by Devyn Jayse
My confusion must have been evident because Sinead clarified. "They're fire beings. Demons are born of flame. We're dragons, we get along well with creatures of fire."
"What about the other shifters? Do they get along with demons? Or is it just the dragons?" I lowered the bucket to ground, placing it by my feet.
Even with all my classes on the history of shifters, it was still difficult to figure out their social hierarchy and relationships with other supernaturals. The dragon shifters taught us a bit about the nuances of their world, but they always saw things from their lens. It was a biased and distorted view of the world.
"Demons are better than witches?" I tried to confirm.
Sinead snorted. "Obviously."
"What would you do if you found a witch here in disguise?" I snapped my jaws shut the second the last word left my mouth. Why had I just asked that? I basically had just painted a neon sign above my head that screamed my secret for the world to hear.
"As if a witch could wander around the Center without any dragon shifter being the wiser," Sinead scoffed.
The sisters didn't seem suspicious at my question, so I decided to push the limits a bit more. "Couldn't they just use magic?"
Maeve appeared thoughtful. "We'd sniff her out."
"What do you mean?"
"Witches smell like cloves. Any witch nearby would stink of it."
Sinead's face scrunched up. "If I smelled cloves, I'd cut off her sneaky little head. Can't stand witches, full of curses and ill will," she complained.
"Does everyone feel that way?" I asked them.
"No, not all. Diego tolerates them. The others follow his lead. We know better. Don't we, Maeve?"
I frowned. "What do I smell like?"
Both of them turned to me and raised their chins. Their nostrils flared as they breathed in the air. Maeve frowned in concentration. She lowered her chin and glanced at her sister. Sinead returned her look. As one, both their heads turned to me. I couldn't interpret their expressions, but they seemed serious. Neither one said anything for a few seconds. I began to sweat under their scrutiny. Why had I asked? Why had I brought attention to my secret again?
"Trouble," Sinead barked. My eyes widened. She started laughing and grasped her sides. "You should see the look on your face."
"Sinead." Her sister reproached her.
Sinead continued to laugh and mimicked me. "'What do I smell like?'"
I almost wilted in relief. I didn't smell of cloves. Part of my brain knew that of course I didn't, or the dragons would have sniffed me out from the second I walked into the Center. Regardless, I couldn't reconcile that with the information Aisha had given me. How could I be a witch and not smell like one?
Sinead sobered suddenly. "You're scentless."
"What do you mean?"
"You have no scent," Maeve said. "It's the uncanniest thing."
"Why?"
"I've never come across someone that didn't smell of anything," Sinead confirmed. Now the sisters started to become suspicious.
"What does that mean?" I asked tentatively.
Maeve scratched the back of her head. "I have no idea."
"What do the others smell like?"
Sinead's eyebrows knit together. "What others?"
"The other initiates in my intake."
"I haven't met them to smell them, but I suppose they smell like humans."
"What do humans smell like?" And why didn't I smell like one? I left my thought unvoiced.
"Stink," Sinead bit off. "Constant stink."
"And I don't stink?" I didn't know if I should have been happy about that or not.
The sisters shook their heads in unison. "No, you smell of items you've handled. The bucket. Paper. Ink." Maeve added, "And the residue stink of another human."
Leire.
"You're scentless," Sinead sniffed the air once more as if to confirm her findings.
"What does it mean?"
Sinead smirked. "I have no idea. You're a strange one."
Seventeen
"During Eulàlia's rule, she was blessed to have had access to the wisdom of Jacme the Advisor. For every age there is one Advisor."
I was sitting in Dragon Fundamentals. Our instructor Carlotta was lecturing us on former rulers of the shifters. I had woken up in a disturbed state from one of my dreams. My body was sore from the mopping I had done the previous day. I wasn't looking forward to returning to the Dungeons this evening.
Pol raised his hand. "Who's the Advisor now?"
"We don't have one," Carlotta replied.
"But you just said every age has one," Quentin spoke up.
Carlotta paused. She reluctantly said, "It's true, every age has an Advisor. Ours hasn't made itself known yet." She appeared troubled.
"Who was the last one?" Pol asked.
"His name was Jacme. Weren't you listening?" Quentin snapped.
"How long was he the Advisor for?" Beatriz asked.
"A couple of centuries." Carlotta waited for our reaction.
Sounds of awe broke out among my classmates. I turned to my right and exchanged surprised glances with Beatriz. How long did dragon shifter live? Beatriz raised her eyebrows.
"How did he die?" Pol asked.
"He asked too many questions," the instructor replied wryly.
Pol grinned. He didn't let Carlotta's words faze him. "I heard Christopher was the next Advisor."
If Carlotta was shocked at Pol's prediction, she didn't show it. "Who told you that?" she replied calmly, almost exasperatedly.
Pol shrugged.
Beatriz chewed on her lower lip. I hunched in my chair and glanced at the back of Leire's head. She was the one who had discovered that rumor. The instructor studied the class. Seeing that we were hanging on to her every word, she finally gave in.
"Christopher was expected to be the next Advisor, but the Jewel hasn't spoken to him. It's remained silent."
"Jewel?" Maribel spoke up from behind me.
"The Kindred Jewel," Carlotta clarified.
"What's that?" Quentin asked.
Carlotta leaned back against her desk. She steepled her fingers, clearly deciding if she wanted to indulge us further. Apparently, she decided that she did. "The Kindred Jewel is a rare stone. It was forged in the Age of the Dragons. Throughout our time, it has appointed the Advisor, though it's remained silent since the death of the last one."
"How does a stone speak?" Quentin muttered.
Carlotta frowned. "If it speaks, you will hear it."
"How?" Beatriz asked.
"It's not for you humans to understand. You'd hear the voice in your head."
"What's to stop someone from claiming the stone's speaking to them?" Pol asked.
She placed her hands behind her on the desk and pushed herself forward. She started pacing. We watched her, hypnotized.
Maribel spoke up again. "How long has it been since the last Advisor passed away?"
"Seventeen years."
"What does that mean?" Pol asked.
"Did someone switch the rock?" Leire offered a conspiracy theory.
"Maybe someone stole it," Kevin backed her up.
Carlotta stopped and faced us. "The Kindred Jewel remains. Its silence, however, is troubling. Some take it as a sign of ill fortune."
"For who?" Pol piped up.
"For the dragon shifters and our leader."
"Diego?"
At this point, I was surprised that Carlotta was still pandering to Pol's curiosity, but she continued. "Yes, some question Diego's rule due to the Kindred Jewel's silence. There is a faction of shifters that believes that if a new ruler replaced him, the Kindred Jewel will speak once more. Some see it as a testament of his power and authority. They are wrong."
"Why wrong?"
"Diego leads us and he leads us well. Conspiracy theories seek to divide and put another in his place because they don't like his policies and the changes he's implemented."
"What does the Advisor do?" I asked h
er, finally deciding to participate in the conversation.
"The Advisor is committed to the current leader of shifters. He or she offers commentary and feedback on the rule. The Advisor acts as a mediator of shifter issues."
"Why is one needed?" Quentin asked.
"The Advisor is the ultimate recourse. His or her word can sway Diego's. It's their power."
I frowned. Beatriz nudged me. "It sounds like Christopher. He got the other dragons to change their minds."
I wondered if my dragon shifter friend was destined to be the next Advisor. And if so, why hadn't the stone spoken to him yet?
Eighteen
"What do you think?"
"About?" I asked Beatriz. We were in the living room in our wing. We had moved there after finishing our homework. Pol sat with us sketching in a notebook. It reminded me of the secret that remained hidden in mine. I had shoved it away in a drawer before Carlotta escorted me to my punishment, and I hadn't opened the subject since. Maybe it was best to keep my secret to myself and get advice privately.
"Do you think Christopher is the Advisor?" Beatriz repeated.
I frowned. "How can he be? You heard Carlotta. The Kindred Jewel hasn't spoken to him."
"Why do you think that is?"
"Why do you care?" Pol asked her, looking up from his drawing. He had drawn two dragons in flight.
"How can you not?" Beatriz fluffed her hair.
"It doesn't affect me."
She sighed. "Of course it does. It affects all of us. Why do you think this program is in existence? It's because Diego decided to have it."
"Really? I didn't know that," I said.
Beatriz flushed. "Actually, I'm not sure, but I think it is. What if the new Advisor comes along and decides to kick us all out, that humans weren't needed anymore? That means we'll go back to before."
My hand instinctively clutched the charmstone pendant around my neck. I couldn't imagine going back to before. It seemed strange that there had been a time in my life that I didn't know magic existed. It felt like my soul always believed it did, and now my beliefs had come true. What would that leave me with if someone came along and decided all humans had to be gone? Would I ever discover the truth about what I really was?
I slipped off my charmstone pendant and stared at it. It had caught my eye from the moment I saw it at the jewelry store. It was shaped into a gold coin with a dragon stamped on it. When I had first seen the necklace, it had a diamond, but the jeweler had removed the diamond and inserted the red charmstone in its place instead. It had fire within its depths.
I looked up at Beatriz and Pol. "I want to go back to Magic Runes. We need to talk to Carmen."
"About what?" Pol asked.
I couldn't tell my friends my secret. "I want to know if they'd be able to erase our memories if they wanted to get rid of the program." What my friends didn't know was that I already knew the answer to that, but it worked as a decent excuse anyways. The reason I wanted to go back to see Carmen was because I needed answers, and Carmen was the only witch I knew who may be able to provide me with them.
"They wouldn't be able to do that," Beatriz protested. She looked at the two of us. "Would they?"
Pol appeared thoughtful. "Why not? All it would take is a spell."
Beatriz's expression changed to one of worry. Little did she know that a memory spell had been worked on her.
A stab of guilt hit me. I pushed it down. "We need to know the truth. Only a witch can tell us. We need to see Carmen."
"You can't go," Beatriz pointed out. "You can't leave the Center until your punishment is over."
"I could go with you. They won't know I snuck out."
"No, Vanessa!" Beatriz gasped. "You're in enough trouble as it is. You don't need to land in any more of it."
Surprisingly Pol agreed with her. "Yeah, you shouldn't risk it. What if they came looking for you? Beatriz is right, it's not worth it."
"It isn't urgent," Beatriz added. "It's not like the Advisor will show up tomorrow and kick us out."
"I won't be able to sleep," I said.
The pair exchanged glances.
"We can go and find out," Pol offered. "We'll update you when we're back."
But neither one of them knew how urgent it actually was, nor did they know that I didn't really need to find out if memory erasing spells were possible. I felt a compulsion to understand my secret immediately. I unclenched my fist, placing the charmstone necklace on the table in front of us. "Imagine not having these anymore and not being able to see the magical world. Will you go there now?"
"What's the hurry?" Pol asked.
"It's bothering me."
"Fine." Pol got to his feet. "Come on, Beatriz, before she pushes us out."
"We'll be back before you know it," Beatriz promised.
Nineteen
Beatriz and Pol walked out of the living room. I followed them to the door and watched until they had left our wing. Immediately after they left, I shut myself in my room and opened the balcony door. I stepped outside and leaned over to see how far away the ground was -- it was far. I turned to look at the wall beside me. The Center was a building that resembled a castle. The facade had large protruding blocks of stone. I studied the stones and saw that I could gain a foothold if I was careful. It wouldn't be that different from the rock-climbing wall in the training courtyard.
I tested the sturdiness of the masonry, running my fingers around the edges of the stones. I could definitely get a grip. I glanced down and looked at the gargoyles littering the building. If needed, I could use them to climb down. They probably wouldn't appreciate becoming a foothold, but I was sure they'd let it slide.
I climbed over the balcony's railing and held onto it as I debated my next move. I took a deep breath. This was it. I moved my hand to the stone in the wall and felt for a place to get a grip. When I managed to do that, I tentatively moved my right foot to the stone, seeking a space. My foot managed to slide into the space between the stones. I moved my left foot to follow it.
I braced myself. I hung there suspended on the side of the building. I lowered a foot, feeling for another opening. I lodged my foot and slowly made my way down the building. I was still close to the balcony and could reach out if I lost my balance, but that safety net grew farther away the more I climbed down.
I focused on my movements, carefully taking one step at a time. One stone, two stones, three stones. My confidence improved as my hands and feet found a rhythm.
As I made my way down, I came to a stand-still when the only stone I could find to place my hands was one tiny outcropping. I couldn't distribute my weight properly and had to grip the tiny stone with both hands. As I nudged my fingers together, my left foot suddenly slipped, and I yelped as my body slammed into the hard stone. My fingers worked furiously to hold onto the side of the building. I tried find a place to insert my foot, but I couldn't find it. My body weight was listening to the call of gravity and I could feel the sweat making my hands slippery as I started losing grip of the small stone that I held onto.
"No, no, no, no," I pleaded as I tried to keep myself from falling. My head was plastered against the stone wall. I was too far away from a balcony to pull myself back up to safety. I glanced down. This whole thing was a big mistake. If I dropped from this height, I'd be lucky to only break several bones. More likely, the impact would kill me.
My heart hammered in my throat as I fought to remain upright. My feet were dangling from the building. My fingers were slowly losing their grip. I blinked away the sweat that made its way to my eyes.
This was it. This was how I was going to die.
My fingers slipped, and I fell.
I felt the rush of air tug at my clothes. I didn't have time to form a thought before something smashed me against the building, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled to breathe, gasping in huge gulps of air. Dazed, I tried to gather my bearings. Something held me tight against the stone facade. I slowly turned my head to see what it was
. A pair of eyes blinked at me. I screamed.
"Hey, stop that!" the gargoyle warned.
"I'm sorry," I clung to the stone and studied the gargoyle. Its features resembled a dragon, but around its head it had the mane of a lion. I'd never seen a creature like it before.
"Are you crazy?" the gargoyle asked me. I detected a female tone.
"Yes. No. I don't know," I admitted.
"Get a grip."
I listened to her, putting my hands and feet in the cracks of the stone. I prayed that she wouldn't let go. The gargoyle gave me a quizzical look. "Why would you try to kill yourself instead of walking out the door like a normal person?"
I wasn't about to tell the gargoyle about my punishment, but my expression must have given me away. "Oh, you're forbidden from leaving, aren't you?"
"Yes," I said.
"What's your name?"
"Vanessa."
"I'm Frasia. You'll get in trouble if they catch you. And they will catch you, you know. It's just a matter of time. You can't get things past the dragons. Are you sure you want to do this? "
"Yes. No. I don't know," I repeated.
She looked down at the ground. "Well, you don't have much farther to go. From this point on, all you'll suffer is a few broken bones."
I peered down. It still looked like a very far drop to me. The gargoyle whistled, startling me. "Thiago," she called out below.
A gargoyle shifted, his narrow face gazing up at us. "Yes?"
"Keep an eye out on this one. She's making her way to the ground. Catch her if she slips."
"Why would I want to do that?" The gargoyle sounded disgruntled.
"Because I'll tell the dragons your role in this if she cracks her skull on her way down."
"It's always my fault," the gargoyle muttered. "'Thiago this, Thiago that.' I can't help it if silly humans don't use the front door like they're supposed to."
"Don't mind him. He'll grumble and moan, but he'll catch you if you slip again," Frasia told me.
"Thank you for your help. You saved my life," I told her.
She ducked her head. "It was nothing. Do me a favor and don't get caught. I don't need the dragons breathing down my neck. Now have you gotten a good grip? I'll let go of you slowly now."
