Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  “Do you know where we can find James now?” I asked.

  Lizzie returned to her desk. “Not off the top of my head, but I can find out right now.”

  “You didn’t tell the sheriff’s office where to find him?” I asked.

  “They said they knew.” Lizzie hit a button on her desk and a figure materialized in the office.

  “Yes, Miss Fraser?” the apparition asked.

  “The best address for James Mallard, please.”

  The apparition’s eyes rolled back in her head. “James Mallard. Address is undisclosed.”

  “Thank you, Deirdre,” Lizzie said.

  The figure disappeared with a crackle of energy. Lizzie must've noticed my surprise. “Deirdre is a phantom assistant. Haven’t you seen one before?”

  “No. Can't say that I have.”

  “I highly recommend them. With one foot on the Other Side, they’re incredible resources.”

  “Not for James Mallard, apparently,” I said.

  Lizzie shrugged. “It doesn’t surprise me that he cloaks his location. He’s exactly the type.”

  An idea occurred to me. “Is that why you can’t use her to locate your father?”

  Lizzie pressed her lips together. “Yes, I believe there must be a cloaking spell involved, otherwise Deirdre should be able to find him.”

  I can find James Mallard, Peter said. I have ways of my own that don’t involve Deirdre McCreepy Eyes.

  “Can I ask you something else?” I said. “Does it bother you that you work for an organization like the Liberty Project when you know your father has been involved in questionable transactions?”

  Ooh, snap! Peter said. She won’t like that.

  Sure enough, Lizzie scowled. “My father is a good man. He knows perfectly well the fruits of his labor have the ability to do more harm than good in the wrong hands.”

  “It’s my understanding that he owns a lot of valuable items,” I said. “Items that someone struggling to make ends meet shouldn’t be able to afford.”

  Lizzie chewed her lip. “Those aren’t the result of any shady dealings. I bought most of them.”

  What? Peter cried. I didn’t know she made that kind of money or I would’ve….” He trailed off, thinking better of his admission.

  “Any particular reason?” I asked.

  “I knew he’d never accept money from me,” Lizzie replied, “but he would accept gifts. I bought him expensive items in the hope that if he got desperate, he’d sell them instead of making a questionable deal.”

  He doesn’t sell them because they’re gifts from her, Peter said. It doesn’t tell us anything about his financial health.

  I got that impression as well. Professor Fraser cherished the gifts from his daughter. That was why they were on display in his home and not locked up in a safe place.

  “Thanks for your help, Lizzie,” I said. “Is there anyone else you think would be helpful?”

  She snorted. “You can bypass that scoundrel Peter Zilla. I hear he's a suspect, but, if you ask me, they’re stirring the wrong cauldron.”

  My eyes widened. “You think Peter is innocent?”

  Booyah! Peter chimed in.

  “Peter is far too incompetent to pull off something like this,” Lizzie said.

  I suppressed a laugh. “Incompetent, huh? Isn't he some kind of professional smuggler? I’d think he'd be quite good at smuggling your dad to an undisclosed location.”

  “There would have to be something major in it for Peter to justify pulling such a stunt. His need for self-preservation trumps almost everything else.”

  Interesting.

  Lies. All lies, Peter said.

  Pipe down, I replied. You can give me your side of the story when we leave.

  “Just for the record, your dad hasn’t sold the gifts you gave him,” I said. I didn’t want to get into detail about breaking into his house.

  “Hopefully, because he hasn’t needed to,” Lizzie said. “Hopefully, the worst is over for him.”

  I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but—unless and until we found him—the worst was far from over for Professor Fraser.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I awoke with a note from Peter on my windowsill, wedged under one of Cerys’s rune rocks. He’d only written his name, a time, and an address.

  When did he leave this here? I asked Clementine. The real Clementine, I hoped.

  Before sunrise, my familiar replied. He put a finger to his lips when I saw him. He didn’t want to wake you.

  I glanced again at the note. “I’d better get moving if I plan to meet him on time.”

  I borrowed Fonthill’s truck and headed southwest until I reached the location. It was off the beaten track, but I knew I was at the right place when I noticed Peter loitering out front of the dilapidated building.

  “Why are we meeting at an abandoned factory?” I asked, stepping out of the truck and walking over to him.

  “Because this is where I’m keeping Fraser and now I need to make you a hostage, too.”

  I groaned. “You really shouldn’t say things like that when I’ve gone out of my way to help you.”

  He appeared disappointed. “You didn’t even buy it for a second? I must be losing my touch.”

  “I go with my gut, Peter, and my gut says you’re not responsible. It doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for whatever criminal activities you do engage in, but kidnapping is a pretty serious charge.”

  Peter crossed his arms, exposing his impressive biceps. “So what’s your plan? Turn me in for smuggling after you clear my name? Seems kind of absurd.”

  “Do you want my help or not? I haven’t seen anyone else rushing to your defense.”

  He bristled. “That’s because I’m a lone wolf. I don’t need anyone rushing to my defense. Besides, we’re not here for me. This is for your potion.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t believe he was wasting valuable time on my grandmother’s potion when his freedom was at stake. “Are you sure, Peter? Chancellor Tilkin is only giving you a limited reprieve. If we can’t find Professor Fraser or pinpoint the real culprit soon, that warrant is back in play.”

  “You said your grandmother is unwell,” he replied. “And based on your willingness to come to my seedy office and engage with the likes of me on her behalf, I have to assume her situation is much worse than you’re letting on.”

  My chest ached. Peter Zilla had far more compassion than he let on. I knew I’d recognized something good in him, despite his smarmy demeanor.

  “Thank you, Peter. Are we meeting someone here for the potion?”

  “No, we’re going to the Obscura. Have you ever been?”

  The Obscura? My pulse sped up. “No, but Bryn has.” She’d told me all about her adventures there with Gray. I glanced at the empty factory. “This is an entry point?”

  “One of many,” he said. “I use this one because it can be dangerous. Cuts down on traffic. When you’re smuggling, you want to get in and out as quickly as possible.”

  I swallowed hard. “Doesn’t the fact that it’s dangerous slow you down?”

  “Depends on whether I’m unprepared.” He patted his sides. “I’m never unprepared.”

  I scrutinized his clothing. “What do you have?” It wasn’t as though a druid carried a wand.

  “Let’s hope you don’t need to find out.” He beckoned me forward. “Come on, princess. Time to take a walk on the wild side.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. I followed him into the factory and spotted a gaping hole at the end of a duct. Nearby were rows upon rows of storage containers.

  “Is this where you keep some of your ill-gotten gains?” I asked. I was shocked that he’d bring me here. Why in the gods’ name would he trust me with this information?

  “It’s one of many storage facilities,” he said. “I tend to bring larger items here that don’t need to be moved as quickly.”

  “And no one ever stumbles across this place?�
�

  “If they do, they have no clue what they’re looking at from the outside. It’s camouflaged and warded to the hilt.” He grinned. “Not for you, of course. Special dispensation.”

  “So, if anyone passes by, the building blends in with the background?” I asked.

  Peter nodded. “They think it’s a forest. Fraser actually performed the spell for me.”

  “And he would do that, knowing that you use this place for criminal purposes?”

  “Fraser has a soft spot for me. I don’t know why. I’m generally a minotaur’s ass.” He approached the duct. “Ready? It gets pretty dark, but I don’t recommend using a light unless absolutely necessary. It attracts the uglies.”

  I suppressed a shudder. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Stay as close to me as possible,” he said, and winked. “I promise not to use grabby hands.”

  We entered the duct and were immediately enshrouded in darkness.

  “Use grabby hands with me and I’ll tear off your arms and use them as escrima sticks.”

  His chuckle echoed in the pitch black of the duct. “Fire in the wand and in the belly. Now you’re just torturing me.”

  “You don’t know the meaning of the word torture, but keep it up and I’ll be happy to show you.”

  “Stand down, princess,” he said, with a deep bow. “I’m first and foremost a gentleman.”

  “And here I thought you were first and foremost a criminal.”

  He ignored my remark. “Before we get there, you know about the shaded tongue, right?” he asked. “Or is that too down and dirty for a highbrow like you?”

  “I know a little,” I admitted, although only what I’d picked up in conversations over the years. My family never made a point to teach me the secret language of the Obscura. Like Peter intimated, they probably hoped that I’d never need to use it. It was unreasonable, though. Every AMF agent worth her salt ended up in the Obscura at least once in her career. The underground shadow market was where shady goods and services were exchanged, which made it a hotbed for AMF missions.

  “We’ll be fine,” Peter reassured me. “I have plenty of contacts there, and I know exactly where we’re going.”

  I hugged the dank wall as we made our way into the depths of the tunnel. “Good thing I don’t suffer from allergies. This place is rife with triggers.”

  “Allergens should be the least of your concerns.”

  On cue, a loud noise echoed further down the tunnel.

  “What’s that?” I whispered.

  “My money’s on a Darlequin horsespider,” he replied. “They love the tunnels.”

  Darlequin horsespiders were allegedly the size of actual horses. “They bite, don’t they?”

  “And inject you with a paralyzing poison, yep. They like to take their time with their prey.”

  An image of my frail grandmother flashed in my mind and my resolve strengthened. “I can handle one lousy horsespider.”

  “That’s great, but they usually travel in packs.”

  I froze. “That’s not what the books say.”

  Peter laughed lightly. “The books? Princess, you need to get out more if you intend to be a badass sentry. You can’t rely on books for accurate intel.”

  “We’ll be introduced to more fieldwork as we progress through the academy,” I said.

  “Might be too late for you if you get taken down by a pack of Darlequin horsespiders.”

  I punched his arm. “Now who’s the torturer?”

  He rubbed the target area. “You’re stronger than you look, I’ll say that much.”

  As we approached the source of the sound, my grip tightened on my wand. I mentally listed spells I could use against a pack of horsespiders. Fire wouldn’t be the ideal choice in an enclosed space like this one. I didn’t want to risk hurting Peter, no matter how annoying he was.

  “Good news is it’s not a Darlequin horsespider,” Peter whispered.

  I wasn’t sure how he knew because I couldn’t see anything except his silhouette. “What’s the bad news?”

  He didn’t get a chance to answer. A large serpent’s tail lashed out, knocking us both backward. My tailbone slammed against the ground, but I held tight to my wand. Peter groaned softly beside me. I prepared to battle a giant serpent until I saw the silhouette of a bull looming over us.

  “What?” I scrambled backward across the tunnel floor to put as much distance between the creature and me as possible. Peter had the same idea.

  “Like I said, not a horsespider,” Peter said.

  “Are there two creatures?” I asked.

  “Just one,” he replied. “A hybrid.”

  The creature snorted loudly, as though preparing to charge. Those silhouetted horns looked able to inflict a world of pain.

  “Is it part serpent and part bull?” I asked.

  “Ever hear of an ophiotaurus?” he said.

  Spell’s bells. “I thought they were only a legend,” I said in awe.

  “They’re rare, but they exist,” he said. He held up his hands, palms facing out, in an effort to appease the ophiotaurus. “Hey, fella. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just passing through.”

  The serpentine lower half slithered across the floor toward us and my heart began to race. I was torn. On the one hand, I had to defend myself. On the other hand, the ophiotaurus was a rare breed. I didn’t want to fatally wound it.

  “Use a defensive spell,” Peter said, as though sensing my dilemma.

  “What about you?” I hissed. “You said you come this way all the time. You’ve never come across one of these?”

  “They’re not native to this area,” he said. “Something must’ve driven it here.”

  The creature bellowed and I lifted my wand in response. As intense as the sound was, it held more sadness than anger. I focused my will and drew my magic to me. There was a spell I’d learned in primary school that had been a personal favorite. I’d practiced it many times on the grounds of our estate—a way to feel less lonely. Although it was a risk, the sadness in the creature’s voice made me willing to try.

  “I can shift,” Peter whispered, “but I don’t want to leave you, so if you’re going to do something, do it now.”

  “I am,” I replied. I aimed my wand at the ophiotaurus and said, “Defero.”

  “Have you come to sacrifice me as well?” the ophiotaurus said in a deep, mournful voice. “I warn you now—I will not die without a fight.”

  “Sacrifice you?” I repeated, rising to my feet. “No, my friend. We’re only passing through this tunnel on the way to the Obscura. You need not fear us.”

  The ophiotaurus approached me with caution. “They killed my companion without warning. I’d only been gone an hour, but when I returned they had him surrounded. There was nothing I could do except flee.”

  Slowly, I reached out and placed a comforting hand on his muscular shoulder. “I’m so sorry, friend. We would have helped you had we been there.”

  “I don’t know where to find more of my kind. He and I had traveled together for decades.” His tail swished back and forth, kicking up dirt from the tunnel floor.

  “Were they trophy hunters?” Peter asked.

  “I don’t believe so. They ripped out his entrails,” the creature said, struggling to contain his emotions. “Then proceeded to burn them. I can still see the glow of the flames when I close my eyes.” He choked up, unable to continue.

  “Your friend deserved a better end,” I said.

  Tears welled in my eyes. “Thank you for your kind words,” the ophiotaurus said.

  “Where will you go now?” I asked.

  The creature heaved a deep sigh of despair. “Another quadrant, perhaps? There seems to be no safe place for a rare creature like me. They would rather destroy our kind than preserve and protect us.”

  My chest tightened. “Good luck to you, friend. May the Goddess of the Moon light your way in the darkness.”

  “Peace be with you,” the ophiotaurus s
aid, and slithered past us. I watched him until he disappeared from view, knowing that I might never set eyes on such a rare creature again.

  Peter clapped my back. “That was pretty impressive, Dr. Doolittle.”

  “Who’s Dr. Doolittle?”

  He groaned in exasperation. “One of these days, you and I need to have a primer on Terrene entertainment.”

  “He was amazing,” I said. “I can’t believe what happened to his companion. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  “Because of the legend, I guess,” Peter said.

  “What legend?”

  “You didn’t read about the legend in one of your fancy books?” he queried.

  I huffed. “Can you just answer the question without mocking me?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “The big clue is that they burned the entrails. The legend claims that burning the entrails of an ophiotaurus will grant you the power to overthrow the gods. You don’t hear about it happening very often because the creature is so rare. They must’ve hunted these guys down.”

  “Barbarians,” I said.

  “I like it when you and I can agree on something,” he said. “Come on, let’s go before we encounter any more tales of woe. My delicate heart can’t take it.” Although his tone was light, I had the impression that he wasn’t kidding.

  Finally, the end of the tunnel spit us into a back alley. A peryton swooped in front of us, the breeze from its wings blowing back my hair.

  “Is this place full of hybrids or what?” I asked. Although the deer with wings wasn’t as unusual as the ophiotaurus, it wasn’t a common sighting.

  “They tend to gravitate to certain parts of the Obscura,” Peter explained. “The hybrids that feel like they don’t belong anywhere else.”

  “Is that why you come here?” I asked, and immediately wanted to snatch back the question.