Flynn Nightsider and the Edge of Evil

by Mary Fan

  Flynn nodded, too tired to do anything but accept that explanation. “Okay.”

  “After Storm discovered Calhoun’s true purpose, Calhoun tried to use the promise of power to lure him. But even Storm thought the Portal was too dangerous, so he set out to stop the Rising. Yet he still wanted to fight the Triumvirate, so he formed the Defiants and gave them two targets. At first, he kept them secret and lived a double life. Your mom was also a Defiant. There was a period of time, about thirteen years ago, when she led them in Storm’s absence. He’d lost his memory after a fight with the Risers and went back to his old life as a Sentinel. Then he saw her and remembered she was his friend, which was strange because she was a Norm. That caused his memories to start returning. A few months later, he recalled that the Triumvirate had executed your dad. He was so furious that he stole an Eye Stone and let everyone know that the Defiants were out there, fighting the Triumvirate, and that he was leading them.”

  Thirteen years ago—Flynn recalled how his mother had told him to go to Storm in case of trouble and then to forget it a few months later. This must have been why. Bits of information clicked together in his head, and a realization dawned. “He didn’t kill her… The Sentinels did. She was a Defiant, so they saw her as an enemy of the state, and then they lied to make themselves look like the heroes who’d been trying to save her. The draugr… it was trying to shield her.”

  Kylie nodded. “Yes, the Triumvirate was all about how things looked, and saying that Storm had killed your mom both made the Defiants look like murderers and kept them from admitting they’d shot down an unarmed woman.”

  “What about the other anarchist attacks we heard about?” Flynn recalled how his mom used to read stories about how monsters had been unleashed in Triumvirate cities and shake her head with horror, saying, “This is wrong.” He’d thought she meant that the anarchists’ actions were wrong, but now, he realized that she could have meant something else. “Were they all Triumvirate lies, too?”

  Kylie nodded. “Everything you’ve heard about the Defiants—from both the Triumvirate and Calhoun—was untrue.”

  I should have known. Flynn swallowed hard. Why had everything seemed so certain before, only to come across as blatant falsehoods now that the truth was revealed? It seemed he couldn’t even trust his own mind to sort out what was real and what wasn’t. Everything seemed to go back to the Triumvirate’s lies. If they hadn’t told him Storm was behind his mom’s death, he wouldn’t have set out in search of the truth, and no one would have known he was the Untouchable One. And yet, after all that he’d been through, he still didn’t know the whole truth behind Vivian Nightsider’s death. “Did Storm tell you what my mom was doing the night she died?”

  “She and several other Defiants, including Storm, were on a mission to free some of their allies who’d been captured by the Triumvirate, but they got caught and had to split up to escape. The draugr you saw, Storm sent it to follow your mom, hoping it could protect her.” Kylie paused and pursed her lips. “I’m trying to remember if there’s anything I left out, but I think that’s it.”

  “You left out one thing. How’d you get here?”

  “Oh, right.” She gave a sheepish smile. “I followed you to the Palace, but Connor appeared beside me before I could get in. He goldlighted me here, told me he was trying to get as many people out as he could. I didn’t know what was going on until they came back after the battle.”

  Too many revelations, too many changes. Flynn was grateful that Kylie, at least, was being straight with him. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” Kylie placed a hand on his arm. “Everything is so wrong. But we’ll get through this. We’re Secondstringers. We’re used to having it rough.”

  “That’s true.” Flynn tried to smile. “How are you holding up?”

  Kylie bit her lip, and her eyes glistened. “I thought we’d be celebrating freedom by now, and I’d have Brax back. I thought…” She trailed off. “It’s hard, but I’ll be fine. I have to be. The fight’s not over.”

  Flynn nodded. She was right, and he had to find it in him to keep going as well.

  She stood from her chair. “Anyway, everyone’s gathering in the middle of Ember in a few minutes. There’s a Procul Mirror set up there, and Calhoun’s about to address the nation. I know you probably don’t want to see him again, but I thought I’d let you know.”

  “I’ll come. Might as well see what he’s up to. And it’s not like—” Flynn broke off before he could say, “things can get any worse.” It seemed that each time he thought that, his world unraveled further. So he finished with, “It’s not like I won’t see him at some point anyway.”

  Exhaustion and weakness still made him feel as though he was being crushed by an invisible stone, but he forced himself to get up. The floor swayed beneath him. He grabbed the bed for support but dropped back down onto the mattress.

  Kylie’s expression filled with worry. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Flynn placed a hand on his head. “Just got up too quickly.”

  Kylie grabbed a water bottle from the table at the edge of the room, which Flynn hadn’t noticed, and handed it to him. “Here, maybe this will help.”

  “Thanks.” Flynn took it and regarded the long, rectangular table. It looked as if it could have been transplanted from a hospital. Medical supplies—syringes, bandages, empty plastic bags with clear liquids in them attached to narrow tubing, and more—covered it from edge to edge. He looked down at himself, for the first time noticing that he no longer wore his bloodstained clothes but had apparently been changed into a clean T-shirt and pants. Bandages around his upper arm poked out of his sleeve, and when he moved, he felt others wrapping his leg. While he was unconscious, someone had cleaned him up and bandaged his wounds. And since he couldn’t be goldlighted, someone must have carried him out of the Palace of Concord and driven for hours to bring him here. Apparently, the Defiants had put a lot of effort into keeping him alive.

  Yet the last time he was in Ember, he’d been on a mission from the Lord of the Underworld.

  “Why’d they do it?”

  Kylie tilted her head. “What?”

  “The Defiants—why’d they bring me here? I released the Lord. That makes me evil, right? I fought against Storm, refused to listen to him, would have killed him if I’d had the chance… Why did he bother saving me?”

  “Because we need you.” A low voice sounded from the doorway. Flynn looked over. Storm stood there with crossed arms, looking down at him with grim black eyes. “Those of us with magic can drive back the Lord, even trap him, but only the Untouchable One can destroy him. He’s desperate to find you so he can force you to reopen the Portal then kill you before you can become a threat. But the entire Capital was in chaos, which made it difficult for him to find us when we escaped with you, especially since we cast shield spells around everything near you. He hasn’t sent anyone to Ember because he’s too busy setting up his new seat of power, but it’s only a matter of time before he finds us here. We’ll be prepared to keep you away from him.”

  “Everyone wants a piece of the Untouchable One,” Flynn said dryly.

  “Even if you were an ordinary Norm, I still would have saved you. I swore to your mother long ago that I’d look out for you.” Storm’s expression became sorrowful. “I asked Connor Salvator to keep an eye on you at the Academy, but I should have done more to free you from Calhoun’s influence. I fear I’ve failed Vivian. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what happened on the eighty-seventh Day of Glory. I blame myself for letting her get involved, but I did not kill her.”

  “I believe you.” Flynn furrowed his brow as a memory surfaced. “Calhoun summoned her spirit once. I wonder why she didn’t tell me who he was. He was right beside me. She must have seen him.”

  Storm frowned. “What did she say?”

  “It was right a
fter Tamerlane died. I thought you were behind it, and I wanted revenge more than anything. She told me not to let one death distract me from our ultimate goal.”

  “Those were the same words she spoke to me.” Storm’s frown deepened. “How was she summoned?”

  “By Nether Candle.”

  “Ah.” Storm’s expression relaxed. “Nether Candles have many uses. It wasn’t a spirit he summoned. It was a memory—mine. She was speaking about your father’s death. Calhoun must have captured it when he attacked me with an amnesia potion all those years ago.”

  No wonder she acted so strangely. Even that had been a lie. Flynn let the information sink in then drew a breath. “So what happens now?”

  “You closed the Portal, which prevented even more demonic forces from being unleashed, but the Lord already has what he needs.” Storm’s tone was grave. “The last time the Lord was released, he sought power through intimidation. This time, it seems he’s realized that manipulation is more effective for making people believe. I suppose that’s a trick he learned from the Triumvirs. Until he gains enough strength to open the Portal again—or makes you do it for him—he will play the part of Frank Calhoun. Those of us who know what he really is and try to expose him will be ridiculed and persecuted as mad anarchists, just as the Triumvirate once ridiculed and persecuted those who suggested that the Lord was not destroyed. Once the Portal is reopened, he will turn the earth into the new Underworld. That’s the future that lies ahead if we fail.”

  Flynn blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. Apologies seemed worthless. How could “sorry” come close to expressing his regret? How could such a small word mean anything? It was too much to ask for forgiveness. He wanted to explain everything he’d thought he’d been doing, and yet although the reasons were true, they felt like excuses.

  So he simply said, “I’ll stop him.”

  Storm’s face warmed into a hint of a smile, and he regarded Flynn with black eyes that seemed at once stern and sympathetic. After a moment, he left the room.

  Still feeling light-headed, Flynn drank the water Kylie had given him and tried standing again. The room started spinning, and he held on to the bedpost for support.

  Kylie took his arm and helped him up. “I guess we’re Defiants now.”

  Flynn shrugged. “Secondstringer, Riser, Untouchable, Defiant—they can call me whatever they want. All I know is that I’m gonna fix this mess.”

  Flynn followed Kylie out of the room. She kept her grip on his arm, as if afraid he’d pass out again at any moment. Judging by how the world kept tilting, she had reason to worry.

  They left the small house and walked down the streets of Ember. The streetlamps were brighter than the last time he’d been there, and the village looked even dingier, since there were fewer shadows to smooth out the cracks in the walls or hide the muddy contents of the gutters.

  A couple of turns later, Flynn arrived at an open, paved area. Several people had gathered already, and they all faced the rectangular Procul Mirror attached to the wall of one of the houses. Presently, it showed a reflection of the audience within its simple black frame.

  Flynn found a spot at the back of the crowd and leaned against the wall of a building. Kylie remained beside him. Feeling dizzy, he closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again.

  A movement caught his eye: a thick black ponytail with red and gold streaks bouncing around in the crowd before him. Recognizing it as Aurelia’s, Flynn craned his neck. She stood beside Connor, talking animatedly about how many new monsters had emerged from the Underworld—creatures that hadn’t walked the earth before and that she’d been the first to face. Somewhere in her bubbling chatter, she must have glimpsed Flynn, since she abruptly stopped. She met his gaze with a hard glare.

  “Aurie?” Connor glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything.” Aurelia turned back to him. “I don’t know how I’m gonna fix this situation.”

  “Well, you won’t have to do it alone.” Connor put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

  “Cut it out. You know I hate mushy stuff.” Aurelia pulled back, but her expression brightened.

  Flynn could almost see the bond between those two. Even if there was nothing romantic between them, they certainly were close friends. Meanwhile, Aurelia would probably never talk to Flynn again after what he’d done. He looked away, surprised at how unhappy that made him, how agitated and disappointed.

  I’m a damn idiot. He slammed his head back against the wall, hating himself.

  The Procul Mirror glowed blue, and the chatter of the crowd ceased. A moment later, the image of a conference room with white walls and a round black table in the center appeared. Flynn recognized it as one of the rooms in the Palace of Concord the Triumvirs had liked using as a background for their speeches.

  Calhoun sat down at the table. Even though Flynn knew it was the Lord of the Underworld in human form, he couldn’t help thinking of him as simply Calhoun. He still wore that face, after all—the face of a seasoned leader.

  Calhoun placed his elbows on the table. “Today, we celebrate the triumph of the Rising. The Triumvirate is no more. The tyrants who created it are imprisoned, and the people will decide how they should answer for their actions. Today marks the first day of the New Nation, which will bring equality and prosperity to all, Norms and Enchanters alike. Our days of oppression are over.” He turned to the side and beckoned someone out of view to come forward. No one appeared, and Calhoun widened his gesture. “Come on down, kid. Don’t be shy.”

  Brax walked into view, sauntering with his usual carefree swagger. The half smile on his face indicated that he found the situation pretty ridiculous. But behind the familiar nonchalance, a haunted look lingered in his hazel eyes. He was a lot skinnier than Flynn remembered, with hollows under his cheeks that hadn’t been there before, and his mahogany complexion had taken on a grayish tinge.

  Though Flynn was glad to see that Brax was at least alive and in one piece, the image of his friend in such proximity to that manipulative monster of a man made him seethe. I know what you’re doing, Calhoun. I know it’s me you want, and you’re using Brax to get to me.

  Calhoun turned to the audience. “This, my friends, is Braxton Aiza, a former Secondstringer at the Academy of Supernatural Defense, who faced nothing but a future of drudgery, simply because he was born a Norm. You’ve probably seen his face in the papers, labeled as an anarchist. The violent attack they depicted was nothing more than a silly schoolboy prank gone awry. The Triumvirate lied about his age too, since they knew the outrage that would spread if the people knew they intended to kill a child. I won’t let that kind of manipulation and abuse continue. I will put an end to the caste system and free the unjustly imprisoned, like young Mr. Aiza here. Aiza, what will you do now that you have your life back?”

  Brax raised his eyebrows. “If I say ‘gank some monsters,’ can I skip class?”

  Calhoun chuckled. “I forgot to mention—all Secondstringers at the Academy of Supernatural Defense have been promoted to Cadet status. The system was discriminatory to begin with, and we’ll need as many Defenders as we can get with all the supernatural madness that’s been going on. The Triumvirate tried to hide the threat from the people, but the New Nation believes in openness and truth. So those of you who are worried that the monsters will get you, don’t be scared. We’ll protect you, and we won’t ask you for your freedom in exchange.”

  Flynn smiled wryly. So Calhoun was using the same tricks as the Triumvirate, except dressed up in more idealistic language.

  On the Procul Mirror, Brax gave a sarcastic smile as well.

  Calhoun turned to him. “What’s so funny, kid?”

  “That’s a lotta pretty words, Calhoun.” Brax crossed his arms. “Too pretty.”

  “I’ll let you do the talking then. What do you want out of the New Nation?”

 
; “All I want is a shot at living the life I want and to say what I want to say without having to worry about disappearing. I guess I should have a more flowery answer, but that’s about it.”

  “So what kind of life do you want?”

  “Haven’t thought much about it, to be honest. Never had to before. Being a Defender doesn’t sound so bad. But before I worry about monsters, I’m gonna hunt down the Defiants. Those creeps killed my best friend and kidnapped my girlfriend, and I’m gonna end them.”

  Kylie gasped. “They didn’t kidnap me, Brax. They saved me. And Flynn’s alive. He’s right here.”

  Flynn scowled. I don’t know what your endgame is, Calhoun, but I’m gonna get Brax away from you.

  On the Procul Mirror, Calhoun nodded grimly. “Yes, the Defiants are indeed a threat. I’ll make sure you’re involved in hunting them down. I knew both Kylie Varela and Flynn Nightsider, so it’s personal for me too.” He sighed. “I can’t help wondering how I could have kept Tydeus Storm from murdering poor Nightsider. He was a brave kid, like you.”

  Calhoun seemed to look right at Flynn, and Flynn could almost see his eyes glowing red with the demonic powers of the Lord. The Lord of the Underworld was deliberately taunting him with an artificial eulogy while dangling Brax in front of him. His expression appeared to say: I have your friend. Come save him if you dare. Come out, come out, wherever you are…

  Flynn crossed his arms. Trust me. I won’t be very hard to find.

  Calhoun segued into a speech about how he would turn the former Triumvirate into the better world he envisioned, using the same kinds of words that had once lured Flynn into the Rising.

  But Flynn wasn’t listening anymore. All he could think about was how he was going to undo the damage he’d caused and get Brax away from Calhoun. It didn’t matter that his only advantage was immunity to magic. The Lord of the Underworld was the one who should be afraid.