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

by Annabel Chase

  My radar pinged. “Do you know which advocates from the Liberty Project?”

  “They hired the big ones,” Warden Armitage said. “Two of the partners, Angela and Seamus. I only know this because they recently represented a vampire that I had the pleasure of capturing two years ago. He was the head of a problematic coven. Unfortunately for us, problematic for the AMF meant big money for their coven, so they hired the best and guess what? That sharp tooth is back on the streets, up to his old tricks.” He still looked bitter about it.

  “The Liberty Project sounds like a good organization,” Bryn said. “What’s their main objective?”

  “In theory, to prevent the mistreatment of prisoners and bring justice to all,” Warden Armitage said.

  “That sounds like a noble cause,” I said.

  “It would be,” Warden Armitage agreed, “if it simply meant that the prisoners were given better accommodation, but what generally ends up happening is that the prisoners are released through loopholes.”

  “And all your hard work to capture them is undone,” I said.

  Warden Armitage’s expression clouded over. “That's about the size of it. You have no idea the legwork that goes into capturing some of these criminals. To have all that work overturned for academic reasons, it's disheartening at times. Makes you question the job.”

  “Why does that happen?” I asked. “Why doesn't it simply result in better treatment of prisoners?”

  Warden Armitage shook his head. “I ask myself that question all the time, but they always find a loophole. You pay someone enough money, and they'll find a way to set you free.”

  “Sounds a lot like the human world,” Bryn said wryly. “It would be nice if money didn't exert so much influence.”

  “What about these giants?” I asked. “Where does their money come from to pay advocates or anyone else?”

  Warden Armitage tapped his temple. “Now you’re thinking like an agent, Degraff. This group's leader is a giantess called Naira Mason. She acquired her wealth from her parents, Judas and Harmony Mason. They owned a chemical company. Made a fortune and now their darling daughter uses it to further the giants’ political causes.”

  “Why did these high-ranking officials end up in prison?” Bryn asked.

  “They tried to kidnap a prison warden’s family,” Gray said. “Based on the evidence found at the site, their intentions were clear.”

  A chill traveled down my spine. “A family?”

  “The plot was foiled by wardens,” Warden Armitage said. “I wasn't on that team, but I remember it vividly. It was a big deal.”

  “What kind of treatment are they claiming is problematic?” I asked.

  “The usual,” Warden Armitage replied. “Torture, inhospitable accommodation, discrimination. The only part I know is true is that the giants are kept in a separate facility because of their size. It's not politically motivated. We do the same for vampires and other supernaturals. Their cells are designed with their kind in mind.”

  Bryn frowned. “So what does that mean? A vampire is in a dark cell? A werewolf is in a cell that doesn't allow shifting?”

  Warden Armitage nodded. “Basically. Magic users are held in cells that prevent them from using magic. It's common sense.”

  “But the Liberty Project uses the law against the system?” I said, trying to understand. I wondered whether Lizzie Fraser was involved in some of the more ethically-challenged cases.

  “I’m not saying that all the advocates there are corrupt,” Warden Armitage said. “I can think of a few offhand that do good work. The prison system isn’t perfect, and sometimes checks and balances are required. Angela and Seamus, however, seem to have headed down a slippery slope in their later years. I now look at any case they take on with skepticism.”

  “That's a shame,” I said.

  “About Zilla,” Warden Armitage said. “If I were you, I would tread carefully. He's still under suspicion and you don't want to be wrapped up in that. You have a reputation problem, Degraff. No reason to make it worse.”

  I bristled. “I’ve been nothing but an exemplary trainee.”

  Warden Armitage gave me a sympathetic smile. “I get it. But you know how the world works. Ask your friend Morrow over here what it's like to be held back by the sins of the father.” He hesitated. “Or, in your case, the grandmother. Why make your work here any harder than it needs to be?”

  Although I knew he had a point, it was so grossly unfair that I refused to let it influence my decision. Peter deserved my help and I was prepared to give it to him, even if it meant putting my own reputation at risk. I wanted to be the best trainee this academy had ever seen. I wasn't going to get there by turning my nose up at a challenge. That wasn't the Degraff way and, for better or worse, I was a Degraff.

  Chapter Twelve

  I returned to my room from the impromptu meeting to find another note on the windowsill in my room. Peter instructed me to meet him tonight at a place called Oasis a few towns away. According to his sources, the nightclub served as James Mallard’s undisclosed location.

  “You can’t wear your Spellslingers cloak to a nightclub,” Bryn said. It was now half an hour before I was set to meet Peter. “You’ll be a walking target.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” I replied, searching my closet for something appropriate. I needed to blend in, but still be able to kick butt in a punch if necessary.

  Bryn elbowed me aside and pulled out the hanger with my black leather pants. “This is a no-brainer, Dani. I’m surprised you feel the need to think about.”

  She was right. I selected a shiny black halter-top that left my arms free to do magic, although I hoped the meeting didn’t come to that.

  “Bring your flaming sword,” Mia suggested from her position on the bed.

  “Are you nuts?” I asked. “I can’t bring a weapon like that to a nightclub.”

  “What if James Mallard is the guy?” Mia countered.

  “Then I’ll have my wand,” I said. “Easily concealed.” I nodded toward the sword hung on my wall. “Unlike that.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want backup?” Bryn asked. “We can go, too.”

  “Peter said to come alone,” I said.

  “Gee, that’s not ominous or anything,” Cerys said from her desk.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t want to draw attention to us,” I said. “If we show up with an entourage, it’s going to sound an alarm.”

  “Yeah, she’s right,” Bryn said. “And we know Dani can take care of herself. Not so sure about Peter.”

  I changed into the nightclub outfit and styled my hair in a single braid down my back. In crowded places, it was best to keep my hair as tamed as possible.

  “You look crazy hot,” Bryn said. “You’re going to be fighting off more than a kidnapper in that outfit.”

  I smoothed my halter-top. “I’m not trying to look hot. I’m trying to blend in.”

  Bryn barked a short laugh. “Dani, you can’t blend in at a supermodel convention. You’re irritatingly gorgeous.”

  My cheeks burned. “How irritating?”

  “Very,” Mia and Cerys answered in unison, and we all laughed.

  “Fonthill doesn’t mind you taking his truck again?” Bryn said.

  “No,” I replied. “He rarely uses it in the evening. He’s early to bed.”

  “And yet he’s still grumpy in the mornings,” Mia said. “Go figure.”

  “Go easy on him. He has a good heart,” I said.

  Bryn cocked an eyebrow. “Are we talking about Fonthill or Peter?”

  “Both,” I said, and breezed out the door.

  Pulsating music filled my ears and the rhythm seemed to vibrate inside me rather than around me. My senses were besieged by the variety of colors, smells, and sounds.

  “You look uncomfortable, princess,” Peter said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Not your kind of place? A shame because you’re totally rocking the look.”

  I felt his appreci
ative gaze run the length of me and an involuntary thrill shot through me. “As a matter of fact, I love to dance.”

  Peter chuckled. “This isn't a competition. In a place like this, dancing is purely for pleasure.” He tilted his head. “You are familiar with the concept of pleasure, I take it?”

  I glared at him. “I do plenty of things for the sake of enjoyment. I just happen to know where the right balance is. Unlike some.”

  Peter snaked an arm around my waist and guided me toward the dance floor. I tried to shake him off. “What are you doing?”

  He flashed an innocent look. “What do you mean? If we want to rendezvous with Mallard, we need to play the part.”

  “But he knows who you are,” I shot back.

  Peter winked. “Exactly. We need to meet his expectations.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the small of my back. “Time to shake it, sister. Assuming your muscles are flexible enough.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  He squeezed my waist. “It means that you’re a little uptight and stiff, princess. Maybe we can loosen you up while we’re here. That’s called multi-tasking.”

  We threaded our way through the gyrating bodies until we reached a clearing big enough for both of us. Peter took the lead, moving his hips in a way I didn't expect. His movements were a lot like him—playful and seductive. If only he weren't so charming. Somehow, that fact made him even more annoying.

  “Wiggle to that beat, princess,” he said encouragingly. “I know you've got it in you.”

  I relaxed slightly. I wasn't used to someone else taking charge. That was usually my role in a group. I also wasn't used to someone looking at me the way Peter was looking at me right now. I'd been ogled by men my whole life, but Peter's expression was…different. There was a hint of admiration mixed in with lust. Despite my misgivings about him, that combination appealed to me.

  We danced for the next twenty minutes to make a good show of it. As much as I didn't want to enjoy the feel of Peter's hands on my hips, I did. We rocked in sync, our bodies giving into the music. It was invigorating. Peter was right—not that I would ever tell him—there was something to be said for dancing for the sheer joy of it. I didn’t need to be the best on the dance floor. I had nothing to prove here.

  A tap on the shoulder interrupted us. I glanced over to see a muscled fairy with a jaw that reminded me of a nutcracker. “Follow me,” the jaw rumbled.

  Peter and I followed him wordlessly through the throng of bodies. At first, I thought we were headed toward the smaller bar at the back of the club, but nutcracker fairy stopped before we reached there. Then the fairy did something unexpected—he tossed a handful of glitter on us.

  I glanced around. “What the…?”

  We dissolved, immediately materializing in another room. I looked down to make sure all my limbs were still intact.

  “Don't worry,” Peter reassured me. “Every strand of hair is still in place.”

  “I understand you’re looking for me,” a voice said. My head swiveled to the source of the sound. A slight man with a balding head and glasses sat behind an oversized desk. He seemed far too short for a desk that big. It only served to accentuate his petite stature.

  “That's right,” Peter said, swaggering forward. “You remember me, don't you?”

  James scoffed. “Fraser’s loyal pet? How can I forget?”

  Peter choked on his response. “Pet? Fraser and I have a symbiotic business relationship. That's why we’re here. I need something from him, but I can't get it because no one seems to know where he is.”

  James gave a soft cackle. “Do I look stupid to you? Do you think I haven't heard that he's disappeared and you’re a prime suspect?” He removed his glasses and wiped them with a pristine white cloth. “You may be able to blind others with your particular brand of smarm,” James said, “but that won't work with me, Peter Zilla.”

  Peter folded his arms. “I think you meant to say charm.”

  James’s lips curved into a smile. “If you say so. Still, I'm intrigued by your presence here. Sit down so we can talk properly. Can I offer you a drink?” He directed the last remark to me. “Dancing can work up quite a thirst. It's one of the reasons my potions sell so well here.” He snapped his fingers at an assistant in the adjacent room. “Max!”

  “No, we’re good,” Peter said quickly but firmly. I didn’t miss the silent exchange between the men.

  “As you wish,” James said, and flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture when Max entered the room. My eyes popped at the sight of the assistant—all seven feet of him. No wonder the ceilings were so high down here.

  “Yes, Mr. Mallard.” Max gave a slight bow before returning to the adjacent room.

  “Max is an excellent assistant,” James said. “He allows me to utilize all available shelf space in the lab. The high ceilings are for storage as much as to accommodate my staff.”

  “Are they all as big as Max?” I asked.

  “No, but the fairies can fly up to the top shelves,” James replied. “Another bonus. Fraser always refused outside help. I was lucky that he agreed to take me on as an apprentice. If I weren’t a wizard, the answer would’ve definitely been no.”

  “If you weren’t a wizard, he’d have had nothing to teach you,” Peter pointed out.

  Peter was right. Magic worked differently in the various groups. A magic user like a wizard would conjure a spell in a different way than a fairy. That being said, the academy employed a variety of paranormals to teach trainees because we’d be working alongside each other out in the ‘real’ world.

  “Let me take a wild guess that Lizzie Fraser pointed you in my direction.” James placed his feet on the desk, revealing soles that looked as though they’d never been walked on. What sorcery was this? All my shoes looked like they’d been handed down by previous generations.

  “She explained that you and her father parted on less than favorable terms,” I said. “It only makes sense to seek you out.”

  “Yes, it seems the AMF would agree. They had wardens here last night to question me.” He gave me the once-over. “Far less attractive than this one.”

  “She’s a…” Peter began.

  “Sentry of the South,” I interjected. No need for James to know that I was a trainee.

  “Ah, you belong to another quadrant. Pity.” He scrutinized me to the point that I began to feel uncomfortable. I wondered whether he was using some X-Ray vision magic. I wouldn’t put it past a sleazeball like him. “In that case, why are you charging around this territory, asking questions about my former mentor?”

  “Because I asked her to,” Peter said. “She knows I have a vested interest.”

  James’s gaze flickered between us. “Interesting. I didn’t realize you were capable of a relationship with a woman of such remarkable beauty and intellect.” His brow furrowed. “It certainly demonstrates a flaw on your end, Miss….”

  “Montrose,” I said, using my middle name. Degraff was too easy to trace back to Spellslingers.

  “Miss Montrose.” James ran his tongue over his top lip and I suddenly felt squeamish. No wonder Lizzie disliked him. He was awful.

  Peter leaned forward. “Tell me where you’re keeping Fraser and I won’t kill you.”

  James laughed. “Kill me? You’d be lucky to give me a paper cut, but then you’d feel obligated to heal it, wouldn’t you?” He rolled his eyes. “Useless druids. No real power in your race.”

  Quietly, I summoned my magic, gathering strength. I wasn’t going to use fire, so I knew I’d feel a bit weakened after this spell. I whipped out my wand and aimed it at James. A block of ice formed around him, leaving only his mouth exposed.

  I stood and rested my hands on the edge of his desk. “Mr. Mallard, I’m only to going to ask you this once. Do you have any involvement in Professor Fraser’s disappearance?”

  “It hurts,” James cried. “Max!”

  The giant returned to the room to see his boss encased in
thick ice. His brow furrowed.

  “Stay back,” Peter ordered. The druid was now wielding a staff.

  I blinked twice. “Where did that come from?”

  “I always carry it,” Peter replied. “I just try not to use it.”

  “Because you want to show that you can walk without support?” What good was a regular staff against a giant?

  Max made a move toward us and I aimed my wand back at James. “One more step and I seal your boss’s mouth with ice. Do you understand what that means?”

  Max seemed uncertain as to whether I’d make good on my threat.

  “Don’t listen to them,” James said between ragged breaths.

  “You have to listen to her. She’s wearing black leather,” Peter said. “It’s the official uniform of badasses. You know she’ll do it.”

  Max nodded slowly and remained still. I turned back to James. “Do you have any involvement in Grantham Fraser’s disappearance?”

  “No!” James shouted. “But I might know someone who does. A muse called Calliope.”

  Peter pointed his staff at James. “Why would a muse know anything about a kidnapping?”

  “She’s…plugged in,” James said, struggling to speak.

  “So are you,” I said.

  “Only about things that interest me,” James said. “I could care less what happens to that selfish wizard.”

  I looked at Peter. “Do we believe him?”

  Peter’s staff shrunk to the size of a toothpick and he tucked it behind his ear. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Thanks for your help, Mr. Mallard.” I pointed my wand above him and conjured a heat lamp. “Don’t worry. The ice will melt.” But it would take long enough for us to escape without incident.

  “Where’s the exit?” Peter asked the giant.

  Max stepped aside and gestured to a hidden staircase. Peter and I brushed past him and hurried out of the subterranean office before James decided to kill us both. I stumbled on the steps and Peter grabbed my arm to steady me.