?” Cerys said. “We’ll appeal to his sense of stereotypes. The manticore will definitely believe we need help.”

  Fonthill spat on the ground. “Fine, but don’t let him actually do anything to my truck. I don’t need some manticore’s fat paws fumbling around the engine.”

  “I doubt he’d have a successful business fixing vehicles if his paws were as fat and fumbling as you seem to think,” Cerys said.

  Fonthill peered at the petite blonde. “Stop seeing the good in everybody. It’s weird.”

  I laughed and opened the driver’s side door. “I’ll bring the truck back in the same condition I found her. I promise.” Because that bar couldn’t get much lower.

  “You best do that,” Fonthill said. “Because I know where you live.”

  My roommates climbed into the truck. It was odd to have Mia sit in the passenger seat. That was typically Bryn’s spot. I ignored the tightness in my chest and backed out of the driveway, careful not to run over Fonthill’s carefully cultivated border. He may have been a curmudgeon, but he was a curmudgeon that cared about his gardens.

  “Do you really think this manticore knows where Bryn is?” Mia asked. We traveled along a country road, with rolling green hills to either side of us.

  “Right now, it’s the best lead we have,” I said. “Until we can gather more evidence, the Liberty Project is too insulated.”

  “If we could figure out why Bryn was chosen, that might help us figure out the rest,” Mia said.

  “What if it was random, like what happened to me?” Cerys asked. Her kidnapping had been a crime of opportunity—the demon had seen the chance to snag a new bride without anyone noticing, and he did so.

  “It’s possible, but I doubt
it,” I said. “Of all the paranormals in that museum, they targeted the one with Volans Moldark for a father. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I agree with Dani,” Mia said. “It must have something to do with her father or her rare powers.”

  “Hopefully, this manticore will give us a hint,” I said. If not, we’d move on to the second manticore that Warden Armitage had identified. Beyond that…I didn’t want to contemplate what we’d do beyond that.

  The drive only took thirty minutes and I was relieved to see that the place wasn’t busy. The less distractions during our conversation, the better.

  “I’ve never seen a manticore up close,” Mia said.

  I parked the truck close to the garage door. “Me neither, but that’s about to change in twenty seconds.”

  In reality, it was ten seconds. Marlon Hanks wandered out of the garage, his scorpion tail swinging back and forth at the tip. Instinctively, I sucked in a breath. He was every bit as intimidating as I imagined.

  He smiled when he noticed us and we spilled out of the truck, making appropriate noises of relief.

  “Thank the gods,” I said. I smiled up at him, despite the errant beating of my heart. “I thought we might not make it.”

  “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to tell us,” Mia said. “The truck started making all sorts of strange noises. I thought for sure we’d end up stranded on the side of the road.”

  Hanks scrutinized the outside of the truck. “Strange noises, huh? Can you describe ‘em?”

  “Popping, cracking,” I said. I injected a note of ditziness into my voice. “I worried that those trolls from the bar had done something to the truck and then followed us.”

  Hanks’s whole body tensed. “You had trouble with trolls in a bar?”

  “They were being inappropriate,” Cerys said. “We tried to leave without causing a scene, but they tried to follow us to the parking lot.”

  “I was polite,” Mia added. “But they were so aggressive.”

  Anger blazed in the manticore’s eyes. “They’d better not have been the same two I tangled with a few months back. I thought I taught them a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.”

  My eyes widened. “You had a problem with trolls at the Brimstone Inn?”

  “Sure did,” he replied. “Had to go in front of a Justice and everything. Luckily, I had a top notch advocate from the Liberty Project to rep me or I might be stuck inside a prison cell now.”

  I whistled. “The Liberty Project? How’d you manage a fancy organization like that?”

  Hanks puffed out his lionlike chest. “Shandra Hutchins was my advocate. She knew that local law enforcement had only arrested me because I’m a manticore. If I’d been a common shifter or a vampire, they’d have left me alone.”

  “You fought the trolls?” Mia asked.

  “Had to,” Hanks said. “They were disrespecting some of the female clientele, much like yourselves.”

  “Why’d you get arrested?” I asked.

  “Trolls are big, but I’m bigger,” Hanks said. “They saw me as the perpetrator and the trolls as the victims because they ended up at the healer’s.”

  “Why do you think it was because you’re a manticore?” Cerys asked.

  “We’re rare and it makes other kinds biased against us,” Hanks said.

  I recalled Fonthill’s remark about the manticore’s paws and thought that maybe Hanks had a point.

  “I’m glad you had the money to pay for an advocate of that caliber,” I said. “You must do a good business here.”

  “Oh, they didn’t charge me,” Hanks said. “That was the beauty of it. They believed in my cause. They wanted me to have justice.”

  “And they didn’t want anything in return?” Mia asked. “Not even to fix your advocate’s car for free or anything?”

  “Nope.” Hanks seemed pleased with himself. “They care about the protection of all species.”

  Somehow, I doubted that. “You didn’t notice anything weird about that organization?” I asked. “I’ve heard they’re not what they seem. Of course, I don’t have any firsthand experience like you do.”

  “The only weird thing I remember is that they made me do a couple of medical tests,” he said. “Shandra said it was to make sure there were no medical reasons that might have affected my fight with the trolls.”

  “Do you remember what kind of tests they performed?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what the Liberty Project was up to with a medical assessment.

  “Not specifically, but they discovered that I have a heart murmur,” he said. He thumped his chest. “I needed to go on medication, so it was a good thing I got in that fight or I’d have never known.”

  “Or you would have discovered it too late,” Mia said.

  Hanks pulled on the door handle. “Mind if I start your truck? Maybe take a listen.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” I said, and stepped aside.

  He pushed back the seat to give himself more room. Even then, he was fairly squished. “This is a Terrene vehicle. You know that, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. I didn’t elaborate. I knew that Fonthill had a human world truck because he made regular trips into Terrene on behalf of the academy.

  “Pretty cool,” Hanks said. “I’m not as knowledgeable about Terrene parts, but I can tell you what I think.” He started the truck and sat quietly for a minute. “Hmm. I don’t hear any weird noises.”

  “No, I don’t hear them now either,” I said.

  “Maybe we were paranoid because of the trolls,” Mia said. “Made us hear phantoms sounds.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Hanks said. “I don’t like paranormals being biased against my kind, but trolls have earned their reputation as far as I’m concerned.”

  I bit back a response, unwilling to engage in a political argument with the manticore. Whatever his flaws were, I didn’t think he was connected to Bryn’s disappearance.

  “We’re sorry to trouble you,” I said. “I think the three of us were spooked is all.”

  Hanks vacated the truck. “No problem. Better safe than sorry, right?”

  “Absolutely.” I slipped back into the truck and moved the seat to its normal position. “Thanks for your time.”

  Mia and Cerys piled into the truck. I gave a final wave as we left the parking lot.

  “You don’t think there’s any chance he kidnapped Bryn in exchange for their representation?” Cerys asked. “Repayment of a favor he owed?”

  “Definitely not,” I said. “He thinks he won a lottery or something.” He was someone not used to getting anything for free or out of the goodness of anyone’s heart and he was appreciative of the Liberty Project’s intervention.

  “Did anyone else think it was odd for the Liberty Project to run medical tests on him?” Mia asked.

  I kept my gaze on the road ahead. “I have a feeling it’s significant, but I have no idea why.”

  “On the bright side,” Cerys began, “they may have saved his life.”

  “Yes, but I doubt it was their original intention,” I said. As far as I was concerned, the Liberty Project didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. As those motives were usually money or power, I’d have to come up with a scenario where their representation of Hanks got them closer to either one of those objectives.

  “What’s next?” Mia asked.

  “The second manticore,” I replied. “And if that doesn’t pan out, we’re back to square one.”

  “Gods, I hate square one,” Mia grumbled.

  I heaved a sigh. “Me, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  Unfortunately, my visit to the second manticore on the list had to wait until his return from the Eastern Quadrant. It turned out he ran an import/export business that involved frequent travel.

  “You really should come to lessons while we can’t chase down any leads,” Mia urged. “Bryn wouldn’t want you to risk expulsion. She knows how hard you’v
e worked to be here.”

  “Everyone knows I’m searching for Bryn,” I said. “They wouldn’t dare expel me for that.”

  “No, but they might find another excuse,” Cerys said. “If the Board of Regents is starting to view you as a risk….”

  I glared at her. “I am not a risk.”

  Cerys reddened. “I didn’t mean to imply that I agreed with them.”

  “The Board of Regents like to make our lives difficult,” Mia said. “They never seem to focus on the big picture, only their liability.”

  “They dislike anyone who’s a little different,” I said. Bryn with her blood magic. Me with my genetic link to magic addiction. They’d need their smelling salts if a manticore ever sought admission to the academy, not that he could. Spellslingers required a magical component that many paranormals lacked. There were other feeder schools into the AMF for non-users of magic.

  “Come to class and take your mind off Bryn,” Mia said. “We all need a break from worry.”

  “I don’t think we should be taking our minds off Bryn for a second.” I glanced at Icarus, perched on the windowsill with his yellow eyes closed. “I think Icarus is depressed.” I tried to keep my voice low so the owl didn’t hear me.

  “Can you blame him?” Mia whispered. “His psychic link is severed. He must feel like a part of himself is missing.”

  “Someone has to be using magic to block their connection,” Cerys said.

  “Or to block her magic in general,” Mia said. “Otherwise, Bryn would be busting her way out all by herself.”

  I glanced at Clementine, sprawled across my pillow. Be nice to Icarus, please. He’s dealing with a difficult situation.

  I’m not bothering him, Clementine replied. She licked her front paws. That’s about as nice as I get.

  I hope if you ever suffer a separation from me that you’re treated better than you’re treating him.

  Clementine lifted her head to give me a disdainful look. You’re right here.

  I turned away from my familiar, exasperated. As much as I loved her, she could be challenging when she put her mind to it.