Royals of Villain Academy 5: Corrupt Alchemy

by Eva Chase

  That was my plan in theory, anyway. I edged my awareness toward that hint of my mother’s presence, and two seconds later the magic flowing through me barreled past me, hurtling toward it.

  That time, the sudden shift knocked the breath out of me. I had to struggle just to stay aware of the sensations around me rather than getting completely lost in the surge. My impression of her expanded, with a tug that ran right down to my heart. Even though I’d only called one woman this name in my entire life, I couldn’t stop the thought from popping into my head.

  Mom.

  For a second, I could practically see her, just a few glints of silver in her dark brown hair, her indigo eyes wide and wild. Then the energy that’d been racing through me collapsed like a door slamming shut.

  I stumbled but managed to stay on my feet this time. Lillian had been right about the local ceremony being less draining.

  “What’s the reading on that?” Lillian was saying, while a few of the other blacksuits bent over one of the conducting pieces. They muttered to each other or maybe to themselves in some casting. Then one straightened up.

  “We’ve got an intersection in the radius—I’d say it’s almost definitely one of the buildings on the corners.”

  Lillian snapped her fingers, striding through the room without regard for the other carved stones marking the floor, all business-like ferocity. “All right. You five head out there now and confirm the exact building. Scope out the defenses, magical and otherwise. I want a thorough report, every tiny enchantment covered.” She spun on her heel. “You three, take an inventory on the other joymancer establishments we suspect in the city. Let’s get an idea of how much backup this place can call on.” She swiveled again, in the other direction. “The rest of you haven’t used conductive weapons in a major offensive outside of training. Let’s get you warmed up.”

  The first two groups she’d indicated dashed off in an instant. My stomach twisted as I watched them go. This was all happening so fast—and her last comments had chilled me. A major offensive was exactly what I’d hoped I could head off.

  “Conductive weapons?” I repeated. I hadn’t heard anyone talk about those before.

  Maggie carried a thick canvas bag over from the other end of the suite. “This is stuff they don’t teach at Blood U,” she said, her usual smile bordering on a smirk. “No one’s allowed to be in possession of one outside of official blacksuit business.”

  Lillian took the bag from her and drew out a long, knobby rod of carved stone, like a wizard’s wand gone cancerous. The pocks on the knobby lumps told me at least some were hollowed out, made to store—and to amplify—spells the same way the stones littering the floor around us did. My pulse stuttered even without further explanation.

  “We don’t resort to using these often,” Lillian said, giving the weapon a fond stroke. “They can give you the power to blaze through a whole line of defenses, but you do sacrifice some control. In this case, we can’t afford to give those miscreants the chance to raise a larger defense. In and out as quickly as possible, and we’ll get your mother back to you.”

  The eager gleam in her eyes made me even more unsettled. “But maybe they won’t be necessary,” I suggested carefully. “Once your people have scouted out the building, it might turn out that the joymancers have gotten a little lax with security over the years.”

  “I doubt it. We’ll go in prepared, in any case.” She glanced at me, still holding the weapon, and a thin smile crossed her face. “Do you want to try it?”

  The question felt like a test I hadn’t been prepared for. The thought of touching that thing, let alone sending any magic through it, made me queasy.

  I raised my hands with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile. “Considering I have no training with those things at all, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Aw, come on. I’m surprised you don’t want to give the thing that could save your mother a spin.”

  What was she insinuating now? I hesitated, and Lillian hefted the bulbous rod. “I’ll show you, then.”

  She aimed one end of the rod at the dining table. With a harshly whispered word, the weapon quivered. A wave of energy like a blast of wind shot from it and crashed into the table, smashing all four legs in the blink of an eye.

  My jaw slackened. Lillian dropped the weapon back to her side. “That spell without the conductive powers would have simply dented the wood. That’s the kind of power we can bring to bear.”

  “Do the joymancers have anything similar?” I asked as that additional horrible thought occurred to me.

  “If they do, we’ll just have to make sure to hit them first and harder.” She patted my arm and tucked the weapon back into its bag. “You don’t need to worry about us. We know what we’re doing. And you’ll stay safely here at the hotel while this is going down.”

  I caught hold of the only other excuse to protest that I could think of like a lifeline. “I can’t help worrying,” I said. “You’re the closest thing to family I’ve had since I was rescued, and my mom will be part of the fighting too. Are you sure there’s no way we could negotiate her release now that we know she’s there?”

  Lillian snorted. “The joymancers would just be that much more prepared to push back. Besides, they deserve to pay for what they did to her. I’m looking forward to seeing plenty of their blood spilled.”

  Her voice and her expression had gone so hard I couldn’t think of anything I could say that might sway her—and that wouldn’t start making her suspicious of me. I wavered there for a moment with nausea percolating through my belly.

  “How soon do you think you’ll be able to move on the building?”

  She rubbed her jaw. “I’d imagine we should be able to gather the information quickly enough to plan an assault for tomorrow night. You won’t have to wait much longer.”

  And I didn’t have much more time to figure out some kind of alternate plan. I forced a smile.

  “I know you’ll bring her back,” I said, and fled the suite so I could figure out how I could make that happen without bodies littering the streets.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rory

  Halfway down the hall to my hotel room, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I stopped to catch my balance against the wall. A pang shot through my gut, and it occurred to me that while it was only late afternoon here in California, by my body’s adapted northeastern schedule, it was well past when I’d normally have eaten dinner. Intense spells on an empty stomach wasn’t a great combination, especially if I wanted to come up with some brilliant plan.

  I detoured to the elevator and grabbed a croissant sandwich and a fruit salad in the café at the front of the lobby. My familiar would be happy to share those. My gaze darted over the lobby as I hurried back to the elevator, watching for Malcolm or the blacksuits, as if they’d be able to tell just by looking at me that I wasn’t feeling totally onboard with the plans in the works.

  I made it to my room unhindered, but the restlessness I’d managed to briefly chase away in the arcade had gripped me again, ten times as insistently. While Deborah hopped onto the desk to nibble at the grapes and piece of sandwich I broke off for her, I stayed on my feet. Each bite of my hasty dinner stuck in my throat before going down. In the back of my mind, the memory of my parents’ deaths kept replaying—gurgles of breath, blood splashed on white tiles.

  Some joymancers had done awful things—but so had some fearmancers. Neither group deserved to be slaughtered for it. But how the hell could I possibly convince Lillian to try another way? She didn’t just see a full-out massacre as the best option; she relished the idea.

  Has something gone wrong? Deborah asked, looking up from her meal at my fifth pacing of the room.

  “We did the final locating ceremony,” I said. “They pretty much know where the joymancers have my mother now. And they’re planning on ripping their way through anyone who stands between them and her.”

  Maybe even Naries, like I’d wor
ried about before. No matter how late at night the blacksuits launched their attack, there could be passersby, or the effects of the magic might extend beyond the one building. Lillian had admitted the conducting weapons allowed less accuracy. And I knew as well as anyone that most fearmancers didn’t give a shit about the lives of people without magic.

  Guilt wrapped tight around my chest. “I’m the only one who knows what’s going to happen and who cares enough to want to change it. But I don’t have any idea how. I tried talking to Lillian, but she’s too caught up in her revenge.” I dropped down onto the edge of my bed with a rough exhalation. “I’m supposed to be the most powerful mage the university has seen in years. What good is that if I can’t do anything to stop dozens of people from dying?”

  You’re up against an entire society that believes in brutality, Deborah said, scurrying across the table to me. It’d be hard for anyone to push back. You should feel proud of how well you’ve held your own so far. You’re a credit to your parents.

  She meant my joymancer parents, of course. And yeah, I had to think that Mom and Dad would have said the same thing. They’d encouraged me to speak up for what I believed in, but they’d also believed in being aware of your limits.

  That didn’t help me save any lives, though.

  “It’s my fault,” I said quietly. “If I hadn’t helped them with their spells…”

  Do you really think they’d have let you bow out? That woman stole a little piece of you to help her already. And… I understand that this is your family, Rory. I don’t blame you for wanting to free your birth mother, even if I can’t imagine she’ll be the mother you deserve. But perhaps she has changed in the time the Conclave has kept her in custody. I’m not sure them holding onto her is worth the risk of bloodshed.

  Her words brought a spark of hope into my chest, tenuous but bright.

  If my adoptive parents had believed the things they did, if Deborah could accept me despite my heritage, there had to be other joymancers who didn’t see the different types of magic in black and white. Who’d recognize my good intentions—who’d realize that a compromise would be better for both sides.

  I could be careful. I had plenty of magic to defend myself. And if they didn’t listen, at least I might learn something that would help mitigate the damage.

  Pros and cons, Dad would have said. Go!

  Pros: I might be able to negotiate my birth mother’s release without anyone even getting hurt. If not, I’d at least get a closer look at the Conclave’s inner workings. And I’d be doing something other than sitting back and letting the carnage happen.

  Cons: The Conclave might see me as an enemy and try to hurt me. If I wasn’t careful, I could reveal too much and ruin any chance of getting my mother back.

  I sucked my lower lip under my teeth. Those were big risks. But I’d have Deborah with me, and she could vouch for me in her own way. I’d convinced the other scions, even Malcolm, that not every joymancer was necessarily horrible—surely I could convince the joymancers that I wasn’t horrible either when I was right there in front of them. If I had to go through a little pain along the way before they listened… wouldn’t the outcome be worth it?

  I was in a special position, really, as a fearmancer raised by joymancers. I was a bridge between the two sides. This might be my only chance in who knew how long to really make use of that fact. How could I not try?

  The sun was still shining brightly beyond my window. As long as I was back before tomorrow morning, I suspected the blacksuits would be too busy making plans to check on me.

  “Deborah,” I said. “You mentioned the Conclave’s headquarters aren’t far from here?”

  They’re just east of San Francisco, in the Berkeley area, my familiar said, perking up. It would be an expensive ride, but I’d imagine you’d find someone willing to take you that far.

  Money wasn’t a problem. I sat up straighter and reached for my suitcase. “Let’s see if I can prevent a total disaster, then.”

  My luggage didn’t contain many clothing options, but I had a casual pair of slacks and a T-shirt that felt more appropriate for a mission where I might need to do a little running. I changed quickly and held out my arm so Deborah could leap onto my hand.

  I ran into my first hitch when I returned to the lobby. A couple of blacksuits were standing near the front doors. They wouldn’t think anything of me wandering around inside the hotel, but I didn’t want them wondering why I’d left or where I was going.

  I’d studied for the possibility of needing to stay out of view, though. I ducked into the arcade room, which was empty again, and concentrated on my whole body as I murmured, “Mirror.”

  The illusionary effect spread over my limbs and torso as I willed the magic from the base of my throat. I said the casting word again, feeling the energy tingle up over my face. When I stepped in front of one of the games, the glass screen reflected only the room around me.

  Perfect. With a skip of my pulse, I headed out into the lobby.

  I gave the blacksuits a wide berth, pausing just for a second in hearing range in case their conversation held any interest. They were discussing the possibility of calling more blacksuits down from New York. More bodies in the fray—exactly what we needed. I slipped out the door feeling even more of a sense of urgency than before.

  I walked several blocks until I felt sure no one who’d recognize me was likely to stumble on me and then ordered an Uber on my phone. Deborah waited with me, her tiny claws hooked into the collar of my shirt beneath my hair. It took a few minutes to locate a driver who’d make the trip out to the address she’d given me, but then I was on my way.

  There should be at least a few people on hand at the headquarters no matter the time, my familiar said as the car zoomed toward the freeway. I don’t know how much they’ll necessarily know about you. Your best bet for a starting point is giving them my name: Deborah Penfound. They’ll be able to look me up in their files and see that I was assigned to you. Any questions they have about how you’ve conducted yourself, they can confirm through my memories and impressions.

  I nodded, not able to answer her directly without the driver thinking I was crazy. My lungs tightened as we left the hotel and my new associates farther and farther behind.

  My parents had believed in the Conclave, I reminded myself. And while the joymancers might have been afraid of me, they had let Mom and Dad continue to raise me even after I’d reached the age when I might have developed my magic despite their suppressive spells. If I didn’t treat them like an enemy, I wouldn’t give them any reason to treat me like one either.

  We’d been on the road for almost an hour when my phone chimed. I’d left my purse back at the hotel but had tucked the phone into the pocket of my pants.

  Malcolm had texted me. Ceremony over? We could grab dinner—and then I’d like to challenge you to a Street Fighter rematch.

  My mouth twitched with a faint smile, but I wasn’t going to tell him what I was really up to. He’d never have approved of this mission. I remembered his enraged reaction to the news that the joymancers had imprisoned my mother way too clearly. Chances were if he found out what I was doing, he’d call on Lillian to haul me back.

  Sorry, already ate and ceremony + jetlag took a lot out of me, I wrote back. Going to crash early. But you’re on for that rematch in the morning.

  Hopefully that would satisfy him for the time being. I didn’t think he’d come knocking on my hotel room door after how careful he’d been about my boundaries since the boathouse incident this summer, but better not to leave him hanging too much.

  After we got off the freeway, the driver wound through a residential neighborhood with neat lawns and lots of trees shading the streets. He stopped in front of a large building in pale yellow stucco that took up almost half of the block it was on. I gathered my nerve, thanked him for the drive, and got out.

  A faint floral scent drifted to me from farther down the road. A few kids were playing street hockey the
next block over, their shouts and laughter adding to the sunny atmosphere. It was hard to believe people who’d place their base of operations in a place like this could be all that malicious.

  I still had to be careful, though. I touched my phone in my pocket, glanced around, and took it out so I could tuck it out of sight under one of the shrubs along the front edge of the lawn. Better not to give the joymancers direct access to all my contacts. Then I reached to my neck so I could scoop up Deborah and walked to the broad front door with her cupped in my hands in front of me like an offering.

  The building had no sign on the lawn or over the door to indicate it was anything other than a house, if a very large one. I guessed the joymancers had no reason to advertise that fact to anyone who didn’t already know who they were. A tingle of magical energy brushed over my feet on my way up the front walk, but I couldn’t tell what effect it had. If it was some sort of security spell, it didn’t stop me.

  I rang the doorbell and waited for several anxious seconds. Then a calm female voice crackled through the intercom mounted beside the door frame.

  “What’s your business here?”

  I leaned close to the speaker so I didn’t have to raise my voice. “I’d like to speak with someone from the Conclave. I’m here with Deborah Penfound, who can vouch for me—she suggested I come. My parents were Rafael and Lisa Franco, and they always spoke highly of the Conclave.”

  I hoped throwing in that last bit would go farther toward showing I wasn’t fully allied with the fearmancers.

  “Hold on a moment,” the voice said, and the intercom went silent. I resisted the restless urge to shift on my feet.

  This is all standard procedure, Deborah reassured me. I can’t imagine they’ll take more than a minute or two. They might want to check the area to make sure you haven’t brought anyone else with you, but then they’ll have no reason to distrust you.

  The door swung open just as she finished speaking. A man who looked around thirty, with rectangular glasses perched on his hooked nose, peered out at me. His gaze slid to the mouse in my hands.