by Maria Amor
The spicy notes of the perfume she liked, with the name that he could never remember, almost pungent but so suited to her that he couldn’t imagine her choosing anything else. He breathed in and almost imagined that she was in the room with him, sitting a few feet away, pretending to watch the TV with him while they both tried to come up with a plan.
“We need to find a way to get rid of the wards,” Dylan murmured, in the water-aligned language he’d been taught nearly from birth. Julia wouldn’t have been able to understand it, and neither would the people holding him captive; but in his mind, she just nodded.
“They’re just using materials stuffed into the walls,” imaginary Julia pointed out. “If you could get your hands on tools so you didn’t have to actually touch them, you could probably at least weaken the wards—right?”
“But where would I get tools?” For just a moment, it occurred to Dylan to think that the fact that he was having an actual conversation with what amounted to an imaginary friend was probably not the best indication of mental health; but he pushed that thought aside. If it worked, it didn’t matter. If it didn’t work, the state of his mind was one of the lower priorities.
The elves would have to have some, wouldn’t they? And they told you they wanted to help you to help me, or at least help me. See if they can smuggle some in for you. But then, Dylan thought in counter to that, there was no way to hide what he was doing, even if he could get the tools he needed. If Bernadette came into his room, she would know what he was doing right away.
“I’d need to find a place where she wouldn’t necessarily look,” Dylan murmured to himself in the water-aligned language. “But then what? Any of those places wouldn’t really be somewhere I could escape from.” His room had no window, only the doors to the bathroom and the corridor leading seemingly only to the sitting area and the other cells the air-aligned kids had been given.
But your captors and the servants come and go. There has to be some other part of this building. The dream version of Julia was making a lot of excellent points, Dylan thought idly. There had to be something more to wherever they were being held than just the rooms and the sitting area; but how much? There was a kitchen, at least—and Dylan counted the number of servants he had seen, the elves who had been in charge of the prisoners.
There were half a dozen of them; there would have to be some kitchen staff. Did Bernadette and Alistair stay in the same building? Dylan certainly felt as if he were being monitored at all times—but then, that didn’t mean that there was an active person monitoring him or the other prisoners all the time.
You should find a way to create a distraction with the others, and then make a getaway. How could he do that, though? Dylan mulled it over a few moments, opening his eyes to keep pretending he was watching TV before closing them again to think of Julia as being in the room with him. If he managed to take some of the wards down in the room, in a way that wouldn’t call attention to what he was doing, then Dylan thought he could regain some of his abilities. A flood in the room would definitely cause some commotion. He smiled slightly to himself and got up, out of the bed, to go into the bathroom for a moment. He didn’t know if there were hidden cameras in the room, or if maybe the TV had a hidden camera watching him, but it was obvious to Dylan that there was some kind of monitoring; his hosts wouldn’t want for him to kill himself or hurt himself while he was in their care—that would destroy their precarious position.
He got a glass of water and brought it back with him into the main area of the room, mulling over what he’d thought of. If he wanted to make the plan happen, he would somehow need to get Tal, or Suzanne, or Eliza—or all of them—to come up with similar plans.
They would need to all create a distraction big enough to make the people running the prison they were trapped in respond to it, and be distracted enough not to be able to respond to their escape attempt right away. But once you’re out, where are you going to go? You have no idea where you even are, or how far away you are from Sandrine, or Manhattan.
Dylan sat on his bed for a while after coming to that realization, temporarily stumped. It wouldn’t do much good to escape from the prison if they had nowhere to go; the woods that he could see from the window in the common area were thick—what if they extended that way for miles, all around the building?
It can’t be that way; they had to get us here, and that had to be in a van of some kind. There must be some kind of driveway. He didn’t know anything about the building they were in except for the rooms he’d seen. He didn’t even know how easy it would be to get out; and then where the best route would be, what direction he could go in to get to the closest town.
Dylan sighed. He and the other air-aligned students seemed to be hopelessly at the mercy of their captors. Just wait for us to say it, and we’ll make you lie. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? At least—if their captors ever released them. The thought of lying to Julia about what he’d been through—minor, comparatively, though it was—filled Dylan with wordless anger.
He had failed her, getting snatched up when she needed him the most, and if he waited for the people holding them to let him go, he would be pressured into failing her again by not telling her the truth. If his life was at stake, would he lie to Julia? He didn’t know.
Just when he was starting to truly lose any sense of hope that his dream-representation of Julia and his own mind could figure out a way to get out of the situation, Dylan heard the telltale sound of someone unlocking his door. It would be one of the servants, with food for him. Dylan set his glass aside and tried to think quickly; depending on who it was, he might be able to get something—anything—from them that would help change or develop his plans.
Solange, a dark-skinned elf with wide-set, gold-toned eyes and moss-like hair in a coppery-bronze color, came into his room, and Dylan considered. She had a tray of water-aligned foods for what Dylan assumed was his lunch: lotus root salad, rice with stir-fried squid, lemonade and a pot of tea, an individual apple crisp. “Hey, Solange,” Dylan said, as the woman closed the door behind her.
“I’m sorry if you were waiting,” Solange said. “One of the air-aligned guests had a bad reaction to something.” Dylan raised an eyebrow, on the point of asking which one; but he quickly decided that he would use her contrite feelings to his own advantage.
“Could I ask you something, Solange? I assume you came to me last on the hall, right?” Solange looked at him for a moment uncertainly, but then shrugged and set his tray down.
“I have a few minutes,” she said.
“Is anyone monitoring this room?” Solange glanced at the TV and pressed her lips together.
“Sometimes,” she said. “When we’re in here, they usually don’t bother because we should be able to handle you, but there are ways for them to watch to make sure that none of you are attempting an escape.” Dylan caught his bottom lip between his teeth and worried it a moment.
“If they’re not watching right now…” Solange gave a half-shrug to indicate that it was the case, “then could you at least tell me where we are, roughly?” Solange’s gold-toned eyes widened and for a moment Dylan was certain that the servant would flee the room in fear of disobeying her orders, rather than say anything at all.
“I don’t know your human geography,” she said apologetically. “But this is a nexus-point for many of the earth-aligned creatures.”
“Do you know where we are in relation to anything else? Even—even just how far we are from other places nearby?” Solange considered that for a moment and shook her head.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she said sadly. Dylan tried not to look too disappointed, but knowing where they were would be critical; he needed to find out, at least, who to ask.
“Is there anything you can tell me about the building we’re in?” Solange presumably had quarters somewhere else in the building, and had access to other parts of the house; she had to have been hired by someone, she had to have seen other members of
the conspiracy involved in holding the students. Solange looked doubtful, and Dylan waited to see if she would answer him or not.
“It’s a home,” Solange said. “This is the back of the house—you and your friends were carried through from the front of the house. This area is blocked off, hidden behind a blind corridor, and a disguised door, in case someone would come to look for you.” Dylan nodded.
“Anything else?” Solange pressed her lips together.
“We are earth-aligned,” she said. “But the people here—who own this place, are fire-aligned.”
“I knew that already,” Dylan said, almost irritably. “Both Bernadette and Alistair are fire-aligned.” Solange shook her head.
“They don’t own this place,” she said. “The real family is rarely here—they’ve sent their son to the big school, Sandrine, and they’ve been staying in Manhattan for about a year.” Dylan’s eyes widened at that. “I don’t know their name,” Solange added sadly.
“Do any of the servants?” Solange shrugged.
“I would ask Odan,” she said. “He is technically in charge—he’s dealing with the girl who had the reaction, healing her.” Dylan nodded. “I have to leave now, if I stay longer they’ll get suspicious.”
“Thank you,” Dylan said. “And thank you for the food.” Solange smiled, and Dylan watched as she turned and quickly left the room, opening the door just enough to let her body through. He had a lot to think about—but the obliging servant had at least helped to cross out some of the most major unknowns in front of him.
CHAPTER 16
Julia stepped out into the courtyard separating the class building from the dining hall and looked around; ever since the attempt to kidnap them from Central Park, Julia had to admit to herself that she’d come to rely on him more and more. The school year would be ending in a little over a month, and Julia still didn’t know where Dylan and her other friends were being held.
Or if they’ll ever be released. Face it: you don’t even really know if they’re still alive. Whoever was holding the six students from Sandrine had sent periodic updates to their families, proving that they were safe, but Julia wasn’t convinced.
“You look like you need to eat,” Magda said, surprising Julia. She turned to look at the fire-aligned Guardian and shrugged.
“Good thing it’s lunch,” Julia said.
“Let me grab a table with the two of you,” Blake said, coming over to them from Julia’s other side. People started coming out of the classroom buildings, headed for the dining hall; if they wanted to avoid being at the end of the line to get food, they would have to hurry. Julia nodded her assent to Blake’s idea and started in the direction of the dining hall doors.
The School of Sandrine staggered its lunchtimes by age group, with the older students eating last. Even with that schedule, there was always a press for the doors, and Julia hurried to at least get a position towards the front of the line with her two friends.
The food in the dining hall wasn’t exceptional; it was good, and there were items that were made to cater to the needs of the different supernatural creatures and the Guardian students’ different alignments, but it was a far cry from what Manhattan had to offer.
Julia stood in line, considering what she wanted to get, and thinking about what the next steps would be to try and retrieve her friends from where they were being held captive.
Julia helped herself to chicken with thyme and honey, salad, pasta with cream sauce, and fresh mixed fruit, along with tea and a glass of orange-pineapple juice; Blake and Magda followed her out of the serving area and into the dining room, and Julia made a beeline for her favorite table, slightly isolated from the rest. There was just enough room for the three of them, and maybe one other person if they squeezed in, but Julia didn’t think anyone would really come to interrupt their conversation.
“I’ve been thinking about Dylan and the others,” Julia said, when Magda and Blake were settled on either side of her at the table; she couldn’t really talk logistics with Magda the way she could with Blake—but at least it would help to have someone else there to bounce thoughts off of. “There has to be someone who knows more than what I’ve been able to find out.”
“Who are you thinking of?” Blake ate a bite of pizza after asking the question, looking at Julia intently. She glanced at Magda.
“Come on, you can trust me at least a little,” Magda said. “I’m not going to blab about anything to anyone.” Julia thought about it for a moment; she would need more than just her and Blake, and she was afraid to get more of the air-aligned students at Sandrine involved in what she had going on than she already had—even if they were more than happy to help her.
“I think we need to talk to Mrs. Halpern, and maybe a few other people,” Julia said. “She was a big help when it came to what was going down with Dimitrios last year, and I have to think that if there’s something hinky going on with the school’s administration—or the professors—that’s why nobody seems to have found the students yet, she’d be the one to know about it.”
“What do you suspect, though?” Blake frowned and set his pizza down, taking a few sips of water to clear his throat. “I mean, what do you think anyone here has to do with it other than what we already know?”
“I think that if people could get past security, because they got the passcodes and stuff, then they had someone on the inside, and I think they still do,” Julia said. “I have no idea who it would be—but I think that we need to figure it out.”
“How would you get to talk to Halpern, though?” Magda frowned between bites of Szechuan chicken.
“She knows my grandmother,” Julia told her. “I think I can count on her to help me out—just a little bit, at least.”
“She helped you out with the thing with Dimitrios last year?” Julia nodded at Blake’s question, eating some of her chicken.
“She helped Dylan and I get some important information about what was going on behind the scenes,” Julia explained. “I think we can get something from her, at least a little bit.” She knew she was repeating herself, but it felt strange to confide in anyone other than Dylan; even though she’d come to trust Blake more and more, having Magda at the table disrupted the balance.
She ate her food in almost-silence for a few minutes, thinking about her situation. Mrs. Halpern might not know very much about what was going on; she wasn’t involved in it, and Julia didn’t think that Guthrie was involved in it either. It could be anyone, really.
“I think we need to talk to some of the professors,” Blake said after they’d eaten for a while. Sandrine students had forty-five minutes for their lunch period; there was some overlap between the sessions—which the school handled by shuffling students out for a “recess” period while the next group of students came in. “Especially you, Jules.” Julia wasn’t sure if she could remember when Blake started using her nickname, instead of her actual name, but it felt good to her; it sounded right.
“We can talk to the professors once we have an idea of which ones might know something,” Julia said. “If I just start asking people at random, I’m never going to get anywhere.”
“Do you want me to come with you to see Halpern?” Julia looked at Magda, weighing the possibilities; Mrs. Halpern wouldn’t trust Magda any more than Julia did, and certainly not as much as she trusted Dylan. She wasn’t even sure if Mrs. Halpern would trust Blake, but adding more people that the receptionist didn’t know to the equation just made it less likely that Julia would find anything of substance out.
“I think I have it under control,” Julia said. Blake gave her a hurt look and Julia told herself that she’d give the boy a hint later on that he could come with her—she didn’t want to offend Magda by picking someone she hadn’t known as long.
In truth, Julia wasn’t sure whether it had been the kiss in the park or the attempt to abduct them, but she had come to begrudgingly trust Blake; he hadn’t tried to kiss her again since that day, and once he’d gone home
to his parents, neither of them had talked about it, but Julia could remember the heat of the boy’s lips, the feeling of his hands on the small of her back.
It had felt thrilling—exciting and right and somehow wrong all at the same time, in a way that made her almost want to see if she could find a way to kiss him again and see if she felt the same way.
But the abduction attempt had put a damper on any plans either of them might have made to meet again off-campus, and Julia’s parents had put her on lockdown once more. She wouldn’t be allowed to explore Manhattan the way she had done before she had begun the final transition into her full Guardian abilities, and she wouldn’t be able to leave campus as easily for trips into the neighboring town or to the nearby mall.
Lunch ended, and Julia spent the rest of the day’s classes mulling over the best way to tackle Halpern. Julia didn’t think that the older woman would put up much resistance to the need to give them whatever information she had, but she wasn’t sure how much Mrs. Halpern would even know.
If she does put up resistance or try to tell you that you shouldn’t get involved, would that be a good time to use a compulsion on her? Julia had given what Blake had said about that particular ability a lot of thought since spring break; she wasn’t sure that she could control it, and she knew that she didn’t want to use it often—but if it gave her an advantage in a situation that would help her rescue the kidnapped students, wasn’t she almost obligated to use it?
Not on Halpern, Julia decided. She doesn’t deserve it. But maybe some of the professors… Julia felt a flash of something almost like guilt at the idea of compelling the Sandrine professors to tell her something they didn’t want to say. But if they know about who’s holding the students, or where they’re being held, and they refuse to say it—that wouldn’t be wrong to pull the information from them, would it?
