[Phoebe Pope 01.0] The Year of Four

by Nya Jade

  Afua shifted her weight between her feet and considered Phoebe for a moment. “It has come to my attention,” she said. “That you have been invited to Colten Chase’s movie premiere in Boston.”

  Phoebe didn’t have time to be surprised by Afua’s comment; she was busy ducking a fast strike. “Yes,” she said, “but how do you know this?”

  “Your guard informed me,” Afua said. “He heard the young man ask you.”

  Phoebe frowned. She couldn’t believe that her time with Colton had been under that much surveillance. In what way was co-study a security risk?

  “Don’t worry,” Phoebe said, trying to mask her annoyance. “I told him that I couldn’t go.”

  “We want you to go.”

  “What?” Phoebe stopped dead, completely thrown, and one of Afua’s blows disabled her knees. Dazed, Phoebe teetered on the spot and dropped to the ground in a heap of long limbs.

  “In battle, never stop moving,” Afua said. “Get up.”

  Phoebe staggered shakily to her feet and grimaced from the weight she’d put on her knees. “I don’t understand,” she said. Unable to keep the shock out of her voice, “Why would you want me to go? I thought I was supposed to be lying low.”

  Once again, Afua attacked, and this time Phoebe swiveled sharply, escaping the offensive stab.

  “Nice dodge. Let’s see more moves like that,” Afua said before answering Phoebe’s question. “Your attending the event presents an opportunity for us to set up a sting operation to flush out our traitor. We believe that he or she has gone quiet because of our increased security Below.

  “Our allowing you to attend such a public event will send the message that we’ve slackened our guard. If our instincts are correct, the traitor will inform their Vigo contact about the event in advance. If any Vigo attempts to take you, they’ll be surprised by our presence and back off. Our plan is to track them in their retreat to Alexori and the others.”

  “Won’t the traitor sense a trap?”

  “The success of any sting operation lies in its believability,” Afua said. “People have observed you spending time with Mr. Chase, so your invitation to attend his function will not come as a surprise.”

  Phoebe continued dodging Afua’s attacks with limited success as she turned those words over in her mind. She knew that she was in danger already, but her decision to go would potentially put Colten at risk as well. She wasn’t sure she could stomach that.

  As though reading her mind, Afua said, “You and Mr. Chase would be protected at all times by a team of agents who will be walking the carpet, moving about the street crowd and the bleacher fans.”

  Phoebe began to feel real panic as she began to picture the layout of such an event. There was too much ground to cover, too many opportunities for things to go very wrong. She hadn’t even considered how ideal the setting of an event like a movie premiere was for a kidnapping. Even with all of the cameras whirling, there were so many people, so many nooks and crannies.

  Afua added, “Don’t forget that we always feel Vigos before we see them, so—do more than just retreat from me,” Afua said, abruptly going off topic. “Keep your Induku horizontal and extend your arm in front of you to protect yourself from my blows.”

  Following the instructions, Phoebe blocked Afua’s next move, their sticks meeting mid-air with a loud crack. A look of victory lit Phoebe’s face, but it was short-lived as Afua’s stick whistled past her cheek and struck her shoulder like a gong. Phoebe grunted from the impact but remained upright.

  “Never get cocky,” Afua warned. “No one ever remembers the great moves you make during a fight. They only remember the outcome. Frivolous emotions can give your opponent an advantage over you.”

  Phoebe took Afua’s criticism in stride. “What,” she panted, attempting a weak jab at her instructor, “does Professor Yori think?”

  Afua stared Phoebe down, sticks stretched out, contemplating her next move. “He hasn’t been made aware of the operation,” she said, her tone a shade softer as she twisted powerfully to a new spot in the ring, letting a quick strike from Phoebe slice air. Afua nodded at Phoebe approvingly, then added, “And he won’t be.”

  “You think he’s the traitor?” Phoebe asked, shocked. The possibility had never even occurred to her.

  “At this point, we’re not ruling anyone out.”

  Phoebe considered this for a moment, then asked, “How would the traitor even know I was going?”

  “Faculty do pick up on student gossip, for one,” Afua said, the faintest tinge of amusement coloring her words. “And second, there’s a daily email with a list of student absences. Because you would need the afternoon off to prepare for the event, we would include you on that list along with the reason for your absence. He or she would have all day to contemplate making their move.”

  Considering this, Phoebe sucked in a deep breath. Afua misinterpreted it as fatigue.

  “Power through it,” Afua said, pausing momentarily, an action that allowed Phoebe to land a blow on her shoulder. Afua didn’t flinch. “Well done,” she said. “Use all distractions to your benefit.”

  Phoebe bit down on a smile. Never get cocky, Afua had said. Just then, the bell rang. Exhausted, Phoebe crumpled limply to the ground, her chest heaving. Afua immediately stood over Phoebe, her expression hard, her Induku pointed at Phoebe’s face.

  “The bell doesn’t mean we’re finished, Cadet.”

  Phoebe’s eyes beetled at the sight of the sharp point on Afua’s weapon hovering above her. “I thought you said the ends were dull!” she gasped.

  “The ends of your sticks are dull. Mine are warrior sharp. You should have noticed that earlier. Notice everything to determine your advantages and disadvantages.”

  Phoebe swallowed.

  Afua extended a hand, helping Phoebe to her feet. “Think about what I’ve presented to you. It’s a lot to ask, but at this juncture it is the best way we can think of to find Cadets Higashi and Baker.”

  Phoebe understood now. The Blackcoats were running out of options. The more time went by, the less likely that Mariko and Lewis would be found alive . . . if they weren’t dead already. Something tightened in Phoebe’s chest. It was strong and unyielding. Her body burned with it. It was a need to feel empowered at a time when she mostly felt powerless.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

  Afua nodded, and for a moment, Phoebe thought she saw a smile twitch on the Blackcoat’s lips. “I’ll inform the others,” Afua said. “You and I will continue to train like this up until the night of the event.” Catching the look on Phoebe’s face, Afua calmly added, “We don’t anticipate you needing to defend yourself, but knowing how gives you a head start. It will also give me an opportunity to run you through the plan as we put it together.”

  Afua’s explanation put Phoebe’s hearts in her throat, but she bobbed her head in agreement. “Okay,” she said, trying to sound strong. She trusted the Blackcoat. Phoebe found herself thinking of Lewis’ velvet singing voice and picturing Mariko’s snarky smile. She would do whatever was necessary to ensure a successful sting.

  After she and Phoebe exchanged bows, Afua bent to return the sticks to the duffel bag. On her way to the changing room, Phoebe stopped with a sudden thought. Turning, she said quietly, “There’s just a small problem with the plan. I already told Colten no.” In fact it was more than a small problem. After the way their co-study date ended, Phoebe wasn’t sure if Colten still needed a date. Yes, she’d left things vaguely open ended, but his deadline had passed and she doubted that he or his manager were waiting around for her. The premiere was an important part of his job. They’d probably already secured someone else to accompany him.

  Afua studied Phoebe for a moment. “Look at your body,” she said. “Do you see any cuts?”

  Phoebe peered down her long frame, and looked up with an expression of vague confusion. “No. Actually, I don’t.” She had some impressive red welts but no cuts.
>
  “You just prevented a Blackcoat from drawing blood from you in your first fight,” Afua noted, in a tone that said that although she’d been lenient, she was still impressed. “I’m sure you can find a way to get that boy to re-invite you to his premiere.”

  Later, as she shuffled through the hallway, Scott caught up to Phoebe and fell into stride beside her.

  “So what was that about, Pope?” he said with a sideways glance.

  “She had me fight her,” Phoebe said tiredly, cringing and rubbing a sore spot just above her left elbow.

  Scott halted, much to the annoyance of cadets rushing to get into class on both sides of them. One kid almost slammed into the wall trying to evade Scott and glared at him on his way by. “That was my idea, remember?” he said, frowning.

  “I know,” Phoebe said, twisting her lips in a commiserating half-smile. It felt odd and unsettling to not be able to confide in Scott about Hypha-related plots and plans. They really needed each other’s support—especially now. “I’m sure she’ll get to you,” she said with middling conviction as she steered them in the direction of the lockers. “But in the meantime, I can show you some moves. If you want, I mean.” Phoebe grinned at Scott and wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially.

  “Doubt they’ll get to me,” Scott said, sourly. “I’m back in Yelena’s doghouse. . . .” He scuffed one sneaker against the floor.

  “Why?”

  Scott shoved his hands in his pants pocket. “I might have been a bit short with her when she wouldn’t tell me where you went. . . .”

  Phoebe gave Scott a sidelong look. “You know what?” she said, a grin forming slowly on her lips. “I’m beginning to think you have a crush on her.”

  “What? Yelena?—No!” Scott scowled.

  Phoebe laughed. “I think you provoke her for the attention.”

  “End of discussion, Pope,” Scott said, unable to mask his embarrassment with an annoyed tone.

  “Fine. Fine. So how about it?” Phoebe said, glancing at a clock on the wall. “Meet me at the athletic wing in five minutes?”

  “Can’t,” Scott said. “I have to report to Yelena—”

  “Oh, Yelena,” Phoebe said, smirking.

  Scott ignored her and began walking backward in the opposite direction, head down. “She’s standing guard while I polish trophies and some other crap as punishment. Rain check?”

  As Phoebe nodded, Scott took off running, and Phoebe continued to the end of the hallway, wincing with every movement. Two thoughts ran through her mind as she stood staring into her locker. The first was that every inch of her body had been massacred by Afua. And the second was that somehow she’d essentially signed up to be Vigo bait. Was she crazy? Phoebe raised an arm that screamed with pain and reached for her bottle of Earthamins. She chewed a pill, thinking the awful taste would be worth it if along with its elemental benefits the Earthamin would soothe her aches.

  When Phoebe shoved her locker door shut, she jumped at the sight of Montclaire leaning against the neighboring one, watching her.

  “Jumpy, aren’t we, Cadet Pope?” Montclaire asked with a thin-lipped smile.

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “You just caught me by surprise, ma’am,” she said.

  Montclaire smiled wider, her eyes boring into Phoebe’s. “It seems that I can say the same about you,” she said brightly. She stood straight, tucked a few strands of her dark, bluntly cut hair behind an ear and crossed her arms. “I have a question I want you to answer, Cadet.”

  “Okay,” Phoebe said in a nervous voice. Something about Montclaire’s penetrating stare made her feel feverish with dread.

  “In the swearing-in oath, when the Principes asked your class the question, ‘Why do you fight’ what was the answer?”

  Phoebe heard flirtatious laughter close by. She turned her head slightly to a tall boy and a stout girl who were walking with their arms around each other; they glanced curiously at Phoebe and Montclaire as they passed by.

  “I believe I asked you a question,” Montclaire said, the shrillness of her voice reclaiming Phoebe’s gaze.

  “Yes, sorry, ma’am,” Phoebe said, immediately. “Loyalty to each other. Service to the Royal Court. And in honor of Pompeii.”

  “I see,” Montclaire said, with a slightly satisfied expression when Phoebe had finished. “Now, let me show you something.” Phoebe watched as Montclaire rolled her right robe sleeve up to the elbow, revealing several iridescent black lines tattooed around her wrist similar to the ones Phoebe had seen on Afua.

  “Royal ink,” she said. “That’s what makes these tattoos glow like that. And when it goes on it burns the same way the presence of a Vigo burns, so that you never forget. . . .” Her slender fingers traced a ring that was particularly thick. “Each ring represents a member of my Blackcoat unit lost in battle with Vigos. Good people I’ve respected and had the privilege of serving with . . . good people who were loyal to me and to whom I remain loyal because loyalty, Cadet,” Montclaire said, “is paramount. That’s why it comes before ‘Service to the Royal Court’ and ‘In honor of Pompeii’. Without it, what do the other statements matter—?” she broke off, allowing the sound of the start-of-class bell that was now ringing to stop. And then, pulling down her sleeve Montclaire said, “It seems that our show-and-tell is now over.”

  Phoebe’s insides squeezed with nerves. Montclaire knew.

  Montclaire started to leave, but then she paused and considered Phoebe a moment longer. “How’s your class presentation on Vigo markings coming along?” she asked.

  “Great,” she said, trying to stop her bottom lip from twitching.

  “Good,” Montclaire said. “I have a strong feeling that you will be kicking off our Presentation Week.” Her dark eyes shone with wicked excitement at the thought.

  With that, Montclaire turned and swept out of sight. Phoebe couldn’t find her breath. Montclaire had all but blatantly stated that she knew about Phoebe’s accusation against her. But Phoebe couldn’t see how Montclaire could know, not when Professor Yori had made it clear that he would keep it to himself. Or was Afua right? Was there a chance that even the headmaster could not be trusted?

  NINETEEN

  “On the one hand, I’m glad you get to go to the premiere,” Hayley said with a note of concern in her voice. “But on the other hand—” she left the rest unsaid and continued to rummage zealously through her stack of mail.

  “Well. I don’t know if he still wants to take me, even.” Phoebe fidgeted with the postcard in her hand. It was from her grandfather who was now somewhere in Nepal.

  During Bio Encryption, Phoebe had brought Hayley up to speed on the latest. She’d described her fighting session with Afua and explained how her going to the premiere would be instrumental in the Blackcoats’ sting. Hayley seemed at a loss, unable to dismiss either her excitement or deep concern about the coming event.

  Now back Above, they were sitting on the steps of the schoolhouse; Hayley was keeping Phoebe company as she waited for Broadway producer Stephanie Labrill, the next photo subject for Cyn’s feature. Outside, the air was frigid, but warmth could be found in coveted patches of sun. Phoebe leaned back, soaking in the light that poured down on them, watching Hayley attempt to tear thick tape off the top of a small box.

  “Grr,” Hayley said. “Could my mom make this any harder to open?”

  Phoebe sat up and pulled a mini tool kit out of the side pocket of her backpack. “Try this,” she said, handing Hayley a flat head screwdriver.

  Hayley’s eyes widened in surprise. “Should I even ask why you have a tool kit on you?”

  “For my many criminal activities,” Phoebe quipped.

  Hayley laughed and slid the screwdriver through the tape. “Oh man,” she said, looking at the framed photograph she’d pulled from her box.

  “What?” Phoebe said.

  “Little Harper lost his first tooth,” Hayley cried. “Those little runts are starting to lose their teeth and I’m missing it.”


  Phoebe scooted closer to Hayley whose face had taken on a sullen expression. “Aw, that’s cute,” she said, staring down at the gap-toothed grin of a freckled-faced boy who shared his sister’s dimples.

  “Ain’t it?” Hayley sighed heavily, kissed the photo, and returned it to the box that Phoebe saw contained several bottles of nail polish. “I know what you’re thinking,” Hayley said, catching Phoebe’s look. “I don’t need any more nail polish. But my mom says I should try this brand. It’s vegan.”

  “Vegan? Nail polish?”

  “Yeah, chemical and animal product free—hey, let’s do the next Spa Sunday in your room. We can go over dress options for the premiere.”

  “I haven’t even thought about dresses. Or where I’d get something nice enough for an event like that,” Phoebe said, attentively watching the cars that came in and out of the front parking lot, keeping an eye out for her guest. “For all I know, Colten’s already asked someone else—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Hayley said with a hint of glee. “The mission you chose to accept was to get re-invited!”

  “That’s kinda hard when the mark hasn’t been around.”

  Phoebe hadn’t seen Colten since their co-study date. And given how that had ended on an awkward note, she found herself thinking his absence might just be intentional, and on account of her. He’d always seemed to make a point of inserting himself wherever she was before. She hadn’t realized how much effort that must have taken on their gigantic campus until now.

  “I know where Colten is,” Hayley said guiltily.

  Phoebe looked at Hayley, surprised. “Where?”

  “According to my intel—Dish Mobile,” Hayley said, shaking her cell phone, “he’s doing a press junket with his co-star Tanya Brown. They’re in New York.”

  “Oh.” Phoebe’s shoulders fell. She grabbed her screwdriver from Hayley’s pile of mail and returned it to her kit.

  “Don’t you ‘Oh’ me,” Hayley said. “He told you it’s a fake relationship. Give me your phone.”