Harley Merlin 19: Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere

by Bella Forrest

  Skin crackling, I scoured the area through the greenish haze of the spell. Everything swam weirdly, like I was seeing things through a pair of comedy lenses. My very own Hall of Mirrors at a carnival sideshow. The monster statues morphed into horrifying caricatures of themselves, all bulbous noses and saucer eyes. And the handful of hunters down the way looked like swollen ogres. Heads too big, bodies too round, limbs too long. I shuddered. But at least I couldn’t be seen.

  Taking out my phone, I set a twenty-minute timer. If I held this spell much longer than that, I’d risk second-degree magical burns. My grandpa’s right calf had never been the same after a thievery gone wrong—he’d had to stay inside the spell for an hour. Badass that he was, he’d gotten his whole calf tattooed with cool monsters and an Atlantean curse word. I was young at the time—Grandpa died when I was six—but my dad used to shut him up when he tried to show me the full tattoo and point out the word in question, and Grandpa would cackle like no one’s business. Apparently, I’d had a habit of repeating words I shouldn’t… even then.

  I set off through the Institute, making a beeline for the Repository. The spell’s side effect of burning-skin torture faded to a dull throb, so I could walk at normal speed. On my way, I breezed past hapless hunters. One of them turned and sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling. I braced for an insult, ready to add her to my list of Institute enemies. That was another unfortunate side effect—the invisibility spell could get a bit whiffy after a few consecutive uses.

  “Do you smell… popcorn?” she asked her colleague.

  A guy in ridiculous shades frowned. “It’s more like ozone.”

  “No, it’s definitely caramel or toffee or something,” a third hunter chimed in.

  A fourth took a huge sniff. “You need your nostrils checked. That’s roast potatoes. I wonder who’s cooking at this hour?”

  I grinned and snuck past them, leaving them to play “what’s that smell?” without me. At least there hadn’t been any bad scents. If they’d mentioned fish, I might have had to give them an invisible smack. Atlanteans didn’t, and never had, smelled of fish. Another false stereotype spread by the magical media, like the seahorse-riding and secret-weapon-hiding.

  A few minutes later, I reached the wide hallway that led to the Repository. I paused for a breather, only for a clumsy clown—Nathan, of course—to skid out of said Repository and almost tumble to the ground. Miraculously, he managed to do some flailing wizardry and stay on his feet. With a mortified look, he glanced up and down the hallway to check if anyone had seen. But I was the only one there, and he couldn’t see me. Relief washed over his features, and I giggled under my breath. He might have been a walking disaster, but it really was kind of cute. And he’d gone all casual in jeans and a gray T-shirt, showing off broad shoulders and an eye-popping physique usually hidden under tweed and corduroy.

  Mr. O’Hara, you’re really spoiling us… I crept closer until I stood next to him. Standing dead center in the hallway, he lifted what appeared to be a magnifying glass with a red-tinted lens. Scrunching up one eye, he peered through it.

  “No way!” I blurted out, and immediately clamped a hand over my mouth. Specterglass was the stuff of myth and legend. There’d been a fragment of it in one of Atlantis’s thousand museums, guarded by round-the-clock security. But Nathan had a whole lens of it, stuffed inside a fancy bronze frame with a handle. If legend was believed, it revealed spirits, showing them in misty forms of red and white particles. A huge benefit if you wanted to locate the dead and didn’t have a Necromancer or someone with Medium abilities handy.

  He whirled around, almost dropping the magnifying glass. I might’ve screamed into my palm. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  Dammit! Maybe if I stayed perfectly still, he’d think it was all in his head. The ruby-red glass glinted like wet blood in the hall’s lamplight. Specterglass was a magical phenomenon, supposedly occurring naturally in the core of the Kolumbo submarine volcano off the coast of Santorini, where it could only be found on the seafloor after an eruption. In fact, the origin wasn’t known for sure. What we knew about specterglass was myth, spread by the ancient Greeks.

  “Who’s there?!” Nathan put up his fists and spun 360 degrees. Coming back to face me, his nose crinkled up. “What is that smell? Is that… vanilla?”

  I decided to give up the ghost. “No, it’s burning flesh.”

  He shrieked so loud my eardrums rattled. “What the—!” Hands shaking, he raised the specterglass and peered through it. But I knew he wouldn’t see anything. “Are you… a s-spirit?”

  “Maybe,” I said playfully.

  Are you a good spirit or a bad spirit?”

  “That depends on who you ask.” I grinned inside the spell shield. He hadn’t recognized my voice. The fierce energy from the spell must have distorted the sound, which meant more opportunities for pranks.

  His brow furrowed. “Why can’t I see you through the glass? If you’re a ghost, I should be able to see you.”

  “Maybe I’m not a ghost.” I tiptoed around to the other side of him. I couldn’t resist. “Boo!”

  He shrieked again. “No actual ghost would ever say ‘boo’! Who are you? Why are you invisible?”

  “I thought I’d come and haunt you for a bit.” I chuckled, having way too much fun. “You’re not scared, are you?”

  He narrowed his eyes grumpily. “No, I’m not scared. And you can’t haunt me if you’re not a ghost.” He lifted the spyglass in my general direction. “I don’t imagine you know what this is, whoever you are? You can’t trick me.”

  I laughed. “It’s specterglass.”

  His eyes widened. “How did you know that? Hardly anyone knows it exists.”

  “I come from an ancient line of magicals. I know a lot of things.” I knew I’d have to drop the spell shield soon, but I liked having him on his toes. Not in a crazy way, but it was nice to see him less uptight.

  “G-Genie? Is that you?” His expression morphed into a different kind of panic. An embarrassed kind.

  Reluctantly, I undid my grandpa’s spell. Starting at my toes, I released the tension of the spell from my body, like slowly shedding a super heavy coat. Bit by bit, the green haze lifted, revealing me in all my glory. “Ah, you got me.”

  “What are you doing out of your room?” He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the Repository doorway, no blushing or messing about. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d touched me. His palms were rougher than I’d imagined. In a nice way.

  “All students are supposed to be in lockdown. There are two people missing, Genie! What if you’d been snatched? And… what sort of spell was that? I’ve never seen such a seamless invisibility spell before. Usually, they cast a mirage. Yours didn’t.” He shook his head. “But first, answer the why-you’re-out-of-your-room part!”

  “Why do you think?” I smiled at him. “Pixies.”

  He groaned. “You and Persie are supposed to be leaving it to the professionals.”

  “Like you, you mean?” I cast him a knowing look. “Specterglass isn’t just for spooks, Nathan. It also traces the magical signature of ancient creatures. My dad told me about it, saying that my mom always wanted some to help with the tougher hunts. I’d say pixies fall under that category, wouldn’t you?”

  “That’s what I hoped,” he admitted. “But I haven’t found anything other than one milky streak of mist that led nowhere.”

  I tutted playfully at him. “Are you sanctioned for pixie hunting?”

  “Uh… not exactly.” A warm laugh bubbled up between us. He pulled a puzzle box out of his back pocket. “I might’ve lifted this from Naomi earlier.”

  “I didn’t take you for a thief, Nathan. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had some hidden depths.” I took out one of my own puzzle boxes, and he gaped. “But I asked for mine.”

  I just couldn’t wipe the pleased grin off my face or take the flirty note out of my voice. He needed to shine that spyglass over me again, because I co
uld’ve sworn I’d been possessed.

  Nathan chuckled, his pretty eyes lighting up. “Says you. Where did you learn an invisibility spell like that?” His mouth turned up in a resigned smile. “You saw me almost trip, didn’t you?”

  “Not at all.” I gestured to the specterglass. “Just don’t drop that during one of your clumsier moments, okay? All of Atlantis would give up their Elemental abilities for a chunk that big. Oh, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t rat me and Persie out. It’s only fair, since you’re not exactly playing by the rules, either.”

  “I won’t,” he promised. “But I have to ask, why are you two so insistent on catching them yourselves?”

  I turned the puzzle box over in my hands. “Persie thinks the pixies are the key to solving the disappearances. She’s confident she can ask them where Xanthippe and Randolph are, even if they’ve got nothing to do with it. They’ve been watching the Institute; they might’ve seen something no one else did.”

  Randolph Klopp was the second victim. At first, they hadn’t announced the name, but there’d been a second loudspeaker declaration about an hour after the one in the orchard. He was a hunter, four years past his graduation. It had taken a lot of people by surprise; he was apparently known for being tough as nails and a bit of a hard-ass. The fact that he’d been swiped made people ten times more nervous—and bolstered our theory that the pixies weren’t responsible. It would’ve taken a huge amount of strength to abduct someone like him, which had put folks firmly into panic mode.

  As far as magical involvement went, if it was someone in the Institute, they’d have to have seriously powerful Telekinesis to drag a dude like that away without making a scene. The antsier people got, the more that panic would rise. And folks were already freaked. Not that anyone would be able to leave out of fear. Lockdown meant lockdown. Doors closed, exits forbidden, until this got solved. Some students had already improvised, barricading themselves into their rooms while everyone else was on hunting duty.

  “That’s actually a very intriguing idea.” Nathan rubbed his faintly stubbled chin. “Persie did appear to have a limited rapport with the one she caught.”

  I eyed him curiously. “How about you? Why are you tracking them alone?”

  “Ah, well… I know the hunting protocols in cases like this. Chances are, I won’t get to see a single pixie before they’re shipped off to the Bestiary. Any that are kept for research will be wired up to machines, and I’m not fond of that approach.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’d prefer to study them in a more natural setting, and… well, I’d like to protect them as much as I can, which I won’t be able to do if I leave it to the hunters.”

  I smiled at him. “You don’t think they did this, do you?”

  “I… well, it’s not as simple as… It’s rather more… The thing is...” He struggled for the right words. “Essentially, there’s not enough evidence of their behavior to know for sure, but I haven’t read anything to suggest they’re cruel or dangerous. I said as much to Victoria, but she’s convinced it’s too timely not to be the right answer. And I could be wrong, so I didn’t try to force it.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Doesn’t she think monsters have the ability to be good? Most of the ones I’ve met get a bit fierce, but I think that’s how any animal would respond if they felt threatened.” My mind fixed on Tobe and Iso. “And then there’s the Beast Master and Beast Mistress, who’ve got hearts of gold. They’ve got souls, for sure.”

  “Beast Mistress?” Nathan looked stumped.

  “Her name’s Iso. She runs the Atlantis Bestiary. She showed me around when I was little, cuddled me right up into her furry arms and let me ride on her back.” I grinned at the memory. “If magicals can create Purge beasts like them, then it stands to reason that the other varieties are cut from similar cloth, right? They might not be able to speak and drink tea, but they can’t be totally different inside, you know?”

  His expression softened, and his eyes grew warm and inviting. “I do know. That’s precisely how I feel about them.” He dropped his gaze, and I felt weirdly disappointed. I wanted more of his twinkly eyes. “However, we are a rare breed. To Victoria, and most other hunters, monsters are monsters. They either belong in glass boxes or in Chaos. That’s why they won’t listen—unless I present watertight evidence that it’s not the pixies.”

  “So, you could say we’re on the same team?” I willed him to meet my gaze. When he did, the air rushed out of my lungs. With all this determination, and all these defiant sides to him, I was starting to see him in three dimensions. And that was dangerous.

  He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I suppose you could. Though, I’d really like to learn more about that invisibility spell. It might be useful for covert searching.”

  I tapped the side of my temple. “Family secret, I’m afraid.”

  “You Atlanteans truly are remarkable. You have all this power and all these spells, and, in comparison, we’ve barely scratched the surface of magical possibility.” He sighed wistfully. “I envy you.”

  “You shouldn’t. It comes with countless insults, and traditions that would make your retinas detach.” I laughed, but it sounded hollow. What was the use of admiring his pretty eyes when, in a few years, my dad would try and foist me off on an Atlantean with a good bloodline? All for the sake of some dumb “purity” business that made zero sense to me. We’d spent centuries hoarding our power—why not spread the love?

  His eyes hardened. “Someone insulted you?”

  “It’s not important.” I waved away his concern. “I’m a big bad Atlantean—I can fight my own battles. And we’ve got pixies to find, remember? How about we split up to cover more ground? Persie’s taking the South Wing, so I’ll take the North. You could take the East or the West, or both, if you’re feeling fiery?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m feeling fiery, but I’ll sweep as many areas as I can. Hopefully, the specterglass will come up with something this time.” He smiled, but some of that defensive glint still lingered in his eyes. It would give me a few warm-and-fuzzies to think about when I didn’t have pixies on the brain.

  I had to have a final bit of fun before seriousness set in. “And sorry for spooking you before. I couldn’t resist.”

  “You realize I’ll be watching my back from now on?” He chuckled. Humor suited him.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t go digging in your underwear drawer.” I turned and walked away, stifling a giggle. Halfway down the hall, I glanced back. He was staring at me, open-mouthed and utterly horrified. And then, to my surprise, he snapped out of it and moved his hands in a hula dance. Our laughter collided, echoing off the walls. And I could’ve sworn I heard a quieter, shriller laugh joining ours. The cackle of a pixie.

  Oh, you are so getting caught tonight! I pressed on toward the North Wing, feeling fired up. I’d just reached the archway that led into it when I took out my phone to check for messages from Persie. The screen sat black and dead, the battery drained. It wasn’t ideal, but I’d make do without it. If I turned back now and waited to juice this puppy up, I’d lose precious time. And we couldn’t afford to waste a single second.

  Seventeen

  Persie

  Alone in the South Wing, ducking out of the way of hunters on duty, I stole a glance at my phone from behind a dragon statue. Just one of its enormous, white marble legs was enough to shield me from any prying eyes.

  Come on, Genie! My inbox had no new messages, though I’d texted and called my friend a handful of times since leaving my bedroom. Location updates, check-ins, that sort of thing. All I’d gotten in return was a Genie-less home screen and a voicemail recording. Now wasn’t the time for her to go radio silent on me. For all I knew, we could be covering the same ground without realizing, and it irked me that I couldn’t get through to her.

  Taking my bag off my shoulders, I double-checked my inventory: three puzzle boxes, two Mason jars, and three little cartons of milk that I’d nabbed from the banqu
et hall. Something Genie said earlier had struck a curious nerve—I think it had been on bullet-point number two: leave out a cookie, and the creature will come running. But pixies didn’t like cookies, they liked milk. Maybe, just maybe, they’d take the bait. Meanwhile, Genie had two puzzle boxes and three Mason jars. As the magical one in our team, we’d figured she’d have better luck with the Mason jars than I would. And, Genie or no Genie, I planned to do better at catching something tonight.

  Putting the bag back on, I waited until the nearest hunters passed by before darting out and sprinting down the hallway full pelt, on high alert for any sign of pixies. I raced past the bedrooms of visiting hunters, more studies, and private libraries for the invited guests to use at their leisure. I poked my head into the libraries, but they sat dark and empty, with no hint of a monster disturbance.

  Eventually, having found an emergency stairwell between two studies and running all the way down into what appeared to be a basement, I breathed a much-needed sigh. There didn’t seem to be anyone down here. A long, stark corridor lay ahead, lit with unflattering strip lights that shone a cold blue hue on everything. A musty scent filled my nostrils, suggesting this part of the Institute didn’t get used often. That had to be a promising sign.

  Listening for footsteps or wing flutters, I walked along the corridor, leaving footprints in the fine layer of grime that covered the plasticky floor. Black signs were pinned to the doorways that branched off the main hall: “boiler room,” “janitorial staff room,” “storage unit 1,” “storage unit 2,” and so on and so forth. I seemed to have found the utility underbelly of the Institute, which undoubtedly had a multitude of secluded spots for pixies to hide.

  I tried some of the door handles, only to find them locked up tight—until I came to a door marked “Refuse.” It swung open with ease, the aroma of stagnant trash overwhelming my senses, sickly and rotten and foul. Pinching my nose to keep out the worst of it, I peered into the gloom… and my heart almost leapt out of my body. There in the corner, fighting over banana skins, a half-empty bag of candy, and what looked like the remains of someone’s fruit salad, was a small group of pixies. Five, to be exact.