by Maria Amor
“You would represent a threat to any other very strong air-aligned Guardian who actually wanted the job,” Ewan had explained. “It may come up that you have to take the job in order to keep yourself safe.” He had twisted his face into a wry, grimacing grin. “Then too, there are some people who would just kill any competition you might have.”
“You’re—no,” Julia had said, rejecting the idea completely.
“People have killed for a lot less than the possibility of a good, powerful, competent ruler,” Ewan had pointed out. “And I think you know from your history of air-aligned creatures that the fae—to name just one group who owes us allegiance—are not above killing when they think it serves their interest.”
Julia shook herself out of the remembered conversation, looking around her little room. She’d thought a great deal about what Ewan had had to say to her, and she wasn’t sure that she could actually go through with it.
“Where is he?” Dylan should have come through the door already; her grandmother and Ewan would be arriving in an hour to bring her home, and she wanted to have a little time with her friend before they went back to Manhattan.
Just as she was on the verge of whipping herself into a frenzy, Ruth and Ewan came into the room. “Where’s Dylan?” Ruth asked, looking around as if he might just be hiding somewhere.
“I don’t know, he hasn’t come yet,” Julia said, starting to feel afraid instead of angry. “It’s not like him.”
“Ewan, would you please start with Julia and I’ll investigate a bit?” Ruth raised an eyebrow and Ewan nodded.
“What are you starting with me?” Julia crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the Rex Sylphae slightly distrustfully. She had liked him at first, but something about Dylan suddenly not being around when he was supposed to be made her suspect that there was something nefarious going on.
“It’s going to be a little magical procedure,” Ewan said. “The goal is to move the energy through you more quickly, that way you’ll be more adapted when you complete the transition, and can recover faster.”
“Is that going to hurt?” Julia glanced at the door that Ruth had left the room from, wishing that either her grandmother or her friend would come in. Why was she so paranoid about the Rex Sylphae?
“No, it won’t hurt; certainly it won’t be as intense as the spasms generally are,” Ewan said. “Lie back in the bed, and let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Julia gave him another mistrustful look but did as she was told, knowing she didn’t have much choice. Not like I have much of a choice in anything at all these days, she thought irritably.
Julia tried to relax on the bed and then heard Ewan begin to murmur in the language of air, and Julia followed his words absently. There were some that were beyond her knowledge, beyond her level of fluency, but she could hear the commands generally: calling up concentration, visualizing the flow of air energy through her body, directing it.
Julia closed her eyes and let the words ease down into a hum in her ears, feeling the influence of the older Guardian’s command of the element she aligned with. She could sense the energy moving restlessly through her body, rampaging through her cells, starting to line up, the tension starting to ease. She breathed slowly and deeply, and the air-aligned energy seemed to calm down, turning from a howling gale inside of her into a slow, steady breeze that whispered through her veins.
“How is she doing?” Julia opened her eyes and saw her grandmother standing a few feet away, a look of concern on her face.
“I think she’ll be okay through the evening; we’ll have to repeat it tomorrow before the party,” Ewan said. Ruth nodded.
“Where’s Dylan? Did you find him?” Julia sat up in her bed, looking around her grandmother’s form as if to see him.
“They’re looking for him now,” Ruth replied. She took a deep breath, visibly even more deeply concerned. “In fact, some of the other students seem to be misplaced as well.” She said that tartly, and Julia frowned at the cryptic sarcasm.
“Misplaced? Which students?” Julia pushed the blankets off of her lap, her heart beating faster in spite of the magic—she knew that she was going to potentially undo what Ewan had just done, but at the moment she didn’t care.
“We’re still figuring out what’s going on, but apparently, the School of Sandrine is able to lose track of its students,” Ruth said.
A moment later, Guthrie walked into the room, preempting Julia’s questions. “Julia, did Dylan maybe make arrangements to go back to Manhattan with his parents?”
“No,” Julia said. “He was going down with us tonight.”
“We have some of the professors looking for him, along with a few other students who aren’t in any of the usual places,” Guthrie said.
“So, you’re saying he’s lost, and so are several other students,” Julia said flatly.
“Not lost,” Guthrie said quickly. “We haven’t confirmed that they’re not on the campus. They could still be here.”
“Just not in any of the usual places,” Ruth said, her voice dry.
“Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, Ruth, Sandrine is a big campus,” Guthrie said, her voice tight.
“I am very much aware of that, but I was also under the impression that it was a secure campus,” Ruth countered.
“I’m glad that apparently no one was able to kidnap Julia, here,” Ewan contributed. “If students can go missing for any period of time without anyone knowing where they are, it’s small wonder that you wanted someone here to protect her, Ruth.”
“That would have been much more effective if the administration of this school hadn’t insisted that they be separated as much as possible,” Ruth said, casting a dark glance at Guthrie.
“I insisted that the two of them sleep in separate sections because there were too many rumors surrounding them,” Guthrie said. Julia could only barely resist grinning at the dean’s discomfort. “I’m sure you have just as much of an interest as I do in making sure there’s no opening to besmirch your granddaughter’s name.”
“I’m sure that I have a very strong interest in knowing where my granddaughter’s bodyguard is, and why he’s missing,” Ruth said. “I would suggest—respectfully—that it may be more worthwhile for you to put yourself into those efforts.” Julia pressed her lips together and looked down at her hands to avoid snickering at her grandmother’s comment.
“I should check in with the professors looking for the missing—misplaced—students,” Guthrie said. Julia glanced up to see her leave the room, and relaxed slightly against the pillows.
“I don’t like this,” Julia told her grandmother.
“I’m fairly displeased with this myself,” Ruth said, sitting down. “This shouldn’t be able to happen.”
“I noticed that Guthrie didn’t mention who the other students were, or what their alignment was,” Ewan pointed out.
“How much do you want to bet that they’re air-aligned?” Ruth looked in Julia’s direction significantly.
“It would be harder to take someone out of the infirmary than—say—the outer areas of the campus,” Ewan added.
“You think people were abducted?” Julia looked from her grandmother to the older air-aligned Guardian, feeling her heart beating faster.
“Abducted, killed...who knows?” Julia’s heart seemed to stutter almost to a stop in her chest before resuming its normal rhythm. Dylan might be dead? No—he can’t be. There would be evidence, something.
“It was a risk that he knew he was taking—at least in theory,” Ruth pointed out at Julia’s expression. “I didn’t think it would come to something like that—normally minors are protected by our kind—but he might have run into someone who isn’t so ethical.”
Julia stared at her grandmother; it had never entered her mind that either she or Dylan would be at any real risk of an attempt on their lives. She’d felt the threat in her first audience with the council, when she’d been challenged, but it hadn’t felt like a threat to her life itself.
“What cause would be accomplished by killing Dylan?” Julia stared at the older man. “I—that doesn’t make sense.”
“We don’t know that he—or the other students, whoever they are—is dead,” Ruth said firmly.
“You’re right, Ruth—he might just be abducted.” Julia shook her head, not quite able to believe it. Dylan, abducted? With other students? Right before her birthday? She felt her eye sting and tingle with the start of tears, and took a careful, full breath to try and calm the reaction she was feeling. The air-aligned energy inside of her had already begun to grow restless; there was a sensation like wind rustling leaves, instead of just a cool, normal breeze through her veins.
“Go talk to Guthrie,” Ruth suggested to Ewan. “I doubt she wants to hear from me.” Ewan chuckled darkly and left the room; Ruth turned her attention onto Julia. “If he’s gone, then there’s a good chance whoever took him will tip their hand pretty quickly.”
“Why would they?” Julia scowled at her grandmother. “Why would someone take him?”
“To leave you less defended,” Ruth replied. “Your birthday is tomorrow, the party is the next day. This is probably the most difficult time for you.”
“Why couldn’t they have grabbed him before? Or grabbed me instead?” Ruth sighed.
“My girl, the plan is working the way that it should—at least our end of it,” Ruth said. “Dylan knew he could risk something like this happening.”
“We don’t know that he was kidnapped,” Julia insisted. “He...he could have just left, or something, right?”
“With a bunch of other students?” Ruth shook her head. “No.”
Before they could discuss the matter in more depth, the speaker for the PA system crackled to life. “Attention students,” Guthrie’s voice said over the system. “There are several members of the Sandrine community who are apparently missing.”
“Apparently,” Ruth said drily.
“We are initiating an investigation as we speak, in contact with the council,” Guthrie continued. “If you know anything about the whereabouts of Dylan Kelby, Suzanna Nyhe, Azhar Ibrahim, Eliza Duchamp, Tal Brannan, or Keyne Brendan, please speak to a professor or to someone in the administration immediately.” Julia met her grandmother’s gaze; the students that Guthrie had mentioned were all ones who had grown closer to her in the short time since classes had started again, while she was deprived of regular help from Dylan. They were all air-aligned students: Tal, Eliza and Suzanna were Guardians, while Azhar and Keyne were Changelings. They’d all helped her manage the symptoms, and had been in the room with her more than once in the last several days, helping continue the work that Ewan had started.
Ewan came into the room. “They’re well and thoroughly missing, not just misplaced,” Ewan said. “Guthrie contacted the council to begin the investigation.” He met Ruth’s gaze.
“We need to get through the weekend first, and then we can figure out where we go from here,” Ruth said. “The most important thing is that we keep Julia safe through the last of the transition.”
“I would think it’s just as important to figure out what’s going on with Dylan,” Julia said firmly.
“It’s not priority one right now,” Ruth said. “We don’t have any idea where he is—unless Guthrie found some clue?” She looked at Ewan.
“Nothing probative,” Ewan said, shaking his head. “Just evidence that there was a struggle.” Julia pressed her lips together.
“We need to get out of here,” Ruth said. “Let’s get her in the car and get back to Manhattan.” Julia wanted to argue—they had time before the school closed down for the night, and she wanted to have the most information possible about what had happened to Dylan and her other friends. There was a tiny part of her mind that wondered why it couldn’t have been Keegan or Magda instead of Dylan, but Julia knew that was wrong of her.
“Is there any way we can leave someone behind to get whatever details come out before everyone leaves tomorrow?” Julia looked at the two elemental rulers, her heart pounding in her chest, her throat and mouth dry.
“We’ve got someone here,” Ewan said. “We’ll stay informed.” Julia sighed, and resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to go with her grandmother, that she was going to have to get through the weekend—possibly without Dylan or some of her closer friends and allies—before she found out what was going on with her friend and protector.
*
Dylan woke up slowly, his head throbbing, a low hum filling his ears. His mouth tasted awful, and his body ached all over, and he had no idea of where he was—or how he’d ended up there. Shit. He blinked a few times as he came back to himself, and discovered that he was in a room; one he’d never been in before. Four walls, studded with rubies and emeralds. Binding against water-aligned energies, he realized. The bed he was in was just big enough for him, comfortable enough—apart from the fact that the earth and fire-aligned materials in the walls made it impossible for him to truly be comfortable.
He turned over onto his side to get a better look at the room around him: the floor wasn’t warded, but it was stone—he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. The door was more heavily warded even than the walls, with rows of rubies and emeralds and bars of lead and gold.
“Clearly someone doesn’t want me to leave this room,” Dylan said, scrubbing at his face. There was a table, an unwarded door that he assumed led into a bathroom, and a dresser. There were no windows, and the vents for the room were welded in place—and too small for him to put to any use anyway. He sat up in the bed and blinked a few times. How had he ended up in a warded room—presumably locked—without any knowledge of where he was?
Think, Dylan. Think. He rubbed at his temples as he tried to recall what he had been doing last before he woke up in the room. What was the very last thing he could remember clearly?
He’d been at Sandrine, that much Dylan was fairly certain of. He’d known that he needed to get to Julia; classes had ended for the day, and they were supposed to go back to Manhattan for her birthday weekend. Dylan closed his eyes and tried to think in more detail. What was it? He had left class—that much he was certain of. He had been on his way to the dormitories, to grab his bag before heading to the infirmary where Julia was waiting for him.
Had there been some kind of blow to his head? It was throbbing almost enough for it, but Dylan felt along his skull front and back, didn’t feel a bump or a bruise or anything like that. He searched his mind for what could have happened, how he could have been captured—because he knew that he had to have been captured; he clearly wasn’t at the school anymore. At least, as far as you know, you’re not. There had to be rooms—even something like cells—somewhere in the school that he’d never been in before. Until someone comes to check on you, you’re not going to know for sure.
But would anyone come to check on him? Dylan felt a sudden jolt of fear. There was a door, there seemed to be a bathroom; Dylan unsteadily reached his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. Every inch of his body hurt. He shook his head carefully and padded slowly towards the second, open door. It was, in fact, a minimal bathroom: a shower cubicle, a sink, a toilet. There was a towel, and next to the faucet, a glass and a stand with his toothbrush in it. “They were thorough,” he murmured to himself. The dresser had his pajamas and two non-uniform outfits from his dorm room in it.
He had to believe that someone would eventually come to bring him food, or at least check on him; it was too much effort put into his kidnapping for Dylan to think that whoever had taken him would leave him to starve to death. Just for good measure, he tested the main door into the room: almost as soon as his hand closed on the knob, he snatched it back, suppressing a yelp. The knob was coated in iron—it sent a jolt of pain through his body just to touch it, the energy of the coating interacting with his water-aligned energy. He took a deep breath and tried again,
steeling himself against the pain; it was locked fast.
Dylan went back into the bathroom and turned on the faucet on the sink. The water was clean and clear, and Dylan filled the glass, drinking half its contents in a few fast gulps before refilling it, and hobbling back to the bed in the main room of his prison. The water helped ease the headache, and he could think a little better; memories, hazy and incomplete, flitted through his mind in no particular order.
He’d been on his way to the dormitories, to grab his things and meet with Julia before Ruth and Ewan arrived. Dylan could remember someone calling his name, and then a terrible, awful smell, covering his nose and mouth. “Patchouli and vetiver? Maybe some valerian and some good old fashioned ether?” Dylan cringed. No wonder he’d had a headache when he woke up. But he couldn’t remember the source of the smells, only that they’d overwhelmed him all at once, making him weak. He thought—though he wasn’t sure—that he could remember hitting the ground, dimly. He thought he could remember some sense of being moved.
There were flashes: voices he’d heard when he’d barely managed to stir. He remembered the feeling of something binding his wrists and ankles—and thought it had to have been something either earth-aligned or fire-aligned, some material that would defeat his natural energies, sap his strength. He couldn’t recall names, or even anything indicating who had taken him. He thought that he could remember something happening—movement, lights—but he couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t even know how long I’ve been away from campus,” Dylan murmured, realizing it in the same moment. He could have been out for a day or more—and he cringed, knowing that if it had been longer than a day, it was almost time for Julia’s transition to end, for her birthday party that would announce her presence as a full Guardian of the Four Corners to the supernatural world. She would be in danger as soon as that happened—danger that she hadn’t been exposed to so far, at least as much as Dylan knew. Every day that he was away from her was another day that she was in danger.
Not that she hasn’t shown more than a little ability to take care of herself—but she won’t be in total control. Dylan finished off his glass of water and laid back on the bed. He didn’t care much one way or another about his classes; Dylan was fairly confident that being abducted would be a good enough excuse for missed material—and he should, in theory, be allowed to make it up. “Just how long do they plan on holding me for? That’s the real question.” If he didn’t know who had taken him, how was he going to find out how long they planned to hold him? Dylan frowned as he thought he remembered a brief flicker of seeing other people with him, piled next to him, in some darkened space—maybe the back of a car or a van?
