Outlier: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  “Hardy ha ha,” he replied. “I try to stay below the radar of anyone involved in the legal field.”

  “And how is getting on Lizzie Fraser's bad side flying below the radar?” I queried.

  “It wasn't exactly planned,” Peter said. “Anyway, the point is that you should go. I'll provide backup.”

  “How are you going to provide backup if you refuse to go anywhere near Lizzie or her place of work?” I asked.

  “Okay, by backup, I might mean you speak with her while I wait outside and let me know how it goes when you're finished.”

  “Not helpful,” I said. “You know her and her father. If I’m going to speak with her, I need you there.”

  Peter puffed out his chest and I quickly averted my gaze. Bryn was right—it was a rather nice body. “Fine, I'll go.” He wagged a finger at me. “But don't blame me if we both end up getting chased out of there by security.”

  An idea sprang to mind. “Or we can do what you do best.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You want to do that now? I thought maybe you'd want to get to know each other a little better first.”

  I smacked his arm. Hard. “Not that, pervert. Use your shifting skills. That way, you can sneak in with me without alerting anyone on staff, including Lizzie.”

  He clapped his hands together once. “I like the way you think, princess.”

  I bristled. “Stop calling me that.”

  “What?” He flashed an innocent look. “It's a term of endearment.”

  “We don't need terms of endearment,” I said. “That's not the kind of relationship we have.”

  He grinned. “So we do have a relationship? I knew it!”

  Behind us, Bryn snorted.

  “Shifting into a cockroach might get me into the building, but I won’t be able to feed you information while you talk to Lizzie,” Peter pointed out. “In case you hadn’t noticed, cockroaches don’t talk.”

  “Can you shift into any animal?” Mia asked. “One that already exists?”

  “Well, I don't invent animals, if that's what you mean,” Peter replied.

  Mia shook her head. “No, I mean, can you shift into Clementine, Dani’s familiar?”

  “Mia, that’s brilliant,” I said. “Then we’d have the familiar connection.” Not that I was keen on Peter rummaging around inside my head. I’d have to be careful.

  “I think I can do it, but it would require a spell,” Peter said.

  “You’re in the right place for spells,” Cerys said.

  Peter pumped his fist into his hand. “Yes, let’s do that. I can feed you information when we’re in there. Give you the follow-up questions to whatever Lizzie tells us.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “I know exactly the wizard we need to see for help.”

  My best bet to find Robin Chambers was to check one of his favorite haunts, the library. Although the former prefect had officially graduated from the academy at the end of last term, the AMF had been so impressed by his independent study project that they’d asked him to spend the next term doing further research for them. As a wizard with no interest in fieldwork, the development had been a welcome one.

  “I don't know about this,” Peter said, eyeing the library suspiciously. “I’m much more comfortable around bottles than books.”

  I nudged him forward. “It's good to experiment, Zilla. Get out of your comfort zone once in a while.” Before I had a chance to warn him about the stone gargoyles at the base of the library steps, they made themselves known.

  “Oh, look, Fred,” the gargoyle on the left said. “It's Spellslingers’ most esteemed trainee and her less than worthy companion.”

  Peter stopped directly in front of Fred. “What did you just say?”

  I rested a hand on Peter's shoulder. “Fred is a gargoyle. What do you think you're going to do to him?”

  “Yeah, tough guy,” George said. “I reckon you've got more bark than bite. Not exactly of vampire caliber, are you?”

  “At least I’m not stone.” Peter whirled around to face the other gargoyle. “I’ll have you know that I am ten times the fighter of any vampire.” He shook a finger in George's stone face.

  “Don't let them get to you, Peter,” I said. “It's one of their favorite pastimes.”

  “Peter?” Fred queried. “What irony!”

  Peter glided across the stone steps toward the other gargoyle. “What do you mean by irony?”

  Fred and George burst into laughter. “Good thing you're heading to the library, mate,” Fred said. “You can look up irony while you're in there.”

  Peter balled his hands into fists. “I know what irony means. I’m asking you why you think my name is ironic.”

  “Peter means stone,” Fred explained. “Maybe you’re more like us than you think.”

  “Zilla means shadow,” George added. “Stone shadow. Your name is an enigma.”

  “Like him,” Fred said.

  “Nobody calls me names,” Peter said. He took a swing at Fred and hit his hand hard against the stone. To his credit, he didn't even wince.

  “I think that's the first time anyone tried to punch me,” Fred said.

  “Not for lack of desire,” George said. “There have been plenty of times when I would've been willing to knock your block off.”

  I glanced at Peter's fist and was surprised to see it unmarked. Not even a scrape. “Druids heal so quickly,” I remarked.

  Peter's expression clouded over. “Let's go inside before I decide to relocate these two to another building site.”

  I hustled up the steps without another word.

  I found Robin in the history aisle, combing through the pages of an extremely thick book. He broke into a smile when he spotted me.

  “Dani, good to see you.” He wore his signature tweed jacket and bowtie.

  “Robin, this is Peter Zilla. Peter and I are investigating Professor Fraser's disappearance and we’re hoping you can help us with a little problem of the magical variety.”

  Robin's brow lifted. “I see. Shall we go somewhere more private to talk? I have access to one of the secure rooms downstairs.”

  I offered a crisp nod and we followed him through the library and downstairs to a narrow corridor. There were several protected rooms beneath the library that housed rare and valuable antiquities and books. I shivered as we passed by the room where Calvin Motley had been murdered last year.

  We reached a closed door on the right and Robin pilfered a key from his pocket.

  Peter frowned. “A key? I thought I was going to get to see some cool magic at work.”

  “Observe.” Robin gave him a sharp look before placing the key in the lock. I noticed that his hand and the lock glowed blue before the door clicked open.

  “I stand corrected,” Peter said begrudgingly.

  “I bet that happens a lot,” I murmured.

  We entered the private room, which was full of antiquities from bygone magical eras. There were pieces of furniture that hadn’t been used in centuries. My heart stopped when I noticed the pitch-black cauldron hanging from a beam. It was stamped with the silhouette of a rose and a heraldic ‘D.’ A memory came flooding back to me. My tiny hands pressed flat against this very cauldron. I’d been pretending to create a potion in the basement, though no one in the family had used this particular cauldron for generations. It had been a beloved item in our home, and now it was here.

  “Dani?” Robin said softly, and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Best not to touch anything. It might set off an alarm.”

  I realized that I had my palms pressed against the cauldron. I took a step back, and tried to clear my head.

  “So what’s this magical problem that requires my assistance?” Robin asked.

  “We need to sneak Peter into the offices of the Liberty Project,” I explained. “For reasons I can't get into, he needs to be undetected. There needs to be no trace of him.”

  “An invisibility spell, Dani?” Robin queried. “It was one thing to do that to sto
p a massacre, but to help a known criminal sneak into legal offices…I'm sorry. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

  I understood his position. Robin would take a great risk by assisting us. Invisibility spells were against the rules for second years and Robin could get in worse trouble for aiding a known smuggler. “Okay then. What if we didn't go with invisibility? What if we went with a disguise?”

  Peter looked at me askance. “The mustache and glasses routine won’t exactly cut it, princess.” He switched his attention to Robin. “Plus, we need to be able to communicate. I know the woman she’s going to question.”

  Robin tapped the pad of his finger against his chin. “Telepathically would be best, I presume.”

  “Yes, definitely,” Peter said eagerly.

  I drew a regretful breath, not keen on the idea of a mental link to Peter. Still, all for a good cause. “Can you help us, Robin?”

  The former prefect smiled. “Yes, Dani. I believe I can, but we’ll need your familiar to do it.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. As helpful as it was, somehow, I knew I was going to regret this decision.

  Chapter Eight

  I gathered my wits as we stood outside of the twenty-five-story building of the Liberty Project, preparing to pay a visit to Lizzie Fraser.

  “Are you sure Clementine is okay in there with you?” I asked, peering down at Peter stuffed into my familiar’s body.

  Your tweedy friend swore up and down that Clementine won't feel a thing, Peter said. It's like being under a sedative for her.

  I smoothed the front of my blouse and adjusted the hem of my skirt. I wanted to look as grown-up and professional as possible.

  Nice legs. You should show them off more often.

  I cut him a sharp glance. “You really should curb your thoughts while you're in my familiar’s body. I can hear everything you are thinking.”

  Peter-as-Clementine looked up at me. What makes you think I wouldn't have said that out loud?

  I tweaked my collar in response. Focus on the plan, please. Try not to get distracted by the female anatomy on our way through the office.

  That's like telling the fish not to swim.

  I ignored him and strode through the arched doorway with liberty carved into the stone plaque above the curve. I channeled my family experience, adding a confident swish to my hips and a spring in my step. Grandmother would have approved.

  I approached the reception desk with a winning smile. "Good afternoon. My name is Danielle Montrose Degraff and I'm here to see Elizabeth Fraser. Would you be so kind as to direct me to her office?"

  The receptionist inclined her head. "Degraff, did you say?"

  I swallowed hard. "That's right. And I'd like to discuss an important matter with Miss Fraser."

  "Is she expecting you?" The receptionist asked.

  "No, but as I'm sure you can imagine, my schedule doesn't always allow for appointments. I am squeezing her in between other obligations today."

  The receptionist tapped her pen on the desk. "I see. Just a moment, please." She turned away and picked up the phone behind her.

  This isn't good, Peter said.

  It will be fine, I replied. The name works every time.

  Must be nice, he said.

  The receptionist swiveled back to me with a welcoming smile. "Miss Fraser will see you now. Take the pixi-lift to the tenth floor and turn right."

  "Thank you," I replied. I shot a triumphant glance at my familiar before heading to the pixi-lift.

  Can I ask you something? Peter said.

  As long as it’s unrelated to my body or any thoughts you may accidentally hear.

  The cauldron at the academy, he said. You recognized it.

  It used to be in my house. It belonged to my family for generations.

  Why doesn’t it anymore?

  I hesitated. We sold most of our valuables so that we didn’t have to sell the estate. The house is all we have left.

  Peter-as-Clementine looked up at me. Is this somehow connected to your grandmother? The one you want to get the potion for?

  I nodded, blinking away tears before he noticed.

  I’m sorry, he said quietly.

  The elevator doors opened and I exited as quickly as I could. I suddenly felt short of breath and I knew I had to collect myself or I risked screwing up this visit.

  Lizzie Fraser's office was in the middle of a long row of medium-sized offices. In the pecking order, she was clearly neither at the bottom nor the top of the food chain. I bypassed her assistant with an authoritative swish of my hair and entered Lizzie's office. The decor reflected the seriousness of the Liberty Project’s work. Tasteful yet not too fancy. An oversized diploma hung on the wall behind her.

  “Miss Degraff, it’s an honor.” Lizzie stood to shake my hand. “Our organization has long been a supporter of your family.”

  I sat across from her and crossed my ankles the way I’d been taught as a young witch. “Is that so?”

  Lizzie shuffled papers around her desk. “Well, I'm sure it would come as no surprise to learn that we tried to take on your grandmother's case at one point. Not me personally, of course.”

  I tried to hide my shock. No one had ever told me. It was my understanding that the entire world had rejected us. “I’m sorry it didn't work out,” I said vaguely.

  Peter jumped onto the chair beside me. What's she talking about, princess?

  Lizzie appeared delighted by the sight of Clementine. “You brought your familiar. How darling.”

  I reached over to stroke the cat’s back. “I tend to take her everywhere with me.”

  A little to the left, Peter said, nudging my hand.

  I snatched my hand away. “I was hoping to talk to you about your father,” I said.

  Lizzie appeared taken aback. “You know about my father? How?”

  “He's a professor at Spellslingers,” I said.

  “Yes, I know, but I was told that the investigation would be kept quiet in case a ransom demand was made.”

  That was the first I’d heard of a possible ransom demand. Did they think Peter would be making one or someone else?

  “The academy is concerned,” I said, and hoped word didn’t reach the chancellor that I was overstating my role. “We want to conduct our own investigation in case something gets missed.”

  Lizzie looked relieved. “Dad hasn't been one of yours for very long. It’s nice to know you're taking an interest. I’m so worried about him.”

  “If there’s anything you can tell me that might be useful, no matter how insignificant,” I said. “I’ll take it all on board.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told the sheriff’s office,” Lizzie said. “You’ll want to speak to James Mallard.”

  “Who's that?” I asked.

  “James was his apprentice.”

  I glanced at fake Clementine. Does that name ring a bell?

  Yes, I met him a handful of times. Slimy guy. Literally. Uses excessive hair product.

  “James was his apprentice…where? At school?” I asked.

  “No, at his mixology lab,” Lizzie said.

  “But not anymore?” I asked.

  “No, they parted ways,” Lizzie said. “James seemed eager to learn more advanced potions, but Dad knew he wasn't ready. I remember him telling me that James was pestering him about mastering some of the more complex mixtures. Apparently, he resented my dad for his talent, yet was in awe of him at the same time. It was a complicated relationship.”

  “I guess that's one of the reasons James wanted to serve as his apprentice,” I said. “He knew your dad was the kind of wizard with skills to pass on.”

  Lizzie turned to stare out the side window. “Dad trusted James at first, which is why he agreed to take him on as an apprentice. Dad has always preferred to work alone. It was one of the reasons his marriage to my mom failed. He preferred spending time alone in his lab over time with his family.”

  “What’s his relationship like with your mother now?” I
asked.

  Lizzie smiled. “They get along better now than when they were married. It's nice, actually. The three of us have dinner together once a month. It's kind of a regular deal.”

  “Your mother would have no reason to be involved then, would she?” I asked.

  “No way,” Lizzie and Peter said in unison.

  Fraser is very fond of Marina, Peter said. Lizzie’s right. She would have no reason to do anything to him.

  I didn’t share their preconceived notions, so I still had a few more questions before I’d be satisfied. “What about spousal support or outstanding child support?” I asked Lizzie. “Did he owe your mother money?”

  Lizzie faced me. “That's the one area where my dad refused to disappoint anyone. I mean, he doesn’t pay support for me anymore, obviously. When he did, he always paid, even if it meant he ended up owing money to someone much scarier.” Lizzie's brow furrowed. “I wish I’d realized how dire the situation might get. I thought he was doing okay. He’d stopped stressing about money the way he used to, especially after taking the job at Spellslingers.”

  “So what was the issue with James then?” I asked. “Maybe his apprentice was someone he disappointed in terms of payment.”

  “Apprentices don't get paid at all,” Lizzie said. “That's the nature of the position. Anyway, James begged for the opportunity to serve as my father's apprentice. He probably would have paid my dad to learn from him. According to my dad, James became increasingly frantic about learning the more complicated potions. He started ranting and raving one day that my father was deliberately holding him back.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “And was he?”

  Lizzie shrugged. “It's possible, but if that's true, it would only have been for his own good. My father grew to distrust James. I know my father engaged in some shady dealings, but there were certain ethical and moral lines he refused to cross for any price. He felt that James didn’t adhere to the same code and that concerned him, especially considering the power of some of the potions my father had the ability to make.”

  “How complicated are we talking?” I asked. Selfishly, I wondered whether I'd have insight into any of these potions in class. My overachieving side wanted to know how to do everything. I wasn't dissimilar to James in that respect. Of course, I had no interest in using my skills for questionable purposes. That was something that Bryn struggled with—that she would be seduced by the dark side of magic if she used too much. My concern was more about being seduced by magic in general, to the point where I would do anything to have more.