RWBY YA Novel #3

by E. C. Myers

  “We were wrong about you, Vanille. Maybe you do have what it takes to be here,” Melanie said.

  “You’re sitting with us today,” Miltia said.

  Neo hesitated and then nodded, as though that sounded okay with her.

  The school had been a nightmare before, but now it was a dream come true. The problem was, it was someone else’s dream. She had never wanted to be accepted by the popular girls—she had only wanted to be accepted by someone. Now she was sitting at Melanie and Miltia’s table, and she should be happy that she wasn’t alone and no one was making fun of her.

  What she really wanted to do was embarrass the twins in front of the whole school and take revenge on all the bullies who had been picking on Neo since she’d arrived. But she needed to pretend to want to be their friend to get information that would convince Roman she was on his side. And she needed to keep Roman on the hook so Lady Beat would continue to trust her and leave her free to do what she wanted.

  Double-dealing was exhausting, but it gave her a thrill, too.

  “Trivia, what does your family do, exactly?” Miltia asked. “I know your daddy’s rich or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “You live in that big mansion on the hill, right?” Melanie asked.

  Not anymore, Neo typed. She held up her Scroll to show the words backward so they could see it on the other side of the display. It was like she had her own subtitles, translating what she was really thinking into what they wanted to hear.

  “Your dad’s well connected, though.”

  I guess. He works out business contracts for the city.

  “We know how important the people behind the scenes are. That’s why Lil’ Miss always replaces them with her own people first thing.”

  Neo feigned ignorance. Who?

  “Lil’ Miss is our mother. She runs things in Mistral,” Melanie said.

  “I’m sure she’d like to meet your father,” Miltia said.

  Neo shook her head.

  “Why not? Is he already working for someone else?”

  It’s not that. He wouldn’t be interested. He’s big on RULES. Neo rolled her eyes. She gestured around her. Why else did they think she was there?

  “Everyone has their price. Even you.” Melanie smiled, but in a mean way.

  Neo looked down. She was right, though, wasn’t she? But the arrangement she had was pretty victimless. She was just sharing information, and since she was playing both Roman and Lady Beat, it would all even out in the end. The only thing that mattered was Neo coming out ahead, for the first time in her life.

  “Hey, we’re going clubbing tonight! You should come, too, Vanille,” Miltia said.

  Neo’s eyes went round. You’re sneaking off campus?

  “I wouldn’t call it sneaking, since we pretty much—”

  “Beat gave us a special assignment,” Melanie cut in quickly. “It comes with some privileges.”

  The confusion on Neo’s face was real. The twins had gone after Roman the other night. She had thought they’d just happened to run into him, but what if they’d known where to find him, and Lady Beat had sent them after him? In that case, it was a good thing Neo didn’t try to turn them in for leaving school after all. It seemed that Lady Beat had given them the same deal Neo had gotten. So they were effectively competing against each other.

  That would be just like Lady Beat, to play them off one another and give them all the same goal, to improve her chances of success. If Melanie and Miltia brought in Roman, where would that leave Neo? No wonder they were suddenly welcoming her. She had to make sure she got to Roman first, stayed close, and protected him from them if she had to.

  Miltia flicked a chicken nugget at Scarface the next table over with a bored look on her face. Just yesterday, Neo probably would have been the unlucky target of her childish bullying.

  “So it’s settled. You’re in. You can borrow one of my outfits,” Melanie said.

  Neo shook her head.

  “Oh, you have other plans?”

  Neo shrugged. She put her hands together in front of her, palms up, and looked down at them.

  “I don’t get it,” Miltia said.

  “Use your words,” Melanie said exasperatedly.

  Neo raised an eyebrow and typed. Catching up on reading tonight.

  “Really? That’s a snorefest.”

  Neo shrugged. Another time. Thanks! She smiled.

  “Whatever,” Melanie said.

  Neo did have “homework” to catch up on, but she was fairly certain it would be anything but boring. In fact, she was really looking forward to it.

  Someone knocked on Roman’s door. He checked the security camera by his door, and his blood ran cold for a moment.

  Lil’ Miss Malachite was standing on the other side.

  He grabbed his cane from the umbrella stand and prepared himself to face his old boss.

  “You’re in control here,” Roman muttered to himself. “She’s on your turf this time.”

  The more he looked at her image on the screen, the more she looked slightly … off. She was shorter, for one thing, and her mole was under her left eye for another. Her face was five years younger than she’d appeared when they’d met. So unless she’d had a lot of work done lately—and she had never been that caught up about her appearance—this was an impostor.

  Roman opened the door. “Hello, Neopolitan,” he said.

  Lil’ Miss looked disappointed. He saw the familiar pink shimmering lights as Neopolitan dropped her disguise and trudged into the apartment, carrying a parasol over one shoulder and a sour expression. He closed the door behind her.

  She looked back at him, a question on her face.

  “Well, first, Lil’ Miss Malachite wouldn’t knock on the door—she would knock it down,” he said.

  Neopolitan slapped her hand against her forehead.

  “Second, she wouldn’t be alone. She always has a bodyguard with her. I know, because it was me for a while. I don’t think she even needs one, but it helps make people underestimate her.”

  Neopolitan nodded. She’d remembered that part of his story.

  “Third, Lil’ Miss never leaves Mistral. Which is what makes it so strange that she’d be making a move on Vale. ‘Better to be a strong queen than a weak emperor,’ she used to say. She only trusts her people so far—even her own daughters. So she wouldn’t leave things up to others unless she could somehow supervise operations closely.” He paused. “You also must have found an old photo of Lil’ Miss. My advice: Only try to impersonate people you’ve seen in real life.”

  She sighed.

  “But it was a good effort. Sure surprised me at first.”

  That cheered her up enough to take an interest in his apartment. She started strolling around with her hands clasped behind her, studying every object like it was part of a museum exhibit.

  “Mind if I ask you a question?” he asked.

  She tossed a hand back behind her. Go ahead.

  “How did you find me?” Honestly, he hadn’t expected to ever meet Neopolitan again after she’d turned down his request for her help, or he never would have issued a challenge he didn’t think she could complete. For all his efforts to get his name out there in the criminal underworld, you couldn’t just look Roman Torchwick up in the phone book. The only reason Hei Xiong’s men had been able to find him was because he had wanted them to.

  He supposed he had wanted Neopolitan to find him, too, but he hadn’t made it easy for her. Or had he?

  Neopolitan gave him a sly smile. He waited, wondering if she was going to reveal her secrets. Then she reached up to the side of her head and plucked a small feather out of midair. She blew it toward him and it disintegrated into glowing pink particles before it reached his face.

  A feather?

  Roman squinted and took off his hat. The hat Neopolitan had given him at the tea shop. He had thought the feather was just for decoration, but … He pulled it out and held it up to his eye.

  The feather sha
ft was made of a thin metal wire and there was a tiny computer chip at its base.

  “A transponder?” He looked at Neopolitan in awe. She held up her Scroll so he could see the map on the screen with a pulsing blue dot. She made a finger gun with her free hand and pointed it at him.

  He laughed. “You got me!” He used a Dough to Go magnet to stick the feather to the refrigerator in the kitchen. “We’ll just leave that right there.” He put his hat back on.

  “I’m impressed. You are very sneaky, Neopolitan. It’s a good thing you’re on my side.” He crossed his arms. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

  She hesitated and then nodded.

  “So how was school?” he asked. “Learn anything?”

  He jerked backward as she swung her parasol at his face. She kept it pointed at him. Her hand was steady.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” he asked.

  She turned and pretended to fence with an invisible opponent with the parasol.

  “Is that supposed to be a weapon? Should I be scared?”

  She gestured to the cane leaning against the table.

  “Melodic Cudgel isn’t a mere walking stick. It’s a carefully crafted offensive instrument.”

  She shook her parasol.

  “Sure, I can help you modify that,” he said. “You think, what? Concealed guns are always popular.”

  She shook her head and jabbed with it again.

  “A hidden blade. Classic.” He picked up his cane. “But you’ll need to know how to use it, and we may as well start with the basics.”

  Neopolitan showed that while she hadn’t been formally trained, she had natural aptitude. She’d had some fencing lessons before, and she was light on her feet. Quick. She had excellent instincts. And she didn’t hesitate to strike at vulnerable spots.

  Roman went easy on her of course. She tried using her Semblance to distract him, creating a duplicate that he attacked instead of her, while she snuck up on him.

  He stopped the lesson. “No tricks,” he said.

  She gave him a Look that suggested she thought he was crazy.

  “I mean, of course tricks. But you need to learn how to fight without them first. You won’t always be able to rely on your Semblance, whatever you call it, to get you out of a rough situation. Especially if you got yourself into it in the first place.”

  She held up her Scroll and typed. He read the word on the other side. “Overactive Imagination.” He nodded. “You have a powerful skill, but it’s more useful if you use it strategically. Sparingly. You want it to be a surprise—a backup plan. Not your go-to. First, you learn to fight properly. The way I did. The way I’m going to teach you.”

  He picked up his cane. “Again. Loser buys dinner.”

  This time Neopolitan avoided using her Semblance in combat, which immediately placed her higher than any of his fighting partners—none of them had ever listened to him, because they all thought they knew better than he did. Even so, she surprised him for what, the third time that night, by literally getting the drop on him with a fancy move: After he lunged his weapon at her, she hopped up onto it, and then leaped again over his head. Before he could spin and block her attack, she had whacked him in the back of the head with her parasol on her way down and followed up with a kick to his butt as she landed. He stumbled forward, but she reached out and caught the back of his jacket with the curved handle of her parasol so he didn’t fall.

  He straightened and smoothed out his jacket. He turned to face her. She was grinning and spinning her open parasol behind her, though it was already in tatters from their fight. She had won that round fair and square, and taught him a thing or two in the process.

  “All right, then. Where do you want to eat?”

  The two of them fell into a strangely comfortable rhythm over the next couple of months. Every day Neo learned new skills and fighting techniques at school, and at night she came to Roman’s to practice them on him.

  Roman taught her everything he knew about picking locks, stealing cars, forgery, holdups—all the things he’d picked up on the street and from working in Lil’ Miss Malachite’s gang.

  Finally, it was time to put everything she had learned to the test. One evening while they were training, a knock came at the door.

  “Neo, if you would.”

  Neo looked at the door. She looked at Roman. She mimed knee-slapping, gutbusting laughter.

  “Ha ha.” Roman walked past her toward the door. “I simply asked you to get the door because it’s for you.”

  She stopped laughing and pointing to herself with a skeptical expression.

  Roman opened the door and picked up the long package wrapped in brown paper that was propped next to it. He closed the door and presented it to her.

  “More specifically, this is for you,” he said.

  Neo took the box delicately from him. She weighed it in her hands. She shook it. She pressed her ear against it.

  “Don’t worry, it isn’t flowers.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Go ahead. Open it.” He sat on a stool by the counter and watched as she untied the string and peeled off the brown paper. Inside was a pink cardboard box. She shot him another glance.

  He spun his seat around. “It’s really not flowers.”

  She lifted the lid off the box and rummaged around in the pink and white tissue paper before she found what was inside. Her eyes went round like saucers and she hopped up and down. Then she pulled out a parasol.

  She popped it open and admired the pink, white, and brown lacelike patterns embroidered into the light, durable fabric. She held it over one shoulder and twirled it, batting her eyelids at him.

  “It’s exactly as you designed it,” he said. “That canopy will resist bullets, energy blasts, even small Dust explosions if you’re having a really wild time.”

  She jumped backward and held it over her head, using the parasol to drift gracefully toward Roman.

  “Yep. It can do that, too.” He grinned.

  She closed the parasol and swung it around experimentally. If it was anything like his own weapon, it should be weighted perfectly. Neo pressed a button and a sharp tip of a thin sword projected from the end of the parasol. Then she held the middle of the parasol and pulled out the curved black handle, drawing a rapier from the shaft. She slashed it back and forth in the air, with a rapturous expression on her face.

  “I can tell that you hate it,” Roman said.

  Neo sheathed her weapon and leaned on it with one hand, placing the other over her heart.

  “Don’t get mushy on me,” he said gruffly. “You needed a real weapon, now you have one. I’m really being selfish when you think about it, since I don’t want you getting me killed. Do you have a name picked out?”

  She closed her left eye and pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Hush?”

  She nodded.

  “Perfect. You’ll definitely shut up some people with that in your hands.” He hopped off the stool. “Now for the bad news. You can’t steal a bespoke like that, so I had to pay for it like some kind of rube.” He’d ordered it from his favorite weaponsmith back in Mistral, Gunmetal. He didn’t come cheap, especially when you were paying extra for confidentiality. “Which means … We’re out of money.”

  Neo skipped toward Roman’s idea board with Hush.

  “That’s right. Think you’re ready to commit a real crime?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No?” Roman put his hands behind his head. “You’ve been asking to go out and steal something every day.”

  She nudged Roman toward the closet and gestured for him to open it.

  “Okay …” He opened it. It was full of clothes.

  “What’s all this?” he asked. “These aren’t mine, officer. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

  She pulled a hanger off the rack and held it out to him. It was a long white suit jacket with red lining and gold buttons. It was just his style
and just his size. She held up another hanger with a black shirt and pants and a gray scarf.

  “Where’d you get these?” he asked. “And how did you sneak them in here?”

  She ignored him and pulled out another suit, white, brown, and pink. Judging by how there was significantly less fabric and it came with a corset, that one was for her.

  “You made me a new outfit?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Well, it would be rude not to at least try it on.

  She directed him to change in his bedroom while she changed in the bathroom. They met ten minutes later in front of the mirror in his training gym.

  “It looks good,” Roman said.

  Neo pouted.

  “Great, actually. Really nice work. We look like quite a team.”

  She snapped her fingers, skipped away, and returned with his bowler hat. She reached into a pouch and drew out a red feather, which she stuck in the brim.

  “Just a regular feather this time, yeah?” he asked.

  She smiled innocently, then rose on her tiptoes and placed the hat on his head.

  He sighed. “Your talents are being wasted with me. I might just regret leading you down a path of crime.”

  Her look said, Don’t flatter yourself. Then she went back to his idea board, which contained sketches and scribblings of possible illegal activities, all designed to make him rich and powerful.

  “So many choices,” Roman said.

  Neo started tearing down cards, shaking her head, crumpling them up, and throwing them away.

  “Hey!” He snatched away his preliminary plans for a Doom Cannon. Not practical—yet—but he had just been doodling drawing. He just didn’t know when he’d ever have a large enough supply of Dust to power a weapon of mass destruction like that. A guy needed to have dreams, though.

  He picked up another crumpled plan. Then another. He started to notice a trend.

  She was tossing away all the jobs that needed only one person, which didn’t leave any options since he didn’t exactly work well with others.

  “You know, I recently had an idea for a two-person job,” Roman said. “But I just don’t know anyone good at both following orders and improvising if something goes south.”