The Reluctant Assassin Boxset

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "That was Neveah. She loves horror movies," said Zayn as a knife swished past his calf. "But hurry up. Having this thing chase me is giving me the heebie-jeebies."

  "Where am I going to find a command word?" asked Keelan, shrugging.

  "I don't know. It's probably like a computer password, and he has it written down on a sticky note in a drawer," said Zayn.

  "Fine."

  Keelan let his spell fade into sparkles of golden faez. He jumped onto the desk, kicking papers everywhere. From his perch, he opened the drawers one by one, until he pulled out a yellow sticky note from the inside of a schedule book.

  "It's got like thirty passwords on here," said Keelan.

  "Try all of them!"

  Keelan started shouting out words, most of them gibberish because he had to add special characters, so "meatball-ampersand" was unlikely to be the command word. But as soon as he said, "BillyBillyBilly" the homunculus stopped, letting its knives fall by its side, transforming back into lumpy arms.

  "Are you named Billy?" asked Keelan.

  Billy the homunculus nodded his head.

  Zayn examined the homunculus from the other side of the room. "Why would anyone own such a thing? It was just sitting in the corner, waiting to creep."

  Keelan rubbed the back of his neck. "It actually makes a lot of sense. People used to think that babies came from a tiny microscopic version of themselves called the homunculus. The Smallest Eye hall is all about cells and genes and biology. Abbey probably made it because of that. Or he's just generally a sick human being."

  "Billy, can you tell us what Abbey was working on?" asked Zayn.

  The homunculus stared at Zayn.

  Keelan put his hands on his hips and repeated the question, "Billy, can you tell us what Abbey was working on?"

  "Abbey was working on magic and life."

  "That's good, Billy," said Keelan. "But what about it?"

  "Abbey was working on magic and life."

  Keelan sighed. "Was he making something?"

  "Abbey was working on magic and life."

  "Damn thing is like a song stuck on repeat," said Keelan.

  "You keep questioning it, I'll search the room."

  While Keelan asked questions, receiving the same answer every time, Zayn studied the bookshelves. The titles were mostly like How to Modify Cellular Structure with Arcane Methods and Magical DNA: Do We Have it? A couple of the books were written by Abbey Scarlon. Zayn opened up a hardback to find a picture of Abbey. He looked like he was stuck in the '60s with a Grateful Dead tie-dyed T-shirt and a long graying ponytail. The bio talked about how he'd been backpacking through the realms for the last few decades before returning to the Hundred Halls in 2001.

  "Ask about Billy," suggested Zayn.

  "Billy, what about you? Did you help Abbey?"

  "Billy loves to help Abbey."

  Keelan sighed with relief. "What did you help Abbey with?"

  "Magic and life."

  Keelan massaged his forehead. "Do you help with the magic or life more?"

  "They are one and the same," said Billy.

  As soon as he finished speaking, a chill went through Zayn. He met his cousin's gaze.

  "What does that mean, Billy?" asked Zayn, and then Keelan repeated it when the homunculus didn't answer.

  "Magic is life. Life is magic."

  Zayn looked at the books for inspiration. "Did Abbey find the DNA markers for magic?"

  After Keelan repeated it, Billy answered, "Magic is life. Life is magic."

  "I feel like we're not getting anywhere," said Keelan.

  "We've got to keep trying. It knows something that can help us," said Zayn as he searched the desk, looking through the notes for something that might indicate the correct line of questioning.

  Keelan paced away, before coming back. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he threw up his hands and paced back out of the room.

  Zayn dug through the desk, looking for interesting writing, but most of it was related to Abbey's few students. It seemed like he was running his hall more like a professor with assistants than a teaching establishment. It wasn't like there was a board that controlled the halls. Kids died learning magic all the time, so Zayn supposed a hippie mage with a creepy homunculus wasn't so terrible.

  When Zayn found a note referencing a study about how the brain shaped spells, he dug through the rest of the papers looking for the study, but it wasn't there. Then he examined the shelves, which didn't have it either. He did find one section that was missing about five or six books.

  He explained what he found to Keelan, who after a moment of thought, snapped his fingers and asked, "Billy, does Abbey know how to mess with how we make magic? Is that what life is magic and magic is life is all about?"

  "Yes."

  "Was Abbey successful?" asked Keelan.

  "Yes."

  Zayn looked to his cousin. "Is it just me or is everything in this place new? Like it was purchased in the last year."

  Keelan nodded. "Making a homunculus is really expensive."

  "This guy doesn't seem like the type to have been concerned about money," said Zayn.

  "Which means he had a benefactor. What if that person asked him to figure this out? And then killed him to hide their tracks?" asked Keelan.

  "Seems rather expensive and complicated," said Zayn. "Ask Billy what Abbey was making."

  When Keelan did, the response chilled Zayn.

  "A solution."

  "A solution to what?" asked Keelan.

  "Magic is life. Life is magic."

  "I don't like the sound of that," said Zayn.

  "Neither do I."

  "We should take all of this back to Priyanka," said Zayn. "Maybe she can figure out who's paying him. That might be who hired the Gurken, though that still doesn't make sense to me."

  "Me neither, but it's a start," said Keelan. "Should we take everything?"

  "Nah, let's leave it here, but take pictures. I think these books are all stuff you can find on the internet," said Zayn.

  "What about Billy?" asked Keelan.

  "We leave him. Priyanka will probably want to come back and question him, but I don't want to bring that creepy thing back to the Honeycomb."

  Keelan nodded and they started documenting the contents of the room with their phones. Zayn was working on the desk, while Keelan had the shelves. Halfway through, Keelan made a soft exclamation.

  "What?" asked Zayn. "Find something else?"

  "Yeah," said Keelan, "but not about Abbey, or Billy."

  When he saw what his cousin was looking at on the top shelf, Zayn's stomach sunk into his knees. He hadn't recognized it when he was looking through the books, but Keelan had right away.

  "Is that...?"

  Keelan nodded, his lips squeezed flat. "A National Arcane Scholarship Award? Yeah, the same one."

  It looked like a glass fireball with the details of the award etched on the front in gold filigree. It would glow faintly if the command word was spoken. They both recognized the award because Jesse had won one when he was in high school. The test was given to seniors across the nation. Had Jesse been born in any other place, he would have gone on to the Halls with a full scholarship, probably in Arcanium or Coterie of Mages.

  "Let's get the hell out of here," said Keelan as his jaw pulsed with anger.

  They weren't finished cataloging everything, but Zayn nodded. If Priyanka wanted more information, she could return to the hall. Nothing had happened here for six months, so it was unlikely that it would in the next week.

  But the award had dredged up old memories. Memories Zayn had forgotten, but clearly Keelan hadn't. Before they left, he caught his cousin looking at the award. Keelan's lips were condensed to a point, his face snarled with a mixture of grief and rage. No matter how many years had passed, it seemed like the past was right there with them. Zayn hoped Keelan could someday learn to forgive his father, or he was destined to be consumed by regret.

  Cha
pter Eighteen

  Varna, October 2006

  For some people high school was their best days

  When Friday came and Madison Elementary school let them out, Zayn, his younger sister Neveah, and his cousin Keelan shot out of its doors like bees after an intruder. The Castlewood trailer park was a mile from the school, less if they went through the woods on the north side, using the culvert to bypass an old chain-link fence with a barbed wire top that was long forgotten from before the trailer park went in.

  When they reached the culvert, they stopped at the top of the concrete embankment. It'd been raining all morning, and the water was up to the sides, leaving a narrow path beneath the barbed wire fence.

  "Should we go around the long way?" asked Zayn, catching the look of distrust from Keelan at the swift water.

  Neveah wacked Zayn with her backpack. "No way. It'll take another twenty minutes to go around, and Mom said I could watch Alien again if I got my chores done."

  "You're going to wear that disc out," said Zayn.

  Keelan was staring into the water, his forehead hunched. "I'm not afraid."

  Neveah shrugged and went first, scooting down the steep embankment, blowing a fat gum bubble and letting it pop against her face, before sucking it into her mouth. Her normally wild hair had been tamed into cornrows, which made ducking under the bottom of the chain link fence easier.

  Zayn let Keelan go next, readying himself to grab his cousin should he slip. After the incident at the dam with Neveah, he was skittish around water.

  When they reached the fence, Keelan paused.

  "What's wrong?" asked Zayn.

  "Nothing really. We're taller than your sister. Harder to duck, is all," said Keelan.

  But Zayn knew different. They used to go swimming in the pond behind Doc's junkyard, but since the dam, Keelan always made an excuse why he couldn't go.

  "Yeah," said Zayn. "Looks tricky, especially with that backpack full of books. Why don't you hold my hand while you scoot through."

  They grabbed hands, holding tight. Keelan's was wet with sweat, even though it was a cool day. Together they maneuvered through the gap.

  Neveah was waiting at the top of the culvert. "Finally. So slow you two are. I'll race you back to the Stack."

  "Nah," said Keelan. "I don't want to haul this stupid backpack everywhere. I'm going back home, goof off there, play some handheld football."

  "I'll stay with Keelan. Tell Mom and Dad," said Zayn.

  Neveah stuck her tongue out, before taking off on the path that led along the culvert.

  Zayn knew the real reason Keelan didn't want to go to the Stack. Getting across the culvert required walking over a big pipe that was run by some gas company. It wasn't hard, as a smaller pipe provided a handrail, but it would mean crossing the water again.

  They raced back to Castlewood, dodging around the trailers. The place was empty, as they were the first kids to make it back, and the high school hadn't let out yet. Ms. Gardenia waved a lit cigarette at them as they raced past.

  By the time they hit the trailer, they were jostling each other. No one was home, so they went straight to Keelan's room, which was only slightly larger than the bed. Keelan kicked the pile of clothes off the side and rescued the handheld football game from his pillow. When the game booted up, it made little beeps like a bugle charge.

  "Why do you like that game?" asked Zayn. "It's like from 1910 or something."

  Keelan stayed enraptured by the device as it beeped. He made a one-shoulder shrug. "Mom found it at a garage sale for a dime. It's not like we can afford a real game system."

  Zayn pushed his cousin's foot. "Let's go outside. Throw the football, or baseball, or rocks into the water at the culvert."

  "You don't like hanging in the trailer," said Keelan, with a cutting glance.

  "It's stuffy," said Zayn.

  A wild look appeared in Keelan's eyes. "You want stuffy? I'll give you stuffy. I'll stuff your face into my dirty laundry!"

  Laughing, he leapt at him like a playful cougar. Though he was a year younger, he was as strong, making them equal as they wrestled. Zayn briefly had Keelan in a headlock before he kicked out and tackled Zayn off the bed and into the living room.

  With the air knocked out of Zayn, Keelan climbed off. "You okay?"

  Zayn coughed a few times and took a deep breath before leaping at his cousin, who fled into the back of the trailer where his parents slept. He leapt on the bed, held his arms out in a wrestling stance, and said, "I'm king of the bed! You can't knock me off!"

  Zayn swiped his feet on the Berber carpet like a bull getting ready to charge. "Incoming!"

  He took two strides and threw himself at Keelan like a battering ram. His shoulder caught his cousin right in the stomach, driving him backwards to slam into the headboard while he was still laughing.

  Two things happened in this moment. The first was that a car door slammed shut. The second was the glass National Arcane Scholarship Award that Uncle Jesse kept on the shelf above his bed rolled off.

  Both Zayn and his cousin reached out to catch the glass award, but they were tangled together and couldn't reach it in time. It fell, catching the corner of the nightstand, shattering into shards.

  From outside the trailer came, "What the hell?"

  Both boys were up and off the bed before Uncle Jesse came into the trailer. His eyes shot to the back of his room, to the empty spot on the shelf where the award used to be.

  Keelan had shrunk to half his size. He squeaked out, "I'm sorry. We was just playing."

  In a low, menacing tone, Uncle Jesse pointed his finger at Zayn. "Get. Out."

  Zayn started to move towards the door, until he saw his cousin's face. His chest threatened to cave in from concern.

  "No," said Zayn, his voice quivering and his hands shaking.

  Uncle Jesse grabbed Zayn by the back of the neck, digging his fingers in until he was crying out from pain. Zayn was shoved out the door despite his attempts to hold onto the frame, landing unceremoniously on the gravel.

  The door shut and locked. Zayn threw himself at it, but there was nothing he could do.

  Through the door, he heard Uncle Jesse's muffled voice. "You wanna screw with stuff that ain't yours? I'll show you what that earns you."

  To Zayn's confusion, he heard the water turned on in the sink. His concern turned to agony when a breath later, Keelan screamed. Then the scream turned into a gargle.

  And though Zayn had watched his sister's horror movies, usually between his hands over his face, he knew the screams they made weren't real. Keelan's screams were real, and struck Zayn like a blow to the chest, until he was kneeling at the door, begging his uncle to stop.

  By this time the other kids from the elementary school were arriving home, but they heard what was happening, because nothing in a trailer park was private, and found reasons to disappear.

  Zayn pounded on the door until his knuckles were bloody. Then he realized what had been going on inside had stopped and only quiet sobbing remained. Zayn collapsed in front of the door, burying his face in his hands.

  After a while, Uncle Jesse appeared in the open door. He smelled like whiskey. His eyes were puffy and red.

  "Go home, Zayn," said Uncle Jesse, throwing his backpack onto gravel.

  Zayn looked up into his uncle's eyes. He expected him to tell him not to say anything to his parents, but there was a measure of self-loathing in his gaze, as if he expected that's what Zayn would do.

  He gathered his backpack and was going to skulk away, but rage formed in his chest. He turned around before his uncle could retreat into the trailer.

  "You're an asshole."

  Uncle Jesse stared back blankly. "I know."

  "It was just an award. A stupid glass award."

  His uncle could no longer meet his gaze, and he looked into the distance. His mouth, squeezed shut, danced as if words wrestled within, but he stayed, as if he knew he deserved this rebuke.

  "It's not Keelan's faul
t you gave up," said Zayn as his hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. "You could do something, even now. It's never too late."

  Uncle Jesse looked back at Zayn. He blinked a few times, almost waking up. He wiped his grease-stained hands on his face as if he expected tears, then looked at his fingers with surprise that there were none.

  There was a brief moment when Zayn thought his uncle might speak, but no words came, and he slipped back inside, the door closing on the trailer as silent as a tomb.

  Zayn stared at the door until he realized it would be night soon and he didn't want to cross the pipe over the culvert in the dark. He collected his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and trudged out of the trailer park. Maybe he would watch movies with his sister. They didn't seem as scary as they did a few hours ago.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Second Ward, March 2015

  Narrowing the search

  Zayn and his cousin stood in a large room with a massive stone table in the middle. Windows on the north side revealed the Spire, reflecting the sunny day, while the south side was filled with blank monitors.

  Instructor Pennywhistle had brought them to the room an hour ago without explaining why, and then disappeared to another part of the complex. Zayn and his cousin had been quietly chatting, wondering about the reason for the secrecy, when Instructor Allgood burst through the door in his duster with his claw-headed staff in hand.

  "Aren't you two like a couple of whores in church," he said, marching up to them with a grunt. "Everyone's slept with you but no one wants to admit they know you."

  Zayn shared a glance with Keelan, wondering where this was going, and if they'd gotten in trouble again. He opened his mouth to ask a question, when Instructor Allgood's gruff exterior broke with a smile and he burst into laughter, a deep baritone that echoed in the window-filled room.

  "So we're not in trouble?" asked Zayn.

  Instructor Allgood grabbed Zayn by the shoulder, shaking him. "Hell no. I think you've done this hall proud. And while I had my doubts about you at times last year, you proved me wrong with that sex toy thing. Ever since then Priyanka has been calling me Captain Dildo."