Beyond the Seer

by Emery Belle

  I clasped my hands together. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing else to say. I could also see now that I had no reason to be here—Orion hadn’t had some big falling out with his son; he was merely trying to protect him, as any good father would have done.

  Archer’s face was now contorted with pain, and he pressed his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking, while Kelly patted his back. She stared blankly out the window as her husband’s grief poured out, and when I could stand to be in the room no longer, I got to my feet and headed toward the front door. On the way, I passed a bulletin board hanging on the wall that I hadn’t noticed the first time around—every last inch of it was covered with postcards from around the world, presumably keepsakes from the couple’s travels.

  Soft footsteps behind me alerted me to Kelly’s presence, and her eyes darted from me to the bulletin board. “You’ve been to some amazing places,” I said, perusing the postcards. It seemed like every continent except Antarctica was represented. “Any particular favorite?”

  She gave me an odd look, then smiled. “Ireland.”

  The next morning, I had such a difficult time concentrating during spellcasting class that my magic was even more off-kilter than usual. “No, no, no!” Lady Winthrop shouted as clouds of putrid green gas poured from my wand tip and swirled around the room. She yanked her robes over her mouth as she began waving her wand madly in the air, trying to disperse the smoke, and through the haze, I could just make out Garnet and Hunter dashing toward the classroom door.

  I could feel myself getting dizzy as the gas churned over my head. Noticing that Garnet had left her wand behind, I grabbed it and began trying to direct the gas toward the window under the mistaken belief that my magic wouldn’t go haywire with a different wand. Wrong. With a bang, the sprinklers in the ceiling over my head burst to life, soaking my arms not in water, as I’d expected, but in a sticky brown substance that stung my skin upon contact. Within seconds, my nose began twitching as an odd smell filled the air around me—the smell of my own burning flesh.

  I screamed and began flapping my arms over my head, trying to rid myself of the brown goop, but my frantic movements only made the pain worse. After sucking the last of the noxious gas into her wand, Lady Winthrop hurried over to me, then grabbed my arm and performed a twirling motion with her hands. The goop evaporated, leaving both arms covered in giant red welts with tiny holes in the center.

  “What was that stuff?” I asked, examining my skin as Lady Winthrop hovered over me, her lips pinched in concern.

  “I have no idea,” she said, prodding one of the welts with her wand tip. It made an odd burbling sound before swelling even further. “Those sprinkler systems haven’t been used in decades, at least—frankly, I have no idea why they were even built in the first place. Any student who has at least attained level one status would be able to perform a simple water spell to extinguish a fire. Well, almost any level one student.” She shot me a pointed look, and I scowled. This time, I had no excuse for my ineptitude—I’d set off the sprinkler system using Garnet’s wand, not my own.

  But, I told myself as Garnet and Hunter inched back into the room and the welts on my arms slowly started to recede, I had plenty of reasons for being distracted today. In fact, I thought I was holding up pretty well, considering the terror that awaited me as soon as class was dismissed. Most islanders had never attempted what I was about to do. Most sane ones, that is.

  Five minutes later, the bell rang, and Lady Winthrop swept out of the room, though not before giving me three times more homework than either of my classmates. “Tough luck,” Hunter said sympathetically, giving me a pat on the back as I shoved my spellbook into my bag. “If you need me to tutor you, Wren, you know I’m always glad to help…” He trailed off at the sight of my withering look, then tucked his own book under his arm and followed Lady Winthrop into the hallway.

  Garnet lingered, making a big show of dropping a packet of papers on the floor so she could take her time gathering them up. “Everything okay, Wren?” she asked tentatively as she climbed to her feet, pushing her hair out of her eyes and giving me an anxious look. “I’m worried about you lately. I know I’ve said that a few times already, but I can tell that something’s wrong. You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?”

  “I know,” I said with a sigh. “Thank you.”

  How I wished I could unload my problems onto Garnet—the weight I was carrying around on my shoulders seemed to be getting heavier by the day. Ever since Hattie’s death, I felt like I was drowning, and each time I managed to resurface long enough to take a few gasping breaths, another problem came along and dragged me back down again. At some point, I knew, I was never going to find my way back to the top.

  My chest constricted as I remembered what I was about to do, and I stepped forward, grabbing Garnet in a spontaneous hug. “You’ve been a good friend,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

  “I would never be anywhere else… you know that.” She pulled back from me, her bright green eyes roaming over my face, her lips pinched with worry. “You’re not in any danger, Wren, are you? That centaur’s killer isn’t after you, is he? Is that what this is all about? Is this your way of saying goodbye? I have a cousin on Star Island who raises pygmy goats; I’m sure he could hide you in his stables.” Her voice was growing higher in pitch by the second, her last few words barely more than a squeak.

  “No.” I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Orion’s killer is not after me… at least I don’t think so.” I intentionally didn’t answer her first question, the part about me being in danger; she didn’t seem to notice, for she let out a relieved sigh, though her eyes never left my face.

  “Okay… if you’re sure.” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “But if I find out you’re lying to me, I will hunt you down.” Then she smirked at my useless wand. “And that should strike fear in your heart, Wren, because right now you have no ability to protect yourself. Even from me.”

  I gave her a weak smile. “Don’t I know it.”

  Chapter 16

  I stared down the long, twisting path that wound through the dense forest near the gargoyle community, only this time, I wasn’t in the neighborhood to visit Cole—or, rather, his empty house. “You’re a complete idiot,” I muttered to myself as I took one step onto the forest path while keeping my other foot planted on safer ground. A raven cawed overhead, and, startled, I jumped about a foot in the air, splashing mud all over my pants. There were no footprints on the path, no wheel tracks, no pawprints—nothing to indicate that any living creature had recently entered its gloomy depths. Only a fool would go in any further.

  I took another step.

  And then a third, a fourth, and before too long, I was completely surrounded by waist-high ferns, moss-covered tree trunks, and a canopy of leaves overhead so dense that only a scattering of sunlight trickled through, dappling my skin as I barreled forward. I didn’t stop—I knew that if I did, I would turn and flee. Chicken out. But if I did that, then Orion’s murder would likely remain unsolved forever… and that wasn’t something I could live with.

  As I trudged ever onward, one hand clenched around my wand even though it would be of no help to me, I ran through everything I knew—and didn’t know—about Orion’s murderer so far, and why the investigation had led me to this point.

  Suspect number one, Finn O’Connor, was furious at Orion for ruining his plans to mine for Myrna’s gold by convincing a key investor that the leprechaun’s intentions were less than honest. He had a strong connection to the Isle of Caoimhe, the Irish island where the elusive cullenberry flower grew.

  Suspect number two, Barak Demos, had a connection to both Finn and the gold, and though the centaur had seemed appalled at the idea of riding a manticore to the remote island, he had the means to send someone else in his place. Barak’s motivation for wanting Orion out of the picture was just as strong as Finn’s—Orion, disgusted by the unicorn ridin
g business Barak ran, planted the foul-smelling skunk cabbage to drive away his neighbor’s customers.

  Then there was suspect number three, Orion’s son Archer. The centaur had fallen in love with a human woman, and then lost everything… and though he insisted that his father sent him away to protect him, Archer’s story differed vastly from Lyra’s version of events. And I had proof, right from his own wife’s mouth, that the couple had visited Ireland on at least one occasion.

  Three suspects. Three motives. Three means. I was at an impasse, and I could think of only one way forward. I just hoped I would come out the other end alive.

  By now, I was so deep in the forest that even the birds had fallen silent. Only the occasional cricket chirped a solemn greeting as I continued along the path, which was growing more narrow and uneven with each step. After what seemed like hours, I saw a break in the trees far ahead, the leaves parting to reveal a snowcapped mountain looming up over the horizon. Unlike the time I’d visited the yeti community, I wouldn’t actually have to climb the mountain—thank the heavens for small mercies. Today, I had business in the caves carved into its rocky base.

  The sun was already beginning its slow descent as I emerged from the forest some time later, then stood, my hand shadowing my eyes, as I stared up at a figure circling the mountaintop high overhead. It looked like a lion, save for the massive leathery wings sprouting from its back and, even though I couldn’t see them, the deadly spikes lining its tail. A shudder ripped through me as the monster opened its maw and roared so loud that the ground beneath my feet trembled.

  I had found the manticores.

  I approached the base of the mountain quickly, shaking from head to toe, my wand slipping out of my sweaty grasp and onto the grassy field separating me from the manticores’ lair, a vast, pitch-black opening carved into the rockface. As I bent down to retrieve the wand, the manticore flying overhead let out another roar and swooped over my head, his wingspan casting an enormous shadow that instantly chilled the air around me. Ducking my head, as though that would make me invisible to their predatory eyes, I hurried forward, the long grass bending beneath my feet as I closed the distance between the most fearsome beasts to roam the island and… me. Just me.

  The manticore flew over me again, this time swooping even lower, before soaring into the air and perching on a rocky ledge halfway up the mountain. He sat there, watching me, his wings beating gently against the sparkling blue sky, his massive paws gripping the ledge with such force that a few rocks broke off and tumbled down the mountainside before landing in the grass with a distant thump that sent another shiver up my spine.

  I forced myself to press on, ignoring the beast and keeping my eyes on the ground, listening to the crunch of dead leaves beneath my feet and keenly aware that it might be one of the last sounds I ever heard. That fear was reinforced when I finally looked up and saw that five more manticores had emerged from their lair, standing at attention in front of the mountain as they watched me approach, their wings folded at their sides. The biggest of the group, a manticore with yellow cat eyes and a tawny mane, launched himself toward me, covering the distance between us with only a single flap of his wings.

  He landed in front of me and cocked his enormous head, his yellow eyes glittering strangely in the sun as he gave me an appraising look and I tried not to wet my pants. “Why have you come here, human?” he rumbled, and I could see the beasts behind him perking up their ears… and their venomous spiked tails… as they awaited my response.

  My wand slipped from my grasp once more, and the manticore narrowed his eyes as he watched it fall to the ground and shoot off a few feeble sparks that singed the hairs on his paw. “You dare come into our home and threaten us with your manmade magic, human?” he said softly, dangerously, and the wind whipped up around us in response, rippling his fur and streaming through his luxurious mane. “We are the creatures of old, the first creations, the origin of all magical beings. We were the first to roam these lands, and we will be the last to remain, long after you inferior beings have turned to ash in your graves.”

  Well then.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I bowed low, practically prostrating myself at the monster’s feet. “Please, sir, I mean you no harm.” My voice wobbled slightly, and I took a deep breath, willing myself to keep my head. Literally and figuratively. I had a feeling that the manticores wouldn’t be impressed with weakness, and since I couldn’t match their strength, I figured the best thing to do was show them my respect. And in the presence of these terrifying yet awe-inspiring beasts, that wasn’t a difficult thing to do.

  “Then why have you come?” he growled. “Speak your business before I lose my patience.”

  I rose to my feet and forced myself to meet his gaze. “One of the centaurs, long considered to be the greatest seer in the world, has been the victim of a terrible crime. I have reason to believe that you might hold the key to finding out who was responsible for murdering him.”

  The manticore looked mildly interested, and I could see his brothers behind him craning their necks to hear better. “And why have you come to that conclusion, human?”

  I wanted to point out that I was a witch, not a human, but I didn’t think that would help my case much. “Because each of the suspects has a connection to Ireland—more specifically, they are potentially connected to a very remote island called the Isle of Caoimhe, where a very rare flower grows. That flower, the cullenberry, was used to create the poison that killed Orion.”

  The manticore pawed at the ground, leaving deep scores in the soft earth. “My kind fled the British Isles a millennium ago under threat of extinction from the poachers who hunted us for our heads. We have no business on this island of yours—not now, not ever.” He turned, nearly swiping me with the end of his tail, and began lumbering away. The conversation was over.

  “Wait!” I called, desperation clouding any ounce of reason I still might have possessed. “The winds around the island are so strong that the only way to reach it is on the back of the manticore. Have you given anyone a ride lately, maybe a little man with red hair or a centaur with black…” I stopped speaking when he swung his massive head back around and I saw the fire in his eyes.

  “What did you say, human?” He advanced on me, his tail swishing dangerously. “Are you comparing my kind to common mules?” He drew himself up proudly and unfurled his wings, and the manticores behind him did the same. “Neither I nor my brothers have ever given a ride to a human, and the deepest level of Hades will turn to ice before that day arrives.”

  “But these weren’t humans,” I said, knowing I was pressing my luck as far as it would go. “One was a leprechaun, and the other was a—”

  “I do not care what they were!” He reared back on his hind legs, tipped his head to the sky, and let out a roar so fierce that I thought the earth itself would shatter from the vibrations. High up ahead, the manticore still perched on the ledge echoed his call, and a trio of crows flying overhead stopped in midflight, turned, and sped away in the opposite direction. Just like I should have done, if I had any sense.

  “Please,” I added desperately. “I’m only trying to bring his family some closure and make sure the person responsible for this horrible crime is brought to justice.”

  “I care nothing for your justice. If there were justice in this world, we would rule all the kingdoms of man instead of being left to rot in a cage of your kind’s making.” He nodded toward the mountain, and for the first time, I understood. They couldn’t leave. These manticores were no longer free to roam the earth; instead, they were held captive on a remote corner of the island, much like the unicorns forced to spend their days walking in circles around a dirt track.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, backing up. “I had nothing to do with that, I assure you. I only just arrived on the island and—”

  “That matters not,” he said quietly, and my blood froze as he advanced toward me. “You are a representation of everything that is evil
in this world, and for that, you will have to pay.”

  He swiped a paw at me, and I screamed and turned to run away. I only made it three steps before the manticore above swooped down from the ledge and landed in front of me, blocking my path. I watched, horrified, as the rest of the beasts lifted their wings in unison and soared over to me, trapping me in a circle of talons and teeth and death.

  Another scream tore from my throat, loud and desperate, as the manticores slowly closed in on me, excitement and hunger filling their yellow eyes. They looked to their leader, waiting for their cue to pounce, and his gaze lingered on me for several excruciating moments before he tilted his head slightly in assent. The beast nearest to me straightened his venomous tail, spikes pointed to the sky, and whipped it back before bringing it crashing toward me.

  I jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being torn to shreds, just as a black bullet sped through the sky, hurtling toward the ground with alarming speed. The manticores, momentarily distracted, turned their attention to the figure wrapped all in black and tearing through the air toward us. Instead of careening into the ground, the figure changed direction at the last moment, swooping over my head and grabbing me around the waist before hauling me up into the sky.

  Up, up, up we soared, until the manticores’ furious roars were nothing but a distant rumble, and the dense forest treetops far below us looked like a slash of green paint on a canvas of brown earth. I clung to the figure, my heart hammering in my throat, and tried to get a look at his face… but it was entirely obscured by the black cloak he wore. The black cloak that all the gargoyles wore.