Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

  Storm. Flynn pressed himself against the building’s wall, a toxic pool of anger welling in his chest. He yearned to tear the murderer apart for his crimes. But Storm wasn’t alone. A number of Defiants stood behind him, watching the grave. Green crystals glowed near the tombstone, surrounded by swirling gray mist.

  Storm closed his eyes. “Rise!” A ribbon of green light crept down his arm and wrapped around his wand. “RISE!”

  The ground quaked. Flynn watched in fascination. Storm repeated his command several times, and his voice became louder with each cry.

  The earth stilled, and the grave split, leaving a gaping chasm. The mist grew thicker and thicker, taking the shape of a human that stood before Storm like a gray, three-dimensional shadow. Storm drew a long breath and exhaled slowly. The mist dissipated, leaving behind a decaying, white-eyed draugr.

  Flynn’s hand shot up to his nose at the stench of the reanimated corpse. With his other hand, he gripped the corner of the wooden building. Splinters dug into his fingers. Rage surged through him like a tidal wave at the sight of the undead giant. There, before him, stood the man who’d killed his mother, creating the same kind of monstrosity he’d used to murder her. He yearned to seize a weapon and attack Storm while he had the chance.

  Flynn clenched the building harder, recalling what his mother, speaking through the veil of the Netherworld, had told him: Vengeance is a grand thought, but it’s never the answer.

  He couldn’t let Tydeus Storm get in the way of the better world his mother had dreamed of. The madman may have stopped her but not her vision. If Flynn surrendered to the urge to seek revenge, the world she’d fought for would shatter. More likely than not, he would fail in his attempt and get himself killed for his troubles. Both Storm and the Triumvirate would live on.

  Flynn turned away from the cemetery, reminding himself that he was on a mission and couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. The Orb was what mattered, and nothing he’d seen had indicated the Orb might be with Storm. Besides, surely the man wouldn’t carry such an important object with him out in the open.

  Flynn released his grip on the building and walked back down the alley. Behind him, Storm muttered dark-sounding syllables. He tried to block out the sound. Eventually, Storm’s voice faded into the quiet rush of the mild breeze.

  Flynn reached an intersection and contemplated the three directions. At first, they appeared identically dark and quiet, but a closer look revealed a barely perceptible glow from the crack under one of the doors to his left. Might as well check it out.

  The one-story house had a flat roof and a wide, rectangular door at least twelve feet high. As he drew closer, he detected the almost-invisible shimmer of a silver enchantment surrounding the building. Excitement rose within him. The Defiants wouldn’t have used magic to protect the house unless something important—something like the Orb—lay inside. It looked more promising than anything he’d come across so far.

  He reached through the enchantment, which surrounded his hand with a warm, humid feeling, and gripped the metal door handle. Slowly, he pressed down. It was unlocked.

  All this abracadabra but they don’t even use a simple bolt. Flynn smirked, but his hammering pulse betrayed his attempt at confidence. Every muscle tensed as he slowly opened the door, trying to remain silent. A creak emerged from the hinges, sending his stomach plummeting.

  He froze. If someone was watching, even that tiny slip-up could attract attention. His hand flew to his bag, gripping the trank gun inside, and he looked around for any sign of movement.

  Nothing. No sounds either.

  He released a breath and peered through the crack in the door. A pale-blue glow filled the small, square room ahead. Only a dark, crowded bookshelf and a few wooden chairs stood against the white walls. What such a room would be good for, he didn’t know. Since there seemed to be no one around, he slipped inside.

  A second door stood across the room, identical to the one he’d stepped through. On either side of him, archways lined with white tiles led to additional rooms. The blue glow radiated from the archway to his right. Could that actually be the Orb?

  Only one way to find out. Figuring there would be a guard, Flynn pressed himself against the wall by the archway, crept toward it, and peered cautiously around the edge. A wooden table stood in the center of the small room, and sparkling white mist floated above it. A sphere, about six inches in diameter, hovered. Golden swirls swam serenely within its pale blue form. An excited grin tugged at Flynn’s lips. There it is.

  Though Calhoun had shown him a three-dimensional rendering of what the Orb would look like, it was far more mesmerizing in person. He stared, awestruck by the significance of what lay before him. The last remaining item the Rising needed to take down the Triumvirate stood just a few feet away.

  But Storm knew of its importance too, and he wouldn’t let Flynn take it so easily. Enchantments hadn’t stopped Flynn from entering the building, but a bullet from a sentry would certainly keep him from leaving.

  With that in mind, he dragged his eyes across the room, searching for a guard. His gaze fell on a desk in the corner. He stifled a gasp when he glimpsed the figure sitting at it. The shadows and the Orb’s glow had to be playing tricks on his eyes. Or there was another spell involved. Being Untouchable didn’t stop him from seeing magic. It must’ve been an illusion.

  Because there was no way in hell that could be Connor Salvator on guard duty for the Defiants.

  Connor scribbled furiously in a notebook with a gold cover, like the one Flynn had stolen from him back at the Academy. An N-Book—that was what Aurelia had called it. Connor stabbed the page with a firm period. He furrowed his dark brows as writing appeared in the blank space beneath his words—someone responding to his message. It was a good thing Connor was so engrossed because otherwise, he probably would have looked up and seen Flynn watching him with a look of complete bewilderment.

  I’ve gotta be hallucinating. How could the Gold Triumvir’s son—and Aurelia’s friend—be working for Tydeus Storm? After a few moments, he managed to piece it together. The N-Book that was worth facing specters for… Williams’s questions about essence borrowing… Aurelia’s distraction after the battle with the Defiants…

  Connor was Storm’s Academy insider, and he was using the N-Book to communicate. That’s why he was so determined to keep it safe. If someone found it, they could have traced it to Storm. After I broke into Everett’s office, they thought Connor’s essence was there because of the potion I used, but that wasn’t it. He really was there. He stole the Orb. He must have been the one who ran at Aurelia the night the Defiants attacked the Citadel—and she saw him.

  Flynn wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. But of all the people at the Academy who could have been in league with the Defiants, Connor Salvator was the last one he would have suspected. He must have fallen victim to one of Storm’s mind-control spells. That was the only explanation. “Damn you, Storm,” Williams had said the day of Flynn’s interrogation. The professor must have figured it out. What about Aurelia? Did she know?

  “Oh, come on!” Connor exclaimed, apparently at whoever was responding to his messages.

  The sound interrupted Flynn’s flurry of thoughts. He craned his neck, trying to glimpse what was in the N-Book. Connor’s writing was too small to make out, and the responder’s words, while larger, were written in a messy scrawl. All Flynn could make out were the words, “I dunno.”

  Connor shook his head, apparently frustrated by that answer. “If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t bother anymore!” He pressed his pen to a blank part of the page and moved his hand furiously.

  Who is he talking to? Flynn shook his head. It didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that Tydeus Storm had brainwashed Connor Salvator with his dark magic. What mattered was the Orb. Flynn had a job to do, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  He took in his surround
ings, but whichever way he looked at it, there was no way he could take the Orb from the mostly empty room without being noticed. And he didn’t trust his aim enough to try tranking Connor from across the room. This meant he’d have to confront his former schoolmate.

  Drawing a breath, he pulled out the trank gun. It looked enough like the kind with bullets that Connor probably wouldn’t know the difference. Time to be the bad guy.

  Aiming at Connor, Flynn strode into the room with all the confidence he could muster, keeping his expression stony. For his plan to work, Connor had to believe Flynn wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Hopefully, that would be enough, and no one would actually get hurt.

  Connor looked up with alarm. Glimpsing Flynn, he jumped to his feet and held up his wand.

  “Don’t bother.” Flynn approached the Orb. “Your spells won’t work on me, and I’ll have pulled this trigger before you get the chance to try anything else.”

  “Flynn?” Connor’s face fell with dismay. “I didn’t bolt the door…”

  “Should’ve paid attention.” Flynn straightened his arm, pointing the gun right at Connor’s face. “Stay back.”

  Connor smiled wryly. “You won’t shoot me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Flynn was somewhat surprised by his own firmness. He must have sounded convincing because Connor’s smile faded into a look of desperation.

  “Flynn, I know you’re here for the Rising, but you’ve got it all wrong. The Defiants aren’t evil anarchists like Calhoun would have you believe. Storm—”

  “—sent a draugr to kill my mom and a fangbeast to kill my friend. You’re brainwashed, Connor! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Yes, I do. You’re the one who doesn’t! You must’ve figured it out by now—I let the Defiants in the day of my father’s speech. We were going to broadcast a message of equality across the Triumvirate. Isn’t that what your mom believed in?”

  Flynn gritted his teeth. “Don’t talk about her.”

  “You saved my life once, so I know you’re one of the good guys. Please, hear me out. When the N-Book I was using to communicate with Storm disappeared, I thought the Triumvirate was about to find out I was the insider. The last thing he’d told me to do was to get the Orb. He wanted it for the same reason you do: to let the people know the truth. I panicked and stole it from Everett’s office, and I ran away from the Academy. But Storm says that now’s not the time to—”

  “I’m not gonna stand here and listen to your brainwashed—”

  “It’s the truth.” Connor firmed his expression. “If you don’t want to listen to me, then listen to Vivian Nightsider. According to Storm, she—”

  “Mention her again, and I’ll pull this trigger for real.” Flynn scowled. “Now, stay out of my way.”

  Connor stepped in front of the Orb. “Shoot me, then, because I won’t let you take it.”

  Dammit, Connor, stop trying to be the hero! The guy was as stubborn as Aurelia. Maybe that’s why they were friends. “Don’t test me, Connor.”

  “You won’t kill me. It’s all talk, and I can tell.”

  If Flynn had been holding a real gun, he would have been at a loss. But it was a trank gun in his hand, and he’d wasted enough time. He lowered the gun to Connor’s shoulder and fired.

  Connor shouted a spell and threw a force field from his wand, blocking the projectile.

  The trank dart flew back at Flynn, and he barely dodged in time. Damn, did I nearly trank myself?

  Connor held his wand out in front of him. The translucent blue force field shimmered from its tip. “You won’t get past me.”

  Flynn lowered his arm. The trank would do him little good, but it wasn’t the only weapon he had. He sighed and stuffed the gun into his bag. “Okay, so I won’t kill you.”

  Connor relaxed visibly. “Can we talk now?”

  “Sure. But first, I’ve got a question. Did they teach the Scholars hand-to-hand combat at the Academy?”

  Connor looked puzzled. “No, we focus on—”

  “Good.” Flynn pivoted and threw one of those sidekicks Aurelia had loved nailing him with. His foot cut through the force field, and his heel connected with Connor’s stomach. Connor flew back and crashed into the wall behind him. His head banged against its hard surface, and he slumped to the ground, eyes closed.

  Flynn had only meant to force Connor back, and guilt gnawed at him at the sight of the other’s unconscious face. If it had been Storm, Flynn might have taken some pride in his well-executed maneuver. But Connor didn’t deserve to get hurt when he didn’t even know what he was doing.

  Flynn reminded himself that any bruises or concussions Connor received could be patched up with the wave of a wand. His gaze fell on the Orb, and he reached through the white mist. The Orb dropped, and he caught it with both hands. It was heavier than he’d expected. Without its magic, it looked like a plain glass ball. Seemed bizarre that such a small, insignificant-looking thing contained the fate of the nation.

  He dropped the Orb in his bag. The moment he released it, its blue glow returned, and the light penetrated the bag’s brown cloth. He’d look like a freaking beacon running through Ember with that, and every Defiant would know where to find him. Annoyed, he pulled the Orb out again. He’d have to hold it the entire way back.

  He left the house and paused before entering the alley, mentally running through the turns he would have to take to get back to Calhoun and the Risers. The last thing he wanted was to end up on the wrong side of the village and have to trek around.

  “Flynn!” Connor’s voice shot through the door. Evidently, he’d awakened.

  Alarmed, Flynn tore down the alley. Clutching the heavy Orb in both hands made running awkward, but he couldn’t let that slow him down.

  A white flare exploded in the sky, briefly illuminating the dark village. Connor must have signaled for help.

  Flynn cursed. Should’ve kicked him harder. He dashed between the dank wooden buildings, zigzagging through the crooked alleys. Spotting a movement ahead, he ducked into the space between two buildings. A thin woman with dark, chin-length hair ran out of one of the houses ahead and held up a wand.

  Flynn glanced back. The alley behind him appeared to run parallel to the one he’d been heading down. It would take him in the right direction, and he wouldn’t have to risk drawing attention to himself by confronting the woman. He walked backward toward it, keeping his eyes on the alley in case the woman approached. A stench wafted toward him. From the sounds of grunting, the building to his left was a barn. Maybe the pigs can cover the sound of my walking.

  Glimpsing a light, he froze. The woman crossed the gap between buildings. The light came from the illuminated tip of her wand. Her footsteps stopped; she must have been waiting for something just out of Flynn’s view.

  Voices sounded from every direction—people telling each other to “spread out” and “find him.” Any minute, that woman could decide to check out the alley. And if she called for backup, he’d be outnumbered. He had to hide and wait for them to leave before he could escape.

  A rectangular window gaped at the end of the barn beside him. Seeing nowhere else to go, Flynn approached. He pressed his elbows into the ledge and started climbing in. This would be a lot easier if I didn’t have the damn Orb in my hands…

  His elbow slipped, and he tumbled into the barn. He tightened his grip on the Orb so it wouldn’t fall from his grasp. He landed on his back in a bed of hay. A large black-and-white cow, whose stall he’d apparently invaded, stared down at him and grunted.

  Well, moo to you too. If he’d been anywhere else, he might have taken a moment to appreciate his first close-up encounter with a farm animal—or any kind of animal that wasn’t trying to kill him.

  He held his breath, listening. Outside the barn’s window, a light appeared and drew closer. The woman had apparently decide
d to explore the alley after all. Flynn scrambled toward the window and crouched against the wall under it, flattening himself as much as possible.

  The light fell on the barn’s interior. The woman must have been looking inside. Flynn’s lungs felt like they would explode, but he didn’t dare breathe. He hoped the anxious drumming of his heart didn’t sound as loud outside his own head as it did to him. Nothing but cows and pigs here… Keep walking…

  The cow walked up to the window, its hoofs clopping against the ground. A frustrated sigh drifted through the window, and the light faded. The woman must have turned her wand elsewhere.

  Flynn glanced up at the cow. Thanks for the cover, buddy.

  He didn’t dare exhale until her footsteps faded away. When he finally did, his lungs seemed to collapse in relief. He waited for a moment then chanced a look out the window. The woman was nowhere in sight.

  He climbed back out the window and returned to the alley. Hopefully, that was the closest he’d come to being spotted. As he crossed an intersection, a sharp crack pierced the air, and something whizzed by his ear. He spun. A man holding a gun stood directly to his left, barely visible under a flickering yellow streetlamp. Flynn had practically run right into him.

  No time to think—Flynn swept his leg toward the man’s outreached hand and knocked the gun out of his grasp before he could fire again. The man didn’t have a wand, but with the Orb in his hands, Flynn couldn’t reach for his trank. So he launched a sidekick at the man’s stomach, glad that Aurelia had drilled that move into his muscle memory.

  The man stumbled. Straightening, he yelled, “He’s here!” He lunged for the gun on the ground.

  Realizing he’d have to knock the man out or risk finding himself surrounded, Flynn threw another sidekick. But the man was farther than he had expected, and the blow didn’t do much other than make the man scowl.