Fang Ten

by Emery Belle

  Kellen had a nasty habit of arresting first, asking questions later, and the thought of my guide being his next victim made me want to march down there and aim my training wand squarely in his face. But I knew that would only make things worse for Glenn—poor, sweet, blustering Glenn, who would never harm a hair on an ogre’s head—and so I could do nothing but chew my fingernails down to the stubs and sit outside his front door, waiting for him to return. Which I’d done all morning to no avail, making me so late for spellcasting class that Lady Winthrop threatened to make me the guinea pig for her classroom of seven-year-old witches and wizards learning how to break and regrow bones.

  “And speaking of exams,” Lady Winthrop said, studying the hem of her robes, now dry, before tucking her wand back into her pocket. “Your end-of-term exams will be coming up in a few short weeks, and those of you who wish to graduate to level one status”—she leveled her gaze at me—“would do well to begin practicing. The exam will be largely practical, so be prepared to demonstrate each of the spells we’ve learned so far. Glenn will also be administering a mixology exam that is given equal weight to your spellcasting abilities, as level one students begin working with far more volatile ingredients than you’ve seen thus far.”

  I glanced around at my classmates to gauge their reaction to news of the exam—Hunter looked eager, his face rapt with attention as he hung onto her every word, but Garnet’s face was pale and she was chewing worriedly on the end of her ponytail, no doubt wondering if she would pass. I had a feeling she and I had many long nights of studying in our dorm room ahead of us, and I could only hope that Monty would keep his snide comments to an absolute minimum. Which, for him, meant about once every thirty seconds.

  I hung back after class, allowing Garnet and Hunter to leave ahead of me, chatting amicably about the details of the upcoming coven dance. After waiting for Lady Winthrop to sweep from the room behind them, her robes billowing behind her, I checked to make sure that the hallway was clear before heading straight for the mixology lab, where I knew Glenn should have been preparing for his afternoon advanced potions class. I poked my head around the doorway, trying to keep out of sight of the witches and wizards who were standing at the workbenches and chatting to each other while chopping ingredients, stirring their cauldrons, and perusing their mixology textbooks. But Glenn was nowhere in sight.

  Stomach sinking, I turned to leave, tucking my spellbook under my arm and hurrying back down the academy’s long hallway. Did I dare pay Kellen a visit at the jail and demand Glenn’s release? It was my fault Glenn had gotten into this mess; if I hadn’t dropped his hat on the floor in the first place, Kellen never would have been able to connect him to Hattie’s disappearance. And it didn’t take a genius to work out why Glenn’s hat was at Hattie’s house to begin with—it seemed I had inadvertently uncovered the identity of Glenn’s new lady love.

  I jogged down the academy’s steps and had just stepped onto the sprawling front lawn, sidestepping two adolescent witches directing dragon-shaped kites through the cloudless sky with their wands, when I heard someone calling my name. I swung around and saw Glenn dragging his feet down the sidewalk toward the academy, his shoulders drooping, his eyes rimmed with red. Anger swelled inside me as I took in his appearance—rather than his usual flamboyant outfit, he was wearing a dull gray cardigan and khaki pants that were patched at the knees, and he had replaced his colorful top hat with a black beret that hung askew.

  I ran up to him, dropping my spellbook to the ground and throwing my arms around him. He sank against me, limp at first, but then his entire body began shaking with sobs. My knees buckled under his weight, but I managed to keep both of us upright, patting his back and making soothing sounds while the students passing by on their way to class stared openly. After a long time, his sobs gave way to shuddering sighs, and he eventually straightened up, removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed at his watery eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, grabbing his briefcase and rummaging around in it for his bag of emergency peanut brittle. I breathed a sigh of relief as I located it, then broke off an enormous hunk of it and offered it to him with an encouraging smile. He gave his favorite treat a tentative sniff before dropping it onto the ground without taking even the smallest nibble from one of its corners; it shattered upon impact, and Glenn ground his boot into the pieces, smearing them into the sidewalk.

  Uh-oh. Things were much, much worse than I realized.

  “He thinks I did it,” Glenn whispered, honking his nose into his handkerchief as a fresh wave of tears streamed down his cheeks. “How could he… I would never… Hattie meant…”

  His words caught in his throat as he bent over at the waist, struggling to catch his breath. I rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, my own eyes welling up as I watched the face of the sweetest man who ever lived contort in agony. When he finally composed himself and raised his gaze to mine, I saw that his electric-green eyes had lost their trademark sparkle.

  “I loved her, Wren,” he said quietly. He cupped the fingers of his right hand together, and when he opened them again, a beautiful aquamarine ring sparkled in the sunlight. “I was going to ask her tonight if she would do me the great honor of being my lady love from now until the end of eternity, and now… now…” He waved his other hand and the ring disappeared, but Glenn continued staring down at his empty palm, his expression dull.

  My heart shattered in a million pieces. “There’s still a chance she’s okay,” I whispered, pressing my thumb against his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze, letting him know that no matter what, I was in his corner, now and always. He reached for my hand, clenching it with renewed strength. He straightened his shoulders a fraction, and his eyes blazed with a mixture of sadness and determination.

  “Will you help me find her?” he said, and his tone held the faintest flicker of hope.

  I could come up with a hundred reasons to say no. Thousands, maybe. But Glenn had been by my side since day one, his belief in me never wavering, always there when I needed him, always just a sparrow away. And now, for the first time, he needed me. How could I refuse?

  It was simple, really: I couldn’t.

  I pressed my hands against his shoulders and met his gaze squarely. “I will,” I said, and if my voice held even the slightest tremor of doubt, I made sure he never noticed.

  Chapter 6

  I decided to stop by the daycare, Pierre waddling along behind me, before Hunter, Garnet, and I needed to be at the academy for our first familiar training lesson. As we rounded the corner and headed for the yellow brick building, I saw Kellen stepping out of the daycare’s front door and immediately ducked behind a tree, tugging Pierre with me.

  Astrid followed Kellen out of the building, crossing her arms over her body, and I could tell even from a distance that her face was pale and drawn. I watched as Kellen gave her a curt nod and strode away, his uniform pulled tight across his muscular torso. Astrid kept her eyes on him for a long time, her expression inscrutable, before disappearing back inside and slamming the door behind her.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Pierre, grabbing his leash and heading for the daycare—or I tried to, at least, but was nearly knocked off my feet when Pierre began lumbering in the opposite direction, toward the Sugar & Spells ice cream parlor. Yancy, the yeti owner, had developed a great fondness for Pierre and always gave him his very own heaping doggie cone whenever we were in the neighborhood.

  “No,” I said firmly, lugging him away from the parlor’s blue and yellow awning. He gave me an indignant whine and dug in his heels, and when I tried to pull him toward the daycare once more, he broke off his leash with an almighty tug and galloped toward Yancy, who was waving at him from the parlor’s front window.

  With a defeated sigh, I followed behind, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter while Pierre sampled ten new flavors, including sweet-and-sour squirrel for the yetis, zombie-inspired brainberry jam, and mint chocolate grass, a special request from the tree
nymphs. Ten minutes later, we were standing in front of the daycare’s door, Pierre panting heavily and his belly quite literally dragging on the ground.

  “Stay here,” I said to him sternly, then added, in a pleading tone, “and please don’t get into trouble.” He unfurled his fat tongue and licked my leg in agreement, and I had just started scratching feverishly at the hives that broke out all over my skin when Astrid flung open the door and stepped out, running right into me.

  “Sorry!” she said, grabbing onto my shoulders to stop herself from toppling over. “I didn’t see you there, I’m in such a tizzy…” She trailed off, her face pinched. “You’ve heard about Hattie, I suppose.” She twisted her fingers into nervous knots. “Kellen was just here, asking me all sorts of questions about what might have happened to her. But I didn’t know what to say—I barely knew her, even though we’ve worked together for years. She always kept her personal and business lives completely separate. Except…” She pressed her fingers to her lips.

  I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Except what?”

  Astrid looked behind her to make sure none of the volunteers were listening, but the only two women in sight were busy chasing after a trio of toddler gnomes who were flinging mud into each other’s faces and cackling madly. A miniature centaur was running after them, and when he caught up, he whacked the gnome nearest to him in the back with his front hooves, sending her flying into the other two and toppling them over like dominoes.

  When the wailing started, Astrid rubbed her brow and groaned. “I just don’t have time for this,” she said, more to herself than me. “How am I going to run this place without her?”

  “Even more of a reason to tell me what you know,” I said. “I’ve become sort of the island’s unofficial private investigator, and I’m going to be helping out with the search for Hattie.” Not that Kellen was aware of my new role in the case, of course, but I wasn’t about to tell Astrid that.

  “Really?” Astrid looked impressed. “Well, in that case…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if this means anything or not, but a few weeks ago I was staying at the office late one day, catching up on some paperwork for our new admissions, when I heard Hattie arguing with someone. A woman… I have no idea who, though, because I didn’t see her face.” She shrugged. “But the other woman sounded furious at her—I didn’t hear everything, but she kept shouting something about a quilt.”

  My mind flashed back to the photo I’d seen in the quilting magazine on Hattie’s coffee table, and I screwed up my mouth, trying to remember the name of the woman who’d been holding up the prize-winning quilt with Hattie, identical proud grins on their faces. It had something to do with jewelry… Sapphire? Amethyst? Diamond…?

  “Pearl!” I shouted, the name clicking into place, and Astrid looked taken aback. “Hattie’s quilting partner, Pearl… I can’t remember her last name.” I looked to Astrid for help, and she pursed her lips for a few moments, thinking hard.

  “I haven’t met everyone on the island, of course, but the only Pearl I know of is Pearl Dixon, a lovely older witch who owns a wand repair shop. She fixed my wand last year when one of the vampire babies used it for teething, and she didn’t charge me a penny. Said it was on the house since I do so much good for the community by helping to raise the next generation of islanders.”

  She drew up her shoulders proudly, then frowned. “But I can’t imagine Pearl being the person I heard yelling at Hattie—she’s so polite and soft-spoken.”

  “It gives me a place to start, at least,” I said, tugging my notebook from my bag and writing down Pearl’s name with a big question mark beside it. Astrid gave me the address for Pearl’s repair shop, which was located only a few blocks from the academy.

  “That works out perfectly,” I said to Pierre after thanking Astrid and promising to put in an extra shift at the daycare to help take some of the load off her shoulders in Hattie’s absence. I tugged on my familiar’s leash, and he trotted after me down the sidewalk toward the academy. “I’ll head over there right after we finish up your first training lesson. You can go home with Garnet and—”

  Pierre howled, and I sighed. I knew I’d never be able to slip that past him. “Okay,” I relented, squatting down to scratch him behind the ears. “You can come too.”

  He did a little wiggle and roll along the sidewalk, great flecks of slobber flying into the begonia bushes beside us, then lumbered to his feet and positively pranced down the road in front of me. When we spotted Garnet rounding the corner ahead of us, with Midnight, her nightswallow, swooping through the air at her side, Pierre barked frantically with joy and ran up to her.

  When I caught up to them, she was cooing and scratching his belly, and he was thumping his tail on the ground with glee, and so I waited for Midnight to land beside us before stroking his leathery wings so he wouldn’t feel left out. “What do you think familiar training entails?” I asked Garnet as she climbed back to her feet and the four of us stepped onto the academy’s front lawn. “Do we teach them to do tricks and stuff?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Garnet said thoughtfully, “but I think it has a lot to do with building trust and understanding. That way they can learn to help us with our magic, and we can learn to let them help us. You’re lucky,” she added, glancing down at Pierre. “Based on what you told me about how Pierre acted during your encounter with Wendall, it sounds like your familiar is already willing to lay down his life for you. It usually takes a really long time to get to that level.”

  I followed her gaze to Pierre, who was trying without success to catch a butterfly with his tongue. She was right—the dog had been nothing short of heroic when we were facing down the murderous brownie in Merry’s gnome hole, placing himself directly between me and danger. If that wasn’t worth a few extra hunks of cheese on his dinner plate, I didn’t know what was.

  Hunter was already waiting for us on the academy’s side lawn in a small, private clearing surrounded by fat palm trees swaying gently in the pleasant ocean breeze. He wasn’t alone; as he petted his familiar, a chameleon-like doppelganger named Dolly, he was chatting with another man around our age who had windswept black hair, eyes the color of a stormy sea, and tanned, muscular forearms.

  Garnet stopped short when she saw him. “Is that our instructor?” she whispered, her cheeks coloring. She began smoothing her hair frantically before producing a small mirror from her bag and checking to make sure there was nothing in her teeth.

  Hunter, spotting us, waved us over, his entire face lighting up as Garnet took her place next to him; he seemed not to notice that her eyes were locked on our instructor, who… uh-oh… was giving her a slow, seductive smile in return that had me blushing by association.

  The instructor waited until the familiars had calmed down—Pierre was chasing Dolly around in a circle while Midnight was tearing out great big chunks of the nearest palm tree’s trunk with his beak—before introducing himself. “I’m Calvin,” he said with an easy smile, shoving his hands casually into the pockets of his jeans. Garnet let her gaze slide over his long, lean body—she couldn’t have been any more obvious if she’d gone over and licked the sweat from his muscles—and I nudged her hard in the side.

  “Welcome to your first familiar training lesson,” Calvin continued, either oblivious to or purposely ignoring Garnet’s sharp intake of breath when my elbow made contact with her ribcage. “We’re going to start off today by practicing communicating with your familiars, and contrary to what you’ve probably seen in human movies and television shows”—he tipped his head to me and Hunter—“familiars can’t actually talk to their witch or wizard, either out loud or in your mind.”

  He snapped his fingers, and Pierre, Dolly, and Midnight immediately stopped what they were doing and lined up in front of him. I raised my eyebrows—I’d never seen Pierre move that fast unless I was taking a bite of a sandwich that, stupidly, I thought belonged to me.

  “Instead,” Calvin continued, “it’s ab
out reading each other’s feelings, emotions, and intentions, and acting accordingly. Your goal is to build an intuitive connection with your familiar, something that is much more powerful than words.”

  Calvin bent down and scooped up Dolly, allowing the lizard-like creature to scramble up his arm. She came to rest on his shoulder, her skin immediately taking on the precise color and texture of his soft blue T-shirt. Then he beckoned to Hunter, who stepped forward. “Visualize an action that you’d like your familiar to take right now. Go on,” he urged, when Hunter glanced at Garnet and me uncertainly. “Let’s see how much of a connection you’ve built so far.”

  Hunter closed his eyes and scrunched up his face, thinking hard, and suddenly Dolly sprang from Calvin’s shoulder, landing lightly on the ground. When Hunter opened his eyes and looked around, spotting Dolly at the instructor’s feet, he looked disappointed. “I told her to come to me,” he said, holding out his hand. She immediately hopped into it, settling into his palm, her skin morphing to match his.

  Calvin, on the other hand, looked impressed. “And she got halfway there on your first try, which means she’s already becoming in tune with your thoughts. Very nice.” He turned to me. “Shall we test your familiar next?”

  He stroked Pierre’s head while I, following Hunter’s lead, closed my eyes. I thought hard, visualizing Pierre sitting obediently at my feet, something he only did when I was dangling a sausage in front of his nose. Feeling excited, I opened my eyes and looked down—but Pierre was nowhere to be seen.

  Instead, Garnet was laughing so hard little snorts were escaping her nose and Hunter was shooting me a sympathetic look. “What?” I said, glancing around. Then I groaned loudly and ran over to Pierre, who was rolling around in a pile of mud in the far side of the clearing, his fur matted down with muck, his bottom scooting along the ground, leaving muddy track marks all along the manicured lawn. When I bent down to haul him up, he began shaking the mud from his fur, covering me from head to toe.