The Faerie Guardian

by Rachel Morgan

  Ryn snorts as he stands. “Right. More like the land of Poisyn.”

  Silence follows Ryn’s statement. I flick my eyes to the side; his friends’ mouths are hanging open. Eventually Dale speaks. “She was at Poisyn?”

  “You were at Poisyn?” demands Aria. “What were you doing Underground, Ryn? You could have been killed if anyone down there had found out you’re with the Guild.”

  “And how exactly would they have found that out, Aria?”

  “I don’t know. Those Undergrounders have their evil ways. And stop avoiding the question. What were you doing down there?”

  Ryn steps closer to her, leaning toward her ear as though to share a secret. Gently, he places a hand on her cheek and says, “It’s funny how you think I’d actually tell you my business.”

  She swats his hand away. “You’re such as ass, Ryn. It’s a wonder there are any people left who like you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s anyone left who likes me,” says Ryn. “But being an ass seems, oddly enough, to attract people. Look at you, for example. I’ve been an ass to you for years, and yet here you are. Still hanging around.”

  Aria flips her hair over her shoulder and marches back to the target area. After a moment’s hesitation, Jasmine follows her.

  “I don’t believe you,” says Dale. He glances over at me, and I quickly point my gaze forward once more. “Little Miss Perfect would never go Underground, especially to a place like Poisyn.”

  Ryn laughs as he kicks his bag and shoes off the mat. “There are many things you don’t know about Miss Perfect Pixie Sticks, Dale. Like the kind of company she keeps, for starters. And her complete disregard for the Law.”

  Anger flares hot within me.

  “Come on, let’s fight,” says Ryn before Dale can ask any questions. “This session’s almost over.”

  *

  I push myself for another furious fifteen minutes before bringing the running rectangle to a stop. I sit down, pull a towel from my bag, and wipe it across my face and neck. People like Aria and Jasmine use spells to dry themselves off; I don’t see the point in wasting energy.

  “Vi, you’re back!” I look up to see Honey limping across the hall toward me. Honey and I might actually be called friends if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m always too busy with extra assignments, and she’s always too busy with her Seer-in-training boyfriend.

  “Yeah, my return couldn’t come fast enough.” I remove my sound drops and gesture toward her leg. “What happened to you?”

  She lets her bag slip off her shoulder and onto the floor. “Ugh, I tripped over Nigel.”

  “Nigel?”

  “Yeah, you know, the stray vine that always sneaks down the second floor corridor?”

  I raise both eyebrows. “You named the vine?”

  “I didn’t. It was that guy who visited last week, the one from the London Guild Council.” She sits down, loops her straight blonde and blue hair behind her ears, and pulls the shoe off her injured foot. “Anyway, the name seems to have stuck.”

  “Great,” I mutter as I search inside my bag for a bottle of water. “Not only did I miss a week of assignments, I also missed the visit of some important Council person.”

  “He was boring,” says Honey. “And what are you worried about missing assignments for? You’re probably still miles ahead of everyone else in the rankings.”

  “Not Ryn.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” Frost appears on her fingers, and she wraps her ice-cold hands carefully around her ankle. “The rankings are secret from now until graduation. And we’ve still got a few more assignments—plus the big final—before then. I’m sure you’ll still come top.”

  “Thanks, Honey.” It seems weird to me that she doesn’t really care where she stands in the rankings. But Honey’s always been like that, not really bothered by points. I look down at her hands; the layer of frost is thick now. “How’s your ankle doing?”

  She rotates it. “I can feel it healing, but it’ll take about another half hour.” She hesitates. “So, uh, I spoke to Rowan when I came in. He asked me to swap with Dale for the second session.” She makes a face. “Sorry about that.”

  Great. A one-on-one in the Fish Bowl with the biggest guy in our class. But all I say is, “No problem. I can take him.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Fish Bowl is an enormous orb that shimmers in the far corner of the Training Center. It had another name once, but it’s been called the Fish Bowl for so long that not even the mentors can remember the original name. Several trainees have already gathered at the edges of the opaque orb, waiting to stick their heads inside to watch my session with Dale. They’re supposed to be doing their own training, of course, but mentors always seem to turn a blind eye when it comes to fifth years.

  On either side of the orb is a tower that stretches almost to the ceiling. I head for the tower on the right. Two figures sit at the very top, their legs dangling over the side. I recognize them from their hair color: blue and blonde is Hank, one of the Training Center designers; pink and brown is Tina, a mentor.

  “So you’re today’s setting designer?” I call up to Hank.

  He leans over and looks down. “Sure am.” He winks. “Hope you enjoy it.”

  “Enjoy it?” I cross my arms. “The last setting you designed gave me a broken arm.”

  Even from down here, I can see the mischief in his eyes. “It’s not my fault you fell off the swinging trapeze.”

  The swinging trapeze. Now that was fun.

  “You nearly ready?” Tina asks. I nod and step onto the starting plate. Tina gets up and walks across the beam that joins the two towers, presumably to check whether Dale is waiting on the other side. I look around. It could be my imagination, but every trainee I make eye contact with seems to give me some kind of self-satisfied smirk. I bet they all love the fact that I, the supposedly perfect trainee, was suspended for a week.

  Well, I’ll just have to show them I still plan to be number one. I close my eyes and rub my hands together. I can do this. Breathe in. I can take down a guy more than double my size. Breathe out.

  “Opponents ready?” My eyelids spring apart at the sound of Tina’s shout. She stands in the center of the beam, her legs slightly apart. She raises her stylus above her head. I tense. Sparks explode from the tip, and “Go!”

  I run at the shimmering wall of the orb. It gives way, ghostly white tendrils wrapping around me as I pass through—and then I’m inside. I stop and look around, taking it all in as quickly as I can. An abandoned warehouse. Scaffolding to climb. Bars to swing from. Planks to balance on.

  A roar from the other side of the warehouse attracts my attention. It’s Dale, barreling straight toward me without bothering to take a look at his surroundings. It’s remarkable how much he reminds me of the goblin I fought last night. I stand still, waiting for him to get closer. And closer. At the last second, I jump aside and grab hold of a metal chain. I scramble up it. Dale tugs the chain to the side, and I almost lose my grip as it swings wildly about.

  I keep climbing. As soon as I’m level with a wooden platform, I jump onto it. The whole thing shudders as Dale throws his weight at it. I lose my balance. I fall, but manage to catch onto a metal bar. I swing, let go, and land on Dale’s shoulders. He topples to the ground, taking me with him. His breath escapes him in a grunt as he hits the ground. My head smacks concrete, and for a second I feel dazed. The transparent top of the Fish Bowl swims before my eyes.

  I blink and sit up. I twist Dale’s head sharply to the side with my knees, but he’s too strong for me to do any real damage. I kick his face as he lashes out with a broken pipe. The sharp end slices across my arm.

  I smell blood. Blood and dust. I roll away from him and jump to my feet. He’s up too. He throws a punch, followed closely by a kick. I dodge both, and while his balance is off, I sweep my leg out behind him. It connects with the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground. I jump onto his back, grab the end
of the chain, and wrap it around his neck. He claws at the metal links, then changes tactics. Bringing his elbow up sharply, he knocks me off his back. He turns over, clamps his fist around my neck, and slams me down on the concrete floor. My skull screams in protest. My lungs reach for the air he knocked out of my chest.

  “Ready to surrender?” he growls, leaning over me. With his teeth bared and the chain still wrapped around his neck, he looks like a vicious guard dog. I bring my knee up, hard. His face contorts in pain. His grip loosens, and I kick him away from me. I jump up and place one foot on his chest, then grab the chain and pull it tighter. He struggles, but his flailing becomes weaker and weaker, until eventually his eyes begin to slide shut.

  A loud honk indicates the end of the fight. Immediately, I unwind the chain from Dale’s neck and step away from him. I bend over, trying to regain my breath. Dale rolls onto his knees, clutching the red marks at his neck and gasping something that sounds like bitch. Blood runs from a gash above his eyebrow. It’s almost as bad as the slash across my left arm. If Dale and I were friends, we’d sit on a mat together now and help clean each other’s wounds. That’s not about to happen here.

  After a final I’ll-kill-you-next-time-we’re-in-here glare, he stalks out the way he came. I turn and exit the orb in the opposite direction. Ignoring the chattering trainees still hanging around the Fish Bowl, I grab my bag and head for an empty mat. I lie down, pull a bottle out of my bag, and squirt some water down my throat. I wait for my breathing to return to normal before I sit up, cross my legs, and locate my emergency kit. I rifle through it and locate a bandage. My arm won’t take long to heal itself, of course, but it’s better to keep it covered while there’s still an open wound.

  I mop up most of the blood before slowly winding the bandage around my arm. The Fish Bowl area is quiet now; trainees have returned to their activities. Nearby, a mentor is teaching a group of first years how to pull their special guardian weapons out of thin air. I remember the first time we had that lesson. Ryn told everyone he’d be the first to make his weapons appear. He wasn’t, of course.

  “Didn’t your father teach you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

  I freeze for a second, then continue winding the bandage around my arm. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude not to wear clothes in public?”

  “What, you mean this?” Ryn points to his naked chest. “I’ll have you know there are at least ten females in this hall who find my lack of clothing highly attractive.”

  “Well, fortunately for both of us, I’m not one of them.” I tuck the end of the bandage beneath the folds and stand. I don’t like Ryn towering over me. “What do you want?”

  Ryn stares at me with the gaze of a melath serpent about to strike. “I want to know why you were listening in on my conversation earlier.” Dammit, how does he know that? “Could it possibly be because of that little rule-breaking secret of yours I’m still hanging onto? The suspense must be killing you.”

  “The only thing killing me right now is the stench of your hypocrisy.”

  “Hypocrisy? Why, because I was also Underground?” He laughs. “I hate to break it to you, Pixie Sticks, but hanging out Underground isn’t on quite the same level as blatantly disobeying one of the Guild’s major Laws. I’m pretty sure the Council will see it the same way.”

  I step closer to him, making sure to invade his personal space. “You can tell whoever you want, Ryn. I’ll be the one laughing when you realize the joke’s on you.” I imagine Ryn’s embarrassment after going to the Council to report my ‘Law-breaking’, only to find out Nate isn’t human after all. It gives me a great sense of satisfaction.

  Ryn leans forward, the same way he did when telling Aria to mind her own business. “Whatever game you’re playing, you’re going to lose,” he whispers. “And I’ll be right there to rub your nose in it when it happens.”

  “Great. Well, at least I have something to look forward to.” I cross my arms. “Now why don’t you go parade your lack of dignity somewhere else?”

  Ryn stares at me as though trying to figure something out, then turns abruptly and walks away. My hands ball into fists beneath my arms, and the sudden flash of anger I feel leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. I realize I’ve bitten my tongue. I force my arms to my sides. The next session has begun. I pack away my emergency kit and head for the target area. Knives. That’s what I feel like throwing right now. I also wouldn’t mind if my target looked like a certain blue-eyed, blue-black-haired classmate of mine.

  “What were you doing talking to her?”

  Jasmine. I suppress a groan. If I don’t put my sound drops back on I’ll be forced to listen to her interrogating Ryn about me. I glance around while allowing a knife to materialize in my right hand. The two of them are leaning against a nearby tree in the climbing area. Don’t they have a training schedule to stick to?

  “Jasmine, dear, don’t worry your pretty head about Violet. She’s not worth it.”

  I press my lips together and try to focus on the target in front of me.

  “Well, you’re obviously worried about her. Is it because she’s still beating you in the rankings?”

  “We don’t know what the rankings are anymore, Jas.” Aria. Apparently she doesn’t have any training to do either. “But Violet’s just missed a week of assignments. She can’t possibly be ranked top anymore.”

  Ryn sighs. “How disappointing that she won’t get to continue her mother’s legacy. But then, perhaps Mrs Pixie Sticks was a cheater too.” I grip the knife handle harder. “Perhaps dead mommy dearest is looking down from her crummy cloud, proud of her little Miss Perfect for breaking Guild Laws and sneaking around with some pansy-assed—”

  In one swift motion, I turn and fling the knife at Ryn. It spins through the air, end over end over end. With a satisfying thud, it embeds itself in the tree just inches from his head. Silence fills the hall. Ryn’s gaze—shocked, furious—pierces me. I don’t look away. I don’t even blink. “Oops,” I say, without a shred of remorse. “Guess I missed.”

  “Violet!” My eyes flick to the doorway. It’s Tora, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrows drawn tightly together. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

  *

  I follow Tora up to the second floor in silence. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t look at me. Is she angry? She probably didn’t like the fact that I almost impaled Ryn. Or perhaps . . . Could she know about Nate? Could Ryn have told her before training began this morning?

  Eventually I can’t stand the silence any longer. As we reach the top of the staircase, I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have thrown a knife at him, but if you’d heard what he said about my mother—”

  “Not interested,” she says, holding a hand up. “Though I can’t say I was pleased by what I saw.” I look down at my shoes, preparing myself for the I’m-disappointed-in-you speech. It doesn’t come. “I called you out of training because I need to speak to you about—” she looks around, then lowers her voice “—something else. A favor.”

  Ah. I know what ‘a favor’ means. Thankfully, it has nothing to do with Nate. “How can I help?”

  “Well, it’s quite a tragic case, really. There’s a—Down, Nigel!” she snaps at the vine that’s slowly begun to wrap itself around her ankle. It slithers away. “Honestly. I swear that plant has a mind of its own.” She turns and heads down the corridor. “Let’s talk in my office. At least I know we can’t be overheard in there.” I follow her inside and pull the door shut. The light in her office is a pale, unhealthy hue. I glance up at the glow-bug on the ceiling. Following my gaze, Tora says, “Oh, I think he may be sick. He’s been flickering on and off since yesterday. I need to get someone to take a look at him.”

  I drop into a chair in front of her desk. “So, what’s this ‘tragic case’?”

  Tora sighs. “Last week the sister of one of our Seers was found dead. The family has barely begun to deal with this loss, and now they’ve discovered the sister
’s daughter is missing.”

  “Since when?”

  “Last night. She’s only six years old. Her father is in his third century, I think, but this is his first, and only, child. He’ll do anything to find her.” Tora opens the cabinet behind her desk and removes a small sock. It’s white with pink stripes. “My contact down at Missing Fae snuck this out of the evidence room for me. Would you mind doing your thing?”

  “Of course not.” I reach for the sock. Holding it in both hands, I close my eyes and focus. I send my mind out, letting it skim across a vast ocean of consciousness. When I find her, it’s as though I see through her eyes. She’s sitting on a mattress in a small, bare room. Her knees are drawn up against her body. She’s watching the door, and I know without a doubt that it’s locked. I open my eyes, grab a blank scroll from Tora’s desk, and scribble down where I believe the girl to be. “She’s in a house. A human house, I think. She’s locked in, and people are arguing in the room next door.”

  “Thank you.” Tora takes the scroll. “Please excuse me while I organize an anonymous message to the guy heading up this investigation.” She strides across the room and opens the door. “And don’t even think about going anywhere. We still have counseling to get through.”

  I’ve barely had time to consider an escape attempt from Tora’s office when she returns. She places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you again, Vi. I understand your desire to keep your ability to yourself for now, but I applaud the fact that you can make good use of it, even in secret.”

  “Um, sure. Of course.”

  “Now. Back to business.” Tora seats herself behind her desk once more. “Sorry I wasn’t around this morning; the Council is sending me to the London Guild for a few days, so I had to organize some things.” She holds her hand out. “Tracker band, please.” I unclip the strip of leather from my wrist and hand it over. I lean back in my chair while Tora checks the details of last night’s assignment and fills in the mandatory Assignment Report form.