Chapter 2
CONCERNING VILLAINY
With the photo of the not-dead dead guy in hand, I strolled down Firefly Lane, one of the busiest streets in the Magic Emporium. I’d already scoured two other major shopping streets, chatting up the shop vendors, but to no avail. No one had seen Yara’s father.
I stopped to take a longer, deeper look at the man in the photograph.
He seemed friendly but reserved. And smart.
Definitely smart. I could see it in his eyes: a quiet intelligence brewing beneath an unassuming front.
I could picture him as a professor sitting in a cozy library, surrounded by stacks of books.
He did not look like the kind of person capable of spontaneous resurrection.
That breed of magic was the domain of the Sorcerers, a supernatural race known for their long cloaks—and their mysterious, often-frightening demeanor.
Ren, Yara’s father, didn’t look like a Sorcerer.
He looked like an Alchemist. Alchemists weren’t known for throwing themselves into danger.
They preferred to study and observe from the sidelines.
Had Ren been drawn into some dark scheme?
Had a Sorcerer targeted him, captured him, killed him, and resurrected him?
Or had Ren simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
I looked Ren’s photographed self in the eyes, and when that yielded no answers, shook the paper gently in my hand. “What happened to you?” I whispered.
The photograph did not indulge me with an answer.
I spent the next hour walking down every busy street in the Magic Emporium, asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen Ren. Finally, after being treated to a few hundred ‘no’s, I turned toward the train station.
I took the train to the Castle. By the time I made it to the dining hall, the Castle staff had already cleared away the food trays. Fortunately for me and my empty stomach, my friends had saved some lunch for me.
Dante snickered at me as I grabbed my salad and proceeded to devour it. “Nice of you to finally join us, Princess Polymage. Nevada told us you were going to miss lunch.”
I glanced at my best friend. “I didn’t say that I’d miss lunch.”
Nevada shrugged. “I knew you’d be late. You get distracted when you work.”
“Work, Savi?” Mischief twinkled in Dante’s eyes. “Really? You didn’t get your fill of work this morning, loading up supplies for the Watchers?”
“I was helping someone in need.”
“A girl came to her, begging for help,” Nevada told him.
“So it was an act of mercy.”
“You could say that,” I said cautiously.
Dante jumped onto his chair, waved a dramatic hand in the air, and lifted his voice to the ceiling. “The noble Savannah Winters, Apprentice extraordinaire and my dear sister! Not even a Knight, and already she’s embarking on grand adventures!”
Everyone in the dining hall was looking at us, which was, of course, exactly why Dante had done it.
Like all brothers, he just loved mortifying his sister.
I was tempted to throw a cherry tomato at his head in retaliation, but he’d probably just catch it in his mouth.
So I simply endured in silence, quietly plotting my revenge.
It would be sweet. And he’d never see it coming.
“What kind of grand adventures are you embarking on this time, Savannah?”
Ansel’s quiet question was a welcome distraction from my brother’s shenanigans. Dante was still standing on his chair, conjuring up a storm of melodrama. In that way, he was the exact opposite of me. He loved being the center of attention. I hated it.
“I’m looking for a girl’s lost father,” I said.
“A missing person’s Quest? Isn’t that a little too boring for you?” Ansel chuckled.
“It’s not as boring as you’d think. Yara’s dad was dead. And then he wasn’t.”
Dante jumped down, his bottom landing smoothly in his chair. “So it’s a missing zombie Quest? That is interesting. Maybe I’ll come along and help you after all.”
“There’s no evidence that Yara’s dad is a zombie.”
“Is there evidence that he’s not a zombie?”
“No.”
Dante grinned. I rolled my eyes at him. Only Dante would be excited at the prospect of hunting down zombies.
“You know, most people run away from danger, not toward it,” I told him.
An amused chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Not people in our family, Savi.”
He was right. I chased down Cursed Ones. Dante dreamt of hunting zombies. There was something seriously weird about our family.
“You are so brave, Dante.”
I blinked. While I’d been daydreaming about reckless adventures, one of the Apprentices had materialized on the other side of Dante, and she was giving him the biggest pair of googly eyes that I’d ever seen. Oh, boy.
“Does anything scare you?” The Apprentice added some eyelash flutters to the googly eyes.
I was pretty sure her name was Sophia. I always mixed her up with her best friend Sophie. They were both tall, blonde, tan, and sporty.
“Of course not. Dante’s a Metamorph.”
Oh, there was Sophie now. She was serenading my brother with the same googly-eye-eyelash-flutters as Sophia.
Nevada leaned in closer to me, so I could hear her over the girls’ symphony of compliments. “They’re both hoping that Dante will ask them to the Ball.”
“If they want to go to the Ball with him, why don’t they ask him to the Ball?”
Nevada shrugged. “They’re Elves, and Elves don’t ever do anything in a straightforward manner. They like making other people do what they want them to do.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” Ansel agreed. “But that’s just who they are. It’s hard to fight your nature. Elves are charming and devious. Metamorphs are impulsive and direct.”
“Sorcerers are dark and mysterious,” Nevada added.
“Nymphs are kind and harmonious.”
She grinned at Ansel. “And Alchemists are smart and studious.”
I looked at them, frowning. “But those are just stereotypes. Not all Sorcerers are creepy, and not every Alchemist is nerdy.”
“Not all,” Ansel said. “But most. And blending with the spirits—gaining magic—only emphasizes your natural qualities. That’s why it isn’t hard to guess which Tribe each Apprentice will be joining.”
“Ansel is an Alchemist,” Nevada said.
“And Nevada is a Nymph,” Ansel added.
“Sophie and Sophia are Elves. Jack is a Dreamweaver. Dante is a Metamorph.”
“The Victory kids are Metamorphs too.”
“Yeah,” Nevada agreed. “They really are.”
I considered their claim—that each of us was destined to be in a particular Tribe. Like it was preordained or something. Neat little boxes for neat little Apprentices.
“You guys make it sound so simple.”
“You are not simple to place, Savannah,” said Ansel. “I guess that’s because you’re a Polymage.”
It had to be more complicated than that.
“Are you excited about joining your Tribe, Nevada?” Ansel asked her.
“Yes. And also no.” She looked at me. “Do you think we’ll all still be friends after we join our Tribes?”
“Of course,” I told her. “Knights from all the different Tribes are friends.”
“Not all Knights,” Ansel said.
“Then we’re just going to have to promise one another to stay friends.” I took their hands and squeezed them. “No matter what.”
Nevada grinned at me. “Deal.”
“Agreed,” Ansel added.
Dante placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on Nevada’s. “I’m in too.”
I threw my brother a sidelong smirk. Across the table, his pretty admirers still had him in their sights. “Are you sure, Mr. Popular?” I chuckled. “We’re so terribly boring.”
“Boring?” he repeated, laughing. “Oh, no, little sister. You are far too curious to be called boring.”
“A little curiosity never hurt anyone,” I countered.
“Except the cat,” Dante said, amused. “And you have more than just a little curiosity, Savannah. Just like a cat.”
That’s what our mother always said about me, that I was just like a cat: curious, independent, impulsive, and always getting myself into trouble. Well, I couldn’t change who I was. And I didn’t want to either.
“I actually like helping people, Dante. It’s wonderfully empowering. I love the feeling that I’ve changed someone’s life for the better.”
Dante managed to sigh and laugh at the same time. “You just can’t help yourself, Savi.”
“We all have our special talents, bro. Not everyone can spin a basketball on their finger.”
Dante chuckled again, then looked at the photograph I’d set on the table.
We all looked at it. Yara’s father looked back at us.
There was something very tense—and very tired—about his demeanor.
The spark of panic in his eyes. The heavy slouch of his shoulders.
The smear of dirt on his cheek. Either the photographer had caught Ren on a very bad day, or coming back from the dead wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“What happened to you?” I asked the man in the photograph. “And what are you doing here?”
“He appears to be shopping.” Dante indicated the canvas shopping bags slung over Ren’s shoulder.
“Yeah. But why here? Why come to Gaia?”
Dante shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”
“I have to find him first. Somehow. I asked around the Magic Emporium. No one’s seen him.”
“Whoever took this photo saw him,” Ansel pointed out. “There are cameras everywhere in the Fortress.”
“Most of them belong to the Watchers,” Nevada said.
“Right,” said Ansel. “The Watchers’ cameras are everywhere. Surely, one of those cameras caught a glimpse of him. You could ask the Watchers to run his picture through their security system and see if anything pops up.”
It was a good plan, except for one tiny little thing.
“Yeah, so, I’m not very popular with the Watchers. I can’t just stroll up to the Black Obelisk and ask them to hand over their security camera footage.”
“Why ask at all?” Dante said. “Just do what you always do, Sav: break into the Black Obelisk.”
At that, everyone laughed.
I gave my brother a tight smile. “Very funny. But that simply isn’t an option, even if I wanted to risk it.
The security at the Black Obelisk is tighter than ever before.
I guess I broke into it one time too many.
There are layers upon layers upon layers of security wrapped around the building.
We’re talking both magical and mundane security.
The General is highly paranoid, and I’m definitely on his blacklist. If I get caught… ”
“Don’t sweat it. Ansel can break through any security system, no problem.” Dante gave Ansel a hardy pat on the shoulder. “Right, Ansel?”
“No chance.” Ansel folded his hands together, looking very serene for someone who’d just labeled my Quest completely hopeless.
“Altair told me about the security on the Black Obelisk. Apparently, the General consulted Daykan, the most famous Alchemist in all the Many Realms, on its magical defenses. I can’t break through that.
Daykan is a genius. His defenses are way out of my league.
I doubt any of the Knights could break through them either. ”
So where did that leave me? With a disappointed teenage girl still missing her father. That’s where.
“I heard what you’re trying to do, Savannah.”
Dutch joined us at our table. That elicited a frown from Ansel.
The two of them had gotten off to a rough start, and Ansel didn’t much care for Dutch.
I totally got it. My teammate came across as a brute, but if you dug deeper, there was something more there.
I was still trying to figure out exactly what that something was.
“It’s very noble.”
Wait, did Dutch just pay me a compliment?
“Did you try talking to the vendors in the Magic Emporium?”
“Yes,” I said. “No one knows where he is.”
“You mean no one admitted to knowing where he is. That doesn’t mean no one knows where he is.”
I followed Dutch down that path of reasoning.
“Are you absolutely certain that they were all telling you the truth?” he asked me.
Dutch’s flavor of logic tasted bitter.
“What reason would they have to lie to me?”
“What reason would they have not to lie to you?” he countered.
He had a point.
“Savannah helps people,” Nevada said. “She solves their problems. People in the Emporium like her.”
Dutch folded his massive arms over his chest and shrugged. It was like watching a mountain breathe.
“People like Savannah,” he said. “Except the people who don’t.
There are two sides to every story. The victims she helped.
And the villains who didn’t get away with it because she got involved.
Plus, people are kind of afraid of Savannah ever since she took control over people last week at the Summit.
Losing all free will tends to spook people. ”
“You know, I hate to admit it, but Dutch has a point,” Dante said. “If you want to track down Ren, you might need to go through the Magic Emporium, taking control over people’s minds until you find someone who knows something.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done it before. It was wrong. Stealing people’s free will is bad. It sets me firmly on the path to becoming a bad guy.”
“It’s cute that you think you could ever be a bad guy, Savi. I, on the other hand, would make an outstanding villain.” Dante slid his finger over his upper lip and pretended to twirl his imaginary mustache.
“Ok, you do that. You go plot world domination. Meanwhile, I will head back to the Magic Emporium and convince people to talk to me.” I sighed. “But short of controlling their minds, how will things turn out any differently this time?”
I was mostly thinking aloud, so I was a little surprised when Dutch answered.
“Because this time, you will talk to the right people: the vendors at the Black Market.”