Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map

by Forrest, Bella

  “Oh?” She followed me inside, where we sat at the kitchen table.

  I leaned forward on my elbows. “Before I say anything, swear you won’t breathe a word to Harley. Tell her you’re guarding me here or something, because of my mom’s condition. If you don’t, I can’t tell you what’s going on.”

  Ryann frowned. “How can I swear that if I don’t know what’s up?”

  “You’ll have to wrangle with your conscience, I guess. Decide if you want to know, or if you don’t.”

  “Is it about Finch?”

  I nodded. “Oh yeah, and then some. I’ve got answers. Not many, but more than anyone else.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “I… suppose I could keep quiet, if it’s for Finch.” She sounded worried. That worked in my favor. If I could buy anyone’s silence, it was Ryann’s. I’d seen her and Finch together—there were sparks, for sure, even if she wasn’t in a position to admit it. I knew she had a dude, but her fidgeting gave her away. It clearly wasn’t just Harley freaking out.

  “You swear?”

  Her frown deepened. “Tell me why Harley can’t know.”

  “This is Erebus we’re dealing with. If he finds out other people are involved, he might… destroy something I care about.” I nodded to the bottle by the TV, and I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking. “He’s got my mom and sister trapped in there. Djinn magic that only he can undo.”

  Ryann’s eyes shot wide. “What? Why?”

  “You say that a lot, huh?” I said dryly, before launching into the brief version of what happened today. I didn’t stop until I reached the part where I’d accidentally called Erebus weak, and he’d shoved my mom and sister in that bottle. It sent a sharp pang through my heart, though I tried not to show it on my face. I didn’t need anyone’s pity.

  “Wow.” Ryann blinked slowly. “And I thought I had a bad day.”

  “I’ll never whine ever again, after what I’ve just gone through.” I sighed. “And it doesn’t end there. Erebus told me where Finch is. He’s safe, but he’s far away.”

  Ryann leaned closer. “Where is he?” She stank of desperation. Poor sucker.

  “I need you to promise,” I urged.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate. “If your mom and sister are at risk, I won’t say a word. Just tell me where he is.”

  “He’s at a place called the Mapmakers’ Monastery.” I recalled everything Erebus had told me before disappearing—there’d been a lot of stuff to remember. “It’s this weird, isolated, coven-like place, run by some French dude named Etienne Biset—a shady assassin-turned-mapmaker that nobody knows much about. Well, Erebus might, but he didn’t give me much to go on. Just a name and a quick backstory.”

  “A monastery? Why would Erebus send Finch to a monastery?”

  “Forget about the monastery part. It’s more about the map-making, from what I picked up. Erebus told me Finch is there learning to draw magical maps to hidden places—again, no details on why. There are some trials, and they’re hella weird and scary and confusing. So, it’s safe to say that Finch has gone from the frying pan into a big-ass fire.”

  Ryann stiffened. “He’s in danger?”

  “Depends how good he is at the trials. Anyway, Erebus has sent servants before, but Finch is somehow different. Erebus has faith in him, as odd as that sounds.” I paused. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need help.”

  Ryann nodded. “Go on…”

  “Erebus told me that the art of map-making has something to do with Light magic. I asked Erebus why he didn’t just get his wifey to help—that Lux chick—but he said she ain’t sharing. He wasn’t really up for answering the questions I had, but I got the feeling they had a spat, and I didn’t want to push it. Basically, Erebus wants Finch to succeed. He’s learned from previous attempts what works and what doesn’t, and he gave me the job of helping Finch out. I’ve got a whole damn list of things to say, do, and look for.”

  “And you want me to help?” Ryann looked eager.

  “I need you to be my eyes here. Morphing is a strange ability. There’s a crapload of power to it, and it leaves my real body vulnerable. I need you to watch me, and this place, and that bottle, while I’m Morphing out to find Finch.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

  “Look, Erebus is a sneaky son of a gun, and I don’t want my body sitting out, exposed. More than that, I don’t want anyone following my trail, for their own sakes. I’m not giving Erebus any excuse to tell me my deal is void.” I stared at her. “I need that backup, so I won’t be wigging out over what’s happening to my body while I’m gone. You’re the safest bet.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “If Erebus says anything about you, I can just pretend I wiped your mind. One of the benefits of being magic-free. I’ll explain that I needed a bodyguard, but I’ll tell him you don’t remember anything. Then, he can’t complain or twist things to suit himself.”

  Ryann sighed. “I’m starting to develop an inferiority complex.”

  “You should take pride in the fact that we need you. I need you for this, and so do my mom and sister,” I replied gently. “Finch does, too. If anything happens to my body while I’m trying to communicate with him, he’ll be trapped on his own there, with no clue what to do.”

  A glint sparked in Ryann’s eyes. “If he succeeds, will he come home?”

  “By the sound of it, yeah.” I smiled.

  Ryann tapped her fingers on the table. “Will you tell me everything you find there? Like, what the heck Erebus has Finch running around after?”

  “Sure. You’ll have your mind wiped, remember?” I flashed her a wink. “What’s the harm in revealing a few details?”

  She smirked. “I like the cut of your jib, Kenzie.”

  “Huh?”

  “It means I like your style.” She chuckled, but some nervousness stayed.

  “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

  She nodded slowly. “I don’t like not being able to tell Harley he’s alive, but I get why.” She glanced at the bottle by the TV. “My family and I were trapped once. I know how it feels.”

  I felt like a weight had been lifted. With Ryann here, I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

  “Text Harley, tell her my mom’s having an episode and you’ve decided to stay here to watch me. Tell her I said I don’t want anyone else dropping by, so my mom doesn’t get worse with a bunch of strangers hanging around—something like that.” I hated using Mom as an excuse, but it had to be done.

  Ryann whipped out her phone and began typing. “Done,” she said a few moments later.

  “Let’s see what she’s got to say.” We waited in awkward silence.

  Her phone pinged shortly after, and Ryann’s eyes scanned the screen. “She says that’s fine, to keep checking in, and she hopes your mom comes out of it soon.”

  Guilt twisted my gut. I got down off the kitchen stool. “Then we have our bases covered. Let’s do this. You might be in it for the long haul, if that’s okay with you? It’s going to take a while on this first run.”

  “I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” Ryann replied.

  I walked to the sofa and lay down. Ryann followed and perched on the armrest, looking at me. No pressure. Closing my eyes, I let the apartment drift away and sank into the center of my consciousness. Slipping into the minds of creatures came as easily as breathing, but I’d have to travel a hell of a way to get to Finch. It would kick my butt, for sure. I’d have to sleep for a week once this was over.

  My body thrummed with Morph energy, my mind lifting into space, detaching from my physical form. It latched onto a seagull flying over the apartment. I took the reins instantly, the bird’s mind giving way without a fight. Bouncing my consciousness from one animal to another was tricky, but I’d learned the skill a long time ago. And it was the only way to cover this kind of distance in a short period of time.

  I soared on the warm currents of air that surged upward, feeling the strong wings ca
rrying me through the sky and on toward Greece. That was one good thing, I guessed… at least I knew where I was headed. I’d have to hop from one animal brain to another to get there as fast as possible, calling on all my Morph stamina. It’d take me a day or so, but I wasn’t going to stop until I reached Finch.

  Eighteen

  Finch

  A couple of days passed with no whisper of trial numéro three on the horizon. Aside from a massive headache, a need to cocoon myself in sleep for a whole day, and a throat as dry as the Mojave Desert, there’d been no severe aftereffects of the laughing gas. I could only imagine the hysterical scenes if dentists suddenly decided to switch out nitrous for whatever Etienne used on us. It’d definitely make root canals more interesting.

  On the morning of the second day, I sat on a different terrace—this place had them by the bucketload—overlooking the calm Ionian Sea. The air shimmered like liquid in the sunlight, making the edges of the monastery’s protective shield undulate like a living, breathing organism. Orange and lemon trees surrounded a cluster of tables and chairs, emanating a sweet, citrusy scent. Had I been poetically inclined, I could have filled books and books with the romantic inspiration this monastery provided. All of them would’ve been targeted toward Ryann, but I’d have been subtle about it. Anyone’s eyes could be as dazzling blue and soothing as the rippling ocean, right?

  Does she have blue eyes? It was hard to picture her face, not having seen her in a while. I knew the pain of forgetting all too well. Adley’s face had become a hazy shape to me now, and I didn’t even have a photo to remind me what she’d looked like.

  “More goat cheese, Mr. Merlin?” One of the monks bowed so low I thought his spine might crack in two.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks, or I’ll never fit through the door. I’ll take some coffee if it’s on, though.”

  “Of course, Mr. Merlin.”

  Their coffee was dangerously addictive. It tasted rich and bitter and spicy, flavored with cardamom. I could’ve downed ten jugs, but then I would be jittering around the hallways, babbling like a monkey.

  I turned my attention toward my fellow challengers, who’d picked their own tables, although Melody and Luke hadn’t appeared. The Basani twins occasionally shot death stares at Oliver, then at me, then at the others. I didn’t know what they were up to, but I knew their type. They were probably scheming to get everyone else disqualified. A charming way to finish off a delicious breakfast of goat cheese and honey.

  “Morning!” A cheerful voice reverberated across the terrace. I turned to find Melody and Luke stepping out of the nearby cloisters. Melody, of course, used the chipper voice of a true morning person. Luke just followed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I hadn’t really seen anyone yesterday, thanks to the effects of the gas. A few of them had emerged from their rooms to eat, but they hadn’t been very talkative. Neither had I. But today, everyone seemed more like themselves.

  “Morning,” I replied. Since I was the only one to reply, Melody made a beeline for me and sat at my table. My, my, aren’t I popular?

  “It’s a little chilly this morning, isn’t it?” Melody smiled as the monks hurried over to feed her.

  I shrugged. “Blanche said the monastery attracts the winds.”

  She cast a sly glance at the Basani twins. “I mean them. I felt it the minute I stepped onto the terrace. There’s a cold wave coming from them. Funny enough, it’s fear—it has a distinct sensation, which is hard to explain. I suppose it’s similar to that creeping feeling you get when you feel like you’re being watched.”

  “What are they afraid of?” Luke yawned and stretched out.

  “They’re terrified they’re going to fail. I can sense spite too, and a very potent dislike for everyone here, which usually leads to vindictiveness,” Melody replied. “I’m sure they’re not bad people, but they seem to feel there’s a great deal at stake for them.” She lowered her voice a touch. “And they really don’t like Oliver. Most of their emotions are geared toward him, though they have a few icy notes for you too, Finch. Likely because you finished the second trial first. Well done on that, by the way. I liked your piece. Very avant-garde.”

  She was pulling my leg, and I duly laughed. “Best thing I’ve made since my finger-painting of the Eiffel Tower in second grade.” I paused. “But why the beef with Oliver? Can you delve any deeper?”

  Oliver scraped his chair back, closer to my table. Unfortunately, it looked like he’d been in earshot. The Basani twins, on the other hand, were on the other side of the terrace—well out of the way. “It’s probably because they remember me, mate. I swindled a lot of cash from them a couple of weeks ago, in Athens. I wasn’t sure they recognized me. But I’m guessing they’ve caught on. Trouble is, they can’t hurt me for it. It wouldn’t look too good if they admitted, in public, that I’d conned them, would it?”

  I snorted. “Looks like they’re plotting their revenge, though. Slow and steady.”

  “They can plot all they like; it doesn’t faze me. They aren’t my first cheesed-off marks, and they won’t be the last.” Oliver shrugged, the prince of happy-go-lucky.

  “Why aren’t you crapping bricks right now? You know that as soon as you’re off this island, they’ll tear you a new one, right?”

  Oliver smiled. “In life, you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth. They’re not killers, so what’s the worst that can happen? I take a beating? I’ve been there before. Bodies heal. Fortunately, I’m not a Purge beast, or I would be in trouble.”

  I went back to sipping my fiercely strong coffee and realized Luke hadn’t taken his eyes off me. He glowered at me like he wanted to throw the cup in my face, or worse. Speaking of a beating… He clearly hated sitting at my table. But that was the beauty of Melody—she was the glue that bound us together, whether we liked it or not. So, I guessed she was more like a naughty kid with a stolen tube of superglue, spilling it liberally wherever she went.

  I met his gaze. Yo, you should grovel at my feet for saving your lump of pottery. I almost said it but held my tongue. Was he pissed that I’d had to save the day and pull him through the trial? Luke was used to doing the heroics. He probably didn’t like it when his ass needed to be saved, even if it was just a tiny show of kindness.

  “Have y’all tried these?” Blanche interrupted our unspoken animosity with a plate of segmented oranges. “I’ve never tasted anything like ‘em. They’re so juicy, I could eat a hundred and never get tired of the taste. Here, have one.”

  She offered the plate around. We all took a slice, since it’d have been rude not to. The oranges were the juiciest, tastiest oranges I’d ever put in my mouth. My taste buds buzzed. Why does everything taste so much better here? I worried we might be stepping into “Land of the Lotus Eaters” territory. What if all this delicious food turned us crazy, like it had done to my mythical pal Odysseus? Well, I could think of worse ways to go.

  “How are you feeling today?” I asked, devouring another segment.

  Blanche’s cheeks reddened. “I haven’t had a hangover like that since I was a young woman, after drinking moonshine. I suppose that’s another problem with gettin’ older. The body doesn’t bounce back the way it once did. Better than yesterday, though.”

  “If I grow old as gracefully as you, I’ll be more than happy,” Melody chimed in. “Although, I don’t imagine I’ll have as many awesome stories to tell.”

  “It was a different time when I was a young’un. We knew how to live, since we weren’t glued to screens.” Blanche chuckled, then turned her gaze to me. “We also learned, at an early age, how to forgive. I was wrong to distrust you, Finch, over what happened with my husband. I’ve been in the middle of a dark patch since he passed, and I suppose it’s blinded me to what’s proper. I should’ve known not to judge on first impressions. I’m sorry for it, son. Truly, I am.”

  I smiled back, sensing another thaw in the air. “Nothing to apologize for. I understand what that can do to a person. I’ve had my fair sh
are of dark patches over the years. What do you say we forget it and start fresh?”

  “I’d like that,” she replied softly.

  “Glad to hear it.” I took another proffered orange segment, though it felt more like an olive branch. “What does everyone think the next trial is going to be?”

  “I’ve been worrying about that.” Blanche chewed her lip. “I hope there aren’t any more mind-alterin’ parts coming up, or I won’t have the energy to continue. If our second trial was to overcome mental obstacles, then perhaps the next will involve something physical? Or magical?”

  Melody nodded. “It stands to reason Etienne wants to test all of our facets: physical, mental, magical, and… I’m not sure. Etienne is the only one who knows what’s in store for us, and he seems like a very mysterious sort of man.”

  “Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Luke said, giving her a dopey smile. I rolled my eyes.

  “Mr. Abara, what are you doin’, sittin’ over there on your own?” Blanche called out suddenly. Mr. Abara had taken a seat on the periphery of the terrace, scribbling something in a notebook.

  He looked up, surprised. “I’m just getting my thoughts in order.”

  “Well, don’t be a stranger. Come and join us,” Blanche replied. It wasn’t a request so much as a demand.

  Mr. Abara closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket before obeying Blanche. As she was the elder of the group, it would be hard to refuse her. Take the orange segments, for example. I’d already eaten a whole orange without realizing it.

  “What are we talking about?” Mr. Abara plonked himself down.

  “The next trial,” I said.

  He nodded. “I wonder if this is Etienne’s way of keeping us on our toes. He gives us some time to lull us into a false sense of security, and then—bam!—hits us with the next trial.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. A sneak attack,” I agreed. I’d taken a shine to Mr. Abara. He was a tough old nut, but after the other day’s poison gas debacle, we all looked at each other with different eyes. Secrets had been unearthed and weaknesses had been revealed, and our motivations had become a bit clearer. His had showed him to be the most noble one among us for sure.