by Mary Fan
Brax spun on the ball of his foot, ran back, and jumped back onto the roof, landing in front of Flynn. “Your turn.” The proud look on his face dared Flynn to do better.
Flynn glanced at the lower section of the building. Its parapet appeared as wide and flat as the one Brax had just run along. I can do that—and more. “Watch this.”
He climbed onto the parapet and took a moment to steady himself. The distance below was somewhat alarming, but he’d been pulling such stunts for long enough that heights no longer intimidated him. He ran along the parapet’s narrow edge, keeping his eyes forward. Seconds later, he reached the end, but instead of turning around the way Brax had, he jumped off. He felt himself flying for a split second, and his heart leaped into his throat. His feet landed solidly on the stone edge of the parapet below.
He stumbled slightly but kept going. The thrill of success rushed through him, and he grinned. His foot slipped off the edge, and he held his arms out to keep from falling. Deciding not to press his luck, he jumped onto the roof, then straightened and looked up at Brax, who stared down at him from the higher section of the building.
Brax’s eyes widened. “What the hell were you thinking, you moron?”
“That I could beat you.” Truth was, Flynn’s mind had been blissfully blank during that whole stunt. Given a moment to look up at the distance he’d jumped—and the narrowness of what he’d landed on—he realized it hadn’t been such a good idea.
Brax looked down at the courtyard. “Teacher’s coming! Get down!”
Flynn ducked, pressing himself against the parapet so no one below would see him. Roof access was strictly limited, and he’d had no desire to spend more time locked up in detention. He’d recognized one of the voices as Everett’s.
In the doorway to the Citadel’s kitchen, Flynn stopped abruptly. There was something about the memory that he hadn’t noticed before. He’d heard Everett talking about a man named Storm, but at the time, he hadn’t realized the significance. He closed his eyes, trying to recall what the principal had said.
“Storm brings disaster to all who associate with him,” Everett had grumbled, his voice simmering with anger. “Look what happened to John Valerius.”
He was talking about my father! Flynn opened his eyes with a start. The words had meant nothing to him at the time. He’d only noticed because he’d found it kind of interesting that someone’s last name was the same as his middle name. At present, knowing who both Tydeus Storm and John Valerius were, Everett’s words suddenly took on new significance. Storm must have known his father back when they were both Risers… What did Everett mean?
Calhoun would know. Flynn still didn’t know much about his father, other than that he’d been a Sentinel who’d betrayed the Triumvirate by joining the Rising and secretly marrying a Norm woman. Though something of a picture was starting to form in Flynn’s head, he still had a gaping hole in his knowledge of the man who was, in a sense, half of him. Hit by a sudden need to learn more about the father he’d never known, he rushed back to the stairs, forgetting whatever he’d been in the middle of.
When he reached Calhoun’s office, he found the door open. Calhoun sat at his desk, reading a large leather-bound book, but he looked up when Flynn entered. “What’s eating you, kid?”
Flynn approached the desk. “I just remembered something Everett said about Storm knowing my father.”
“Well, this is abrupt.”
“They were in the Rising together, weren’t they? Was Storm the reason my father joined?”
“Yes.” Calhoun tilted his brows with sympathy. “I get it, kid. I wish you could’ve known him.” He sighed, a troubled expression descending upon his weathered face. “But there’s more. I didn’t want to tell you, but you deserve to know.” His eyes locked onto Flynn’s, causing an unsettling sense of foreboding. “When Storm left the Rising, John went with him. Broke poor Vivian’s heart. I still don’t know if Storm used some dark devilry on John’s head or if John bought into the craziness Storm was spewing. But I do know that before he left, he was experimenting with dark magic too. Not long after they formed the Defiants, the Triumvirate caught up to both of them, but John was the one who got caught.”
Flynn felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t believe his father had abandoned his mother to follow a twisted, evil man. He almost wished he hadn’t asked. He’d built an image in his head of his fallen father: the noble freedom fighter who’d sacrificed his life for a higher cause. That image crumbled, leaving him with a sinking feeling. “You should have told me before.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” Calhoun let out a heavy sigh. “The John Valerius I knew was a great man, and I like to forget that last part.”
Flynn wished there were some way he could find out for himself who his father had been. But what was there to know, really? Learning more wouldn’t change the fact that John Valerius had betrayed his mother and the cause they’d fought for together. Flynn hadn’t thought it possible to hate Storm any more, but what Calhoun had said made him long for the murderer’s destruction with renewed fierceness. Whatever Storm had done to make John Valerius leave the Rising, it was the reason Flynn’s father was dead. He wasn’t sure which possibility was worse—that his father had been brainwashed by dark magic or that he’d willingly followed a madman.
The sound of Aurelia’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What’s going on here?” She approached Flynn and smacked his arm. “You ditched me!”
“Sorry.” Flynn tried not to let the distress show on his face. He’d completely forgotten that she’d been waiting for him.
“You were asking about your dad, weren’t you?” Her voice took an unexpectedly gentle turn. “I overheard a bit. Don’t think too much about it, okay? We are not our parents, and who they are has nothing to do with us. If all you’re gonna do is dwell on what they did, you’ll never be your own person.”
He wasn’t sure if he agreed, but he kept his words to himself. Over the last few weeks, he’d picked up on the fact that she hated thinking about her own parents. She’d refused to say anything about them other than that they were dead, and that they might as well have been strangers. But to him, parents were an integral part of who you were, whether you liked it or not. Even denying a parent’s influence shaped you.
Calhoun snapped his book shut, drawing Flynn’s attention. “While you’re both here, I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
Aurelia leaned her elbows on the table. “What is it?”
Calhoun glanced at Flynn. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier about wanting to go on a mission, and you’re right. I could really use you out there.”
Excited, Flynn shoved all thoughts of the past away. “And?”
“You want to prove you’re ready?” Calhoun pointed a finger at him. “Go out into the woods and kill a supernatural. That’s your test. Aurelia will keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t get hurt. If you succeed, I have a task for you.”
The thrill of impending action and the chill of fear flooded Flynn’s veins at once, forming a tingly mixture. He nodded. “Sounds good.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Aurelia glared at Calhoun. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping the Untouchable One safe! How does sending him into a monster-filled forest fit into that plan?”
Calhoun held up a hand. “Calm down, Firedragon. It doesn’t have to happen tomorrow—or even next month, for that matter. But I’ve been thinking. Just because I’m not sending him into danger doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be prepared to face it if it finds him. You can train with the best, but there’s no substitute for experience.”
“Makes sense to me,” Flynn said. Though he tried to keep his mind on the possibilities before him, the distress from what he’d learned about his father still gnawed at him. He told himself that Aurelia was right—that it wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on the past when he had en
ough things to worry about in the present. A huge opportunity—and a huge challenge—had just been presented to him, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted.
Calhoun pressed his fingers together, his gaze still on Aurelia. “Whether or not Nightsider’s ready for a mission will be your call. If, during the test, you run into anything you can’t handle, send up a flare, and I’ll have Brooks and a few others goldlight in as backup. But I need to know that Nightsider can protect himself, and it’s better to find out here than at the Palace of Concord.”
Aurelia huffed. “I guess he’ll be facing off with razorbirds at the Palace anyway. Might as well get some real-world practice in before that day.” She elbowed Flynn. “Back to work, Nighty. Looks like you’ve got a test coming up.”
Flynn nodded and followed her out of the office. Despite what Calhoun had said about monsters and missions, his thoughts kept turning to the past, leaving him unable to allow the impact of what he’d agreed to fully hit him.
Tydeus Storm. John Valerius. Vivian Nightsider. Untold stories remained behind what had happened with them all those years ago. And one way or another, he’d learn them.
Chapter 14
Spread the Word
Aurelia dropped her mouth into a sheepish expression. Since learning that Calhoun wanted to send Flynn out after a monster a few weeks back, she’d upped the ante on her training sessions. Flynn had been doing a decent job at keeping up, so she’d let loose during their latest sparring session, forgetting he was still a beginner. She certainly hadn’t meant to injure him, but from the way he was limping across the training room, that ankle of his was plenty sprained. “Um… sorry.”
“I’m all right.” Flynn picked up the practice sword she’d yanked from his grip earlier. “Spearfiend wouldn’t care if my ankle’s messed up, right?”
From the half smile on his face, he had to be making fun of her. She harrumphed. She wished she could say, “That’s right. Let’s go again!” just to spite him. And a spearfiend wouldn’t care. But she wasn’t a spearfiend. She was a coach. And coaches weren’t supposed to make their students train while injured, especially when healing spells wouldn’t work.
She snatched the practice sword from him. “Don’t be stupid. You won’t be getting anything done if you roll out again and actually break it next time. Sit down. I’ll get you some ice.” She slid the practice sword back onto its rack then scampered down the stairs. Well, at least it wasn’t a concussion. Given the sheer number of times she’d attacked him during his two months at the Citadel, she supposed an injury was bound to happen.
When she reached the kitchen, she opened the freezer in search of an ice pack and grimaced at the sight of the pathetic-looking food packages inside. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. The Triumvirate had thwarted the Rising’s last effort to gather supplies, and they wouldn’t be able to try again for another week at least. Good thing there aren’t many people living full-time at the Citadel. Spotting an ice pack, she grabbed it and headed back to the tower.
As she crossed the hall, the Citadel suddenly seemed very empty. It used to be much more of a headquarters. Calhoun had spoken of full barracks and group training sessions, making the place sound much more like an army post than the run-down hideout Aurelia knew. Maybe that was why he didn’t like to talk about the old days. Things must have been better before Storm had betrayed him and before the years had worn down the Rising’s numbers. From what she’d heard, a lot of the early Risers had simply grown older and more cynical, and recruitment wasn’t enough to replace them.
This must be what Calhoun meant by “close to gone.” She shifted the freezing ice pack to her other hand, and as she walked up the stairs, it struck her how quiet the hallways were. Ugh, this is depressing.
She reminded herself that just because she couldn’t see the Risers didn’t mean they no longer existed. They’d simply gone back to their jobs and families while waiting for Calhoun to call upon them for the grand finale. It’d better happen soon. Twenty years is a long, long, long, long time to wait for something.
When she returned to the training room, she found Flynn sitting against the wall. “Hey.” She tossed him the ice pack. “You’re off the hook until your ankle gets better. Don’t forget everything in the meanwhile, okay?”
He pressed the ice pack to his injury. “I’ll try not to.”
“No walking until the swelling goes down a bit.” She wished she had more suggestions, but her mind drew a blank. Every sprained ankle she’d seen had been healed by a spell, but that wouldn’t work on Flynn. Figuring she’d done all she could, she turned to leave. “Anyway, I’ll bring you a new ice pack in a bit when that one melts.”
“You’re ditching me here?” Flynn tilted his chin down, but his blue eyes remained on her. His expression was practically a pout.
He’s totally guilt-tripping me! She angled her head, a little pleased that he seemed to like hanging out with her. “I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“Nah.” He lifted the corner of his mouth. “Who could get sick of being told they suck?”
“Suck a little less, and maybe I won’t have to keep reminding you!” The harsh words came out automatically, and she felt a little bad, since he had actually been improving. Not that she could tell him that, since then he’d get bigheaded about it and start screwing up. She plopped down on the floor beside him and decided to throw him a bone. “You don’t tire, though. I’ll give you that.”
His face brightened, and for some reason, that made a warm feeling blossom in her chest. She held her unsmiling expression, not wanting to give him any reason to get cocky.
He adjusted the ice pack on his ankle. “So how long before you send me out after a real monster?”
If it were up to me, never. The idea of him going up against a creature with real fangs and claws made her edgy. But Calhoun was right. Sending him into the wild was the only way she could make sure he could handle himself when he faced the monsters guarding the Palace of Concord.
“Ages,” she said. “Remember, Cadets train for years. You’ve barely been at it for two months.”
She leaned back against the wall. Flynn didn’t have the luxury of years. She couldn’t hold back the entire Rising because she feared for his life, and even if she wanted to, supernatural beasts could still find him. Storm had attacked once already with monsters, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he tried again. Also, thanks to her, Flynn had learned more in the past few weeks than the Academy would have taught in two years. And he was an uncommonly quick learner, though she’d never tell him she thought so.
“Given how fast you’ve been picking things up… maybe in another month or so.” She quickly added, “Just so I can see your level of suckage in real life and figure out how to make you suck less!”
She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t let anything that could be misconstrued as nice come out of her mouth when she was around Flynn. The last thing she wanted was for him to let down his guard or stop being afraid of her.
“Sounds good.” The amused look Flynn gave her said he probably wasn’t too scared of her anyway.
She grimaced. She’d never cared about others going into danger before. In fact, she was usually the one who shamed people for being cowards. Why did she suddenly want to hold someone back?
Because he’s the Untouchable One, and if we lose him, we lose our shot at the Triumvirs. That had to be it, right?
She thought about the tall gates before the Palace of Concord and all the supernatural dangers lurking behind them. Whether she liked it or not, the day would come when Flynn would have to face them, and she had to make sure he was prepared—because if she failed, he could die, and with him, the Rising’s chance at victory.
Aurelia scurried toward Calhoun’s office. She was so used to dealing with Flynn day in and day out that, with him suddenly out of the game, she didn’t know what to do with he
rself. Maybe I can go on a solo supply run if Calhoun doesn’t need me for anything else.
She grabbed the doorframe of Calhoun’s office and swung inside. “Need help with anything? I’m bored out of my mind.”
Calhoun looked up from the pile of paper he’d been thumbing through. “Nightsider’s still limping?”
“Yup.” She approached the desk and glanced at the papers. “You’re recruiting again, aren’t you? Can I come?”
Calhoun split his thin lips into a smile. “This isn’t your kind of mission, kiddo. No derring-dos or supernatural threats—just passing out flyers under the radar.”
“I can fly under the radar!” Aurelia bounced on her toes, impatient to get out and do something. “C’mon, you know you could use an extra hand!”
He chuckled. “All right, but I’m pairing you with Brooks. You listen to him, understand? If he tells you to simmer down, simmer down. We’re going to be out in public, and more likely than not, some bonehead’s going to say something you don’t like. In that case, your job is not to start a verbal firestorm, understand?”
Knowing he referred to the last recruitment mission she’d gone on, in which she’d had to run for her life after losing her cool on some smarmy Enchanter, Aurelia nodded. Putting on her most solemn expression, she said, “I hereby swear to keep my mouth shut, even in the face of total jerkitude.”
“Good.” Calhoun placed the stack of paper on his desk. “We head out tomorrow morning.”
Having so much hair was like wearing a wool blanket on your head in the summer, and Aurelia wished she’d tied her thick waves into a ponytail before Tamerlane had goldlighted her to Salvator City—once known as Chicago. At least she’d been smart enough to wear a white tank top instead of her usual black. Too bad she and Tamerlane couldn’t have found a shadier place. The sidewalk they presently stood on was one of the few blind spots in Salvator City’s enchanted surveillance system. Like in all the Triumvirate’s cities, someone was always watching.
