Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

  What could be in that notebook that was so important? Connor had risked his life for it, so it had to be something big. Flynn’s mind raised a few suggestions, from the notebook’s pages containing a secret potion recipe to the possibility that it had some kind of sentimental value, but he didn’t expend too much brainpower trying to figure it out. He’d find out soon enough—after he filched it.

  And once he did, he’d be one step closer to learning what secrets the Triumvirate was hiding within the pages of the Sentinel’s report.

  Three specters and the boy didn’t even notice two of them? The Lord contemplated the possibilities and lifted his mouth into a slight grin. Intriguing.

  The news was better than he’d expected. Not only did the specters represent further signs of the Underworld’s growing power, but the fact that Flynn Nightsider had survived their attack meant the Lord’s decades-long wait could truly be over. No Norm should have been able to face three malevolent specters and live. Even Connor Salvator, who was known to be skilled with magic, had nearly fallen in the attack.

  And yet Flynn Nightsider, a seemingly ordinary Norm boy, hadn’t even realized what he was up against. No one else appeared to recognize how significant that was. As far as the Lord could tell, Flynn’s good fortune was being attributed to luck and the fact that he’d held a silver frame, which had supposedly warded off the spirits. But the Lord had a feeling there was more to it. After all, he was one of the few people in the world who knew exactly who Flynn Nightsider’s parents had been—something the boy didn’t even know himself.

  The Lord grinned, excitement burning within him. He could be the one I’ve been looking for…

  Chapter 5

  Breaking and Entering

  Flynn looked through the crowd of recently dismissed Secondstringers pouring out of the Triumvirate History classroom, searching for Brax. He finally had a few minutes between classes, and it was time to figure out how to go about the next part of their plan: stealing Connor’s essence-borrowing potion and his apparently precious notebook. Less than two days remained before Everett sent the report and all its secrets to the Bureau of Security, assuming the principal didn’t decide he was finished with it sooner. Time was running out.

  The early-afternoon sunlight gave the brick hallway a yellowish tint, and the classroom’s wooden door cast a gray shadow that stretched from the scraped-up wooden floor to the low plaster ceiling. Students brushed past Flynn without a second glance. If he’d told any of them he’d faced three specters the previous night and saved the Gold Triumvir’s son, they’d call him a crazy liar. Everett had made an announcement that morning, saying that the anarchists had tried to attack the Academy again but that he and the Sentinels had stopped them. He’d also dispatched Mrs. Miller to tell Flynn and Brax that if he heard even a rumor about what had really happened, he’d expel both of them immediately.

  Spotting Brax’s textured black hair over the other students’ heads, Flynn waved. “Brax! Over here!”

  Brax pushed through the crowd to reach him. “Good news,” he said under his breath. “I got myself assigned to clean Connor’s dorm this afternoon. Liz didn’t think twice when I offered to take her shift. Said she’s never seen a gold-covered notebook, though.”

  Flynn glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “Connor probably carries it with him. Seems like the kind of thing he wouldn’t leave lying around. I’ll tail him and grab the notebook when I get the chance. You take care of nabbing the potion. Divide and conquer.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “What are you two up to?” Kylie walked toward them, carrying a blue schoolbag. Concern colored her delicate features.

  “Nothing,” Flynn said quickly.

  Kylie arched her slender eyebrows.

  “What? We’re just discussing this week’s history paper.” Flynn gave her an innocent look.

  Kylie pressed her mouth into a line. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

  Flynn dropped his gaze. He wished he didn’t have to lie to her, and he certainly hadn’t meant to insult her intelligence or anything.

  “Relax, Kylie.” Brax put his arm around her. “You know, we actually do talk about homework from time to time.”

  Kylie sighed. “Whatever you guys are up to, be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “We’re not up to anything!” Brax clutched his chest as though she’d insulted him.

  “If you say so.” She gave Brax a quick kiss on the mouth. “I love you.”

  Brax grinned. “Love you too, Kylie.”

  She shook her head and headed into the classroom.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes at Brax. “You didn’t tell her anything, right?”

  “Of course not!” Brax turned that oh-so-insulted look on him. “Besides, she wouldn’t rat on us.”

  “I know. I’d just rather not get her mixed up in this.” Flynn drew a breath. It wasn’t too late to keep Brax out of trouble either. Flynn could just as easily filch the potion from Connor’s room and carry out the plan alone. “If we’re caught, it’ll be the end of our lives as we know them. Everett will have us arrested for treason or some bull. We could wind up spending the rest of our lives in the mines.” He looked his friend in the eye. “Look, Brax, I really appreciate your help, but I can take it from here.”

  From the look Brax gave him, it was the dumbest thing he’d ever said. “You’re not talking me out of this. Besides, this is my one chance to screw with Everett, and I’m not letting you have all the fun. Oh, and remember that whole thing about the Lord of the Underworld rising again? If there’s anything about that in the report, I’d like to know too.”

  Behind Brax’s light words, Flynn detected the undertones of something fiercer. It was the same anger that drove him, the same desire to strike back at the Triumvirate in whatever way he could. Finding the report was about more than just his past. It was about uncovering secrets that should never have been kept, defying a system that had silenced him for too long, and if he was right about the Lord of the Underworld, exposing their greatest lie.

  “Okay.” Flynn nodded. “Let’s meet in the Scholars’ Wing this evening. Storage closet next to the Intermediate Enchantments classroom. Make sure you get in before they lock up for the night.”

  Brax made a face. “We’re gonna have to wait there till everyone leaves, aren’t we?”

  “Yup, and stay until they open up in the morning.” Night was the only plausible time to sneak into Everett’s office. Someone would notice that Flynn and Brax weren’t on the shuttle back to the Fourth Ring, but they wouldn’t bother searching. Although the two of them would have to endure extra shifts for their absence, that was a small price to pay. Of course, that was assuming no one discovered what they’d done.

  But the time for caution was over, and the time for action had begun.

  Whoever was supposed to clean the stairwells had neglected the space beneath the stairs. Flynn didn’t mind the dust, but spiderwebs sticking to his face were another story. Worse, he had a powerful need to sneeze, but doing so would alert Connor, who sat on the steps above him, to his presence. So he held his breath and viciously rubbed his nose.

  He’d spotted Connor leaving a classroom in a rush about ten minutes ago and followed him into the stone-walled stairwell, where he’d ducked under the stairs to keep from being seen. He’d expected Connor to continue up to the second floor, not settle down on the steps. Why’s he here? Is he hiding from someone?

  From the faint scraping sounds above, Connor had to be writing furiously. Now if he’d only left his schoolbag at the edge of the stairs…

  Flynn ventured a step out. If the bag was within reach, perhaps he could reach up and grab the notebook without Connor noticing. The scraping continued, which meant Connor was still writing and hadn’t noticed Flynn’s presence. Taking that as a sign to keep going, Flynn took anothe
r step and looked up.

  Connor, sitting on the fifth step from the bottom, scribbled in the gold-covered notebook Flynn had been hoping to take. After a moment, Connor stopped writing, and his gaze darted across the page, apparently rereading his own words. He furrowed his brow and stared as if his whole world hinged on the contents of his writing.

  Great. He’d probably notice if I snatched the notebook out of his hands.

  “Connor?” Williams’s voice reverberated from above. From the direction of the professor’s voice, he was probably standing at the top of the staircase. Flynn stifled a curse and rushed back into his hiding spot.

  A thud—the sound of a book being slammed shut. “Oh, hello, Professor,” Connor said.

  “What are you doing in here?” Williams asked.

  Flynn exhaled. Apparently, no one had spotted him.

  “Just brainstorming my term paper,” Connor responded to the professor.

  “In a stairwell?” Williams sounded so incredulous, Flynn had to choke back a chuckle.

  You and me both, prof. Now there’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.

  “It’s one of the only places on campus where I can get some privacy.” Despite Connor’s apparent attempt at levity, his words were rushed with anxiety. Flynn wondered why he’d be so nervous.

  A glint of gold caught Flynn’s eye—the corner of the notebook dangled off the edge of a step. So damn close…

  A flurry of papers fell from the edge of the steps, followed by the notebook. Flynn ducked farther under the steps. The notebook crashed onto the floor in front of him, surrounded by scattered papers. The heel of Connor’s shoe hung over the step where the notebook had been, and Flynn got the feeling that he’d kicked it down on purpose. Why’d he do that?

  “Oh, let me help you with those.” Williams’s voice came closer.

  “No, it’s fine.” Judging from the sound of Connor’s steps, he was running up toward Williams. “I’ll grab them in a minute. Was there something you wanted me for?”

  A pause, followed by a soft whoosh. A faint breeze ruffled Flynn’s hair. But the windows in this part of the school were sealed shut. Either Williams or Connor must have cast a spell. Gray mist fogged the air. When Williams spoke again, his voice was so low, Flynn couldn’t make out a single word. Was the spell muffling the professor’s voice? What was going on?

  Flynn reminded himself that he wasn’t there to eavesdrop—not this time. The notebook he was after lay sprawled on the ground before him among the fallen papers. Whatever it contained, Connor obviously didn’t want Williams to see it.

  This was Flynn’s chance. The two Enchanters were distracted, and the notebook was within reach. Of course, Connor would notice it was missing when he came to pick up his papers later, but Flynn would be long gone by then. The open doorway leading out of the stairwell lay only about two feet outside the shelter of the shadows. He could grab his target and be gone in less than two seconds. He started to step forward.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Connor yelled, his voice evidently loud enough to break through the muffling spell. Flynn pulled back, startled.

  “Connor, please!” Williams exclaimed then continued at the same unintelligible volume.

  What the hell’s going on up there? Flynn pushed the question out of his head. It was none of his business. He just had to get that damn notebook and get out.

  In one swift motion, Flynn snatched it and retreated back under the stairs. He held his breath, half expecting Connor or Williams to rush down to him and accuse him of theft, spying, and a whole litany of other crimes. But after a few moments passed with no apparent reaction from either, he exhaled.

  Clutching the notebook, Flynn dashed out of the stairwell and sprinted down the corridor at top speed. After a few moments passed without anyone pursuing him, he came to a halt. The open door to an empty classroom lay ahead. Flynn stepped inside and kicked the door shut.

  The stolen notebook glinted in his hands, and he grinned. It wasn’t much, but it meant he was one step closer to accessing the Triumvirate’s secrets. Curious, he opened it. A blank, leathery page greeted him. He flipped back a few pages, figuring he’d probably missed the important part. He made it all the way back to the front cover without catching a single word.

  It can’t be empty. I saw him writing in it. He held the book by its covers and turned it upside down, letting the pages spread into a fan. Holding it over his head, he looked up but found not one hint of ink. He closed the cover and examined the binding. It looked intact—nothing had been ripped out. Weird… Connor must’ve enchanted it to make the writing invisible. Guess he’ll be keeping his secrets after all.

  Not that Flynn had time to worry about what Connor was up to when he was on the verge of committing a crime against the Triumvirate. Still, he couldn’t not notice how strangely the Gold Triumvir’s son had been behaving.

  But if there were more secrets to be unraveled, he’d worry about them later. What mattered at the moment was that he’d gotten what he needed, and as long as Brax came through with the potion, he’d find Low Voice’s name—and possibly more—that very night.

  Light and stone blurred into lines of yellow-streaked gray as Flynn rushed to the rendezvous point where he’d agreed to meet Brax. The enchanted lanterns of the Scholars’ Wing weren’t bright, but they seemed glaring compared to the waning light outside the window. Flynn threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was there to witness him entering the Scholars’ Wing without permission. His canvas schoolbag, which contained the stolen notebook, bounced on his hip. He hoped Brax had been able to fulfill his half of the mission. Otherwise, it would be a long and boring night for nothing.

  Flynn halted before a deep-brown wooden door decorated with an elaborate pattern of graceful whirls. Its elegance matched the doors of the Scholars’ classrooms, and Flynn smiled wryly at the idea of such a fancy piece of carving concealing a crappy closet for cleaning supplies.

  Seeing no one around, he grabbed the brass knob. The smell of sewage assaulted his nostrils the moment he yanked open the door, and he made a face. Shelves covered in buckets, sponges, and bottles of cleaning solutions lined every wall, and more of the same, plus a few mops and brooms, littered the floor. Hardly anyone ever came here, which meant it was as safe a place as he could find for him and Brax to hide until the Scholars’ Wing was locked up for the night. Once everyone was gone, they could venture into the upper level, where Everett’s office was located.

  Flynn covered his nose and wished he could have chosen a better meeting spot. There was a good reason everyone steered clear of this closet. The smell was enough to knock you over. He started to close the door behind him when he spotted Brax in the corridor outside.

  Brax gave a quick wave and slipped into the closet. He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

  “Hell if I know.” Flynn closed the door, grabbed the flashlight from his schoolbag, and switched it on. Other than the slim light peeking through the crack between the door and the floor, the yellowish glow from the slender electric device was the only illumination. “Did you get the potion?”

  Brax reached into his back pocket. “Came pretty close to getting caught, but yeah.” He held up a glowing green vial.

  “I got my piece too.” Flynn pulled up a corner of the notebook from his schoolbag to show Brax then let it drop back down. “Now’s the part where we wait for everyone to leave.”

  “Here’s hoping none of the Scholars needs a broom.” Brax crouched down by the door and peered through the crack above the threshold. “Couple of them are headed this way.”

  Flynn nodded and switched off the flashlight. Footsteps approached, accompanied by the chatter of female voices. He held still, waiting for them to pass.

  As the minutes slid by, he began to feel light-headed from the shallowness of his breathing. Even the slightest sound
could give him away. His legs ached from standing still for so long, but with all the clutter around him, one wrong move could send something crashing down from one of the shelves. He’d come too far to be thwarted by a falling bucket.

  He watched the crack under the door until the light in the corridor had faded away, listening to the departing footsteps. As soon as he heard the sounds of the doors to the Scholars’ Wing being shut and bolted outside, he switched his flashlight back on. His muscles tingled with eagerness, and he glanced at Brax. “Let’s go.”

  “Finally.” Brax cracked his neck. “Time for sneaking.”

  Flynn opened the closet door a crack and peeked out. Pale beams of moonlight and bluish rays from the streetlamps outside dimly lit the stone corridor through the tall window, which stood like a paladin across the hall, standing watch through the night. The floating lanterns that usually illuminated the Scholars’ Wing were dark. Without light, they looked like ghostly shadows drifting near the ceiling.

  Flynn was about to step out when he heard a noise. He hastily switched off the flashlight. Brax must not have heard the two voices or the footsteps or noticed the sudden lack of a light source. He pushed the door open. Flynn grabbed him and yanked him back.

  Brax threw him a puzzled look. Flynn put his finger to his lips and jerked his head at the corridor.

  “You know something, don’t you?” Everett’s sharp voice sounded as though it was coming from some distance away. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Flynn swore internally, wishing he could turn invisible, or at least yank the door shut to hide himself and Brax from sight. But a single squeaking of a hinge would ruin everything, so he didn’t dare.

  Whoever Everett was speaking to replied, but all Flynn heard was a vague whispering sound.

  “Jumping to conclusions?” Everett sounded upset. “There’s only one way those anarchists could have breached our perimeter on the Day of Glory, and that’s if someone inside the Academy let them in. I find your insistence otherwise to be highly suspicious.”