Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1) Page 12

  “You okay, princess?” He seemed genuinely concerned.

  “Sorry, the ice,” I said. “Water magic isn’t my specialty. It drains me a little.”

  “I can take my staff out again if you need support,” he said with a wink.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’ve hidden a dirty joke in there somewhere?”

  He chuckled and carried on walking.

  Once we were safely outside in the fresh, quiet air, I questioned Peter. “What was that about?” My chest suddenly felt hollow without the pounding sensation I experienced inside.

  “What, the staff?”

  “No.” Although I had questions about that, too. “You seemed to know something about James that you weren’t saying.”

  Peter squinted. “You were there. The guy’s shadier than the dark side of the moon.”

  “I know, but I feel like there was more to it.” I paused. “Why didn’t you want me to have a drink?” I’d actually been pretty parched after all that dancing.

  Peter clenched his jaw. “Trust me. It wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

  “You think he would’ve drugged me?” I asked incredulously. “In front of you?”

  “A guy like that is capable of worse things,” Peter said.

  “But not kidnapping Grantham Fraser?”

  “He’s capable of it,” Peter replied, “but I think he told the truth. He’s not our guy.”

  “No, I don’t think so either. We may as well track down this muse—Calliope.”

  “I don’t know her, but I know where we can find her,” Peter said.

  I glanced up at the moon. “What do you say, Peter? The night is still young.”

  Peter’s grin lit up his entire face. “Hey, how about that, princess? We’re finally on the same page.”

  “Calliope’s Carousel,” I said, reading the sign aloud. “I guess this is the place.”

  Peter slapped me on the back. “I assumed you were literate, but now I’ve finally confirmed it.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said sarcastically. I studied the outside of the building with its rainbow murals and haze of glitter surrounding it. “It doesn’t seem like there’s a carousel in there.”

  “There is, but there’s more,” Peter said. “It’s a roller disco. Have you ever seen one of those before?”

  “I can’t say that I have,” I said. “Do you mean roller skating like the servers over at Stake-n-Shake?”

  “Yes, but even better. Come on, you have to see this to understand its awesomeness.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

  I stood in the lobby, not sure where to focus first. I’d never seen anything like this place. The sheer insanity of it all…and yet I was enchanted.

  Peter nudged me. “What’d I tell you?”

  I took a few steps forward, digesting the scene. “You weren’t kidding.” There was an enormous rink in front of us with a constantly changing environment—a glitter rainfall greeted us when we first entered. Now a rainbow arched over the rink and skaters glided right through the gradients as they moved around the circle’s perimeter. Paranormals of all shapes and sizes seemed to be taking part. Even fairies and pixies were using skates to get around instead of wings. The novelty factor, most likely.

  “And there’s the carousel,” Peter said, pointing to the far right.

  I squinted. “Are those real unicorns?”

  He looked at me askance. “Of course. What else?”

  I gripped his arm. “Can I do that first, please?” Just one ride. There’d be plenty time to seek out Calliope.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he replied. Together, we made a beeline for the carousel. The closer we got, the bigger the carousel appeared. Of course, it had to be large when it included unicorns, gryphons, pegasi, and hippogriffs.

  “I can’t choose,” I said, eyeing the array of options.

  “I like to be high in the air, so I’m going for one of the winged ones,” Peter said. “We could ride together. There’s enough room for two.”

  I debated my answer. “I’d like the unicorn.” I spotted one that reminded me of a unicorn I used to ride as a little girl, before other families objected to our presence at the stables as a blight on the neighborhood.

  “Suits me,” Peter replied. “I’ll wave to you when I fly over your head.”

  The carousel slowed to a stop when we approached, as though awaiting our arrival. I mounted a gorgeous white unicorn with a silver horn and Peter climbed onto a gryphon. I wouldn’t mention this little outing to Cato. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about his brethren being part of an amusement center.

  The volume of the music increased as the creatures began to move. My unicorn started at a slow pace that quickly became a trot. I felt ten years younger. I couldn’t resist burying my face in the unicorn’s silky mane.

  “Enjoying yourself?” a perky voice asked. I turned to see a woman on the hippogriff beside me. Her hair was streaked with every color of the rainbow.

  “Calliope?” I asked.

  She giggled. “What gave it away?” She stroked the hippogriff’s head. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “No, this is my first visit,” I said.

  Peter must’ve noticed us talking because he guided his gryphon to fly next to us. “This is quite a place you have here.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Calliope said. “It’s my passion. Everyone deserves music and fun.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Peter replied.

  “We’ve come to ask you a few questions,” I said.

  The music stopped and the carousel screeched to a halt, causing me to nearly fly off my unicorn.

  “You’ve come to ask questions?” Calliope asked.

  Calliope’s attitude seemed to make the creatures anxious. I scratched behind my unicorn’s ear, hoping to settle him. “Yes,” I replied. “We need help finding a friend, and we understand you may have information.”

  “I see.” The muse didn’t seem pleased about the turn of events. She seemed to only want to talk to us as happy customers.

  She dismounted the hippogriff and gestured for us to do the same. While I was reluctant to leave the unicorn, I knew that the search for Fraser was more important than indulging my inner child.

  “Who’s this friend you speak of?” Calliope asked. She snapped her fingers and a slushy drink appeared in her hand, complete with a crazy straw. She slurped loudly.

  “Grantham Fraser,” Peter said. “A wizard. Maybe he came to you seeking information?”

  “About what?” Calliope asked. She sucked on the straw again.

  Peter and I exchanged uneasy looks. We only had James Mallard’s word that Calliope might know something.

  “Here’s an image of him,” I said. I whipped out my wand and conjured a hologram of Professor Fraser from our Advanced Potions lesson.

  Calliope lit up. “Yes, yes,” she said, clapping giggly. “I definitely met him.”

  Inwardly, I sighed with relief. “Great,” I said, deleting the hologram and tucking away my wand. “What did he want?”

  Calliope polished off her slushy beverage in record time and the cup and straw disappeared. “He wanted to know how to score an invite to the Peento Banquet,” she said.

  “Never heard of it,” Peter said. “What is it?”

  Calliope’s eyes bugged out. “Never heard…? Allow me to enlighten you. Every hundred years, the goddess Urania holds a banquet and invites a group of chosen mortals to her palace. She allows them to eat the magical peaches from the peento trees in her orchard in the Jade Pool Mountains. It’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Let me guess,” Peter said. “The peaches are magically delicious?”

  “Delicious as well as bestow the gift of immortality,” the muse replied. “Quite the hostess gift.”

  I cast a sidelong glance at Peter. “Do you think Fraser is after immortality?” It was certainly possible, but it didn’t seem to match up with anything we’d learned so far.

 
Peter appeared as uncertain as I felt. “I’ve never heard him obsess about anything along those lines. Usually, immortality is a passion project.”

  “Totally,” the muse agreed. “Once you acquire the taste, it’s very difficult to let the desire go.”

  “How does the goddess choose her mortals for the banquet?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you what I told your wizard friend,” Calliope said. “It’s a whole selection process that takes about a year.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s a nomination process and then an interview panel. Anyway, you’re out of luck for this one. Check back in another century.”

  “Why?” Peter asked. “When’s the banquet?”

  “Next week,” Calliope said.

  Next week. We didn’t have that long before Peter’s reprieve was over.

  “What was Fraser’s reaction when you told him?” I asked.

  Calliope tapped her cheek, thinking. “He looked like he was about to vomit. I almost felt sorry for him.”

  Why would he feel sick over not being able to score an invitation to a goddess’s once-a-century banquet? Something was definitely amiss and it seemed to have started before his disappearance.

  “Did he say anything else?” I asked. “Anything at all?”

  “No, but he was very polite,” Calliope said. She tugged on a strand of green hair. “Actually, he did say something I thought was odd. He said we should all be careful, that twilight was fast approaching. It was midday, so I assumed he was drinking too much of his own potions, if you know what I mean.”

  “Twilight is fast approaching,” Peter repeated. “Huh.”

  “Any ideas?” I asked.

  “Nope.” He offered the muse a flirtatious wink. “Thanks for the ride. I’m sure I’ll be back when I have more time.” He signaled to the rink. “I need to get out there and strut my stuff.”

  Calliope giggled. “Everyone loves a peacock. Toodles!”

  Peter and I exited Calliope’s Carousel, no closer to answers than when we arrived.

  “Let’s see what else we can learn about this banquet,” I said.

  “Yeah, like how to crash it,” Peter said, opening the driver’s door of the truck for me. It was unexpectedly chivalrous.

  I hopped into the seat. “You think crashing a goddess’s special event is a good idea?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he replied. “But I don’t see us getting an invitation at this point, do you?”

  “But Fraser didn’t get one either,” I countered. “So why bother?”

  “Because he needs something at that banquet,” Peter said. “Maybe he or whoever kidnapped him will make an appearance and try to get it.”

  “So what’s the plan then?”

  Peter arched an eyebrow. “I’m digging tonight’s ensemble, but I know it won’t fly for a banquet. Do you have a pretty dress? I’d say let’s start with that.”

  “A pretty dress?” I gave him a smug smile. “I’m a princess, Peter. What do you think?”

  I climbed into bed not long before the sun was due to rise, treading as lightly as possible so as not to disturb my roommates. Although I was exhausted, I felt…amazing. Taking on James Mallard…Visiting Calliope…I loved every second of tonight, despite the dangers involved.

  No sooner did I get comfortable under my blanket than a white raven appeared on the window ledge. The familiars went berserk, waking up my roommates.

  “Clementine, calm down,” I said firmly. Her back was arched and claws extended.

  “I think it’s a carrier,” Cerys said sleepily. “There’s something attached to its leg.”

  I shooed the familiars away from the window and reached for the raven. It remained perfectly still as I removed a note from its leg. The moment I detached the paper, the raven flew off.

  “It’s addressed to me,” I said. I tore open the note, wondering whether it was some ridiculous missive from Peter.

  It wasn’t.

  “Dani?” Cerys queried. “What’s the matter?”

  I scanned the note again, reading it one more time for clarity. “It’s my grandmother. She’s…” I blinked away tears. “I need to go home. Now.”

  “Who sent a note?” Bryn asked. “Why not call?”

  “Galen, our family’s healer.” And I knew why. My parents had probably warned everyone not to alarm me. They wanted to keep me at the academy, away from the spectacle so that I couldn’t be tainted by it. Well, that was not happening. She was my grandmother and I was going to be there for her final moments if it was the last thing I ever did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The bedroom was eerily quiet. No soothing background music. No rustling of sheets. I asked Clementine to wait for me in my room.

  “Grandmother?” I said quietly.

  “Still here.” Her voice was weak but audible.

  I pulled a wingback chair closer to the bed. “I came as quickly as I could.” Her hand was cold in mine and I shivered.

  “They should not have summoned you from the academy,” she said. “Your training is important.”

  “You’re more important,” I replied, and kissed her hand. “The most important.”

  “Someone is with you.”

  I stiffened. “How do you know that?” Peter had insisted on coming with me under the guise of protection, which made no sense considering my freedom wasn’t at stake. Still, if the druid wanted to demonstrate compassion, I had no desire to stop him.

  My grandmother managed a smile. “The magic may be gone, but the intuition is strong.”

  I laughed. “Who told you? It was Mother, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, I see your intuition is equally strong.”

  I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Your humor is perfectly intact.”

  “Thank you for the potion,” my grandmother said. “I knew you would come through for me.” She patted my hand. “You always have.”

  “It didn’t…hurt you, did it?” I asked. If I’d hastened her demise in any way, I’d never forgive myself.

  “It gave me courage, dear heart,” she replied. “Something I’ve lacked that, thankfully, you never have.”

  “I get my courage from you,” I said.

  “Nonsense.” Her face paled as she fixed her pale green eyes on me. “I will miss you the most.”

  Tears stung my eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Let’s not pretend, dear heart. I’m about to embark on my biggest adventure yet. It’s thrilling.”

  “I must get that sense of adventure from you.”

  “You get much more than that from me,” she replied. “But you’re stronger than I ever was. Far more capable.” She winced.

  “Grandmother?”

  “It’s nothing.” A soft groan escaped her lips. “We’ll see each other again, dear heart, but I hope not for a very long time.”

  There were still so many things I wanted to tell her—about her, about me. The small details of my day. Instead, I said only, “I love you.”

  Her final breath pierced the silence and her hand slid from my grasp. I sat with her quietly for another minute before rising to my feet. I wouldn’t cry here, not when I had to summon my parents. Tears were a sign of weakness, of caring too much. My parents took care of her out of a sense of duty and obligation, not love. My tears for her passing would be unwelcome.

  I kissed her forehead before leaving the room, where Clementine paced outside the door.

  I told you to wait in my room, I scolded her.

  I thought you might want a tail to cry on, the cat replied.

  Not yet, I said. I need to tell my parents first.

  They’re with Peter in the sunroom, Clementine reported. I can’t decide who seems more uncomfortable.

  I passed through the gallery landing and down the sweeping staircase to the main floor. I turned left and took the long hallway to the sunroom at the south end of the house. Sure enough, Peter sat across from my parents with a glass of ale clutched in his hand. He looked li
ke he’d rather be stashed away with Professor Fraser than here in the sunroom.

  “Mom, Dad,” I said. “She’s gone.”

  Neither reacted. My father simply stood and excused himself from the room. He’d mourned the loss of his mother a long time ago.

  “Arrangements will need to be made,” my mother said. She stared outside for a brief moment before exiting as well.

  Peter gulped down his ale, set the empty glass on the table, and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, that wasn’t at all awkward.”

  It was a ludicrous statement to make under the circumstances, yet I heard laughter and quickly realized it came from me.

  Peter stood and extended a hand. “Show me around those crazy gardens of yours, would you? I’m dying to see if there’s anything I can pilfer.”

  “I’d advise against it unless you’re wearing gloves,” I said. “We mix the poisonous plants in with everything else. The gardens are more aesthetic than utilitarian.”

  “Good to know,” Peter replied.

  We passed through the arched doors of the sunroom that led directly into the garden. I noticed Peter’s admiring glances as we walked along the pathways in silence. I finally stopped in front of blessed thistle.

  “My grandmother was a big fan of this one,” I said. “So many uses.”

  “Like the duct tape of herbology, huh?” Peter queried.

  I glanced up at him with a quizzical expression. “What’s duct tape?”

  He blew out a breath. “You need your friend Bryn to educate you on the finer points of the human world. Seriously.”

  I touched the thistle, remembering how much I enjoyed spending time out here with my family. These gardens had always served as a retreat from the judgmental gazes of local society. We’d return from a gathering or even a trip to the shops, and end up out here, where no problem seemed too big.

  “Why do you choose to spend so much time in the human world?” I asked.

  “Why do you think?” he replied. “It’s good for business.”

  “Lots of places are good for business,” I said. “The underworld could be good for business, but I don’t hear any tales of smuggling adventures from there.”

  Peter fingered a cinquefoil leaf. “Terrene is easier to navigate. Less dangerous, too.”