Outwit: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Enforcer of the East Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  “It was.”

  “Nice.”

  “Thank you.” I observed the Gorgons as they slid across the room to reach us. “Now what?”

  “Now we talk.”

  “We’re already talking.”

  “Not to each other. To them.”

  “I thought they were silent,” I said. “It’s right there in the name.”

  Callan chuckled. “You’re funny when you’re under pressure. Maybe you should be under the threat of death more often.”

  “Being funny is overrated,” I replied.

  Callan shifted his attention to the approaching Gorgons. “We need to talk, ladies,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “I don’t look good in granite, so I have no plans to turn to stone anytime soon. We have questions. You have answers. You might as well speak in your native tongue. My witch can translate.”

  I failed to disguise my surprise. “I can?” I’d take issue with his use of ‘my witch’ later. I knew werewolves were possessive and territorial, but come on.

  Callan nudged me. “Sure you can. AMF agents learn how to translate all kinds of languages.”

  I cleared my mind and focused on my training. Yes, he was absolutely right. I’d studied a variety of spells that allowed me to understand foreign languages. I’d just never needed to use one in the field.

  “We have a potion we’d like you to identify,” Callan said, producing a vial of the green liquid from his pocket and holding it up for scrutiny. “We need to know everything about it. What it is and what it does.”

  “You’ll need to lower your protective shield if you expect us to access the potion,” the Gorgon on the left said. Her eyes glowed a golden color, whereas her sister’s eyes glowed with an orange hue.

  “Her native tongue is apparently English,” I said.

  “We have lived among humans in this quadrant for over two hundred years,” the orange-eyed Gorgon said. “We adapt.”

  “You can talk,” I said. “Why are you called the Silent Sisters?”

  The Gorgons exchanged amused glances. “The dead don’t speak, do they?” the golden-eyed Gorgon said.

  Her sister observed the snakes covering the floor. “They only hiss.”

  “So much for stone figures.”

  My throat tightened. “Will you help us?”

  “Your kind killed our sister,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said. “Murdered her in our own home.”

  “That wasn’t us,” Callan said. “And it was a regrettable mistake.”

  “What makes you believe we won’t retaliate?” the orange-eyed Gorgon asked.

  “Because you want to live more than you want to avenge her death,” I replied. “Between the werewolf and me, one of you would end up dead.”

  Callan glanced at me in surprise.

  “An unexpected razor for a tongue.” The golden-eyed Gorgon observed me coolly. “It does not match your sunny disposition.”

  “She shines on the outside while she tarnishes on the inside,” her sister said. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “She’s right,” Callan said. “You don’t want to risk death. Sure, one of you might make it out alive, but which one?”

  The snakes all hissed in protest.

  “Do you have payment?” the orange-eyed Gorgon asked.

  “Naturally,” Callan said. “First, we need a guarantee that you won’t turn us into pets or kill us or whatever fun you ladies like to get up to in this place.”

  The golden-eyed Gorgon’s laughter rolled like thunder. “We have come to an agreement. We will identify your potion in exchange for payment.”

  I glanced at Callan and he nodded. I lowered the shield and held my breath. The Gorgons’ eyes ceased to glow, instead turning a matte shade of orange and gold, respectively. Callan extended the vial of potion and the orange-eyed Gorgon snatched it from him. She popped off the lid and a forked tongue shot from her red lips and straight into the vial. I did my best not to cringe.

  “Interesting,” she said, once her tongue had retracted.

  Her sister grabbed the vial and dipped her own forked tongue into the mixture. “Tastes like lime.”

  I highly doubted that. “What can you tell us?”

  “Ancient blood drives this potion,” the orange-eyed Gorgon said. “A passion project.”

  “You can tell that from tasting the potion?” I asked.

  “Tongues are for more than tasting,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said.

  “What does the potion do?” It didn’t seem to have any effect on the Silent Sisters.

  “Metamorphosis,” the golden-eyed Gorgon said. She took the lid from her sister and placed it back on the vial before returning it to Callan.

  “The human body is a chrysalis,” her sister said.

  “Okay, but what emerged was definitely not a butterfly,” Callan said.

  “Not to you,” the golden-eyed sister said. “Then again, you are not the one wielding the net.”

  “Anything else?” Callan asked.

  “The effects cannot be reversed,” her sister said. “Once the chrysalis has formed, only transformation or death remains.”

  Well, we knew the outcome in our case.

  “What kind of change?” I asked. “Is it designed to make the drinker more powerful?”

  “Faster, stronger, smarter,” the orange-eyed Gorgon said. “If the potion is too powerful or the host too weak, then the experiment fails.”

  “Death,” her sister said, and the snakes all hissed loudly in response. My blood turned cold at the sound. “Now our payment.” Her serpentine lower half flicked back and forth on the hardwood floor.

  Callan pulled another vial of crimson liquid from his other pocket. It was the first time I’d set eyes on it.

  “What is that?” I whispered. I’d expected money.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said without looking at me.

  The Silent Sisters fought for control of the vial. The golden-eyed Gorgon emerged victorious after choking her sister with an elbow to the throat. She stuffed the vial inside a loose flap of snakeskin. The snakes began to writhe on the floor and hiss, whether in support or disapproval, I wasn’t sure.

  “Let’s go,” Callan said, gripping my hand. We hurried from the room as the sound of hissing reached a crescendo.

  We raced through the foyer and out the front door. A blood-curdling scream echoed behind us and my insides shivered.

  “What was the payment?” I demanded, once we were safely outside the iron fence. The missing bars had already reappeared behind us.

  He gave me a dark look. “What’s the difference? We needed information and they were able to provide it.”

  “Provide what?” I asked, my agitation rising. “The potion tastes like lime?”

  He stopped walking and faced me. “We know more than we did. We know that it’s irreversible.”

  “Not helpful to the eleven dead guys, is it?”

  “No, but we know that we need to stop this from happening again,” he said. “Whatever the Hunter is trying to achieve with that potion, it isn’t death. It’s probably an unstoppable hunting team, like you said before. Like the fae and their Wild Hunt. That means he’ll try again until he achieves the results he wants.”

  Metamorphosis. Transformation.

  Stronger, faster, smarter.

  He has no interest in anything other than the thrill of the hunt. Goldhorn’s words echoed in my mind.

  “Callan, he’s not creating an army of hunters,” I said. “It’s worse.” Much worse.

  Callan eyed me with interest. “Then what?”

  “Prey.” My heart cracked as I said the word. “He wants them to be challenging prey. Normal young men aren’t worthy enough adversaries. He promises the potion will make them better. Improve them. That’s what he wants, too.”

  Callan scowled. “He wants to change them and then hunt them.”

  “That’s why he chose a forest,” I said. “Not just for its magic, but because that’s his preferred hunting
ground. He will try again.” My voice quivered. He must’ve been there that day, waiting for the transformation—for the chance to hunt them down—and then left when he saw they were dead.

  “I’ll have Mona monitor communications for missing males in their teens and early twenties,” Callan said.

  “Good idea,” I said. “He’ll go for another group, though. He’ll probably use the same method as with Toppers.” It would be next to impossible to pinpoint the new shop, though. Not without more information.

  Callan punched the air. “Yes! I knew those Gorgons would be worth the price of admission.”

  I remembered the vial of red liquid that the sisters had greedily fought over. “And what was the price of admission?” I could tell it was something of great value.

  Callan kicked a stray stone out of our path. “It’s unicorn blood.”

  My eyes popped. “You can’t be serious. That’s sacred. How would you even…?”

  Callan lowered his voice. “You know what else is sacred? Innocent lives. We know the Hunter isn’t finished yet, so I intend to save as many of them as I can. I know you understand that.”

  We locked eyes. “Of course I do.”

  “Are we good?” he asked. “Because you can’t walk more than thirty feet away from me, no matter how mad you are.”

  There was a hefty price to pay and he paid it. I understood that better than anyone. I gave him a curt nod. “Yes, Callan. We’re good.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We stopped at a local diner to refuel and Callan called into the office to report our findings. He ordered a ridiculous amount of food and made sure I ate a healthy portion of it. It was nice to feel like someone was looking out for me for a change. I spent so much time taking care of others that I’d forgotten how it felt to be the one cared for.

  “So glad you two could join us,” Mona said, when we finally returned to the office.

  “We stopped to eat,” Callan replied. “That’s allowed, isn’t it? Food intake.”

  “I’ve never seen someone eat like him,” I said. “It’s like there’s a black hole in place of his stomach.”

  “Well, your instincts were good. We’ve got a lead,” Mona announced. “A mother has reported her eighteen-year-old son missing. The police aren’t taking it seriously because it’s been less than twenty-four hours. They think he’s on an alcohol-fueled bender with his friends.”

  “Let’s go talk to the mother right now,” Callan said.

  “Too late.” Mona handed Callan a piece of paper. “While you two were flirting over the last babka or whatever you do when you’re together, Kendall and I paid her a visit.”

  “We’ve never had babkas together,” I objected.

  Kendall squinted at me. “Yes, because that’s the objectionable part of that statement.”

  Callan glanced at the paper. “Your notes from the interview. Thanks.”

  “Get this,” Kendall said. “He went to pick up his tux for a school formal last week and came home telling his mom that he met someone who promised to make him bigger and stronger. He assured her that no steroids were involved.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that,” Callan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Steroids would have been better than whatever potion the Hunter was doling out.

  “Which shop?” I asked.

  “It’s called Top Tails. Not the same town as Toppers but only about twenty miles difference.”

  “Different place but same idea,” Callan continued. “Somewhere lots of young men are sure to go.”

  “Why not the gym?” Mona said with a short laugh. “Plenty of young men congregating there.”

  “Yes, but let’s think about the type of guys the Hunter is targeting,” I said. “He’s luring them with an offer of something better. Of being better.”

  “And guys at the gym are less likely to be tempted,” Callan said. “They’re already stronger and bigger.”

  “Did the mom have any idea where her son was headed?” I asked.

  “Thankfully, Sean and his mom are very close,” Mona said. “Single mom and only child. He told her everything, right down to the location where they had to meet.”

  “And where’s that?” Callan asked.

  “A van was picking him up with a group of other young men at Horsham Park,” Kendall said. “Seven of them total.”

  “Gee, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all,” I said.

  “She tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent,” Mona said. “He said he would go and see what it was all about and then come straight home. He’s eighteen in age, but apparently he’s intellectually and emotionally younger, so his mom walks a fine line between letting him go and protecting him. She decided to let him go. Then he didn’t come home for movie night and she became understandably anxious. She warned him this is how every serial killer movie starts, but he didn’t listen.”

  “I don’t know about every serial killer movie,” Kendall said.

  “Let’s go to Horsham Park and see if we can track his scent from there,” Callan said. “Can I assume you brought something of Sean’s from his house?”

  Mona pulled a figurine from her pocket. “Apparently, he sleeps with this every night.”

  I examined the tiny doll. “What is it?”

  “Wolverine,” Mona said. “A Terrene superhero.”

  “Fictional,” Callan added. “But one of my personal favorites.” He took the figurine and sniffed it. “Yep. This’ll do.”

  “Good,” Mona replied. “She tried to give us boxers from his laundry basket because she insisted it had the most potent scent, but we assured her that wasn’t necessary.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Definitely not.”

  “Grab your weapons, folks,” Kendall said. “I promise you we’re gonna need ‘em.”

  We rode to Horsham Park in relative silence. I kept thinking about Sean and his boyish innocence. Eighteen years old, yet he still told his mother everything and maintained a close and personal relationship with his toy superhero.

  Sean could not die. Not today.

  Kendall parked the car and we surveyed the parking lot for clues. Anything to confirm that the mother’s intel was good.

  “If you can’t pick up Sean’s scent, I can try a locator spell with Wolverine,” I said.

  Callan concentrated on the figurine. “I should be able to manage.” His nostrils flared and he paced the width of the parking lot. “He was here. It’s faint, but it’s definitely Sean. Lots of other masculine odors mingling together too.”

  “Another group like Warren’s?” I queried.

  “I’d bet good money,” Callan said.

  Kendall’s eyes flashed with grim determination. “We need to find those kids.”

  Callan glanced at the road. “It’ll be faster if I shift and have the three of you follow in the car.”

  “But how?” I asked. “What if we fall behind more than thirty feet? You’ll get snapped back to me. You could get hit by a car. Good Goddess, you could get hit by our car.” I shuddered at the thought.

  We stared at each other in silence for a beat. “There’s another option,” he finally said.

  Kendall nodded and pointed to me. “Saddle up.”

  I gave him a blank look. “I’m going on horseback?”

  “Not horseback,” Callan said. “Wolfback, which is not really a word, but humor me.”

  I balked. “You want me to ride on your back? First you don’t want to shift because you might maul me to death, but now you want me to lock my legs around your wolf waist?” I took a step backward. “I don’t think so.”

  “We don’t have time to argue,” Callan said. “Lives are at stake.”

  He was right. I was wasting minutes we didn’t have. “How are we supposed to run through Terrene like this? People will notice.”

  “I’ll stay off the roads,” Callan said. “If Kendall keeps the window down, he can track me.”

  “I’m an excellent tracker as well,” Mona added.
“I just don’t rely on scent like these two.” She jerked her head toward the car. “I’ve got your bug out bag in the trunk.”

  “Get it,” Callan said.

  Mona popped the trunk and retrieved a brown leather satchel. She handed the bag to me. “You’re in charge.”

  I slung the bag over my shoulder. “What’s in it?”

  “Change of clothes for the Hulk over there,” Kendall said.

  “The Hulk is another superhero,” Callan said. “He’s big and green and….” He waved a hand. “Forget it. Not important.”

  So I’d now added clothes to the arsenal of weapons on my body. I’d have to glamour us. A giant wolf with a young woman on its back covered in weapons? That was not a sight that would go over well in Terrene.

  “We should go,” I said. “There’s no time to lose.”

  Callan seemed relieved that I didn’t put up more of a fight. He stepped into the shadows to shift while Mona and Kendall kept watch for passersby. A familiar pair of amber eyes reflected the moonlight and I stood perfectly still, waiting to see whether he remembered me in his wolf form. The large creature stalked toward me and lowered his body to the ground.

  “That’s your cue, little witch,” Kendall said.

  I bit my tongue, unwilling to make a snappy remark. Nothing could distract us from our goal—to stop the Hunter before these young men were murdered. Even if the potion didn’t kill them, the Hunter still would. Death was the only outcome unless we got there in time.

  I climbed onto Callan’s back and dug my fingers into his fur. There was something comforting about his thick coat. I leaned forward and buried my cheek against his neck. I told myself that position would make us more aerodynamic, but really I wanted to be as close to him as possible.

  He shot forward and I gripped him tightly, wondering whether I should have done a spell that kept me glued to his back. No. No more binding spells for us. One was quite enough.

  Callan bounded through the woods that bordered the road. I tried to look for our car, but it was too dark and all I could see were blinding headlights. I gave up and concentrated on not falling off.

  We seemed to run forever. Wherever this place was, it was remote like Allegheny. No surprise there. As we headed deeper into darkness, I felt a twinge of energy.