Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map

by Forrest, Bella

  Dear D,

  Finch has completed the task. I don’t know how, but he may have an insider. He couldn’t have figured it out alone. Thanks to your help, I’m not far off myself. A few more tests, and I will have it—I think I know which formula Etienne has decided to use from the list you gave me, though it has taken me longer than expected to work through. Once that’s done, I will proceed and take what you’ve asked for.

  Yours faithfully,

  BD

  This will break Finch’s heart. “D” was definitely who I thought it was. And when I said I was looking for something more obvious… well, this was it.

  I’d watched Finch with the other challengers. He and Blanche had developed something of a bond in their time here. Now, I realized she’d played him to gain his trust and cast his suspicions elsewhere. And, damn, she’d done a good job. I was reeling, and I didn’t even know the chick.

  Blanche rolled the letter into a cylinder and pulled a small metal tube from her pocket. She slid the message inside and went to the pigeons, taking one out and setting it on the windowsill. My guts churned. That’s what they’re for… Evidently, she’d found a way around Etienne’s communication ban. Very clever. Seriously, who used carrier pigeons these days?

  The message throbbed in my brain. What had Davin asked her to take? Whatever it was, that was the least of my problems right now. Outing her was the only thing that mattered.

  I had to act fast to stop that pigeon. Leaving my parrot behind the curtain, I Morphed right into the mind of the carrier pigeon. It’d be harder to communicate with Finch, but if I had the evidence tied to my ankle, maybe he’d get the message.

  No sooner had Blanche tied the tube to my pigeon leg than the African gray burst out of the curtain, squawking at the top of its lungs. Blanche shrieked and released me. Seizing the opportunity, I flew right out the window. She lunged for me, but my feathers slipped through her fingertips.

  Twenty-Eight

  Finch

  Etienne stared at my giant tree, arms folded. He’d come back five minutes ago and had been staring since.

  “Is that what you were after?” I prompted. I couldn’t have been happier, though I tried to avoid stepping into smug territory. I’d actually done it, with a little timely help. I’d completed this task, and now I could get on with actual map-making. Etienne had mentioned four trials, and I’d succeeded in the first three. Only one more to go, though I might well be the only one proceeding to the final stage.

  Etienne glanced at me. “Yes, though I might’ve preferred it smaller. Nevertheless, it seems congratulations are in order.”

  “The bigger the better, in my opinion,” I replied, trying not to smirk.

  “Hmm… perhaps.”

  “So, what now? Do I get a couple days to rest, like before?” I asked.

  Etienne smiled slyly. “No. Now, you move on to learning the actual skill of map-making. I must say, it’s been a long time since someone managed to complete this task.”

  “You didn’t exactly make it easy.” I gave him a hard look.

  “What would be the point of that?” He returned his gaze to the tree. “The question is, how did you do it?”

  I fidgeted nervously. “Uh… I don’t want to say out loud. You know, in case people overhear.”

  “Very smart, Finch.” Etienne leaned in. “One of the former candidates reverse engineered the formula from the soil of my example, the same way you did. Nobody ever thinks they can touch my creation, but I do not explicitly prohibit it.”

  “Since it was sitting there, I thought you wouldn’t mind.” I covered my tracks quickly, using his words to form my excuse. “And reverse engineering is the only way to do it, without any clues.”

  “Excellent work.” Etienne stood to his full height and spoke to the entire room. “The last three days of the trial are dedicated to learning the skill of map-making, but, as I said, people rarely make it past this task. I ordinarily use those days to restore order to the monastery, but it looks as though I will have to delay that. Please pick all of the oranges from your tree and follow me.”

  “All of them?” I stared up at the bulbous fruit.

  He chuckled smugly. “It would appear bigger is not always better.” He looked at the others. “After we’ve all watched Finch pluck the oranges from this monstrosity, you may all stay and study the monastery’s books and archives for the next three days.”

  “We’re not getting booted off the island?” Oliver looked surprised.

  “Call it a courtesy, for your efforts during this trial. Of course, you can be ‘booted off’ if you prefer,” Etienne replied.

  Mr. Abara gave a short humph. “The trial isn’t over yet, Etienne. We have eleven hours until midnight.”

  “You’re quite right. I apologize for being presumptuous, but it does not appear any of you are close to finding the formula.” Etienne wrung his hands in annoyance. “Nevertheless, my courtesy will remain, if you don’t succeed.”

  “We will,” Melody declared.

  Etienne shrugged. “I admire your continued confidence. Let us hope it is well founded. Now, Finch, if you don’t mind? We are all eager to see you pick the fruits of your labors. Without magic, if you please.”

  So I can be your personal clown? Cheers, Etienne.

  With some difficulty, I grabbed the pot and attempted to lower it to the ground. The thing weighed a ton. My arms shook as I maneuvered it to the floor, finally managing it in a low, painful squat that made my thighs burn.

  Even then, the fruit was too high. With no shred of pride left, I clambered onto the workbench and reached for those plump oranges. Tugging them loose, I placed each at my feet until there were none left on the tree. I had a grand total of eight—not a bad haul, if I did say so myself.

  “Do you have a basket or a bucket?” I jumped off the bench.

  Etienne shook his head. “No.”

  “Then how am I supposed to carry them? Can I use magic now?” They were huge. I’d never fit them all into my arms. Not without making orange juice, anyway.

  “That is up to you to figure out. And no, you may not. It is important for all magicals to understand the value of working without magic.” He was enjoying this a bit too much.

  I squinted at him. “Is this another task?”

  “No, Finch. This is merely common sense,” he replied dryly. “If you don’t have that, then you really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Fine.” Pulling the edge of my T-shirt, I fashioned a pouch for the fruits and duly gathered them. All eight. Satisfied, I grinned at Etienne. How d’you like them oranges, huh?

  Etienne didn’t say anything. He walked away. I stared after him a moment too long before realizing he intended me to follow. After sandwiching my notebook between my elbow and my ribs, I did just that.

  * * *

  Etienne led me through the monastery at a rapid pace. Eventually, we reached a narrow door lodged in the wall. Wandering alone with someone who could well be Davin’s spy didn’t make the journey comfortable. I wasn’t about to forget his little friendship with the biggest pain in my ass since I sat on a nail at ten years old. It was better to be prepared. I kept my Chaos ready to go, pumped up on the adrenaline. The fear took the worst of my fatigue away.

  Pulling out a set of keys, he opened the door and went inside. I walked after him, still ready to fight if I had to. A second later, I almost lost that burst of fire in my belly. I stood, faced with a spiral staircase that twisted all the way up to a platform.

  Etienne ascended in a casual stroll. My body, on the other hand, really wasn’t up for a climb like this, even with the rush of adrenaline. But I wouldn’t be beaten by a set of steps. I hurried up the staircase after him until we finally reached the platform.

  A gasp escaped my lips. I stood in a domed room with a single desk in the center. There were no walls, just glass on all sides, like a lighthouse without the lamp. It gave me some unsavory flashbacks to Ponce and his Cuban retreat, but this was differe
nt. The view stole my breath, though that could’ve been the climb. The shimmering ocean stretched all the way to the horizon, and beautiful islands peppered the water. The whitewashed island houses glinted in the sunlight, looking almost fake, like part of a dreamscape instead of reality. Even after I left this place, I knew I’d remember this view from time to time.

  “This is where you will start your journey. You have completed three challenges, and here lies the final one—learning the art that will grant you a map of your own making.” Etienne gestured to the desk. It had a solitary, blank sheet of paper in the middle, along with a quill and a pot of ink. Suitably old school. A wicker basket sat next to it, where I immediately dumped the oranges, alongside a plate and a knife. Ooh, I could do with a snack.

  “So… map-making is the fourth trial?”

  “Indeed. Please, be seated.”

  I took a seat and stared at the paper. “Are you going to guide me through this?”

  “I will start you on your journey, then leave. I can’t be in the room while you conduct your first map-making episode.”

  “Why? Is it going to get weird?” I joked stiffly, still wary of being alone with this guy. But if he wanted to leave, maybe that meant he wouldn’t turn on me. It made for a puzzling scenario. Did this mean he wasn’t in cahoots with Davin? My brain turned into an elastic band, bungeeing back and forth.

  He didn’t seem amused. “It may. That is why I cannot remain. One’s first map-making event is deeply personal and often strange. I would only be a distraction, and there can be no distractions.”

  Comforting…

  “Moreover, I don’t wish to be involved in any oddity that may occur,” he went on. “It has happened before, when I stayed to watch over my students. In fact, that’s what swayed me toward being absent.”

  “What happened? Sounds juicy.” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  He sighed. “One of my former students confessed her love for me during her first episode and almost kidnapped me to force me into marriage. She was ferociously strong, both physically and magically. A mammoth of a woman, in more than one sense of the word. She did, in fact, sling me over her shoulder and carry me down those stairs. She used a binding curse to prevent me from fighting back, and it took twelve monks to stop her from taking me away. You should have seen the carnage. She barreled through them like a rampaging bison. Many have never been the same. It’s why they all get somewhat antsy when new students arrive.”

  I stifled a snort. “The ladies love a Frenchman.”

  “Mm, a little too much in this instance,” he replied, with a hint of a smile. “There have been other episodes, though none so severe. One gentleman thought he was an eagle and attempted to smash the roof and fly away. Fortunately, he had Air abilities, so he likely wouldn’t have come to any harm. He had to be tranquilized, in the end. Another young lady thought she was Arachne incarnate and decided I had turned her into a spider out of spite. You should have seen the way she scuttled around this room. Horrifying.”

  “Throw on a Grecian robe, give it some good lighting, and I see how you’d pass for Athena.” I grinned.

  Etienne chuckled with actual amusement. “Perhaps the lighting was particularly good that day. But I don’t wish to endure a repeat.”

  “So, what do I do?” I picked up the quill to take a closer look. I felt more comfortable knowing he would be gone soon.

  “First, you must eat one of the oranges. That is how you start. They are infused with the poison mixture that made them grow, and ingesting that poison will allow you to commune with Chaos. It provides the medium by which Chaos will flow through you, for the map-writing part of the process.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve already got Chaos flowing through me in spades. I’ve worked hard on figuring out the balance. If I add more… I don’t know what might happen.”

  “It is the only way to learn the skill,” Etienne said simply. “Either you do it, or you don’t. That is your choice.”

  “I have to eat an orange?”

  He nodded. “Once the poison is ingested and the flow is initiated, the brain tends to have a strange reaction. I won’t lie—the more powerful you are, the stronger the reaction.”

  Well, that’s just peachy…

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” I mumbled to myself.

  “I’ve witnessed many effects: clucking like a chicken, mentally regressing to a five-year-old, attempting to abduct a Frenchman and force him into marriage. That kind of thing.” Etienne’s eyes glittered with mischief.

  I took a breath and reached for an orange. “Let’s hope for the mental regression. That shouldn’t make too much of a difference.”

  Etienne laughed. “I wish you luck, Finch Merlin.”

  It seemed odd that he was so friendly all of a sudden. It should’ve made me feel better, but it left me more uneasy. Was this some kind of weird subterfuge to get my guard down? I had no clue, but eating a mind-bending orange would probably ramp up the paranoia a few extra notches. Great.

  “Yeah, like luck is going to do me any good.” I shot him a worried look. “Thanks to you, all I can think about are mammoth women and spiders.”

  He turned serious, without warning, like he’d flipped a switch on his face. “Whatever happens, I will return in a few hours.” Without another word, he turned and made his way down the spiral staircase, leaving me alone with my oranges and my horrifying thoughts.

  Twenty-Nine

  Finch

  Alone, I picked up one of the oranges. Nice and firm… I brought it to my nose and sniffed. I don’t know what I expected. It smelled like a normal orange. Maybe sweeter. A bit more… artificial, like it was trying to be something it wasn’t.

  “You’d better behave yourselves, gremlins,” I whispered aloud. It wasn’t just my influx of power that worried me. My mind was a mess at best, a warzone at worst, thanks to my delusional disorder. Adding a mind-bending poison orange to the mix was a recipe for disaster.

  I peeled it slowly, digging my nails in. No knife necessary. The flesh gave easily and released an overwhelming citrus aroma.

  “Do I eat the whole thing?” I turned, hoping Etienne might still be around. Silence echoed back. I shrugged. “Go big or go home, right?”

  Putting the rind on the dusty plate, I started to chow down. Segment after segment. The juice burst in my mouth, sour and sweet all at once. I had to hand it to the poisons—this thing tasted incredible. Way better than the oranges I’d had at breakfast, what felt like a million years ago.

  After I polished off the last segment, I sat back and waited for divine inspiration. My nerves rattled in full force, not knowing what might come next. I gripped the seat of my chair to calm down. It’s going to be fine… it’s all going to be fine.

  I felt totally normal. I glanced down at my hands to make sure it hadn’t crept up on me—like, maybe I’d turned into a werewolf or something. But they were normal, too.

  Huh… I reached for the bowl and picked another orange, then set it on the table as a standby in case I needed more to get this process going.

  The minute I started twiddling my thumbs, the weird started. Slowly but surely. My body suddenly felt light, and my hands lifted off my legs involuntarily. I pulled them back down, terrified they might detach and float off into space. Oh boy…

  The sunlight shining through the domed ceiling transformed into golden liquid, tumbling right through the glass and pooling on the floor, the Grecian landscape beyond melting into it. Blues and greens and whites blended into the gold until the vivid waterfall crashed into the room with me. I stayed frozen in my chair. Only when the orange rolled and danced of its own accord did I stagger back, knocking the chair over.

  The seven remaining oranges started bouncing around, squeaking wildly as they jumped out of the basket. I stumbled away as they hurled themselves off the edge of the desk like orange bombs, heading directly for my face.

  “I didn’t mean to eat him! I had to!” I howled, backing up
against the balcony railing. They landed on the ground with squishy thumps, gathering their forces before they made another attack on the orange-killer.

  Meanwhile, the vibrant cascade swept across the floor, splashing against the glass walls and warping everything it touched. The glass itself shimmered and wavered, and cracks spread across the dome. Big chunks melted, dripping in glinting droplets that hit the ground with a less-than-liquid clink. Spouts of fire shot up from every falling droplet until the room felt like a sauna. No, not a sauna—like the center of the damn Earth. Is it hot in here? Did it get hot? I tried to fan myself with my hand, but my fingers had gone long and floppy, almost two-dimensional.

  “What the—!” I shrieked at the sight of them. I needed to get out of here. Screw the map-making. I didn’t want to see what happened next.

  “Oh, Finch?”

  My head whipped around frantically. “Who said that?”

  “Over here!” A tiny, puffy creature, somewhere between a sugar-glider and a hedgehog, emerged from under the desk, its too-big feet padding right through the golden flood. It stood on two paws, with two more tucked against its chest like the Pomeranian of the T-Rex world.

  My eyes bulged. “Who are you?”

  “You call me your mind gremlin.” It chuckled, covering its face with its paws. It had the sort of voice I’d have expected the original Pikachu to have. Sickeningly sweet.

  “You’re my mind gremlin?” The orange poison was clearly having a laugh at my expense.

  It nodded. “Oh, yes. It feels good to be out of your skull. Now I can do some real damage.”

  “Nice to meet you, but since you’re a figment of whatever’s in those oranges, I’m going to get going—I can’t do this. You’d know that if you really were my mind gremlin,” I rambled, edging toward the staircase.