Guardian Academy 2: Prisoner Of Magic (The Mystery Of The Four Corners)

by Maria Amor

  “We would like to present our daughter to you, on the day of her arrival amongst the ranks of fully-developed Guardians. Please welcome our daughter, Julia.”

  Julia stepped out of the vestibule and the doors to the ballroom opened as she stopped in front of them. There had to be at least a hundred people in the big room, most of them older—but Julia could see her friends from Sandrine tucked into the crowd, milling around waiting for her just as everyone else was. Julia stepped into the room, and heard the oohs and ahhs of people impressed with her gown, with her overall ensemble; there was some small part of her that felt pleased in spite of how irritated she was that she had to go through the whole overdramatic mess.

  Julia strode to the center of the room, nodding at each person she could see, “presenting” herself. It was obvious, she knew, that she was no longer the young Guardian-to-be who didn’t have her full powers. She knew they could see the glow in her skin—it would go away in a few days, to only reappear when she used her abilities to their fullest extent, calling on the air-aligned energy within her.

  Julia continued to where her parents stood at the head of the room, on a little platform that the band had—briefly—vacated, and stood with her shoulders back, her head held high.

  “The most powerful Guardian on the planet, save for Ewan Crofts,” she caught one person saying.

  “Did you hear about the storm?”

  “She’s definitely come into her fullest abilities.”

  Julia shut the comments out and kept the smile on her face as she stood before the crowd. Her grandmother stepped up onto the platform as well, and laid her hands on Julia. “My young granddaughter has shown us that she is ready to start thinking about her place among our kind—about her future as a Guardian of the Four Corners, aligned with the element of air. I’m sure we will all be proud of her.”

  Julia felt relieved when the formalities finally ended and she could join the party in general. But then, just as she had a bite of a chicken skewer and a few sips of the punch, the first of her would-be dance partners approached her. The boy was in a tailored suit with green accents: an earth-aligned Guardian. “Hi,” he said, smiling nervously. “I’m Dmitri.” That wasn’t—exactly—a good beginning for Julia, being so close to the name of the dean she’d exposed; but Julia reminded herself that it was a common name for earth-aligned boys.

  “Hi, Dmitri,” Julia said, feeling the lack of Dylan’s presence at her side. “Are you enjoying the party?”

  “I am—but I’d enjoy it a lot more if I could have a dance with the guest of honor,” Dmitri said. The band had started up again, and Julia was relieved that at least she’d gotten her parents to give them a list of songs and artists she liked; the music was actually really good.

  “I think I can oblige,” Julia told him, and caught the approving smile her grandmother briefly saw fit to wear on her face. She followed Dmitri onto the dance floor and let him lead her into a roughly waltz-like dance, paying attention to his movements. She’d taken lessons—of a sort—when her grandmother had insisted on her starting to go to the parties and balls that the higher-ranking Guardians threw; of course, not many people did the foxtrot or the two-step anymore, but Julia had learned how to dance with a partner, and had—a few times—practiced with Dylan in the safety of Ruth’s home or her parents’ apartment to make sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself.

  Dmitri was only the first of the calls on her dance card: as soon as she was free, there was sure to be someone else interested in asking to lead her out onto the floor, and Julia—knowing that her choices were to refuse and be rude or accept and endure it—accepted most of the bids for her time. By the time the actual dinner service started, she was glad for the break; she’d danced with, she was fairly certain, at least ten boys—most of them earth-aligned or fire-aligned Guardians.

  After the dinner service, she did—finally—manage to steal some time with her actual friends. Magda carefully didn’t mention Keegan’s absence from the party. “Are you worried about Dylan?” Julia thought blandly that her friend could have extended her tact just a little farther.

  “I’m hopeful that someone will figure it all out,” Julia said. “Especially since I’m not allowed to do anything about it this weekend.”

  “You would think that something like this would be an excuse for getting the normal law enforcement involved,” another of Julia’s friends, a changeling named Sophia, said.

  “Apparently, they saw evidence that there was some supernatural aspect of it, so getting normal law enforcement involved would out the whole world,” Julia pointed out. “But you would think something like this would be a reason for having an actual—you know—supernatural sort of law enforcement.”

  “They’ve been talking about it,” Magda said quietly. “But no one can decide what it should look like.”

  “Obviously, they have to be careful not to step on too many normal-human toes in that respect,” another one of the Sandrine students—Nolan—pointed out. Julia had to admit that it would need to be carefully done; but the fact that they’d all apparently counted on some measure of honor amongst the Guardians and the supernatural beings in the world seemed hopelessly naive to Julia.

  The dancing resumed, and Julia spotted a boy—obviously fire-aligned—approaching her to claim her hand. He was cute, and the gleam in his bright blue eyes as he stepped towards her made her think that maybe, just maybe, he would provide some entertainment; maybe even some decent conversation. He was in a suit, but Julia thought that he’d gone somewhere offbeat for it: the tie he wore bore gold and red swirls, the jacket had little gleaming golden details, and the pants almost looked embossed with circular flame patterns. “You look bored,” he said, as he closed the distance between them.

  “Mostly just tired,” Julia said politely. “It’s already been a pretty long party for this kind of thing.”

  “Maybe a little more dancing will perk you up?” The boy raised a sandy-brown eyebrow.

  “It’s possible,” Julia agreed. “I’m sorry—I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Or if we have, I’ve met too many people to remember your name.” The boy grinned, flashing sharp-looking, white teeth.

  “Blake,” he said. “Blake Andrews.” He extended his hand towards her and Julia barely pressed her fingers against his palm, feeling the heat of his fire-aligned energy meet hers. “How’s this song?” Julia listened to it for a moment.

  “Perfect,” Julia replied, calling her energy back into her body and accepting Blake’s hand as he turned to lead her onto the dance floor. He walked confidently, as if he owned the place, and Julia had to admit that it was a nice change from the demanding, overly-cocky fire-aligned boys she’d danced with before, and the awkward earth-aligned boys as well.

  She fell into step with him, and for a moment she didn’t miss Dylan at all; dancing with Blake was almost as comfortable as it would have been with her water-aligned friend.

  They began to talk, swirling around each other, seemingly right in step without any effort at all. “You know, this is exactly why air-aligned Guardians tend to choose a fire-aligned mate so often,” Blake pointed out; Julia barely noticed that one song had ended and another had begun. She knew that she should excuse herself, that there was probably someone waiting to ask for a dance, or to sit with her and talk, but she didn’t quite want to be done with Blake yet.

  “Because you dance so well?” Julia gave him a dubious look.

  “Because we dance well together,” Blake corrected her. He swung her away from the sidelines she’d started to ease herself towards.

  “You’re going to get all cheesy on me now, aren’t you?” Blake shook his head, and a lock of his short, medium-brown hair fell against his brows, almost into his eyes, looking far cuter than Julia would have thought possible.

  “Never,” Blake said. “Unless you like that kind of thing.” Julia snorted.

  “I get plenty of it,” she told him.

  “Maybe we can get to know ea
ch other a little better now that you’ve come into your full abilities,” Blake suggested. “Nothing cheesy—just a couple of people getting to know each other.”

  “I’ll be back at school come Monday,” Julia said, almost apologetically.

  “My parents actually just completed my transfer paperwork for Sandrine,” Blake said. “It came through last week. So maybe you can help me get accustomed to it?” Julia pulled back, a little overwhelmed at that information, but not quite willing to give up her initial impression of his charm.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I need to get back to my table, I think; it looks like there’s a line, and if I don’t get another dance partner, my grandmother will be on my case.”

  “I’ll see you around school then,” Blake said, nodding his acceptance. Julia walked back towards her table and glanced back; Blake had disappeared into the crowd once more.

  *

  Dylan looked up from his Literature reading as he heard someone at the door to his cell. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been trapped, but he’d eaten enough meals to think that it had been several days, at least—maybe a week. He listened more carefully; it felt too soon to be another meal handed into him by an anonymous servant—he’d managed to grab one by the arm and at least get the explanation that they were just a member of someone’s household staff—so this meant that something interesting might actually be happening.

  The sounds of the locks turning over seemed to come from both parts of the door: upper and lower. Dylan sat up in his bed and made an effort to smooth his hair without being entirely certain why. Why do I need to impress whoever this is? But he felt a little stronger, presenting an alert, focused appearance.

  The door opened just enough to admit a person, and Dylan watched intently as a stranger entered his cell. The woman was maybe forty—somewhere around the same age of his parents, at least—with red-tinged dark hair and golden-colored eyes. Fire-aligned. Dylan stood, setting his book aside. “I’d welcome you to my room, but I’m not sure it’s actually mine,” Dylan said.

  “For the time being, think of it as yours,” the woman said. She looked him up and down. “You’re looking pretty well, Dylan.”

  “If I’m trapped in this room for much longer, with all the food you’re sending in, I’m going to start looking pretty fat,” Dylan countered.

  “You’ll be able to exercise once I’m sure I can trust my security measures,” the woman said. “Oh—I should introduce myself. My name is Bernadette.” Dylan shrugged.

  “I can’t really say that I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. “I mean, you’re holding me in this stupid cell.” Bernadette grinned.

  “There’s a good reason for that—but you’ll figure it out soon enough,” she said. She sat on the edge of his bed and Dylan wished that he had more than a bedside table and a dresser for furniture; he didn’t like the woman sitting on his bed, and didn’t like being forced to stand while she was at ease.

  “I don’t suppose you plan on telling me.”

  “Of course not,” the woman said, shaking her head. “But I thought that by now you’re probably getting a little stir-crazy. Your other friends certainly were. But then, the air-aligned are always so needy about social interaction.”

  “I’m probably going to get through a year’s worth of lessons in record time,” Dylan said. “Other than that…” he shrugged again. He didn’t want this woman to know how worried he was about Julia; how much he felt like a failure, leaving her to her own devices, her own defense, every day that passed.

  “We’ll find things to keep you occupied,” Bernadette said. “Of course, we have to pretty firmly restrict your abilities—can’t have you breaking free—but we plan to return you to your parents, eventually, in just as good a shape as you came to us in.”

  “I hope you plan to let me take my exams somehow,” Dylan told her. “I don’t really like the idea of having to repeat my senior year.”

  “We’ve made an arrangement,” Bernadette said. “It’s roundabout, but you should be able to make up your work when we’re able to release you.” Dylan raised an eyebrow at that.

  “Who all have you paid off for that?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’d have to talk to the council about it.”

  “Very observant of you,” Bernadette said. “Rest assured that you’ll be able to finish the year. We just need you out of the way for a while—which is why you’re just in a warded room, not being tortured or deprived of anything really.”

  “I’m being deprived of human contact,” Dylan pointed out.

  “Which is why I’m here. And why the servants who bring you food are allowed to talk to you—just not about anything regarding your imprisonment.” Dylan looked around the room. There weren’t any windows; there was only the one door in and out, that he couldn’t do anything with—it was more heavily warded than anything else in the room. The vents were impossible to use for an escape.

  “So I’m going to get pale in here, go a bit stir crazy, and then one day—whenever you decide it’s time—you’re going to turn me loose finally?” Dylan half-smiled wryly. “Forgive me if I don’t really believe you on that.”

  “Our goal isn’t to harm you—that would create way too much political grief,” Bernadette said. She rose to her feet. “Our goal is to keep you out of the way. You’ll get some more privileges as we become more certain that they won’t give you a chance to escape.”

  “Sunlight is a privilege?” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Fresh air?”

  “For you, right now, both are, yes,” Bernadette said. “You’re in one piece, and you’re not being harmed. Count yourself lucky.” Bernadette gave him a hard look. “There are some who would have killed you outright. Fortunately for you, their opinion didn’t prevail.”

  Bernadette walked past him, towards the door. “This door locks from the outside,” she told him. She did something—Dylan wasn’t sure what—and he heard the locks turn over again.

  “Back to work, I suppose,” he said, almost more to himself than to Bernadette.

  “You’ll have company again soon,” Bernadette told him. “Might as well keep your studying up, though. You’ll have catching up to do when you get back.” The door opened and she was through it before Dylan could even consider how he would go about getting out himself.

  He felt helpless, and the feeling frustrated and angered him. He should be able to figure out a plan, find out something he could do to get back to Julia; he was almost certain he’d been captured for at least a week, and he didn’t know how long he’d been out before he started marking time. Dylan sat down on his bed, almost wishing that he could throw the blankets that Bernadette had sat on away. That wasn’t possible; he couldn’t even wash them.

  Dylan sighed and thought about opening one of his textbooks. “Least they could do would be to offer me a TV or something,” he thought. “Or even music. A guitar.” He shook his head and sighed.

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at the book, much less read it. Bernadette hadn’t revealed almost anything at all, but Dylan’s mind worked at the few details he had managed to get from her: whoever it was that Bernadette was working with, they’d decided to keep him alive and more or less intact. If he could trust her, he would end up returned to Sandrine eventually—which was good. But he didn’t know if he could trust the older woman at all.

  “Well, if they plan on killing me, they’re doing a piss poor job of it,” he mused to himself. Dylan sighed. Unless he was being poisoned—which he didn’t think was possible—he was being kept well, in spite of no windows and no fresh air. Assuming he could trust anything from the woman, he’d eventually get out of the cell.

  But he needed to get out sooner, rather than later; especially if he had no idea when they’d release him. Dylan caught his bottom lip between his teeth and worried it a moment as he considered. What reason could they have for only wanting to keep him—and a few other students, all air-aligned—away from everything for a while? Obviously it had so
mething to do with Julia, but Dylan wondered why they needed to be away—as opposed to killed.

  Maybe the people responsible for the plan had decided they couldn’t bear the risk that would come with killing off minors? Dylan’s parents wouldn’t be able to do much on their own against whoever had abducted him, but if they’d snatched up air-aligned students as well, the people who had him captive then they might have supernaturals.

  They couldn’t risk open war with the council, or with the air-aligned creatures, no matter how powerful they were; that much was clear to Dylan. He tossed his book to the foot of the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was made of the same stone that the rest of the room was, and lined with the same warding materials. Dylan thought about his predicament. The only thing he could think of was that whoever was behind the kidnappings, there was something they wanted with Julia that required him—and some of the other students—to not be there to defend her.

  “What do they want with her?” That was the important question. If he could answer that, he could possibly figure out a way to thwart it; he could potentially get out. That would require him to figure out who held him, where he was. “I’ve been here a week and all I know is what that woman just told me,” Dylan grumbled to himself. Whoever it was, they had obviously planned things thoroughly. He may have to wait until they began to expand his “privileges” to get an opening.

  Were his parents worried about him? Was Julia okay? Dylan didn’t know—maybe he could ask for the ability to at least write a letter to his parents, something that could be delivered to let them know he was okay. But he had to figure that someone was keeping his parents aware of the fact that he was still alive. Bernadette had admitted that they had people on the council who were helping them; those same people were probably involved in preventing any kind of worthwhile investigation into his whereabouts.

  “Okay. First find out what they want from Julia, and then figure out who they are, and then figure out how to escape,” Dylan told himself firmly. That was the only way he could think of to deal with the situation. He closed his eyes, feeling a low headache forming in his skull. All he knew was that every moment that he wasn’t at Julia’s side, she was in more danger than she would be if he were there. “But is that even true anymore?” Dylan knew that Julia had to have come into her full abilities. Even if she couldn’t control them perfectly, she would be one of the most powerful Guardians on the planet, and possibly one of the three most powerful aligned with the element of air. Did she really need him?