by Gina LaManna
Feeling the sting of tears on the backs of my eyes, I reached past him and opened the door. I barreled through, down the hallway, toward the front desk, choking out a request to Elle to get me out of here before I collapsed into a weepy mess right on the spiffy marble floors.
“Lily, are you—”
“I’m fine,” I told Elle, gasping for a breath. “I just need some fresh air. Please.”
Over the years, Elle had learned when to demand more during high pressure situations and when to back off. She correctly read the situation at hand and retreated, giving me access to the outside world with nothing more than a sympathetic murmur.
Once outside, I found myself wandering along the edge of The Forest, ducking into the shadows as my mood turned gloomy, reappearing into the sunlight as my reserves to stay strong grew.
By the time I reached the bright little oasis that signaled the start of the Grove of Gnomes, I’d managed to dry my tears, swipe the salt from my cheeks, and retrieve some semblance of a stable voice.
Feeling around in my pockets, I uncovered a few vials I’d stuck in my travel belt this morning at the bungalow. The potions inside were Security Sampler Spells—simple, effective alarms that I could set up for Chuck and his family.
Like I’d told the other customers, these spells wouldn’t rid their property completely of intruders, but they would certainly make the status quo more difficult to upset. More importantly, these spells would provide a layer of security to bolster the gnomes’ trust in the island’s sworn protectors. If nothing else, it’d give them a sense of independence and proactivity.
I found Chuck sunbathing. I’d never seen a gnome in a small bathing suit before, and I wished I still hadn’t.
“Lily!” He scrambled for clothes the second he saw me. “You should have told me you were coming.”
“I thought I did. Next time, I’ll be more specific.” I peered closer at him and tapped my nose. “I have Aloe Ale if you need. You’re looking a little burnt.”
Chuck waddled over and peeped into the river. He gave a most-pleased smile at the sight of his shockingly red nose. “Oh, red noses around here are a thing of beauty,” he said, preening under the compliment. “All the ladies are gonna love it.”
“Is that right?” I murmured. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your beauty ritual. Maybe I can get started implementing the Security Spells?”
“Sure, but I want to know everything you’re doing.”
I sighed. Apparently, the trust wasn’t back yet. In good faith, I allowed Chuck to tail me around the Grove like an untrained puppy as I sprinkled the Yard Yelpers and Sidewalk Sweepers in a circle around the gnome settlement. He stepped in everything. Asked inane questions that took ages to answer. He never let up, even as my answers grew shorter and shorter.
Still, it was a good way to spend the afternoon. Being outdoors was pleasant work and exhausting enough to distract me from the situation at Ranger HQ. For good measure, and because I wasn’t yet ready to be alone again, I included an extra salt treatment on the outskirts of the oasis.
I explained several times to Chuck—and to the small audience of gnomes he’d proudly gathered to watch—this particular potion stemmed from the same salt crystals we used to anchor the island’s protective shield. The spell would make it difficult for an intruder to accidentally stumble into the Grove.
Somewhat satisfied, Chuck gave a grudging nod when I finally declared myself finished.
“We’ll see if it works,” he said, putting on a brave show for his friends. “I’ll keep you posted, Miss Locke.”
“Thanks,” I said, subduing an eyeroll. Then, I dropped my voice and stepped closer to Chuck. “In return, can I ask for a favor? I need someone to keep me posted on the rumors going around The Isle. I need to know how to help, and I can’t do that if I’m not aware of what’s happening.”
Puffing his chest out for the other gnomes to see, he accepted the challenge with a nod. “I’ll let you know what I hear.”
I thanked him once more, waved goodbye to the rest of the gnomes, and carefully picked my way across the stream and headed in the direction of home. As I reached the edge of the Grove, I heard a particularly giggly female gnome complimenting Chuck on his bulbous, Rudolph-red nose.
Gnomes. I’d never understand them.
Somewhere along the route home, my feet changed paths almost before I could compute the updated trajectory. Before I knew it, I found myself outside Mimsey’s home—a cozy little cottage not far from the supply store that my aunt Mimsey ran with her sister, Trinket.
I was in the mood for company, and frankly, the only person I could think of that might bring about a smile was Poppy. I hoped she’d be home. I wasn’t ready to return to the bungalow and face a deluge of islanders reminding me that our home wasn’t as safe as we thought.
I took a few steps up the path to the door, stopping when a rustle sounded from the bushes. Then a rustle came from the other side of the house. My head swiveled between the two. Something was amiss. Two somethings, technically, because there was no way one creature could move that fast.
Immediately, I dropped to a crouch and felt in my pockets, but my travel belt and all my vials were empty, thanks to my work at the Grove. Raising my hands, I muttered the incantation for a spell that’d render any attacker temporarily frozen at the first touch of my skin. It might not stop them from striking me once, but it’d stop them from getting a second chance.
A sharp, familiar female voice cursed from one side. “I almost had him.”
“Zin?” I dropped my hands and the blanket of electric current shimmering across my skin faded to nothing. “What are you doing in Poppy’s bushes?”
Zin had clearly been in her jaguar form, judging by her exceptionally sleek black hair and eerily gleaming golden irises. I watched as her hair lengthened and her eyes darkened to mere glints of metal. Her claws visibly retracted to perfectly shaped black-painted fingernails.
“Had who?”
Zin looked startled to see me, though I knew I hadn’t surprised her. “Nothing,” she muttered. “You spooked him.”
“Who?!”
“Forget it,” Zin snarled. “It’s confidential.”
“I’m in no mood, Zin. Why were you lurking outside Poppy’s window?”
Zin’s gaze flashed behind her at the glass pane in question.
“I heard the other visitor. Who was he?”
“Lily, I can’t...” Zin trailed off, struggling for an argument. “My assignment.”
My brow furrowed. “What does your assignment have to do with Poppy? Is she in danger?”
Zin bit back her response.
“Poppy is my cousin, too. I care about her. When she was kidnapped, I told you everything.”
“Everything you could,” Zin said. “You’ve never mentioned the actual location.”
Even now, the thought of Wishery sent shivers down my spine. A part of that stemmed from the binding MAGIC, Inc. document I’d signed, promising to keep quiet about its existence. “I physically can’t. You know that. Please, Zin, give me something. I won’t tell a soul.”
After an extended glance around, Zin’s breath caught in her throat as she struggled to speak. “I can’t tell you everything.”
“I’m not asking for everything,” I said quickly. “Just something.”
“There’s an unwanted guest on the island,” Zin said, leading me on with a knowing gaze. She nodded for me to venture guesses on my own. “And...”
I followed her prompt. “And this guest has an interest in Poppy. He’s probably not wanting to ask her out for a friendly coffee.”
Zin didn’t nod; she didn’t need to say anything. There was someone on The Isle lurking outside of Poppy’s home. I felt useless.
“Why? What can I do to help?”
“It’s my assignment.” Zin curled possessively inward, her arms stiffening at her sides. “You asked for information. I’m asking you not to interfere. It’s a hunch at th
is point, nothing more.”
“If this is about Poppy—”
“I can handle it,” Zin said. Then, softer, she continued. “I will let you know if, or when, I’m in over my head. If you hadn’t spooked him today, I’d have this guy in custody already.”
“Sorry.”
Zin shook her head. “I hesitated on the jump—it’s my own fault. I’m just glad X wasn’t here to see it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, sullen. “Me too.”
“Is everything—”
“Who forgot to invite me to the party?” Poppy appeared in the doorway. “What are you guys up to?”
Zin and I were bad actors, and we did a terrible job of keeping straight faces and coming up with a plausible story.
“I was hungry,” Zin started. “So, I came by.”
“Seeing if you were free—” I continued. “For a snack.”
Zin smiled weakly. “Hey, Poppy.”
Poppy was no fool. As she climbed down the stairs, she surveyed us with a hurt expression. “This is about me being a weakling, isn’t it?”
“What?” Zin and I exclaimed together. I finished for both of us. “Not at all!”
“Ever since I got kidnapped and my memory wiped in that place, you—along with my mother and Gus—have treated me like I’m some little dolly in need of protection.” She stuck her finger out, wagging it at both of us. “Drop the act. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and we’re sorry,” Zin said, deliberately ignoring my look of confusion. “I’ve been checking in periodically to make sure you’re okay. It’s my fault.”
“See, I was actually coming over to hang out,” I told Poppy, “but I ran into Zin.”
Poppy’s eyes narrowed. “I want this to stop. No more checking in on me, no more babying me, no more keeping secrets you don’t think I can handle.”
Zin nodded, pained. “Sorry.”
“Sorry,” I added, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to apologize.
“Fine,” Poppy said. “Let me fight my own battles, or at least let me fight them alongside you. You’re my family first, not my guardians.”
I reached for Poppy’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then changed to safer topics. “Zin, did you get a chance to talk to the reporters at the Wicked Weekly?”
Zin quickly explained the article mishap to Poppy, who frowned at the Ranger X developments.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Zin said in conclusion. “It was an anonymous tip. Someone left a sealed envelope with no defining characteristics on the desk of the gossip columnist.”
“Did you interview—”
“I talked to everyone,” Zin said emphatically. “I flashed my badge up and down the hallways. Nobody’s talking. I really think they got lucky on this one. Someone dropped it in their laps, Lily. Someone wanted it out there, but they didn’t want to be associated with it.”
“But how did they get the text?” I pressed my fingers to my lips. “It was in my bedside drawer this whole time.”
Poppy looked horrified at the idea, but Zin looked more intrigued than anything else. We chatted for a few more minutes, struggling to come up with a list of suspects. Nothing popped out at us. Eventually, I grudgingly declared that I should be returning to the bungalow.
Zin also took her leave back to HQ, and Poppy had agreed to dinner with her mother. We parted ways, promising to keep each other in the loop on any developments. Except, I thought wryly, for Zin’s mysterious assignment, which she’d successfully managed to keep under wraps from Poppy.
Who in the world could be after Poppy? And why? I grumbled about it all the way home, wondering if Ranger X would give me some insights. He’d likely been the mastermind behind the confidentiality flag on Zin’s assignment in the first place. Then I dismissed the idea at once, annoyed that I’d let my relationship cloud my professional judgement once again.
Blowing through the front door of the bungalow, I bypassed Gus with a grunt. I’d worked myself into a right tizzy on my walk home, and I needed to do something about all the questions, or I’d burst from anxiety.
Stomping upstairs to my bedroom, I marched straight over to the bedside table and threw open the drawer. I wanted another look at that note—to examine it more thoroughly. To ensure it was truly the original copy, and that it hadn’t been touched.
However, a surprise met me instead. A second note rested gently on top of the first.
I whirled around, half expecting to find someone—the author of said note, for example—hovering in the dusty corners of my bedroom. My heart raced, my palms dampened with sweat, but there was no one. Of course, there was nobody. Gus had been here the entire time.
Yet, whoever had placed the paper in my room had wanted it found.
With caution, I raised the slightly crumpled sheet of paper from the drawer and examined it from all sides. Like the reporters had claimed of the envelope they’d received, this paper contained no distinguishing marks or hints as to the writer behind it.
When I’d exhausted all my skills, including a quick tracking spell that petered out into nothing, I flipped the note over and focused on the words written there instead. Loopy cursive spelled out a message that I couldn’t make heads or tails of even after I’d read it through fifteen times.
Use what you have.
The writing was almost child-like, which made its meaning even more diluted. I squinted, waiting for inspiration to hit, but no brilliance descended on me, and instead, I found myself growing more and more exasperated. Eventually I gave up and placed the note back in the drawer. Then I ran through a list of protective spells I should really implement in my own bedroom. I had to catch my anonymous visitor.
A visitor who simultaneously wanted to hurt and help me. While the publishing of the article had torn apart The Isle, this note seemed intended as assistance. The pair of actions were contradictory.
My pondering came to an abrupt stop as one end of my room began to tremble like an earthquake. A low rumbling sounded as the floorboards shook beneath my feet. I lurched forward, holding onto the bed for balance, the sounds growing louder, growling from the closet.
I struggled for an incantation, but the words were ripped from my mouth as I crumbled to the ground, landing on my knees. When I looked up, the tremors had stopped and the rumbling had silenced.
The door to the closet slid open and there stood the last person I wanted to see.
“Liam,” I gasped, and scrambled away from him. “What are you doing here?”
He looked a mess. A disaster actually—terrifying in his disheveled appearance. As he stepped from the closet, his gray hair lay straggly against gaunt cheeks, and his face was worn. He raised both hands in surrender, though his fingernails were grimy with dirt and mud and blood.
I found my voice somehow as I cowered against the bed. “What happened to you?”
He merely opened his arms wider and looked up, past the ceiling, past the skies. His eyes rolled back into his head as he stumbled forward, his voice a low intonation as he spoke. “The time has come.”
Then he collapsed motionless to the floor.
Chapter 5
MY FIGHT OR FLIGHT responses abandoned me.
Instead of calling for Gus or hightailing it down the stairs, I went to Liam. Despite his recent betrayal, he looked utterly destroyed, a fragment of himself lying crumpled on the floor. My hands were gentle as I tilted his head toward me.
Liam’s face was clammy and distressed, even in unconsciousness. I found myself patting his cheeks gently, murmuring his name, begging for him to wake. Friend or foe, he’d promised to help us dismantle a threat against our entire existence. A threat bigger than The Faction versus The Isle.
“Liam,” I whispered, unsure why I kept my voice lowered. Surely Gus had heard the bungalow’s very skeleton quiver with our guest’s arrival. “Liam, wake up. What did you mean the time has come? For what? Who hurt you?”
It took another minute or two of prodding and a lifetime
of nervous anticipation before Liam sucked in a raspy breath, turned on a grin, and opened his eyes.
“I thought you were dead,” I said, feeling my eyes widen as I backed away. “What happened to you?”
“I’ve been traveling,” he said, easing into a sitting position on my drafty wooden floorboards. “Nice space you have here.”
His offhand nature caught me by surprise, and I paused to glance around at the lofty attic-like bedroom I’d made my own. Airy curtains billowed over the window and a plump mattress sat fatly on its bedsprings. Frilly, feminine pillows lined the bed and window seat along the far wall, and over the last few weeks I’d stuck up a few family photos on the walls.
“Don’t change the subject.” I turned my attention back to Liam just in time to catch him wincing with pain as he forced himself to his feet. His hand clutched at his ribs, and I fought back the urge to assist him using my Mixology training. I could whip up pain elixirs with the flick of a wrist, but I didn’t trust him enough to turn my back. “How’d you get into my house? My room?”
“Your closet.” He thumbed over his shoulder, each word breathier than the last. “You really should get that looked at. I know a guy who’s a great security consultant if you want a referral.”
“Yeah, we know. You know a lot of people.”
Liam’s eyes cut sharply to me. “Self-populating closets are great, but spells can be hacked. You really should place it away from your bedroom and get some security sensors around it.”
“Everyone’s looking into security these days,” I grunted to myself. “You haven’t explained your injuries or your presence. I’ve given you more time here than you deserve. Another minute longer, and I’ll holler for Gus. He probably already knows you’re here.”
Liam gave a tight shake of his head. “The sounds and shakes—those are isolated to the room. Gus is oblivious.”
“Why didn’t you come through the front door?”
“Lily...” He tsked and gave a small smile. “Most people on this island aren’t very happy with me at the moment.”
