Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1) Read online

  “I haven’t spent any time there really,” I said, “and my trip to the underworld was brief, although pretty memorable.”

  His brow lifted. “You’ve been to the underworld?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  “It’s a long ride back to the academy,” he replied.

  I breathed in the awful yet familiar scent of the hawthorn berries. “I miss her already.” I didn’t intend to cry in front of him. I’d planned to wait until I was safely ensconced in my room at bedtime, but the tears had other ideas. They broke the seal and streamed down my cheeks before I could lift a finger to stop them.

  “Hey, hey,” Peter said softly. He maneuvered his hands as though conjuring a small ball. Instead, a handkerchief appeared in his hand and he used it to dab my tears. It was a sweet and unexpected gesture.

  “I didn’t realize you had manifestation magic,” I said.

  “I’m full of surprises,” he replied, handing the handkerchief to me. “It’s not a strong skill, but I can conjure a few useful items.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and wiped the rest of my tears.

  “You don’t have to hide your tears from me, you know,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “What makes you think I’m worried about what others think?”

  He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be as driven as you are if you didn’t care about outside opinions.”

  He had a point. “I want to restore my family’s good name. I want my mother to be able to go into Marigold’s to get her hair done and not hear whispers for the entire hour.”

  “Does your mother need to go to a snooty place like Marigold’s?” Peter asked good-naturedly. “Couldn’t she go to Baba Yaga’s Barber Shop?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Peter had a way of being both charming and infuriating at the same time. It seemed to be his superpower.

  “I suppose she could give it a try,” I said. “I’ll suggest it.” Tears flooded my eyes again.

  “Sorry,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I waved him off. “You didn’t. It made me think of my first trip to Marigold’s. That’s all.” I’d just turned thirteen and my mother had decided that I should start wearing my hair in a more grownup fashion. Naturally, I rebelled and turned the high ponytail into my signature look.

  “Bad experience, huh?”

  I inhaled deeply. “It was one of those defining moments when I truly understood how ostracized we really were. I mean, I knew I was. My name was stricken off any guest list, no matter how much my friends complained to their parents.” I paused. “But to watch my mother in the midst of that kind of social rejection.” I shuddered. “I was already prone to overachieve, but that day pushed me over the edge. I vowed to bring honor back to our family. We’d had generations of proud public service, and it was all undone by one….” I choked back tears. I didn’t blame my grandmother, not really. She’d succumbed to the strength and intensity of her magic. She’d possessed the kind of raw power that other magic users only dreamed of.

  Peter patted my back. “I get it, Dani. You don’t need to explain it to me.”

  I blinked away the tears. “You called me Dani.”

  He grinned. “Don’t get used to it.”

  “Do you really get it, or are you just being nice?” I was genuinely curious. Peter didn’t seem to do nice.

  “I am familiar with the concept of fear of overpowering magic,” he said.

  Something about his tone reminded me of our visit to the nightclub. “Is that why you didn’t want to use your staff against the giant at Oasis? Is it more powerful than it looks?”

  Peter flinched. “Something like that.”

  I didn’t have the presence of mind to probe. My grandmother was upstairs, cold and lifeless. Right now, nothing else really mattered.

  “I never thought I’d say this, Peter, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  He turned away, unable to meet my grateful gaze. “I never thought I’d say this either, but me too.”

  The funeral was well attended, not because paranormals wished to pay their respects but because they didn’t want to miss the spectacle. Her funeral appeared to be the social event of the season.

  “You should have worn your black cloak with the fur collar,” my mother said sharply.

  “Grandmother didn’t like that cloak,” I replied. “She was anti-fur, remember?”

  “What does it matter what she thought?” my mother hissed. “This funeral is about your public face, not her preferences.”

  Did she realize how ridiculous she sounded? Probably not. She’d wanted to return to her place in society for so long that she was practically salivating to put this funeral behind her and, with it, the family’s exile.

  “My public face is the same as my private one,” I said. “One of grief.”

  “I don’t see why the strange druid had to accompany you,” my father said in a low voice. “This is a private family matter.”

  “Yes, so private.” My gaze swept the assembled crowd. “All well wishers, too, I’m sure.”

  “Are you sure your relationship is professional?” my mother asked.

  “Yes,” I insisted. “We barely tolerate each other.” Although, admittedly, that feeling seemed to have shifted. At least for me. It was hard to know what Peter was thinking most of the time.

  “Well, he can’t walk in the front row with us,” my father said. “Tell him he needs to know his place.”

  Stars and stones. “He’s not interested in hogging your funeral spotlight, Dad.”

  The procession made its way from the estate to Apricot Lake where the funeral pyre awaited us. My cloak formed a bell shape thanks to the breeze off the water. It was a beautiful ceremony and was pleased that my grandmother was honored appropriately. I’d harbored a quiet fear that my parents would try to bypass the traditional funeral rites, but they followed through.

  The private reception was held back at the estate. It had been my grandmother’s final request to my parents and, surprisingly, they’d allowed it. I assumed they’d want to distance themselves from her as quickly as possible, but they spent what they could afford and put on an elaborate spread for the guests. No one needed to know what a hardship the expense truly was. My parents would never manage to climb out of the black hole of debt amassed by my grandmother during her most trying days. At one point, they’d intended to marry me off to the son of a wealthy family, as though we were medieval royalty trying to save our kingdom. The other family had changed their minds after some helpful witch reminded them that I’d pass my grandmother’s genetics to their future grandchildren. Although they liked the potential for power, they’d disliked the potential for disaster even more.

  I sought a brief respite in my bedroom before venturing downstairs to mingle with the guests. I didn’t want to leave Peter alone for too long. I worried about the mischief he might make. I glanced in the mirror on my way to the door and caught sight of my grief-stricken expression. The image was jarring and I heard my own sharp intake of breath. The loose waves of strawberry blond hair. The slightly upturned nose. The almond-shaped green eyes. I looked so much like my grandmother that it was almost as though she grieved her own death.

  I passed her room on the way to the staircase and noticed a figure in a dark cloak lurking inside. It wasn’t a complete shock—the house was free for guests to roam—but it seemed strange to see another woman in my grandmother’s room. So few had been permitted to enter over the years.

  “Hello,” I said softly. “Can I help you?”

  The white-haired woman turned toward me and I immediately noticed her eyes. She was blind. “The granddaughter,” she said, a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes. I’m Dani,” I replied. “Would you like me to help you back downstairs? The house can easily swallow you whole.” As a child, I’d lose myself for hours in the endless chambers. No one minded, as long as I performed as expected during my lessons.

 
; The old woman waddled toward me and I noticed several bald spots where white hair should be. “You sound like her.” She reached a bony hand toward my face. “May I?”

  “Go on.” I couldn’t deny an old, blind woman such a simple request.

  Her fingers pressed against my skin. “You are so very like her, and yet you are destined to travel a different path.”

  “You knew her?” I assumed as much, given that the old woman was here.

  “Many moons ago,” the woman said. “My name is Mira. We trained together. I was neither as sharp nor as skilled as your grandmother. Few were. I warned her that her journey would become treacherous if she heeded the call of magic too often.”

  Nothing like an I-told-you-so at the funeral. “I will use my magic wisely,” I said. “That’s what I’ve been trained to do from a young age.”

  The old woman cackled softly. “And do you think your grandmother’s intentions were any less noble in the beginning? Make no mistake. Darkness surrounds you, my pet. The stench of death clings to you like a welcome companion.”

  I suppressed a shiver. “That’s to be expected. We’re standing in my grandmother’s room where she died.”

  Mira shook her balding head. “Not her death. Just death.” Her fingers moved from my face to curl around my wrist. “I have a message for you.”

  “What kind of message?”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, showing only the whites. “A battle is to come and you will play a part. Be forewarned, my pet. Neither gods nor mortals can kill those with Poseidon’s blessing.”

  A chill traveled down my spine. “What kind of battle? With whom?”

  Her grip grew tighter as her whole body began to tremble. “They must be defeated. The fate of the world depends on it.”

  That quickly, the moment passed and Mira’s eyes returned to their normal state. She released my wrist and smiled, revealing only a partial set of yellowed teeth. “You may accompany me downstairs now. I’m famished.”

  I offered her my arm and we made our way to the parlor where she disappeared into the crowd. I located Peter in the garden, filling his pockets with rare herbs.

  “Peter!” I scolded him.

  He gave me a sheepish look. “Do you know how hard it is to find this stuff?” He patted his pockets. “It’s incredibly valuable for bartering.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I’ll allow it as payment for accompanying me here.”

  He grinned. “And because you like me.”

  I folded my arms. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I quickly recounted Mira’s prophecy and his expression shifted.

  “That doesn’t sound encouraging,” he said. “No details on the battle, huh?”

  “No,” I replied. “And Poseidon’s blessing? What does that even mean?”

  “Prophecies aren’t exactly known for their clarity,” Peter said. “Maybe the battle will involve hot mermaids. I’d be down with that.”

  “I’ll make a note of it,” I said. “I don’t get the part about death either. The only thing I can think of is my friendship with Bryn. I guess the Shadow Sorcerer’s daughter could be considered a constant companion that’s related to death.”

  Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his gaze to the house. “I can’t believe you grew up here. This place is incredible.” His smile was wistful.

  “I have mixed feelings,” I said. “On the one hand, I love it. It’s home and it’s beautiful, but it holds a lot of sadness, too.”

  Peter’s smile faded. “That’s life, princess. Happy, sad, angry.” He shrugged. “There’s no such thing as an even keel. We all get slapped with the hand of grief from time to time.”

  Some more than others, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

  “If you need more time here,” Peter said, “I completely understand, but if I expect to make it to the Jade Pool Mountains for the Peento Banquet, I’ll need to leave soon.”

  I pressed my palms against my cheeks. “That’s tonight?”

  He offered a sympathetic look. “It is, but don’t feel obligated to help. You should stay here with your family and grieve.”

  I choked back laughter. “You met them, right?”

  Peter smiled weakly. “I certainly wouldn’t object to your company. I must be getting used to the sound of your voice. I haven’t had a mother in quite some time.”

  My brow lifted. “I remind you of your mother?”

  His expression began to smolder. “No,” he said gruffly. “Not my mother. Not even remotely.”

  My whole body tingled. “How soon do we need to leave?”

  “Within the hour. I’ll arrange transport.” He paused. “Maybe snag a nice dress from one of the fifty closets in this mansion while we’re here.”

  I felt something rub against my leg and glanced down to see Clementine. “There you are. I’ve been wondering where you wandered off to.”

  The cellar to clear out the rodent population, Clementine said. Needless to say, they weren’t thrilled to have me back.

  I laughed. My familiar was every bit as determined and ambitious as I was. “I guess that means I don’t need to offer you anything to eat.”

  Clementine swished her tail. I’m good, thanks. You should eat, though. I sense your hunger.

  “You should eat,” Peter said, not realizing that my familiar had had the same thought. “You might need your strength tonight.”

  “It’s hard to work up an appetite,” I admitted. I’d felt nauseous ever since I’d received the note to come home. Even the local delicacies lacked their usual appeal. As much as I enjoyed the cafeteria food at Spellslingers, I missed home-cooked meals, especially in this region.

  Peter regarded me. “I’m not going to pretend I know how to take care of another living creature, but I know the basics, and food is one of them.” He bumped me with his hip. “Come on, princess. Let’s get you to the fancy spread for some eats.”

  First sensible thing that guy has ever said, Clementine muttered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Urania’s palace was located atop the highest peak of the Jade Pool Mountains. Invitation or not, it wasn’t an easy trek. The promise of immortality was probably the only way the goddess insured any guests. No one else would have the desire to make such a treacherous trip for the sake of an afternoon visit.

  “In case I haven’t mentioned it, nice job with the fancy frock,” Peter said, giving my dress an admiring glance.

  “You may have mentioned it once or twice already.” I smoothed the bodice of my sapphire blue gown. “It belonged to my grandmother. She had excellent taste.”

  He made a quiet sound of approval before turning back to the base of the mountain. “A goddess like Urania will see right through any attempts at magic, so we need good, old-fashioned charm. We need to make her believe that she invited us, or at least decide that she wants us there, regardless of the truth. Willful oblivion.”

  I nodded. “Charm Offensive. Got it.”

  “I think we can both agree that means I do most of the talking,” he said.

  I scoffed. “I can be charming, too.”

  He adjusted the lapel of the tuxedo that he smuggled out of my father’s closet. “Not like me. Your charm is more appealing to your peers, whereas my kind of charm is universally appealing.”

  “If you were that charming, you wouldn’t need to smuggle anything. You’d simply charm your way in and out of everywhere,” I argued.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes no one’s manning the building. You can’t charm a yawning void.”

  “You’re a yawning void,” I shot back.

  “Very mature.” He gave me a sly grin. “You ready, princess?”

  “There’s no choice, is there? Let’s get on with it.”

  Peter whistled and our transport swooped down to join us. “Time to ride to the top.”

  “I meant to ask you where you rounded up a pegasus,” I said.

  “I borrowed him from a friend,” he said.

  My eyes r
ounded. “A friend in Fairhaven?”

  “No,” he said. “But close enough. I know it seems unlikely, but I do have friends. Okay, acquaintances. Acquaintances who owe me favors.” He extended a hand. “In any event, your steed, princess.”

  I let him help me, even though I was perfectly capable of doing it myself. It was nice to help the druid feel useful once in a blood moon. I hated riding sidesaddle, but there was no choice in such a long dress. I even managed to cross my ankles the way I’d been taught.

  Peter climbed on behind me, his muscular body pressed against my back. I pushed down the butterflies that insisted on swirling around in my stomach.

  I held on for dear life as the pegasus lifted off, flying at a ninety-degree angle, its white wings flapping in the mountain breeze. The higher we flew, the tighter my lungs felt. I hoped I didn’t struggle to breathe at the palace. If we had to fight our way out, oxygen was sort of a necessity.

  As the name suggested, the top of the mountain looked like it was made of green glass. “It’s challenging,” I said, “but it sure is pretty.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” Peter quipped.

  I elbowed him in the ribs and hoped he didn’t tumble over the side of the pegasus. “You’d better be nice to me in case we don’t make it out of here alive.”

  “Have a little faith, princess. There’s always a Plan B.”

  The pegasus glided onto solid ground and my breathing hitched when I spotted the palace looming in the distance. It was like a combination of Mount Olympus and the Pena National Palace in Portugal. My knowledge of castles and palaces encompassed both the paranormal and Terrene thanks to the obsession of a history instructor in primary school. Even Peter seemed starstruck.

  “That’s a rather attractive building,” he said nonchalantly. “What do you say we take a peek inside?”

  “I’d love to.”

  A golden covered walkway provided a clear path to the palace gates. We linked arms and strode up the walkway like we had every right to be there. We finally reached the enormous gates, where we were met by three guards in shimmering chainmail. They were more than a head taller than us and wore plumed helmets that covered their faces.