The Reluctant Assassin Boxset

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "Tell us who is doing this and we'll hurt them for you," said Portia, with fists at her sides.

  Keelan said, "If you kill the Lady of Varna, then no one can receive the poison anymore, and we all die. Everyone. Down to the smallest babies."

  Vin looked like he was going to be sick.

  "And Priyanka knows this?" asked Skylar, aghast.

  "Yes," said Zayn.

  Skylar stalked away, looking towards the city. "This is terrible. I don't want to be in the Academy if this is what it is."

  "I will tell her this is wrong first thing when we get back to the Academy," said Portia, snarling with rage.

  "Guys, please, you can't," said Zayn. "This is why we haven't told you. And please don't say anything to Priyanka. I don't know why this relationship exists, but it's complicated. I don't think she wants it willingly."

  As he said the words he knew he had no reason to think that was true except that he liked the patron. Was it because she'd made him her protégé? He caught a funny look from Keelan suggesting that he didn't have the same opinion, but his cousin declined to say anything in front of the others.

  "Do you know why she allows this?" asked Skylar.

  "No," said Zayn, shaking his head. "But I don't think it's as simple as it seems. Anyway, it's not all bad. At the end of our five years, we return to Varna and work for the Lady. No one dies. We're trapped, but at least we'll have our families."

  Keelan kept a stone face. Zayn had purposely left out how the returning mages were turned into bland automatons subservient to the Lady. It would only make things worse. It was enough they understood their burden.

  Vin approached Zayn with tears in his eyes and gave him a bear hug. "I'm so sorry."

  Then he moved to Keelan and did the same. When Vin backed away, Keelan wiped the tears from his own eyes.

  "Is there anything we can do to help? Like anything," said Portia. "I'll pull someone's fingernails out, or put like a really nasty scratch in their new car door."

  Zayn looked to the emotion-wracked faces of his teammates. "You can help by being your awesome selves, which will make these five years in the Academy the best ever." Everyone nodded.

  "We'll come visit you," said Skylar.

  "That would be nice," said Zayn, though he knew it wouldn't happen unless he found a way to kill the Lady. Wanting to get them out of their crappy mood, he said, "And you can eat my dust. Last one around the course has to scrub the bathtub."

  Zayn leapt away from them, a ripple of laughter following.

  "Ewww, gross, Portia shaves her legs in there," said Skylar from behind as she leapt into a sprint.

  But Zayn didn't let them keep up with him, like he had when they played follow the leader. He wanted to wash away the last conversation with a flood of faez and endorphins.

  Within the first three buildings, he'd lost most of his team. Only Keelan was half a building back. Zayn glanced back to see his cousin soaring through the air, and though it was mostly dark, he sensed a grin on his face.

  When they rounded past the industrial park, Zayn saw the vagrants huddled around the burn barrels, warming their hands. In his speed, he nearly missed that one of them—tall, hooded, and standing in back—was staring directly at him, which shouldn't have been possible with the firelight.

  The strangeness of it lingered in his mind, slowing his pace. It was probably the only thing that saved him, that and a yell from Keelan.

  Zayn sensed something moving fast towards him from the left. Rather than land on his feet, he ducked his head and rolled onto the next building. Claws and swift wings flew past, followed by something long that ripped through the heating vents to his right as if they were made of paper-mache.

  Keelan threw two globs of fire at the creature. As the flame left his outstretched hands, Zayn saw a second creature descending on his cousin. It had a body the size of a horse, leathery wings, and a tail that ended in a huge stinger.

  A force bolt over Keelan's head forced the flying creature to veer away at the last moment, but the stinger caught him, spinning his cousin into a brick wall. Zayn's heart stopped for a moment.

  Zayn leapt the short gap separating him from Keelan, ignoring that the first flyer was probably winging back around to attack again. He grabbed his cousin, expecting to find his guts spilling out, but found him intact instead. The force bolt must have deflected the creature enough that the tail missed impaling his cousin.

  Keelan groaned from pain, but otherwise looked healthy. "Watch out!"

  Zayn spun around, realizing that he was too late. The beastie was upon him, the stinger lunging towards his chest.

  Then a trio of elements—earth, water, air—knocked the creature away. Their teammates came leaping onto the rooftop, firing elemental magic at both creatures, who quickly decided they were outmatched and winged away into the darkness.

  Remembering the hooded figure, Zayn sprinted back to the building by the industrial park, finding the vagrants staring at the buildings as they'd clearly seen the magic being flung into the sky. But of the hooded figure, he saw no sign.

  His teammates caught up to him.

  "What did you see?" asked Skylar.

  "He's gone now."

  "Who?" asked Vin.

  Zayn rubbed the back of his neck. "The Gurken, maybe. I don't know. I didn't see a sword. What were those things?"

  "They're called Stingtails," said Portia. "They live in the jungles in southern Mexico. They need a warm climate, and tend to stay away from people. No way they were up here in this cold place on their own."

  "Do you think that guy you saw had something to do with them?" asked Keelan.

  "Probably, though I don't know for certain. Either way, we need to tell Priyanka. It could have been the Gurken, or maybe another assassin, sent to stop us," he said.

  In his gut, he worried that he'd screwed up when Tally had knocked him off the building. He doubted that she could have had anything to do with it, but maybe whoever was watching Nocturne had seen him and figured it out. Or maybe he was wrong about her completely.

  "I think we have to assume that our surveillance has been compromised," said Zayn.

  Portia gave a heavy sigh. "That's disappointing. I didn't realize how much I was going to enjoy torturing people with burpees and planks. It's really amazing that people pay me money for that privilege."

  "We should head back," said Zayn. "And from now on, we need to be careful about going out alone. I'll talk to Priyanka and let her know about the attack."

  Keelan was rubbing his chin and staring at Zayn. "You look like you have something else in mind."

  "I do," he said. "I made a mistake a few weeks ago, and now I've got to figure out if that's what gave us away."

  Skylar gave him a questioning look. "And how are you going to do that?"

  "I have to go on a date."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sixth Ward, February 2015

  Operation: The Date

  Preparations for the date with Tally mirrored the planning for an extensive field operation. He let his teammates help him with the details, which turned into a whole lot of friendly arguing over the best location, proper conversational strategy, appropriate clothing, defensive spells, and the like.

  The early version of the date had him taking Tally to a play or a comedy show so the others could steal her purse during the event to place a tracking beacon, and otherwise rifle through her belongings looking for items that might give her away.

  Portia had contrived a flight to New York so they'd have to go through the security scanners at the airport that might indicate if she was a shapeshifter or doppelganger, but there was no way Zayn could convince her to go on such an extravagant first date without coming off as pretentious.

  Zayn decided on the Museum of Magical Artifacts as the location for the date since it was public, would give them a lot of time to talk, and he'd always wanted to visit the magical art section.

  There was also much discussion of clothing, in
which Skylar took preeminence, suggesting all sorts of spell-hardened suits that would make him feel like he was wearing armor.

  In the end, Zayn decided to follow the keep-it-simple principle. It was highly unlikely that she was an agent, or had anything to do with the attacks. And though he hadn't told his teammates, he knew most of the reason he'd decided to ask Tally on a date was to have a way to see her again, without possibly triggering his prophecy. If he was taking her on a date for surveillance operations, rather than as a love interest, he could enjoy the time with her without fearing for her safety.

  That was the theory anyway.

  Tally had been a little surprised when he'd called her at Metallum Nocturne, but she'd immediately said yes, so enthusiastically that a stone sunk into his gut with regret that he couldn't be completely honest with her.

  Zayn was standing in front of a mirror examining the clothing Skylar had picked out for him. He wore dark slacks and a dark jacket over a white button down.

  "I look like a Secret Service agent," he said, turning this way and that while Skylar stood behind him with a bemused look on her face.

  "You can guard my body anytime you want," she said, switching into an almost British accent. "Zayn, darling. You look hot. Capital H-O-T. Hot."

  The others hadn't been paying attention, since this was the eighteen bazillionth outfit that Skylar had made him try on, but a trio of heads came up, followed by gasps and whistles.

  Portia said something low in Spanish that made Zayn feel dirty for even hearing it, even though he hadn't understood a word.

  "You are criminal hot," said Vin, shaking his head.

  "Damn, cuz. With that fade...wow. I should take a picture and send it to Uncle Maceo and Aunt Sela. They would be impressed," said Keelan.

  "And Nev would call me a city boy or something. She already makes fun of me for losing my accent." He glanced at his watch. "Damn. I'm running late."

  "Are you sure you don't want anybody to come along?" asked Vin. "She won't notice a thing."

  "Nah, I'm good," said Zayn. "The MOMA has tight security because of the artifacts. And I really don't expect anything weird to happen. Mostly I want to figure out why the Gurken might be targeting her hall. I figure the artifacts in the museum will give her enough inspiration to keep talking without having to ask her questions."

  Skylar shoved a tracking disc into his hand. "At least take this on the off chance that you see the Gurken. We should all be carrying them wherever we go. Maybe we could have got one on that guy who sent the Stingtails after us last week."

  Reluctantly, but generally agreeing with her logic, Zayn shoved the disc into his pocket.

  They sent him off with their affections. As he rode the train to the sixth ward, he couldn't find any place for his hands.

  An older woman with her pink handbag on her lap eyed him from across the seats. "Going on a date?"

  He nodded.

  "She must be nice for as nervous as you are," she said.

  A lump formed in his throat. He realized how much more he was hoping for from the date than just information.

  "She is," he said, then added, "I hope."

  The old woman gave him a wink as he left the train. He made it to the steps of the MOMA right on time. He spun around looking for her, his heart tapping on his chest like an energetic drummer when he didn't see her at the bottom.

  A two-finger whistle brought his attention to the top of the stairs, where he saw Tally. She practically knocked him over from fifty feet away.

  She wore a sleeveless cobalt blue dress that looked painted on. Her bright red hair had been braided, and hung over her shoulder. If fashionable Amazon was a trendy look, she'd nailed it.

  When he reached the top of the stairs, an intoxicating floral perfume wrapped itself around his head like a constrictor, squeezing out all thoughts.

  "You look"—and his brain blanked for a moment—"amazing."

  Zayn instantly regretted that his compliment was so lackluster, but she beamed a smile at him, and he forgot about it.

  "You look delicious."

  As soon as the words came out of her mouth, her eyes went wide, and a rosy blush appeared on her cheeks.

  "Thank you," he said, laughing.

  An awkward silence intruded, and all thoughts about the Gurken, or the MOMA, or anything else in his head flew out like a birdcage upended. The only thing he could see were her bright green eyes staring down at him amid a constellation of freckles.

  He noticed a tattoo of an ancient ship design with initials in the hull on the inside of her forearm.

  "I like your boat," he said, and his fingertips accidentally brushed her soft skin, bringing goose bumps.

  "It's for my grandfather," she said, and her eyes took on a misty quality, so he swallowed away his questions. "Shall we enter?"

  After paying, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. His whole body broke out in tingles.

  Zayn led them into the magical arts section. It was a Saturday afternoon, and it was full of chattering families and a group of kids being led by an adult with a headset.

  The first hall displayed paintings that had been created using magical paints or brushes, sometimes purposefully, sometimes accidentally.

  Wordlessly, they stood before a lifelike painting of a goat perched on a fence post, until Zayn cleared his throat and said, "Can you hear the goat?"

  She wrinkled her nose in confusion until he gestured to the placard.

  "Supposedly you can hear the actual goat that the painting was based on, since the painter mixed its hair, along with other alchemical agents, into the paints."

  "Let's listen," she said, mouth open, resting her tongue on the bottom of her teeth. Her eyes roved while she listened, and Zayn found himself too distracted to pay attention, until a faint bleating sounded at the edge of his hearing.

  "That was weird," she said, and then her eyes alit as if she had an idea. Her expression brightened. "Let's go to the foundry section."

  Tally grabbed his hand and led him into a huge room filled with suits of armor under glass cases. She went straight to a suit of colorful samurai armor with lacquered plates stitched together with silken cords. The metal splints linked with chain covered sleeves of blue brocade fabric, while a red figure dancing across blue waves was painted on the curved chest plate.

  "Achala armor," she exclaimed breathlessly, the same way a child might speak about a favorite toy. She placed her forehead on the glass and took a deep breath as if she were trying to inhale the armor. "It was made in the Edo period by an unknown artist."

  "Armor? I thought armor went into the artifact section," he said.

  "They keep it here because its magic is mostly latent, nothing dangerous for modern times." She pointed at the placard, and as she spoke her face lit up like a fireworks display. "Supposedly it's lucky, but I don't care about that, it's downright beautiful. Look at the fine weave of those links—a master made them, and the Achala painting. Achala was a guardian spirit, the Immovable One. If I could make one thing as beautiful as this, like ever, I'd be happy."

  "Is that bunjinga styling?" he asked.

  She tilted her head at him. "How do you know what bunjinga styling is?"

  "I was going to go to art school before I came here," he said.

  Her face wrinkled with confusion, making the freckles on her nose dance. "You sound regretful that you didn't get to attend art school. Did you not want to come to the Halls? Or maybe not to the Academy specifically."

  "I wanted the Academy, but I wish I had time for art again. Before I left I was making a working miniature carousel out of stuff I found at the junkyard," he said.

  Her eyes widened. "That sounds awesome. I'd love to see it."

  He looked at his shiny shoes. "It's only half finished and it doesn't spin. But I had half the miniature horses welded together out of nuts and bolts."

  She put a finger under his chin and gently lifted. "Why are you embarrassed about it?"

  "
I'm not embarrassed."

  She shifted her lips to the side. "You're blushing and you won't meet my eyes."

  He sighed. "Maybe I am a little. I hate not finishing things."

  "I know that feeling," she said.

  When she stopped speaking, he raised an eyebrow. "And?"

  Tally went still, as if the air had been sucked out of the room, then she glanced at Zayn and blushed when she realized she was no longer talking. "Sorry. It's my dad. I love him, but he only ever thinks about how my schooling benefits him."

  "The classic mage dad," said Zayn. "Can he, you know, do magic?"

  "He's not Hall trained if that's what you're asking," she said.

  "What's he like?" asked Zayn.

  Her eyes sparkled with thought. "He's a great dad. I'd do anything for him because he'd do the same for me. Family is everything, you know?"

  Zayn nodded. "You look a little sad about it."

  Tally made a throwaway shrugging gesture. "He's too serious these days. I miss when we used to go on vacations. There was this amazing ski lodge he would take me, it was called the Ice Hold. My favorite memories are from there."

  "Why don't you ask him to take you sometime?" he asked.

  "Maybe," she said, glancing sideways. "It's only open during short seasons due to the extreme weather, which probably wouldn't be bad, then we'd have the place to ourselves."

  Zayn didn't know anything about skiing, only that it looked cold.

  "Sounds fun," said Zayn, thinking about how it'd be interesting to try skiing.

  "Yeah..." She looked at him funny as if she'd forgotten who she was talking to. "Can I not talk about my dad?"

  He nodded.

  "What are your parents like?" she asked.

  "My dad likes to say he's a philosopher artist with a daytime teaching habit, and I think that fits him pretty well. If I could make art even a tenth as good as his, I'd be happy. And my mom is an architect, or at least tries to be, when she can find a job."

  "They sound really cool," said Tally.

  He nodded. "I got lucky when it came to the family department."

  Tally's shoulders slumped with the suggestion that hers wasn't so great, so he pointed across the room to another set of armor, this time an elaborate French armor suit with a plumed helmet.