The Harbinger

by Candace Wondrak

  Only three kids from her high school class had started at the Academy. Other than Cara and Faith, there had been a nerdy kid named Maximilian, but he didn’t last a month, trying to do both.

  Faith was glad regular high school was over. She was glad she got out of the last two years of it thanks to the Academy’s transition program. She had been an official high school graduate when she was sixteen years old.

  Cara sat in her assigned seat near the door and, as the other students filtered in, Faith slid into the seat beside her. Cara wore bright colors, her shirt the same blue as her eyes, her blonde hair tied back into a braid that was pinned to her head in a swirl. Her notebook was out already, and she looked eager to continue the lesson about the I.D.’s criminal procedures and working with the F.B.I. and local police.

  “You seem tired,” Cara said once she saw the bags under Faith’s eyes.

  “Yeah, I slept, but I didn’t sleep well.” Maybe because she was nervous her mother would drag her out of class as she often did when she got in trouble. “How was your weekend?” It was, for the first time in a while, one weekend they didn’t spend together.

  “Boring. I hate family reunions.”

  “At least you have a family to be reunited with.”

  Cara shrugged. “I’d rather have a close-knit, tiny family like yours.”

  If you can call three people and a bunch of cats a family, sure, Faith thought dryly.

  “How was yours?” she asked.

  Faith leaned closer, lowering her voice as the teacher walked in the room and got his laptop set up, “I…may have gone on a hunt.”

  “You did not!” Cara had to cover her mouth and dropped to whisper, “I mean, no way. An unsanctioned hunt?” The words were like blasphemy on her tongue, Faith knew, because she was a by-the-books kind of girl. The kind of girl who blushed anytime a somewhat cute guy looked at her.

  Not that there was anything wrong with that. Sometimes, Faith wished she could be that sweet and innocent-looking. It’d be a great tool to catch the I.D.’s targets off-guard with.

  “I did, but I got caught.” As Faith said it, Cara’s eyes widened.

  “How are you not in trouble right now?”

  “I got them to think my grandma was my dorm mother.”

  Cara giggled. “They didn’t check in on it?” She sat back, hitting her mechanical pencil on the side of her desk. “Wow. You are so lucky, Faith. If I would’ve tried that, I’d have some kind of suspension.”

  “I know.” Faith leaned back, moving her hands behind her head. She was about to pat herself on the back and say how good she was, but she was interrupted by the teacher, who called her name sternly.

  “Faith.” He pointed to the door, where two I.D. agents stood amongst the incoming flux of students.

  Cara gave her a supportive, sympathetic look as she stood, grabbed her bag, and walked to the agents. Sighing, Faith said, “Shall we?” Like she’d done this so many times before. Which, okay, she had.

  The two agents escorted her down the hall. Through the Academy they went, passing the office she thought they were taking her to, her mother’s, and straight to the one office she promised her mother she’d never wind up in: the President’s.

  Not the President of America, but the Academy. Two very different people with two very different types of power to their name.

  After the secretary buzzed her in, Faith scooted from her escorts’ sides, slouching into the office that apparently had an amazing view of one of Central Park’s clear, chemically-treated lakes. Fish swam by the window, pausing to stare at her in the modern, sleek office space.

  The President herself stood near her desk, leaning her backside against it, arms held behind her back. Her greying hair was held in a tight bun, and Faith could definitely see where her mother got her fashion inspiration from. Professional to a point. “Miss Blackwell. Have a seat.”

  Faith moved to a chair only two feet from where she stood. “How are you, Tullie? It’s been how long?”

  “Not long enough,” she said. “And that’s President Tullie to you. Simply because your mother is the director of this Academy branch does not mean you get to skirt the rules and act out.”

  “I’m going to assume this is about last night,” Faith slowly spoke, watching the President for her reaction.

  The woman didn’t even blink. She was good.

  “Usually, I am a believer about that saying of assuming, however—” Tullie went around her desk and sat down, her tall chair swiveling until she was facing Faith. “—I got a report from two of my best agents, and a hastily-written add-on from their new apprentice. Seems you had a busy, illegal night, hmm?” Her eyebrows, still dark with pigment, rose. When Faith did not answer, she added, “I do wonder what your mother would think of that, Miss Blackwell.”

  “Honestly,” Faith said, “I was hoping that she’d never find out, especially not if I failed.”

  “If you failed?” Tullie shook her head. “You were bound to fail, Faith. You have not undergone the intense training initiates go through during their sixth and seventh year. You may be tough, but you are not strong. Your mind may be sharp, but it is nowhere near the sharpness it must be to work in the field.”

  Her jaw set. “I could’ve got him if I wasn’t interrupted.”

  “And how would you have done that? You have no Victi and no squadmates. Biello could’ve easily overpowered you, had he wished to.”

  “He didn’t look that strong.”

  “No, but looks are deceiving.” Tullie leaned forward, searching for a piece of paper on her desk, even though it was the topmost one. “Do you recognize this?” She pushed the paper toward Faith, and she hesitantly took it.

  A permission slip, signed by her mother a few months ago.

  Shit.

  She had forgotten. How?

  Tullie smiled, though it was mirthless. “Ah, I see. You did forget, somehow, amongst your planning and your unsanctioned hunt.”

  Faith was as confused as ever. How could she forget the end-of-the-year field trip all the fifth years took across the gateway to the Second? It was their first time stepping foot into the other world, their first time being able to see the Elven in their homeland, learn their culture and how to work together with them and all that jazz.

  How in the hell did Faith forget?

  All fifth years went, save for those whose parents did not feel comfortable with their children crossing worlds, and those kids who planned on working behind a desk at the Academy. But anyone who wanted to work in the field as an agent or a recon specialist, well, it was a requirement.

  “It would be a shame if I were to not allow you to accompany your class, wouldn’t it?”

  “Tullie—President Tullie—you can’t. I have to go.”

  “Why? So you can run off and do as you please, like you did last night?”

  Faith vehemently shook her head. “No. I promise. I will be on my best behavior.” She hated groveling. Really, she did, but she had to be an agent. She wasn’t meant for a desk job. And she sure as shit didn’t want to go to college like everybody else and live an average existence.

  “Your promises mean nothing to me,” Tullie remarked, and a chill went down Faith’s spine. “But I would hate to force you into a job that you loathe. You do show remarkable promise, Miss Blackwell, much like your mother. However, you must go by protocol. No more unsanctioned hunts. Is that understood?”

  Faith was all too quick to nod in agreement. She’d kiss her heels if she had to.

  “You depart next Monday. If you should act up in class or outside it, I will revoke my decision and force you to remain here. Do not make me regret my kindness.” Tullie’s eyebrows twitched together before saying, “You may go back to class.”

  She got up and headed for the closed door, pausing as she asked, “And my mother?”

  “Your mother does not know of your extracurricular activities.” Tullie’s eyes gleamed in the fluorescent light. “See to it that you cea
se and desist, so that you do not make me the bearer of bad news.”

  Faith was escorted back to class to find it was already halfway in session. She snuck to the back of the room, her nerves jittery. She needed caffeine. Or candy. Something to chew on. Something to focus on.

  As she sat, Cara turned her head and met her eyes, questioning.

  It’d have to wait until lunch. She wasn’t about to get in more trouble and have her phone taken away.

  During the lunch hour, the Academy’s students were set free on the lawn, amongst the trees and the birds. It allowed for some privacy as Cara and Faith sat in their usual place near a small pond, where ducks and geese gathered.

  “You want to tell me what that was about?” Cara asked as she re-pinned her braid to her head. “You were gone for a while.”

  “I spent most of the time walking,” she said. “I met with Tullie.”

  “The President? Why? Did she know what you did last night?”

  Faith nodded. “Of course she did. I should’ve known I would be in those agents’ reports. Plus, I think Finn remembered that I sort of blew up a robo-cat in his face.” The memory brought a smile to her lips, but the smile faded when she noted Cara’s expression.

  “Finn? Finn was with them? How’d he look? I heard the getup looks good on him.”

  A shrug of her shoulders beneath her jacket. “He looked…kind of the same. Beefier. I think he got the strength implant, because I don’t remember his hair being that red.”

  “Wow. So he’s strong, huh?” Cara smiled as she bit into her sandwich.

  Faith waited a moment before asking, “Imagining those strong arms of his pinning you down, Cara?”

  Her cheeks instantly turned crimson, and Faith knew she was a bad friend. She couldn’t help it. Cara was begging to be teased, so obviously daydreaming about Finn like that. The fact that Faith herself used to do the same didn’t matter.

  “No!” she instantly said, the redness spreading from her cheeks to her entire face and soon, her whole neck. “No, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know exactly what you meant. Do I have to divulge my grandma’s wisdom to you, too?” There was a pause as she tried to remember the precise wording. “Don’t trust anything with a penis. No, no, that’s not right…”

  Cara held out a hand, stopping her. “Please, don’t. That’s enough. I don’t—I was just, I don’t know. It’s cool to imagine that in a few years, that could be us.”

  “Not with the big, veiny muscles, I’m assuming.” Again, with the assuming. Faith nearly smacked herself.

  Giggling, Cara said, “No. Not with the muscles. Although I wouldn’t mind the reflex implant. My reflexes are nowhere near as good as they should be if I’m going to do recon.”

  “Your reflexes are fine for recon. Plus, with that innocent face of yours, no one will suspect you work for the Division.”

  “Well,” she said, turning her nose up at Faith, “we can’t all get into trouble now, can we?” Cara giggled. “So, what’s the news on the President? Did she give you a suspension?”

  Shaking her head, Faith explained, “No. I didn’t really get in trouble. She just said, basically, that she’s watching me and that I better not mess up again, otherwise she won’t let me go on the field trip.”

  Cara’s mouth formed a round O. “That’s coming up, isn’t it?”

  Faith smiled. “Next Monday, actually.” She was hit lightly on her shoulder by her friend. “Ow—what was that for?”

  “You better stick with me this weekend. No getting into trouble for you. I am not going to the Second alone.”

  “You wouldn’t be alone. There are other kids there—”

  Cara gave her a look. “We both know I don’t like anyone else. You’re it.”

  “Except for the beautiful Elf in the Second who will sweep you off your feet,” she teased, unable to hold back, laughing her heart out when her friend’s face once more turned cherry red. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. If anyone’s going to be swept off their feet, it’s me.”

  At that, Cara doubled over, clutching her stomach like something was going to pop out of her belly button.

  Faith blinked. Sure, she deadpanned it, but it wasn’t that funny.

  For the next week, Faith Blackwell did her best to stay out of trouble. She participated in class, did all of her homework, and even turned it in. Her teachers were shocked that she was trying so hard. Her nights were spent on the phone, talking and laughing with Cara, and trying to avoid the discerning glances and penis-talk from her grandma. She prayed she wouldn’t have to see her mother before the trip.

  She should’ve known better than to hope for something as impossible as that.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning. The fifth years who turned in their permission slips chatted and gathered in the parking lot where a charter bus sat, its driver loading the luggage into the compartments below the seats. An older gentleman, he barely spoke a single word when Faith handed him her rolling luggage.

  Every fifth year wore a clean uniform, something they never did in their daily lives because the Academy did not enforce the dress code unless it was a special occasion. Like today. Black pants, grey dressy shirts that were labeled on the back Academy. The only thing left to the students’ discretion were their shoes, any jewelry, and their hairstyles. They had to give the best impression to the Elves, apparently.

  Faith was in line behind Cara, towards the middle of the group of fifth years huddling in the line to get on the bus when she heard the students behind her muttering various exclamations and curious statements about the Director. She thought about stopping, she thought about pausing to see just what her mother wanted, but Faith decided against it, knowing that, whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

  A harsh “Faith Blackwell. You better not get on that bus without speaking to me first” did the trick.

  Faith looked to Cara, who nodded and said, “I’ll save you a seat.”

  After her friend disappeared on the bus, she was slow to move out of the line and around the crowd, to where her mother stood with arms crossed. Her brown hair was in a tight bun, similar to the President’s style. She wore minimal makeup on her pale skin; she said it was a waste of time. Her body was snug in a blue suit that hugged her curves enough to make anyone realize she was a woman, but not enough to be unprofessional.

  “Hello,” Faith said, drawing out the final word, “Mom.”

  “Faith. Is there anything you want to tell me before you go?” Her mother tilted her head, her brown eyes boring into her. “Anything at all that you’d like to tell your mother before going off into the Second for a week?” When Faith gave her a blank look, she added, “Anything that may have happened that you thought you could hide from me?”

  Faith waited a moment before saying, “I have a slight feeling you might already know. Call me psychic.”

  Her mother’s head nodded sternly. “I know what you did last week, and I’m not happy to hear it through the grapevine.”

  She glanced to the bus; they were still loading up, so she had a little more time. “How did you find out?”

  “The other day a new hunter came to me with concerns that my daughter was avoiding punishment for her actions simply because she was my daughter. Imagine my surprise when he hands me a copy of the reports detailing the events of that night.”

  Finn. The bastard.

  “I don’t know what you were thinking, going off like that on your own. The Division assigns squadmates for a reason. You’re safer and stronger together. Apart, you are nothing. And as an untrained fifth year, you are even less than that. What were you thinking?”

  The last few kids lingered before getting on the bus, wanting to listen to the Director scold her child.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” Faith said exactly what her mother wanted to hear. “I just wanted to do something. Going to class every day is boring.”

  “There are things you must learn before being trusted out in the field.” F
or once, Penelope Blackwell’s face softened. “You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve ended your career with the I.D. before it even began.” And, just like that, the softness hardened into stone. “You’re lucky I’m not pulling rank and forbidding you from this trip. But I did see fit to change one thing on your itinerary to the Second, as punishment for not telling me of your stunt.”

  Years ago, Faith would’ve made the point that she didn’t tell her mother of the stunt because she never saw her mother much, not anymore, not after she was promoted to her position ten years past. But today Faith didn’t feel like saying anything of the sort. She only asked, “What did you change?”

  And then, when Penelope smiled a smug smile, Faith knew.

  With a huff as the driver honked, she stormed onto the bus, sitting in the empty seat beside Cara. Before her friend could ask what was wrong, Faith muttered, “Finn told her. And I have a feeling I won’t be studying at the apothecary with you.”

  Each permission slip had a list of possible jobs to shadow, to help the students learn more about the Second. Its economy, its peoples, the religions and cultures and all that fun stuff. Naturally, Faith and Cara signed up for the same thing, but now thanks to her screw-up, she was probably going to spend most of the week alone, with people she didn’t particularly like.

  “What?” Cara whined, hitting her head on the glass as the driver started the hour-long journey to the designated gateway. It mostly involved sitting in traffic. In all honesty, they could’ve walked there faster, luggage or not. “That’s a bummer.”

  “It’ll still be fun, though,” Faith said as she nudged her. “We’ll get to learn about their culture and wildlife and…yeah, I’m boring myself here too.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on Cara’s shoulder. “Wake me when we’re there.”