The fountain was turned off at the moment, while the groundskeeper waded around the second tier in thigh-high water boots. He seemed puzzled as he examined the base of one of the naiad statues.
I leaned a knee on the lip of the bottom tier. “Excuse me, Mr. Fonthill?”
He jumped, causing water to splash over the side and into the bottom tier. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” I said. “You seemed busy.”
“Then why interrupt me?”
Well, this conversation was off to a roaring start. “Is there a problem with the fountain?”
“No, I just like mucking about in it on a hot day.” He glared at me. “Of course there’s a problem. You kids think your pranks have no consequences, when I’m the one that has to run around cleaning up the mess.”
“Someone pulled a prank in the fountain?” I was clearly out of the loop. Aside from the Order of the Edge, I hadn’t heard anything about it.
“Magic,” he grunted. “A third year turned the water to burstberry jelly and had second years fighting in it. He turned it back to water, but not before some of the jelly got left behind. It’s clogging up the pipes.”
“Shouldn’t they be responsible for fixing it?” I asked.
He stopped his search for jelly and looked down at me. “They definitely should, but everyone’s too busy trying to earn their coveted positions to do anything as mundane as clear the pipes.”
“What about the chancellor? Does she know?”
The groundskeeper waded closer to me. “Hazel wants me to take care of it before word reaches the chancellor’s ears. That’s why I haven’t drained the water, which would make my job easier, let me tell you. Anyhow, there’s no point in crying to the boss. This kind of thing happens all the time. They create havoc, and I pick up after them. Can’t pretend I’m not rankled by it, though. I’ve got enough to take care of in a place this big without the extra nonsense.”
Fonthill certainly sounded resentful, but why take his frustration out on a human? Because he was a wealthy young man with no responsibility and no magic to use against the groundskeeper? Displaced aggression? The term had been mentioned in my paranormal psychology class, and I’d heard my mother use it in the human world after a road rage incident when I was twelve. We’d been driving to the store for milk, and another car had tried to drive us off the road. It had been a scary incident, and seemed to come out of nowhere. My mother had calmly explained that the driver had likely been provoked by someone else, and had taken out his frustration on us instead. It hadn’t made me feel any better.
“You seem like the busiest guy here,” I said. “Every time I see you, you’re hard at work. And how many times a week do you have to go to Terrene on top of everything else? It’s a wonder you have time to bathe.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a backhanded way of telling me I stink?”
“No, not at all,” I said quickly. “I just wanted to acknowledge how much work you do for us all.”
He seemed to accept my explanation. “Someone or another is always asking me to go into Terrene on an errand. They’re all too busy to go themselves, plus they don’t want to use their allotted visits on a routine supply run.”
“Aren’t your number of visits restricted, too?”
“Not as much as others because of my job,” he said. “The chancellor arranged for me to have an increased allowance.”
“I heard you came back late the other night,” I said. “In fact, you were the last one across the border.” Argh. That didn’t sound as smooth as I’d intended.
Fonthill agreed. “The night that human boy was murdered, you mean? What are you trying to imply, young lady? Don’t feel like you have to mince words with me. I can take it.”
I mustered my courage. “Well, you seem a little disgruntled. Maybe you decided to take your frustrations out on a human because you couldn’t risk taking them out on a slinger or a caster. They’d be able to defend themselves in ways that the human couldn’t.”
The groundskeeper slapped his thigh and chortled. “That’s a whopper of a tale right there. And how do you suppose I got him across the border? I’ll wager Hans and Fritz told you I was alone in my pick-up truck.”
“They may have mentioned you were by yourself,” I admitted. “But maybe you used a cloaking spell.”
“With what magic?” He wiped his brow. “If I had access to that kind of magic, I wouldn’t be wading through a fountain in search of burstberry jelly, now would I?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You could have paid someone for a single spell. You could’ve gone to the Obscura and made a deal with someone.”
“What do you know about the Obscura?”
“I’ve been there,” I said. Gray had taken me there in repayment of a favor to Robin. The underground market was the place where shady goods and services were exchanged. If Fonthill wanted access to a spell and didn’t want anyone to know about it, his best bet was a visit to the Obscura.
His expression shifted to reflect grudging admiration. “Been there already, huh? You’re not waiting for the unicorn horn to grow back, are you?”
“They grow back?” I queried.
“They do, but it’s just an expression.” He leaned an arm on the nearest statue. “I’ll be honest. It’s not often I get to feel smarter than a Spellslingers brat.”
“Hang around me long enough and you’ll feel plenty superior,” I said.
“While I’m flattered that you think I’m capable of cold-blooded murder, that boy’s death had nothing to do with me.”
“You’re flattered?” I queried. “Shouldn’t you be horribly insulted? Morally wounded?”
He shrugged. “It’s nice to be seen as capable of more than cleaning out the hellhound enclosure. Everybody here puts me in the same box.”
“Then I guess it’s possible you killed Karl just to prove a point,” I said, although the longer I spoke to Fonthill, the less likely it seemed.
“If I were ever to prove a point, young lady, rest assured that I’d go whole Kraken. I wouldn’t settle for some kid staked to the bottom of the river. This whole place would go up in smoke.”
I swallowed hard. “Good to know.”
“You should direct your nosy efforts to that Donald Thumpkin. Wouldn’t surprise me if he murdered that human boy and left him on school grounds just to ruin the academy’s reputation,” Fonthill said. “It’d allow him to buy the land on the cheap, that’s for sure.”
“Seems extreme,” I said.
Fonthill chuckled, showing the gaps between his teeth. “That’s only because you haven’t met him. Struts around like a vampire. All his money lets him forget he’s nothing more than a goblin, you see.”
Hmm. It definitely sounded like it was worth checking out Donald Thumpkin. “Any chance you could tell me where his office is located?”
“Can’t miss it,” Fonthill replied. “Thumpkin Enterprises takes up a whole block. It’s probably filled with empty space, just like the spot between his ears.” He laughed at his own joke. “To be fair, he’s not stupid by any stretch, and he’s persistent. Persistence plus money or magic makes a paranormal dangerous.”
“Why money or magic?” I queried.
“Because those are the two key ways you accomplish your goals,” he said. “Been here a lot of years, young lady. I see it all the time.”
“Even with trainees?”
“Especially with trainees,” Fonthill replied. “If your magic isn’t up to snuff, how do you get ahead out there in the big, bad world? Money. If you don’t have the money to get ahead, what do you need? Magic. It’s always one or the other, in my view.”
“That’s a very stark view of the world,” I said.
He spat into the water and I cringed. “You’re still young, and you’ve got magic, which is good as you’ve got no money. I don’t have either. That’s why I’m a groundskeeper.”
I thought of Dr. Jonas, the elf den
tist I’d met with Gray. “You could be a lot of things, Mr. Fonthill,” I said. “You’re only constrained by your own world view.”
The groundskeeper gave me a vague smile. “You seem like a nice witch. Try to keep it that way as you move up the ranks.”
“Technically, I’m a sorceress,” I said.
“Not anymore,” he said. “You’re getting proper training. That makes you a witch.” He eyed me. “That’s a good thing, you know.”
I thought of my father’s refusal to be trained by anyone, and the disastrous consequences. “I do know.” I paused. “You know what? I think I can help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“With your problem here.” I called to the water in the middle tier and my magic swelled within me. I motioned with my hand and pushed the water away from the area where the groundskeeper stood, so that he could deal with the offending jelly without the water in his way. He dropped to his knees.
“Great Goddess of the Moon, I finally see the glob,” he called. After a brief moment, his head reappeared. “I know how to deal with it now.”
He climbed down to the bottom tier and I let the water go.
“Watch out for that Professor Langley, too,” he added, vacating the fountain all together. “He’s got it in for you. I’ve heard him talking. He doesn’t pay me any attention on account of my position.”
“Don’t you mean Warden Armitage?” I asked.
Fonthill glowered. “Like I said, I’ve been here a long time. Pretty sure I know the difference between those two idiots.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I said. Although I had the impression that Professor Langley disliked me, it was Theo Armitage who seemed determined to make my life difficult.
“And whatever you’re up to with these questions, be careful,” Fonthill said. “If Thumpkin’s decided to commit murder to get his way, he’d have no scruples about getting rid of you, too. You don’t want to be next.”
“No,” I agreed. No, I most certainly did not.
11
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, as Gray brought the motorcycle to a stop outside the Thumpkin Enterprises building. Fonthill hadn’t been kidding. The offices spanned an entire block.
“You couldn’t pull up on a bicycle here without attracting attention.” Gray took my helmet. “Let me park and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
I balked. “No, Gray. I only asked for a ride. You don’t have to come inside with me.”
Gray glanced up at the soulless building. “If you think I’m letting you walk into the belly of the beast on your own, then you’re delusional.”
“I don’t know that he’s the killer,” I said. “I only want to poke around and see what information I can gather.”
Gray grinned. “Good thing I’m here then, because that’s my specialty.” Before I could object, he rode off to find a parking spot.
I headed into the lobby and tried not to appear too overwhelmed by the incredible interior. While the outside of the building looked more like a prison than a block of offices, the inside was the height of opulence. Gilt unicorn heads stared down at me from the four corners of the ceiling. I’d never seen so much gold leaf in one room. If I coughed into my hand, I was pretty sure I’d see gold dust on my palm.
The receptionist smiled at me. “Can I help you, miss?”
“In a moment, thanks,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Gray accompanying me. On the one hand, I liked spending time with the vampire—probably liked it too much. On the other hand, I didn’t want him to feel responsible for protecting me. He was right about his experience, though. He was the ideal companion for an amateur investigator like me.
“What’s our story?” he asked, striding toward me in the lobby. He seemed relatively unfazed by the beast’s garish belly, probably the result of his wealthy heritage.
“Follow my lead,” I said.
Gray looked momentarily taken aback, like he expected me not to have learned from our visit to the Muldoon house. “I’m in your capable hands, Morrow,” he said.
If only.
I approached the receptionist with a huge smile plastered across my face. “Good afternoon. We’re here to see Margaret, but we’re running late. Would you mind letting us in?”
The receptionist brightened at the mention of Donald’s assistant. “Oh, you must be here for the big meeting. It’s been a steady stream of visitors this afternoon.”
“I’m not at all surprised,” I said, playing along. “We hit the worst traffic, didn’t we, honey?”
Gray adopted a frustrated expression. “You would think the speed limit means something on the road.” I noticed his gaze flicker to a framed photograph on the desk of the receptionist and two cats. “We swerved just in time to avoid that poor cat.”
I squeezed his arm affectionately. “Thanks to your expert driving, my love, that cat lives to see another day.”
The receptionist clutched her chest. “You missed it?”
“Oh, completely,” Gray said. “It was worth damaging the car.”
“Of course it was!” she readily agreed. “Go ahead in. Everyone’s on the fourth floor in the Newport Room.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, and we breezed past her and the elevator bank to the nearest stairwell.
“Nice work,” Gray whispered, and placed a hand on the small of my back. My spine tingled in response. “We’re not actually going to the fourth floor, right?”
“No,” I said. “It’s perfect timing. If everyone’s distracted in an important meeting, we can snoop around the office.”
“How do you know where his office is located?”
I moved to the next step and twisted to face him. “The goblin’s name is Donald Thumpkin. His business is called Thumpkin Enterprises. He has gilt unicorn heads on the ceiling and probably pees in a gold-plated toilet. His office is obviously on the top floor.”
Gray flashed a broad grin. “You’re a fast learner, Morrow.”
“You think I learned that here?” I scoffed. “I didn’t get by in the human world for four years without figuring out a few things on my own.”
I started to head up the steps when I felt his hand gently touch my arm. “When you say ‘get by,’ what do you mean?” He moved ahead of me for a full view of my face.
“What do you think it means? Live. Survive. Get by.”
“You were completely on your own?” I saw concern reflected in his smoldering gaze.
“I had Icarus,” I said.
“Your owl?”
“He’s not just an owl. He’s my familiar.”
Gray opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Gray,” I said. “I’m doing fine, as you can see.”
“I don’t pity you. Not at all.”
“Well, that’s good because I’d be insulted if you did.”
“You seem angry now.” His voice softened.
“I’m not angry. Why would I be angry?” I brushed past him and continued up the steps.
Okay, maybe I was angry. I’d been enjoying our close proximity and the fact that I’d impressed him. Now the heat I thought I’d seen in his eyes had faded to pity. If I were a flower, I would’ve wilted.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “What are we looking for?”
“Any information about his efforts to buy Spellslingers land. Any reference to Karl Muldoon, or the charity events he attended before his death. Also, any references to the name Christopher.”
“We should also search for any payments to magic users for recently purchased spells,” he said. “Donald Thumpkin could pose as someone called Christopher, but a goblin can’t make himself appear differently to different people. Not without help.”
“Good point.” As I marched toward the entrance to his office, Gray pulled me back.
“Wait. There’s a ward,” he said.
“Wh
ere?” I couldn’t see anything.
“I feel the pressure start right here.” Gray stopped about six inches from the door.
“It’s daytime,” I said. “Why would he ward his office in the middle of a workday?”
“Because he’s in a meeting and he has something to hide,” Gray said matter-of-factly. “Maybe your groundskeeper wasn’t wrong.”
“If I thought he was completely off the mark, I wouldn’t be here now. He’s ornery, but he’s honest.” I stared at the empty space in front of me. “How do we break through the ward?”
“Depends on which kind it is. We can use your magic to try and damage it.”
“Won’t that set off an alarm?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “If Thumpkin is as arrogant as I think he is, then he believes the ward will hold.”
I rolled up my sleeves. “Okay, how do I damage a ward?”
“Short bursts of magic are best,” he replied. “Stand back and aim your wand.”
“And do what? Shoot a stream of water at it? It’s not like a carnival where there’s a clown’s mouth and a balloon to inflate.”
Gray looked at me askance. “I have no idea what any of that means.”
“It means what kind of magic should I use?”
“I’d avoid elemental magic for this,” he said. “Try something you learned in Wards and Wands.”
I scrunched my nose. “I haven’t taken that class yet.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Right, that’s probably next term. Okay, try anything that uses force.”
“A strong gust of wind?”
“No, something with more oomph.” He rubbed his chin. “Pretend the invisible wall is an attacker and you want to disable him.”
“How big is he?”
Gray shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” I argued. “That’s how I know where his vulnerable parts are.”
Gray sighed. “Pretend he has no vulnerable parts. He’s in a suit of armor.”
Outclassed: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Warden of the West Book 2) Page 9
