I noticed Clementine appear on the outskirts of the field and I shot her a quizzical look.
A message arrived from Fairhaven, the cat said. Your grandmother has taken a turn.
Did my parents say how bad?
Your parents didn’t send the message, Clementine replied. It came from Galen. He said that your grandmother asked to remind you of her request.
My stomach twisted. Was it truly that bad? If so, then I had to do something. I couldn’t let her final wish go unfulfilled or I’d never be able to live with myself. Thank you, Clementine.
“Is everything okay, Dani?” Mia whispered.
“No,” I replied. “But there’s something I can do to make it better.”
I borrowed the groundskeeper’s rusty blue pickup truck to drive to Victor Birch’s office. Most trainees thought that William Fonthill was nothing more than an old curmudgeon, but I knew better. Fonthill still grieved over the loss of his daughter, Sydney. Like me, she’d had strawberry blond hair. She’d died of an airborne disease at the age of seven. Unsurprisingly, Fonthill had never fully recovered. I wasn’t entirely sure why he’d chosen to share that personal information with me. It had been a rainy day—the kind of rain that kept everyone inside with blankets to stave off the chill. He’d found me in one of the gardens, walking from plant to plant and naming them aloud. It had been a coping device at home when life inside the house was particularly challenging. I was a productive witch by nature and even my coping mechanisms generally involved the development of some sort of knowledge or skill. Other trainees viewed me as driven and ambitious, but the truth was that most of my expertise arose out of rejection and misery.
“You knew zazzle galls,” he’d said. “Nobody here ever recognizes that one.”
I’d wiped the streaks of rain from face and peered at him. “I know them all.”
“My daughter was a lot like you,” he’d said.
“Smart?” I’d said without a hint of humility.
He’d cracked a smile and I noticed a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Stubborn. Confident. She’d have made a fine agent. She’d have made a fine anything if she’d lived.”
And then he’d told me all about Sydney. I’d stood in the garden in the pouring rain and listened. Then I’d watched him weep. Later, it had occurred to me that I should have hugged him, but hugging had never been the Degraff way. In the past year, I’d gotten better with physical expressions of affection, especially since developing such close friendships at the academy. The lack of a hug didn’t seem to bother Fonthill, though. Ever since our chance meeting in the garden, he’d made it clear that I had special status and that included the use of his truck whenever I needed it. I’d kept his story to myself because of its personal nature, so my friends had no clue as to the real reason for showing me favor.
I parked Fonthill’s pickup truck and surveyed the nondescript building in front of me. The strip mall included some of the usual suspects—a Chinese takeout place, a fairy-owned dry cleaners, an apothecary, and an exotic pet groomer. I took the steps to the second floor above the apothecary to the unmarked door and knocked three times. No response.
“Hello?” I called, and knocked again. Inside, I heard voices and strained to listen.
No, not voices. Music.
I turned the knob and opened the door. A young man shimmied to the beat behind the counter, placing bottles on a shelf.
“Excuse me,” I said. Loudly.
He spun around and halted when he spotted me. The music immediately switched off. “The exotic pet groomer is downstairs and to the right.”
I scrunched my nose. “What about me suggests that I have an exotic pet that requires grooming?”
“You watch enough paranormals, you develop an eye.”
“Well, your eye is mistaken. I’m Dani Degraff and I’m looking for Victor Birch,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
He squinted. “That’s a lot of hair you’ve got there. Doesn’t it get heavy on your head, especially when it’s wet after a nice, hot shower?”
I folded my arms. “What kind of question is that?”
He rubbed his own head. “A kind of question I could never answer. My hair’s way too short.” He grinned. “You sure there’s not a crown buried in there somewhere?”
Absently, I touched the top of my head. “A crown?”
“Yes, a crown. You’ve got privilege written all over you, princess.”
I ignored his remark. “Where’s Victor?” I asked.
“Eternal Springs.”
I frowned. “Where’s that?”
“An island off the coast of New Jersey of all places,” he replied. “Why anyone would want to spend time there is beyond me. The only kind of island I like is the deserted kind with a hammock and plenty of ale.”
“Yes, I can see how that might suit you,” I shot back.
He arched an eyebrow. “Ooh, she dishes it out? Now that’s a welcome development.”
I tapped my foot. “And when will Victor be back?”
“He won’t. He retired there two years ago.”
“Oh.” Well, that information threw me for a loop.
“I took over his territory. The name’s Peter Zilla.” He smirked. “The ‘god’ is implied.”
I stared at him, confused. He didn’t seem much like a god except for the smugness. “Come again?”
His mouth dropped open. “You don’t know Godzilla? You don’t know what you’re missing. Human pop culture is awesome.”
I made a mental note to ask Bryn later. She was our pipeline to the human world. “So can I purchase the same item from you that I would’ve obtained from your predecessor?”
He pulled a face. “My predecessor. Now there’s a big word.”
I grew impatient. “Are you sure you work here and aren’t just robbing the place?”
“Technically, I wouldn’t be robbing it. I’d be burglarizing it.”
“What’s the difference?”
He pointed at me. “Looks like Princess Vocabulary doesn’t know everything after all.”
My muscles tensed. “I never claimed to know everything. I’m trying to get a bottle of Amplexudo. Is this something you can acquire for me? Time is of the essence.”
He whistled. “Amplexudo, huh? Potent stuff. Hard to get unless you know the right folks.” He paused and a slow grin emerged. “Which I do.”
“What are you, exactly?” I asked. He certainly didn’t seem like much of a businessman. I expected more professionalism from my grandmother’s contacts, though, Peter wasn’t technically one of them.
“I’m an acquisitions expert,” he replied vaguely.
My hands moved to my hips. “That’s not a thing.”
“Is. And I have the business card to prove it.”
“The only thing a business card proves is that you know how to get ink printed on paper.”
“Beautiful and smart?” He wiped his brow. “This must be my lucky day.”
A high-pitched sound suddenly filled the room and I whirled around, trying to identify the source. “What’s that?”
“Minotaur shit! Someone breached my ward.” He fixed me with a hard stare. “Did you come alone?”
“Yes,” I said emphatically. “What kind of ward is it?” Wouldn’t I have also breached it?
“It detects weapons,” he said. Footsteps thundered on the stairs outside and a protective spell shimmered in front of the door. “Come with me if you want to live.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the intricate spell. “Seriously?”
He groaned. “No Terminator either? You really need to expand your horizons. It can’t all be coven society balls and bucksberry fizz.”
Fists pounded on the door. “Open up!” a deep voice demanded.
Peter opened the counter gate and extended a hand. “Misery loves company.”
I didn’t want to wait to find out who—or what—was on the other side of that door. I took his hand and moved behind the counter. “Now
what?” I asked.
Magic crackled in the air and I knew that someone with power was trying to break through the protective barrier.
“Now this,” Peter replied, and snapped his fingers.
The floor opened beneath our feet and swallowed us whole. Whatever magic he’d used was well designed. I didn’t even have the sensation of falling. It was simply a smooth transition to another place.
“A postern,” I breathed, once I’d recovered my bearings.
He shook his head. “Most of us say trapdoor, wormhole, or even secret hidey-hole, but whatever.”
I surveyed the dark and damp interior. “Where are we?”
“Underground tunnels,” he said. “They’re old and forgotten by most, which works out well for me.”
“Who’s after you?” I asked.
“Take your pick,” Peter replied. “Given that they had weapons, it didn’t seem smart to wait and find out.”
“You think they’ll be able to break through your protective spell?” I asked.
“Oh, definitely,” he replied. “It’s a pretty weak one. I only had it done to buy me time to escape, hence the handy hatch.” He chuckled. “Goddess of the Moon, I love alliteration. Big fan.”
I shivered, the chill reaching my bones. “What now?”
“Wait until they go away,” he said. “Then go and see if they left me a friendly note. Something tells me they won’t.”
“You really have no idea who’s after you?” I asked. “Do you have that many enemies?”
He shrugged. “In my line of work, you tend to piss off a decent segment of the population.”
I placed a hand on my hip. “Your work as an acquisitions expert?”
Peter shrugged. “You say acquisitions expert; I say smuggler.”
“Technically, you said acquisitions expert.”
He waved me off. “You and your semantics, princess. I like to say I put the smug in smuggler.”
“I bet you do—like to say that, I mean.”
The tunnel rumbled and I grabbed Peter’s arm in an attempt to maintain my balance.
“I know I’m irresistible,” he began, “but maybe we should share a meal first. I know a great kebab place.”
I shoved him away. “Can you get me out of your hidey-hole, please?”
His brow lifted. “Wow, that sounds incredibly dirty. I like it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Listen, I came for a potion to help my grandmother, but if you can’t get it for me, then I need to figure out where else to go. Like I told you in your office, time is of the essence.”
“Grandmother, huh?”
“Yes, she’s…not well.”
“And you want to give her Amplexudo? That’ll overload her system if she’s already weak.”
“I want to honor her request,” I said. “I owe her that much.”
The tunnel grew quiet. “Sounds like they’re gone. Tell you what. Give me a few minutes to scope out the office, and then I’ll help you. Deal?”
I thought of all the work that was waiting for me back at the academy. Then I thought of my grandmother’s frail frame in her bed. Her parched lips and her weakened state.
“Deal,” I said.
Chapter Four
We took the long way back to his office, traipsing through the tunnel on foot and then climbing a rusty ladder, where Peter finally pushed aside a manhole cover. We emerged behind the strip mall in time to see a sheriff’s car drive away.
I jerked toward Peter. “They were law enforcement.”
He dusted himself off. “I said I wasn’t sure.”
I pressed my palms against my cheeks. “Did I just help you evade arrest? This is awful. Stars and stones, I’m training to be a sentry.”
“You go to Spellslingers?” he asked.
“I’m in my second year.”
Peter groaned. “Figures.”
“What figures?”
“Nothing.” He headed back toward the stairs outside his office and I quickly followed.
“You don’t think they’re watching for you to come back?” I asked.
“Doubtful. If it’s the sheriff’s office, they’ll have left a love note.”
“Sounds like you have experience in this area,” I said.
“Hey, we can’t all be privileged academy students,” he replied.
My whole body tensed. He had no idea what my life had been like before I arrived at the academy.
“What do you know?” he said. “They decided not to wreck the joint for a change. Top marks for these guys.”
I entered the office behind him and was pleased to see that Peter was right. Despite his questionable career choice, I didn’t relish the idea of the sheriff’s footmen causing property damage. I wanted law enforcement to set a high bar for behavior. The highest—which I recognized was naive in the world we seemed to live in.
“Is that a note?” I asked, pointing to the wall behind the counter.
Peter scanned it quickly before plucking the paper from the wall. “It’s an arrest warrant.”
“For you?” I tried to read it over his shoulder.
“Apparently.” He studied the warrant. “What the…? Fraser’s missing?”
“Who’s Fraser?”
“Grantham Fraser,” he replied, more to himself.
My head began to spin. “That’s my professor. I have him for Advanced Potions.” Well, only once so far. He didn’t show up for class today.
“Yep, that’s Fraser. He’s my mixologist contact. We’ve known each other for years.”
“Your contact?” I repeated. Professor Fraser kept curious company. I wondered whether Chancellor Tilkin knew about Fraser’s extracurricular activities.
“As a matter of fact, he’s been working on a side project for me. I was supposed to meet him this morning, but he didn’t show.”
“What kind of project?” I asked.
Peter gave me a cursory glance. “That’s confidential.”
I barked a short laugh. “I didn’t realize anything was off limits with you, Mr. Smuggler.”
Peter set the warrant on the counter. “He was supposed to make me a fake ID.”
“Why would you need a mixologist for that?”
“It’s for the new ID system that allows us in and out of Terrene,” he replied. “It’s far superior to the old system. As you can imagine, I’m somewhat of a regular visitor, but I have to do it in a way that keeps me under the radar.”
“And Professor Fraser could help with that?”
Peter raked a hand through his light brown hair. “He was creating a synthetic blood that registered different properties every time a border guard scanned it.”
“That doesn’t sound possible,” I said.
Peter shook a finger at me. “You don’t know the kind of talent that wizard possesses. You’d do well to pay attention in his class.” His brow furrowed. “Assuming he materializes.”
“He missed class today. I heard it was unexpected. That’s why we didn’t have a substitute.”
Peter’s expression turned grim. “This can’t be good. That’s a new job for him. Fraser wouldn’t want to make a bad impression.”
“Why would they assume you had something to do with his absence?” I asked.
“Somehow, they must’ve known I was supposed to meet up with him. Maybe they think I did.” He folded the warrant and placed it in his back pocket. “A promise is a promise. Let’s hunt down your grandmother’s potion.”
I gaped at him. “Peter, we can’t do that. You have to deal with this warrant.”
Peter opened a drawer and retrieved a couple of items. “I don’t need to do anything. I don’t need to come back to this office for a long time if I don’t want to. They won’t find me unless I decide to let them.”
“You’ll make it worse,” I argued.
He shot me a quizzical look. “What’s it to you, princess? You’ll return to your ivory tower soon enough and forget all about me.”
“I can help you.�
�� The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
“Help me? Why?”
“Because you’re innocent,” I said.
“How can you be so sure?” he asked. “Maybe I’ve hidden Fraser in one of my hidey-holes.” He paused. “Wait. Forget I said that.”
“You looked as surprised as I did to learn that Fraser is missing,” I explained. “Your reaction wasn’t for my benefit. I could tell.”
Peter exhaled. “Fraser’s an excellent wizard, but he’s an even better man. I wouldn’t like it if anything happened to him.”
“Are you sure he’s a good man?” I asked. “If he’s willing to sell fake passports to criminals, it’s possible he’s mixed up with some unsavory elements.”
Peter grinned. “I am fairly unsavory. Listen, maybe he sells some potions on the side that he shouldn’t, but there are definite lines the wizard won’t cross. He has a code.”
I studied him closely. “If we intend to help him, then clearing your name is the first step,” I said. “If the sheriff fixates on you as the prime suspect, they won’t look for anyone else.”
“Yeah, they’re not the most competent.” He fiddled with a pen on the counter. “I told you I’ve known him for years. He’s been one of the few constants in my life. I don’t want to lose another constant.”
He oozed vulnerability and, for a brief moment, I forgot all about the smug jerk I’d met earlier. “Come with me to Spellslingers, Peter Zilla. We’ll tell Chancellor Tilkin your story. She’s got the clout to help you with the sheriff.”
Peter hesitated. “And what if she wants to turn me in?”
“She won’t do that,” I said. “Not when we’re placing our trust in her by showing up in her office.”
“I think I might be better off laying low for a while. That’s how I usually handle things.”
“Except then you won’t be able to find Professor Fraser. If you’re as close to him as you claim, then you could be instrumental in locating him.”
Peter remained silent for another beat. “Okay, princess,” he finally said. “Take me to your leader.”
Peter whistled. “This is Spellslingers Academy of Magic, huh? Must be nice.”
With Mercer Lake on our left and the gateway in front of us, I realized what an impressive sight it must seem to a newcomer. The arched windows and the purple flag embroidered with a golden ’S’ atop the highest turret. The gateway and towers. The academy was often described as part stronghold, part academic institution.
Outlier_Spellslingers Academy of Magic Page 3