Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

  Mortified, Flynn shoved the mop at her, and the wet rags smacked her stomach. Aurelia burst out laughing.

  Kylie opened her mouth in shock. “Flynn!”

  “Um… Sorry.” Heat rushed into his cheeks. Though he knew Aurelia was just mocking him as usual, did it have to be about his friend? Liking Kylie would have been equivalent to liking his sister, and something about the fact that Aurelia had been the one throwing the jab made it worse.

  Aurelia’s giggles filled the hallway. “Much as you suck, Nighty, you’re the only person who could’ve nailed me like that. That’s why you’re my favorite practice partner—you’re unpredictable. Makes things more fun.”

  “You always say that, but I don’t get why.” Flynn leaned the mop against the wall. “My moves are pretty canned… I don’t know enough to do better yet.”

  Aurelia closed her mouth into a pout. “Aw, is that a no then? What’s wrong, too chicken?”

  “Of course not!” Flynn resisted the urge to shove the mop at her again.

  “Then prove it! Come spar with me!”

  “All right, all right!”

  Aurelia spun, pumping her fist in the air. “Beatchya to the backyard!” She ran off, and her fast footsteps soon faded down the stairs.

  Flynn didn’t bother trying to catch up to her. He glanced at Kylie, who appeared thoroughly confused. “Aurelia likes getting on people’s nerves. It’s her idea of fun. Anyway, want to come with us?”

  Kylie glanced at the bucket. “But we’re not done with the hallway.”

  Flynn shrugged. “There’s no Mrs. Miller here to yell at us.”

  “Good point.” She leaned her mop against the wall next to Flynn’s. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Flynn lay on the grass, staring up at the fluffy white clouds and breathing hard to get the wind back into his lungs after Aurelia had knocked it out. Kylie peered down at him with concern, blocking the blue summer sky from sight.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “I’m used to this.”

  Round One had gone to Aurelia, of course, and it had been over in less than two seconds. Flynn had barely stepped out past the vehicles lined up at the back of the Citadel before she’d sent a sidekick into his sternum. The Firedragon didn’t need weapons to be dangerous.

  Aurelia stood a few yards away with an unimpressed look on her face, and her red and gold highlights gleamed under the sunlight. “Well, that sucked.”

  “He wasn’t ready!” Kylie protested.

  “It’s okay, Kylie.” Flynn took the hand she offered him and pulled himself up. He gave Aurelia a joking smile. “Let me guess: ‘Do you think a shifterskin would care?’” he said in a high-pitched voice. “‘You’re dead!’”

  “Exactly!” Aurelia bounced on her toes. “Let’s go again!”

  Flynn balled his fists and held them before his face. Once, he’d felt uncomfortable facing off with an opponent who was not only a girl, but smaller than him. He’d since learned that holding back would only get him a kick in the shins. He watched Aurelia’s dark eyes, waiting for her move. Eyes betrayed intent, she’d told him once. Though she was fairly good at keeping her gaze ahead, a flicker of movement told him she was preparing to attack.

  Seeing a right cross coming at him, he smacked her fist with his left hand, directing the blow away from his face. Something impacted against the side of his head—he caught a glimpse of Aurelia’s boot as he stumbled to the side. Too late, he realized she’d used the cross to make him lower his guard so she could get a kick in.

  “Ow!” Catching his balance, he quickly straightened.

  Aurelia stuck out her tongue. “Nyeh, nyeh!”

  She threw a jab. Something in Flynn’s brain must have gotten jumbled, since he ended up catching her fist in his right hand and kicking up with his right foot at the same time. The toe of his shoe caught her under the arm. Aurelia’s arm flew over her head, and a startled look flashed across her eyes. Flynn took advantage of the opening to throw a kick at her. Turned out to be a bad idea—she sidekicked his supporting leg and sent him sprawling facedown into the grass.

  Well, at least I lasted more than three seconds. He rolled over and folded his hands over his stomach as if lying in a coffin. “I know, I know. Dead again.”

  Aurelia smirked and held out her hand. “Not bad, Nighty. You actually managed to get a blow in, and I didn’t mean to take it.”

  “Whoa… was that a compliment?” He accepted her hand, and she pulled him up.

  Kylie approached with a worried expression. “Shouldn’t you be wearing protective pads or something?”

  “Aurelia says it’s more practical to train without.” Flynn brushed some grass from his pants. “Better to know what it’ll feel like to get hit so you’re not stunned when the time comes for a real fight.”

  Aurelia looked down her nose at Kylie. “Pads are for pansies. If—”

  She broke off as a great roar like a tiger’s cry mixed with igniting flames sounded in the distance.

  A fangbeast—Flynn wouldn’t soon forget that creature’s sound. Was the monster outside the perimeter, or had it breached the Citadel’s protective enchantments? He looked around in alarm. “Where’s that coming from?”

  Aurelia pushed her eyebrows together. “Other side of the Citadel. I’ll—” She stopped mid-sentence, a look of horror crossing her face. “No…”

  She sprinted around the corner and dashed along the Citadel’s side. The air shook with more roars. The fangbeast must have cloned itself. It had to be close. The last time Flynn had heard roars that loud, he’d been mere yards from one of the creatures. A chill engulfed him.

  “Aurelia, wait!” He sprinted after her. “You don’t have your blades!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Kylie! Go get help!”

  “What about you?” Kylie asked.

  Flynn was too busy chasing Aurelia to answer.

  “Detonate!” cried a male voice.

  An explosion boomed. One of the Enchanters was already fighting the creature. Flynn didn’t know what kind of magic it took to take down a fangbeast, but he desperately hoped the Enchanter would succeed before Aurelia—who was unarmed—reached it. More roars joined the cacophony of animalistic cries. The creature had cloned itself again.

  “Aurelia!” he hollered.

  She ignored him. Didn’t she realize she didn’t have her weapons? What was she planning to do, kick a fangbeast to death? He’d never seen her run so fast before. It was like she was being chased by a fangbeast rather than running toward one. She rounded the front corner of the Citadel, disappearing from his sight.

  Agonized cries tore through the air, filling him with a horrible, sick feeling. Someone was dying, and they were too late to help him.

  A scream pierced his ears—Aurelia’s.

  Flynn rounded the corner after her. Three fangbeast clones stood on the steps before the Citadel’s columns. Only their black backs and pointed tails were visible. Aurelia raced toward them. One turned to her, blood dripping from its white fangs. It growled, absorbed the other two clones into its body, and vanished in a burst of flames.

  But Flynn barely noticed. All he saw was someone lying sprawled across the steps in a pool of blood. Much of it covered the person’s face, but the shock of red hair was instantly recognizable. Tamerlane.

  Flynn’s face went cold. Oh, God…

  Aurelia dropped to the ground beside Tamerlane and pressed her hands against a wound in his chest. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

  Tears streamed down her face. Flynn still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That couldn’t be Tamerlane’s blood pouring down the Citadel’s white stone steps. The gaping wounds on his torn body couldn’t be real. Seconds ago, he’d been in the middle of a petty argument with Aurelia. Now, he was dying before Flynn’s eyes.

  Flynn knelt beside him. Noticing a gash on Tamerlane
’s stomach, he rushed to apply pressure in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. “Somebody help!”

  Tamerlane’s breaths came in shallow gasps, but his expression was calm. He turned to Aurelia and gave her a weak, bloodstained smile. “Can you see me now?”

  His face went slack, and his jagged breathing stopped. Flynn shook his head, refusing to believe what lay before him. Tamerlane would speak again. Any moment, he’d take a breath and explain what his cryptic question had meant.

  No, he won’t. The truth came crashing down on Flynn like an avalanche. He clenched his jaw, his eyes stinging with tears he tried to blink back. It was only when Tamerlane’s eyes had lost their light that Flynn realized that he’d never paid attention to what color they were.

  Green—they were green.

  Chapter 24

  Denial, Anger, Bargaining

  Flynn remained crouched beside Tamerlane, barely aware of the Risers emerging from the Citadel’s door. He kept expecting Tamerlane to blink, to get up, to say it had all been some kind of prank.

  Aurelia, kneeling beside him, pressed her mouth into a thin line. Tears covered her round cheeks. Flynn wanted to say something but seemed incapable of forming words.

  A girl screamed. Flynn whirled to find Kylie in the Citadel’s doorway, covering her mouth in frozen horror.

  Calhoun pushed past her, his expression dark. “What happened?”

  Flynn tried to reply, but nothing came out. He turned to Aurelia, who seemed to have even less capacity for words than he did. She placed her hand over Tamerlane’s face and closed his eyes then ran down the stairs and into the field.

  “Aurelia, wait!” Flynn sprang up, but a hand gripped his shoulder.

  “Let her go, kid,” Calhoun said. “She needs to grieve. Now, what the devil happened here?”

  “There—There was a fangbeast. We were in the back… We heard it roar, but by the time we got here…” Flynn shook his head.

  Calhoun nodded grimly. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take it from here.”

  Flynn suddenly realized how much of Tamerlane’s blood had gotten onto him. Crimson stained his hands, arms, and shirt. His legs automatically carried him into the Citadel. For some reason, getting cleaned up seemed almost wrong, like he’d be trying to wash away Tamerlane’s death. If only he could—if only he could rewind time and undo what he’d seen. His surroundings seemed blurred, muffled, unreal. Numbness seized every inch of him except his chest, which felt as if shards of glass tumbled over his heart, slicing it bit by bit. Yet sunlight still shone through the Citadel’s windows, and the wooden banister looked the same as ever. Everything was so… normal. Had Tamerlane really just died?

  Flynn walked up the stairs, still unable to believe it.

  The sight of Tamerlane’s torn body must have sent Kylie into shock. Her eyes remained round, and she twisted her fingers into knots. Sitting beside her in the assembly room, Flynn put his arm around her. She leaned into his embrace, shaking.

  Calhoun stood on the platform, summarizing what had happened for the other Risers. The late-afternoon sun highlighted his weathered face. At the mention of Tamerlane’s name, Kylie burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered between sobs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t even know him.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Flynn whispered back. A forceful stinging attacked his own eyes.

  Calhoun paced across the platform. “There’s only one way this could have happened: the Defiants. They breached our perimeter again and sent a fangbeast as they did three months ago, except this time, they were too cowardly to show their faces.” His voice lowered into a growl. “Tamerlane Brooks died defending us. Storm must be stopped.”

  You don’t have to remind me. Flynn clenched his jaw. Storm was a cold-blooded killer. First his mother, now his friend. Well, almost-friend—Flynn hadn’t exactly been close with Tamerlane. Other than the mission to Augustine, he hadn’t spent much time with the red-haired Enchanter who seemed to alternate between bookish historian and fervent revolutionary.

  Wish I knew him better. Or… had known.

  Calhoun stopped pacing and looked out at the audience. “Though Storm has been quiet for the past three months, that doesn’t mean he’s ceased to exist. Remember, he has the one thing standing between us and our ultimate goal: the Orb. He knows that the moment we get our hands on it, there will be no stopping us from destroying the Triumvirate and forming the just government he despises. Why do you think he sent the fangbeast? He’s desperate.”

  As Calhoun continued seething about the Defiants, Flynn glanced at Aurelia. She stood at the back of the room with her arms crossed. He noticed that she’d strapped her swords to her back, even though she had no need for them at the moment. He couldn’t imagine how she must feel, knowing that if she’d been armed and that fangbeast had attacked her instead, it would be the one lying on a funeral pyre outside, waiting to be cremated.

  She looked as though she might go on a murderous rampage if someone so much as said “hello” to her. A look of rage compressed her mouth into a harsh line. If Flynn hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was glaring at Storm rather than Calhoun. She caught Flynn’s eye and crossed her arms tighter, as though restraining herself from killing him out of sheer, undirected wrath.

  “We’ll find Storm,” Calhoun went on. “That’s our priority now—to uncover whatever disgusting hole he cowers in. But we’re not like him. When we find his hideout, we won’t attack.”

  Indignant protests rose through the room. Sparked by anger, Flynn joined their voices. “Why not?”

  Calhoun held up a hand and waited for the commotion to die down. “It’s the Orb we’re after, not Storm. We can’t be thinking about revenge when the fate of a nation is at stake. We’re after the downfall of the Triumvirate. If we lose focus of that, Storm will have won. But as soon as we the people regain control of our country, we will seek justice for his victims. Understand?”

  Disgruntled murmurs of agreement fluttered through the room, but Flynn couldn’t bring himself to chime in. He didn’t want to wait. Storm had already eluded justice for too long. I was so close that first night at the Citadel. He clenched his fists. If he’d attacked instead of standing there like an idiot, not only would he have avenged his mother, but Tamerlane would still be alive.

  Funny—Tamerlane had been the one who had lectured him for thinking about revenge. But all the wisdom in the world couldn’t bring Flynn to care about the big picture. He could still see Tamerlane’s shredded body on the steps, the image hovering before him like a specter. If Flynn knew where Storm was, he’d go in, guns blazing. No—not guns. Bullets could be stopped by magic. He’d bring a sword and decapitate Storm like the monster he was.

  On the platform, Calhoun spoke of sacrifice, of casualties, of inevitable losses. Many had fallen on the Rising’s long road. But Tamerlane was the only one Flynn had really known other than his parents, and he couldn’t bring himself to move past it the way Calhoun did. A life was never just another life. Each one mattered because each one was an entire world contained within a dreaming mind, a hopeful heart, a determined will. And Storm had stolen Tamerlane’s.

  Calhoun eyed the audience. “We’ve got a job to do, and we won’t let Storm get in our way. Find the Defiants, get the Orb, end the Triumvirate. The Rising shall prevail!”

  “The Rising shall prevail!” Though they didn’t inspire him as they usually did, Flynn instinctively repeated the words along with everyone else—except Kylie, who was still sobbing.

  And Aurelia, whose eyes burned with fury.

  Flynn accompanied Kylie up the stairs, heading for the women’s dorm. She clung to his arm, and he could tell she was doing her best to appear brave. She no longer trembled, but her eyes still brimmed with tears.

  The only thing he could think of to say was something along the lines o
f “It’s going to be all right,” but how could that possibly be true? Tamerlane would never come back to life, so how could anything ever be all right again?

  “Nightsider!” a woman’s sharp voice called from down the hall.

  Flynn turned.

  Nossiter approached, her dark eyes stern. “Calhoun wants to see you. He’s waiting in his office.”

  “What for?”

  “Don’t know. He said it was between him and you.”

  Flynn glanced at Kylie, who released his arm.

  “Go on,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and managed a slight smile. “Our leader needs you, and that’s far more important than coddling me.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.” Flynn headed back down the hallway.

  When he reached Calhoun’s office, the first thing he noticed was a familiar dark-blue candle, shaped like skulls stacked on top of each other—or, in the current case, one and a half skulls. Only the grotesque grin of the upper one remained. A burnt wick protruded from the top.

  The candle sat on a white ceramic plate about two feet in diameter in the center of Calhoun’s desk. The old man stood near it, rummaging through one of his drawers. “Close the door, will you?”

  Flynn gave the wooden door a push. It shut with a click. “What’s going on?”

  “I saw the look in your eyes at the meeting.” Calhoun pulled a blue folder out of his drawer. “None of what I said went into your head, did it? You’re still thinking about revenge. If I found Storm’s hideout and sent you on a mission to retrieve the Orb, you’d go after him, wouldn’t you?”

  Unable to deny the accusation, Flynn avoided Calhoun’s gaze. Is this why he called me in here?

  “Believe me, kid, I want Storm gone as much as you do.” Rage crackled beneath Calhoun’s dangerously soft tone. “I wish I’d eliminated him when I had the chance. So many Risers would be alive today if I had. But I gave my reasons for restraint, and since they don’t seem to matter to you, I thought I’d let someone else talk to you instead.” He reached into the folder, pulled out a piece of paper, and turned it toward Flynn. “You’ll listen to her, won’t you?”