“Naomi Hiraku, chief engineer, responsible for all of the devices that keep us alive and have provided us with greater safety over the past few years. Argo Ridgeway, head of logistics—or the gatekeeper of fate, as some of you like to call him. Johannes Noah, head of the arena—or Captain Pain, as he has been so graciously nicknamed. Lisbeth Oriel, head of Monster Sciences…” She rattled off a few more names that passed me by, as I was too engrossed in Naomi Hiraku to take them in.
If I was going to succeed here, this smiling, cheery-faced scholar held the keys. Without magic, I’d have to rely on all of the devices and technical wizardry I could get my mitts on to capture even the simplest of monsters.
Victoria settled the crowd again and resumed her power stance, though her black eyes paused on me as she shared her parting words. “All I have to say now is… good luck, everyone. Regardless of what stage you’re at, there is always more to learn. Push past your limits, welcome challenge, and pursue every step with patience and modesty. Don’t be disheartened. Use setbacks as a springboard to keep you moving forward. If you remember that, you cannot fail.”
I won’t let you down, Victoria. I didn’t think I was the sole target of her advice, but it struck me as though she were speaking directly to me. She’d taken a chance on me. A big one, one that could very well change my entire life for the better. And I didn’t plan to forget—or fail, if I could help it.
Three
Genie
Holy Ganymede, this is insane! I had chills by the crapload. The good kind, fizzing up like a shaken soda bottle and ready to pop. We walked through a main hallway in the South Wing, not as spectators but as legit students. Even the layout began to make more sense after looking at the stained glass—different colors for different wings. Sweet, sweet freedom jiggled deliciously in my fair hands, delivered by the most awesome place imaginable. I felt like all my dreams were coming true at once. Even dreams I didn’t know I’d had.
“I wonder what we’ll see first,” Persie whispered. My compadre in life. My sister from another mister. The yin to my yang. Call me a cheeseball, but I’d have gone to the ends of the Earth for her, and then some. And it felt so freaking good to be there with her, stepping out into our brave new world together, knowing we’d earned the right to stand in these hallways.
“These are the training halls.” Charlotte Basani, the badass of her mom’s Institute, opened the doors to let us take a look. I wasn’t one for hero worship, but heroine worship—yeah, I could do that. And I had some major heart eyes for this woman. She had the kind of hunting rap sheet that turned me green with envy, but I wasn’t jealous—global, cross-continental missions to wrangle the rarest and most dangerous beasts of all: bahamuts, wendigos, and basilisks. But, at the end of the day, everyone was in a one-horse race against themselves, so jealousy was a waste of time. I preferred to champion folks instead of creating an enemy that didn’t exist.
I craned my neck to get a look at the training facilities. No surprise that the cadet corps was up front, hogging the doorway. “Can you see?” I asked, looking down at Persie.
“Just about,” she replied from her tiptoes.
A row of glass rooms lay beyond the main door, sort of like squash courts but way bigger. The panel sets were frosted, but I could make out hazy shadows moving behind, and I could hear Grand Slam grunts from within. Hey, even hunters needed their privacy while training. It wouldn’t have been too impressive to watch the blooper reel on our first day. We needed to see the slick end-product, the thing that would trick us into thinking everything would be smooth sailing—even though we all knew this was going to be the hardest thing any of us had ever done. And I included the GIs in that.
“You’ll train here with Hosseini. He’ll teach you to hunt. It goes up in stages, so you’ll start with the basics—types of attack, defensive strategies, the use of devices—then work toward intermediate level, which is more to do with your personal hunting style, and so on.” Charlotte kept things straight and to the point, and I liked that. No messing about, just “here’s this, and here’s how it’ll serve you.” I imagined she had the same approach to her hunting. “If you ever get lost, ask for directions. It takes a few weeks to get the hang of the layout, so don’t be too proud to get help. That goes for most things in this place.”
If only the rest of us had an advantage like yours. I didn’t mean that in a bitter way. Having an edge was useful, and she had the Basani well of monster knowledge at her fingertips. Honestly, it was kind of freaky how much she looked like her mom and, obviously, her aunt as well. Charlotte had the same hazel eyes and olive skin, though her golden blonde hair verged on the strawberry persuasion. A hint of her dad, probably.
“If you’ve seen enough, we’ll move on.” Charlotte walked off without waiting. She knew we’d follow.
She pointed out various studies and suites as we headed back along endless corridors, containing know-how that we didn’t need in our first year. Persie wasn’t in a very chatty mood, and I couldn’t blame her. She was clearly dog-tired from playing defense against her nightmares. My best pal had been through some gnarly crap lately, troubles that didn’t show any sign of letting up. We both hoped her Purges had waned, but we also knew wishful thinking when we saw it. Even though I knew it was stupid, I hated dream-me for not stepping up. I didn’t always get it right, like with the scorpion fiasco, but I wouldn’t ever stop trying to help my best friend. If anyone ever tried to lock her up, I’d throw everything I had at them.
“Here, we have the Theorem Complex.” Charlotte paused in front of two enormous double doors. They really had a thing for those, here. Turning the huge, clover-shaped handles, she pushed both doors open like a dramatic movie heroine.
A cathedral-like beauty of a room invited our necks to strain upward. “Room” didn’t even begin to cover it. You could’ve fit an aircraft hangar in there and still had wiggle room. Curving staircases snaked up to elaborate balconies, where trainees and graduates sat at mahogany desks, flipping through the million dusty books that lined never-ending shelves. On the ground floor, modern glass boxes masqueraded as study cells. In one, I spotted that bear of a scholar, Ingram something or other, teaching a small class.
“Hey, isn’t that—?” Persie gave me a nudge in the ribs.
“Who?” Of course, I knew who she meant. I wasn’t blind. He stood at the back of Ingram’s glass box, taking notes.
Persie smiled. “Mr. O’Hara.”
“Oh… yeah, maybe. I can’t tell from here.” I could smell the BS, and there was no way my pal hadn’t caught the reek. Fortunately, Charlotte saved me.
“This is where you will learn Monster Theory, if you hadn’t guessed from the name. MacLoughlin and his assistants will be teaching you.” She gestured up to the yawning rafters. “It also serves as a library, if you want to study privately. Although we do have five libraries, so you can take your pick depending on your needs.”
She didn’t even announce that we were moving on this time. She just turned and headed off, leaving us to trail after her like eager ducklings. There was something about her cool, matter-of-fact attitude that intrigued me. I’d yet to see her break a smile. Not that it was necessary, it just made me wonder if she’d been roped into this against her will, as a favor to Mama Basani. As with all legacies, I guessed she felt the Basani name weighing on her shoulders. I guessed she had other, more complicated dimensions to her, ones she didn’t want to show to the newbs.
I could understand the crushing heft of legacy, and not just from being friends with Persie. Being the only Atlantean at the Institute came with novelty value, sure, but it also singled me out. I didn’t look like everyone else. I had tattoos on my face, for one. And I had more power than everyone else, for another. I wasn’t tooting my own horn or anything, it was plain fact. A gift and a curse. Normally, I didn’t let that faze me, but I remembered the words my dad had whispered in my ear when we parted ways: “You will be our nation’s representative. Make Atlantis proud.�
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Ah, the motherland… The double-edged sword that loomed over my life. But I wasn’t doing this to make Atlantis proud. Long before Persie had even suggested this place, I’d daydreamed about becoming a monster hunter for one woman and one woman alone: my mom. She’d been one of the finest hunters in Atlantis. Yes, it had taken her away from me in the end, but she’d loved her job with everything she had. I’d sat on my dad’s knee and listened to his stories about her death-defying captures and the weird and wonderful monsters of the deep, and I’d been so awestruck that I’d forgotten to breathe. I had known even then that I wanted to be like her, without ever having known her.
“Take a breath, baby shrimp,” my dad would whisper to me. Apparently, it had been her pet name for me because I’d slept curled up like one. And he’d continued it, in her memory. Though it had been a long time since he’d called me that.
I want to make you proud, Mom. I want to be as great as you were. Maybe, it’ll make me feel like you’re… still here. I had to blink away unexpected tears and pretend to stare at a few display cases filled with hunter paraphernalia. If Persie saw, she’d worry, and she didn’t need my problems on top of hers. There was so much I hated about Atlantis: the traditions, the arranged marriages, the paternal expectation. But it was where I was born. It was where I was loved by her. It was where I’d said goodbye to her, even though I’d been too young to remember. And that bound me to that backward little world, no matter how far away I roamed.
“Don’t get too close, she might hex you. They’re sentients, you know—sneaky buggers.” My head whipped around. The two closest cadets, with ponytails so tight they had permanently startled expressions, shot me daggers and descended into furtive giggles. I didn’t know which one had said it, and I didn’t want to cause a scene. But this wasn’t the first instance of this. There had been sly looks and whispers for the last five days. I’d ignored them, for the most part, hoping they’d wear out their petty bigotry, but it got harder each time.
“I wouldn’t waste the energy,” I hissed back.
They exchanged a worried look and scuttled to the front of the crowd.
Persie looped her arm through mine. “You okay?”
“All good here.” I forced a smile and kept my chin up. But a nagging doubt crept into the back of my head. Is this what Dad was talking about? He hadn’t always been a stuffy traditionalist. He’d gotten us out of Atlantis precisely because he didn’t agree with a lot of what they did. But that had changed over the years, after he’d started working as an Atlantean envoy for the integration program. There had been a slow shift in his mindset. He’d sat me down a thousand times and warned me that the wider magical world didn’t think kindly of us. It was his main reason for wanting to cart me off back to Atlantis. I’d called nonsense on it, but… what if he’d been telling the truth?
“Seriously, did someone say something? You look… sad.” I couldn’t pull the wool over her eyes. She knew me too well. Although there was one thing she hadn’t caught onto just yet. A secret, of sorts: that I needed her as much as she needed me. A fearless façade did not a fearless woman make.
“I was thinking about someone, that’s all.”
She nodded in understanding. “She’s rooting for you, Genie.”
“Yeah, I think she is.” I dipped my head and battled more tears until they gave up. Jeez, this independence thing came with a lot more weepy moments than I’d expected. But there was an old Atlantean sentiment that I kept close: “Loved ones never leave us, for they are within us. You cannot lose what is intrinsic to your heart. It is but a brief parting, not a forever farewell.”
Charlotte stopped in front of more familiar doors. “This is the banquet hall. First-year students take their breakfast in the old chapel at the back, if you didn’t already know from your orientation packages.”
“What packages?” I shot a confused look at Persie.
She shrugged. “Maybe ours got lost in the post?”
I took a quick look at the banquet hall, though I’d already seen it once today.
“This way.” Charlotte walked on, pointing out the way to the infirmary, four of the smaller libraries, and the laundry room. Apparently, they weren’t interesting enough to take a peek at. But we could always investigate more later, schedule permitting. We were supposed to receive our schedules at the end of the tour, and I guessed they’d be jam-packed.
Trekking on through the labyrinth, she halted halfway down a vast hallway and swung open a set of medieval doors. I expected a classroom or another library. Instead… well, what a view. To the right, there was a beautiful courtyard with pear trees growing along the perimeter, and benches beneath the rustling leaves. To the left were manicured gardens with vivid flowerbeds in full bloom, despite the chill in the breeze. Beyond the sandstone walls, from Charlotte’s curt description, were more gardens, where hunters and students liked to stroll. And, down a central path, rolling green hills stretched as far as the eye could see, even beyond the confines of the Institute. From inside, it was easy to forget that the outside world existed. But here it was, in all its lush green glory.
“This place is so beautiful, isn’t it? Everywhere you look, there’s something new and exciting to see!” Persie gushed breathlessly. “I wonder if those pears are ripe enough to eat?”
I shook my head. “They’d give you the collywobbles, make no mistake.”
“What?”
“A tummy-ache.” I grinned, feeling better with some fresh air in my lungs. Ironic, considering I’d spent most of my earliest childhood in a manufactured bubble, but hey—I didn’t make the rules.
“Even without the pears, I’d love to sketch out here,” she said wistfully.
I leaned my head on top of hers. “Then sketch you shall.”
In the distance, I noticed the ghost of a gray, church-looking building—a smidge of non-magical civilization. Churches had always unnerved me. And this one had a flavor of the eerie about it, intensified by the bruised swell of rainclouds rising up on the horizon.
“You can walk out here whenever you like, but don’t go outside Institute limits without express permission,” Charlotte warned. “It’s nicer in the summer.”
I’ll bet it still rains. I smirked. In the five days we’d been there, it had rained on four of them. Ah, Ireland. No wonder everything was so green.
Moving on, she showed us the common areas: big lounge rooms with roaring fireplaces, comfy sofas, and cozy vibes—the perfect defense against grim weather. Though maybe we’d just been spoiled by the San Diego sunshine. At least here, I wouldn’t have to lather on about forty layers of sunscreen to avoid getting crisped. Ghostly Atlantean skin and that burning orb in the sky did not a happy pair make, though I did miss the heat of the SDC.
“And this is the Monster Repository.” Charlotte led us through black doors with gargoyle-head door handles. I skidded to a startled halt as major flashbacks bombarded my brain. My mom’s colleagues, who had been like aunts and uncles to me, had taken me to visit the Atlantis Bestiary a few times, with the permission of King Ovid. And this place looked… identical, just in miniature. A sea of various-sized blue glass orbs attached to silver poles were arranged in neat lines from wall to wall, resembling a forest of bubbles. Black mist swirled inside each one, and nobody won a prize for guessing why.
Before I’d fully recovered from the shock, a patter of footsteps made the group turn. A stressed-looking Nathan sprinted to Charlotte, then stooped to catch his breath. His eyes caught mine for a split second before I hurriedly looked elsewhere. No point in making doe eyes at anyone. I wasn’t here for that. And there wasn’t much point, anyway. My dad had made it clear that I could either accept an arranged Atlantean marriage for bloodline reasons or never marry at all. Not that I was thinking about marriage; Ganymede, no—that was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Sorry I’m late. Time got away from me,” Nathan apologized.
Charlotte took her phone out of her pocket. “Actually,
this is perfect timing. I need to make a call. I trust you can take it from here?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Already dialing, she walked into the hall and left him to it.
He stood there for a moment, like a deer in headlights. Finally, he straightened his jacket cuffs and smoothed a hand through his lion’s mane, all the while ignoring the flirty giggles from a gaggle of girls close to the front.
Did they teach you that at cadet school? I watched a black vortex of smoke in a nearby orb, though I felt a prickle of heat on the back of my neck—a telltale sign that he had his eyes on me. Well, I wouldn’t be looking back. Nope, nope, nope. Good-looking guys spelled trouble. And I couldn’t afford any distractions.
“Uh… Well, this is the Monster Repository. I am responsible for the upkeep and intake here.” He gestured to the bubble forest. “In case you were confused, this is where the monsters are brought after being captured in the field. I identify them, classify them, record their information into the logbook, and generally care for them until they’re shipped off to the Bestiary. Sometimes, I even give them names.” He laughed awkwardly, but nobody else did.
Feeling sorry for him, I mustered a chuckle. “Like what?”
“Oh… um… It depends. There was a goblin I was particularly fond of, and I called him… Goodness, this is embarrassing.” Nathan swept his hand through his hair again. A nervous tic. “I called him Ptolemy.”
“Was he particularly good at math? Or astrology, perhaps?” I teased, while Persie smothered a laugh.
Nathan squirmed, pushing a flustered hand into his back pocket. “Truthfully, I just like naming them after famous theorists.” He turned his back and started pointing aimlessly. “As you may have noticed, we don’t use the same boxes as the Bestiary. We used to, but they were upgraded to emulate the… uh… Atlantean design.”
Harley Merlin 19: Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere Page 4