Outlaw: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Enforcer of the East Book 2)

by Annabel Chase

  She padded down the hall, her long dress swirling around her ankles. “The forest will do.”

  We walked the length of the corridor and spilled out into the fresh air. I immediately filled my lungs and noticed that Alana did the same. I laughed.

  Alana’s eyes sparkled. “Kindred spirits, aren’t we?”

  “Druids aren’t so different from earth witches,” I said. Except for the dark history of sacrifice. We headed in the direction of the forest with Mercer Lake on our left and the buildings on our right.

  “Then perhaps you should have ended up with Peter Zilla,” she teased. Alana’s pace was languid and carefree. When you’d lived as long as she had, almost nothing constituted a rush.

  “I think Dani might have objected,” I replied. Not that I had any interest in Peter.

  “And perhaps someone else might have objected as well?” Alana prompted.

  Sly druid. She was encouraging me to talk about Callan. It was fine. Although the relationship only began earlier in the academic year, I felt comfortable enough to share with Alana. Thanks to our therapy sessions, I’d made great strides in sharing my feelings. “Things are progressing nicely with Callan, if that’s what you really want to know.”

  “A werewolf is a good choice for you,” she said.

  My head jerked toward her. “Really? You don’t think the whole werewolf staying within his pack is an issue?”

  “Oh, it is most certainly an issue for some, but a wolf like Callan—a member of the League—he clearly sees the world outside his pack.”

  We walked alongside a creek and Alana stepped gingerly onto a fallen log that crossed over the trickling water. She sat and dipped in her bare feet. I kicked off my shoes and followed suit.

  “It is good that he knows your secret,” Alana said.

  “And hasn’t rejected me,” I said with a bitter laugh. Maybe another sign of the blood bond at work? I decided not to raise the issue with Alana. I wasn’t ready to explore that possibility. My emotional dance card was full.

  “But you still have not confided in your friends.” More of a statement than a question.

  I stared into the murky water. “There never seems to be the right time.” When was the right time to confess that I killed my own brother? That I grabbed my father’s sword and plunged it into his bony chest? It might not matter to my friends that it was a twisted, horrific version of him. That necromancy had returned a monster to us instead.

  “And yet you found the right time with Callan.”

  Ooh, a hint of judgment. So unlike Alana. “You grow impatient with me.”

  Alana crossed her ankles and swung her feet backward and forward, swishing the water as she went. “Not at all. I will never push you, Cerys. You must do everything in your own time. How are the nightmares?”

  “Somewhat better,” I said. “Telling Callan has definitely helped.”

  “What does he have to say on the matter?”

  “Same as you. That it wasn’t my fault. That it wasn’t my brother. Not anymore.”

  “Things you already know.”

  “Yes, but still,” I replied. “Nice to feel supported.”

  Alana turned to look at me. “And your friends? You worry they will not support you?”

  “Not exactly.” I inhaled deeply. “I worry they’ll see me differently. That I won’t be the Cerys they thought they knew.”

  “Are you?”

  I blinked. “Am I what?”

  “The Cerys they think they know.”

  “Mostly.” Earth witch. Mother hen. Lover of rune rocks, rainbows, and unicorns. Killer of zombie brother.

  “And how are things with your family?” Alana climbed to her feet and turned her body toward me. Then she arched her back and used her hands to vault herself head over feet. How she managed to perform gymnastic feats at her age, I had no idea. I wasn’t sure I could do that now.

  “Strained,” I said. “No change.”

  “I see.” She motioned me to my feet. “Your turn.”

  My eyes widened. “My turn for what?”

  “A little balancing act.”

  I laughed. “Maybe for you. A little neck breaker for me.”

  “You do not give yourself enough credit,” Alana said. “Come now, Cerys. You can trust me.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

  Victory sparked in Alana’s eye. “You do not trust yourself? Why not?”

  “I don’t have the ability…”

  “Nonsense.” She snapped her fingers. “Show me what you can do.”

  I rose to my feet and balanced on the log. “I can stand here without falling in.”

  “Ha. Not funny. Now make a bridge.”

  I tipped back my head and immediately straightened. “I don’t know.”

  Alana clucked her tongue. “Bryn is the inflexible one. You can do this. Trust yourself, Cerys.”

  I inhaled deeply and tried again. I bent backward and my hands landed on the log. I held the arch form. “Now what?” I croaked.

  “Now flip your legs over your head and rise again.”

  I focused on my body. “What if my feet miss and I fall in?”

  “It’s a creek, not a raging river. You’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t trust…” I stopped.

  Alana eyed me carefully. “What do you not trust?”

  I dropped onto my bottom and straddled the log. “My judgment. I don’t trust my judgment.”

  Alana crouched in front of me. “Well done, Cerys. You were honest with yourself.”

  “I’m better than I was,” I said. “I helped defeat the Hunter.”

  “A noteworthy achievement,” Alana agreed.

  I peered up at her. “Are you going to make me try this again?”

  “Not today.” She performed a handstand on the log, putting me to shame. She held the pose for a full minute before returning to her feet. “There. A rush of blood to the head is wonderful for clearing the mind. You should try it.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “How are your classes?” Alana asked. “My spies tell me that the professors seem happier with your performance as of late.”

  “Happier,” I said. “Not so sure about happy. I’m working on it, though.”

  “No doubt. You have already endured much at this age. You are a survivor, Cerys Davies. The AMF will be fortunate to have you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You are unconvinced?”

  Ugh. Alana was too good at seeing through me. “I’m working on it.”

  “I feel like I have things to atone for,” I admitted.

  “But you realize that is all in your mind,” Alana said. “You have only been a victim of circumstance, Cerys. You do not need redemption.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “Doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.”

  The druid sighed. “Still so much to be done.”

  “I am definitely a work in progress.”

  She patted me on the arm. “Let us remember the optimum word in that sentence.”

  “Work?” I queried.

  She smiled. “No. Progress.”

  Chapter Three

  We arrived early for Psychology 301: Understanding the Enemy and snagged the front row of seats at Dani’s insistence. Bryn’s head was apparently still stuck in the last session because she continued to mutter a litany of complaints about the assignment.

  “A report on a specific section of the code?” she said. “This is going to be torture. Cruel and unusual punishment!”

  “I don’t think it qualifies as any of those things,” Dani said.

  “Well, it should,” Bryn replied firmly. “I might die from extreme boredom. It takes longer but the result is the same.”

  “The Paranormal Code of Justice is extremely important to an agent,” Ollie interjected from the row behind us. “It provides guidance in the field. When in doubt, consult the Code.”

  Bryn cast a sharp glance over her shoulder. �
��How about I consult my sword?”

  Ollie slunk back in his chair and fell silent.

  “How often does Gray consult the Code as a warden?” I asked Bryn.

  Bryn shrugged. “As far as I know, he doesn’t need to recite anything. He shows his fangs and scares them into submission.”

  “Do they realize he also uses those fangs to tear open the packaging of ice cream bars?” Dani replied. “Far less scary.”

  “But oh-so-useful,” Bryn said.

  “Witches, am I interrupting an important conversation?” Professor Gordon Lurch eyeballed us before taking his place on the desk. When he looked at you, it was hard to see anything except eyeballs. His were particularly round and white and protruded from right below his bumpy brow, creating the impression that the goblin was in a perpetual state of shock. He was on the short side for a goblin and preferred to perch on the edge of the desk rather than sit or stand behind it.

  Bryn straightened in her seat. “No, sorry. Just talking about how real world practice doesn’t always seem to jive with the academic side.”

  “I assure you, the Code is not a matter of academics, Miss Morrow. One day, you will be grateful for its clarity.”

  Behind us, Ollie snorted.

  “Yes, sir,” Bryn mumbled. I sensed that she liked the professor too much to argue with him.

  “Today we will continue our discussion of the criminal mind,” Professor Lurch said. “How many of you have completed the reading assignment?”

  I raised my hand and I assumed everyone else did, too. Not raising your hand was a surefire way to get called on.

  “Excellent,” the professor said. “Who can name one of the primary motives for criminal behavior?” His bulging gaze fixated on the front row. “Miss Morrow?”

  Bryn rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. “The desire to keep a secret.”

  No surprise that Bryn chose that one. She’d been so frightened to reveal her father’s identity when she first came to Spellslingers that she probably would’ve been willing to commit a string of crimes to cover it up. Not murder, of course, but there were more crimes than there were motives to commit them.

  “Yes, secrets. That’s a good one,” Professor Lurch said. “A strong motivation to protect oneself. Can someone give an example?”

  Priscilla wriggled her fingers in the air. “If someone is caught overhearing another paranormal planning a robbery, then the criminal might end up committing two crimes. One to silence the eavesdropper in order to cover up the second one.”

  “Yes, escalation is always a possibility,” the professor replied. “Crime is often a slippery slope.”

  “It’s one of the reasons criminals in Terrene often get caught,” Bryn said. “They hide their tracks well enough for the more serious crimes, but get snagged for a lesser violation like tax evasion.”

  “Ah, tax evasion is a financial crime, isn’t it?” Professor Lurch said. “Which leads us to another motive. Anyone?”

  “Greed,” Paul said. “Someone who wants money or power.”

  “Absolutely,” the professor said. “A very common one for agents to encounter. The demon that eats as many hearts as he can get his claws on because he wants more power.”

  I cringed at the thought. “Did you have a case like that, Professor Lurch?”

  The goblin grinned, showing his uneven teeth. “I may have assisted a team of wardens with that particular mission. To be fair, it was no great insight. He was either making a foul stew or planning a ritual for power.”

  And how many lives had been sacrificed to retrieve those hearts? I didn’t dare contemplate it.

  “Do you still consult for the AMF?” Dani asked.

  “Not anymore,” Professor Lurch said. “That’s why I’m able to spend quality time with this lovely bunch.”

  “Why did you stop?” Milo asked.

  Professor Lurch slapped his thighs. “Delving into the criminal mind…It gets to you eventually, if you let it. And I let it.”

  “Was there a particular case that made you want to stop?” Dani asked.

  “No, it was the culmination of many years of tapping into the minds of depraved individuals. One grows weary of so much negativity.” He wagged a finger. “Now stop trying to distract me from the lesson. I know how your minds work as well.” There were a few noises of acknowledgement. “Josie, can you name another one?”

  “Jealousy,” Josie replied.

  “She’s intimately familiar with that one,” Ollie said under his breath.

  “Yes, we all feel jealousy on occasion, don’t we?” the professor said. “What then prompts someone to cross the line? To become so filled with jealousy that he murders or steals or injures?” He hopped off the desk and paced in front of us, his long cloak covering the bow of his misshapen legs. “That’s a question for another day, I suppose. We’re still identifying motives. Miss Davies?”

  “The urge to protect,” I said.

  The goblin offered a nod of approval. “And here I thought you’d give the more obvious answer. It’s nice to be surprised every now and again.”

  “But the urge to protect sounds like a good thing,” Findley Gumtree said. “Isn’t that what AMF agents do?”

  “Of course, when it’s in pursuance of the law,” Professor Lurch replied. “But what about when it isn’t? What about when someone threatens your family, and you decide to take action to defend them?”

  “That can also spill over into a personal vendetta,” Dani said.

  Professor Lurch snapped his fingers. “Yes! There are often overlaps when it comes to motive. You must consider all the possibilities.”

  Wade Goodfellow’s hand shot in the air. “But so what? How does that help us—knowing that some vamp murdered someone because of a personal vendetta?”

  I noticed Bryn wince at Wade’s example. The way he said ‘vamp’ showed a certain lack of respect for the species.

  The goblin stopped in front of Wade. Despite the fact that Wade was seated, they were nearly at eye level. “It can often be the one piece of information that helps solve a crime or give an agent the necessary details to stop a criminal from further action, because they can predict his next move or find the most effective way to combat him.”

  “What about political reasons?” Madge LaRue’s voice had the shrill ring of a banshee to it. No one liked hearing her talk.

  “Absolutely,” the professor said excitedly. “Politics are a biggie. You want to start a revolution, you’re going to have to commit a few crimes along the way.”

  My roommates and I exchanged knowing glances. We knew all about that from a major incident with giants last year. Thanks to Dani and Peter, the revolution was over before it really began.

  “Public humiliation,” Milo said.

  Professor Lurch regarded him. “Are you requesting it or naming a motive?”

  “Motive,” Milo mumbled.

  “Certainly,” the professor said. “If you’re a minotaur and someone hacks off your horns in a crowded bar, you might feel inclined to retaliate.”

  “What about fear?” Bryn asked.

  “Fear often turns to anger very quickly,” the professor agreed. “I’ve seen that one more times than I care to count. So much violence stems from fear and its close cousins, frustration and hate.” He shook his head. “Such unnecessary loss.”

  “Hate creates many problems, but it’s never solved a single one,” Bryn said, “or something like that. That’s Maya Angelou.” She glanced around the room. “Nobody? Where’s Peter when I need him? He would totally know who Maya is.”

  Dani smirked. “I’ll be sure to ask him later.”

  “We still haven’t named one of the big ones,” the professor said. “It must be that it’s so obvious you think it hardly needs a mention.”

  “Property dispute,” Findley said, and everyone laughed.

  Professor Lurch held up a calloused hand. “Don’t laugh. It’s not the answer I was searching for, but think how many wars bega
n over a single border.”

  “Not quite the same as motivation for a criminal,” Priscilla said.

  “Isn’t it?” the professor asked. “I’d argue it’s just on a large scale.”

  I put up a tentative hand. “We haven’t said revenge.”

  The goblin’s fist launched into the air. “Aha! Revenge. Vengeance. Or what we used to call in the office—impression management.”

  “How is that different from a personal vendetta?” Dani asked.

  “Again, there’s overlap,” the professor replied. “Except revenge is a broader concept. A personal vendetta is arguably exacted on the one who triggered the incident. Revenge might be taken out on an unrelated victim or multiple victims.”

  “Forget property disputes,” Ollie said, “how many wars have been started because of a need for revenge?”

  “Excellent point, Mr. Fitzgibbons,” the professor said. “Revenge can be small or large in scale. As an agent, you could encounter both. Or sometimes a small-scale plot for vengeance snowballs.” He winked at us. “Unless you, as an agent, can stop it before it escalates. See how important you are to the safety and security of the realm?”

  He was right. We spent a lot of time in training sessions or in an academic setting, but once we were out in the field…Lives would be at stake. Always. It was a good reminder of the reason we chose this path.

  “To serve and protect,” Bryn said. “Okay, maybe that’s not our motto, but it fits.”

  The professor showed his crooked teeth once more. “Yes, Miss Morrow, I’d say it fits perfectly.”

  “Date night!” Bryn announced. She tossed her bag on the floor and vaulted onto the bed. Her snowy owl, Icarus, opened his round eyes to peer at her. “Where’s everybody?”

  “Dani is at the library and Mia is on her broomstick.” I stood at the windowsill, rearranging my rune rocks. The black opal gleamed in the fading sunlight. No matter where I placed it, the position didn’t feel right. “Big plans with Gray?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “We’re going to Stake-n-Shake later for dinner. Want to come?”

  “Possibly.” I continued to stare at the opal. What was the problem?

  Bryn watched me from her perch. “Which rune did you slap on there?”