The Villain Keeper

by Laurie McKay

  It was heavy. It had to be a great weapon or charm. Despite himself, he felt excited. He opened it with shaking hands. A gift from an Elderdragon—or whatever she was—would be powerful. Inside, there was a stack of papers. The top page was filled with neat black type, as were the many pages below it. It looked like homework.

  Ms. Primrose beamed. “It’s a copy of my standard employee contract.”

  “I don’t understand.” He took it out of the box. Whatever reward he expected, the heavy paper contract wasn’t it. A being capable of controlling the villains of the Greater Realm could produce a better reward than paperwork. If not missing Jane Chan, at least a gleaming sword or a protective ring. “I can’t read this.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said, and sat back at her desk. “And perhaps it will give you incentive to learn.”

  Talking to her was somewhat like talking to a castle wind cat. Basic reasoning seemed lost, and his words seemed to blow around her without weight. He turned his attention to the contract. Whatever she was, whatever her nature, he did believe she meant the contract to help him in some way. “All your employees sign one of these?”

  “In blue ink and life blood. I also have them notarized.”

  “In blue ink?” he said. He ran his thumb along the stack of papers and flipped through them. It was more than a hundred pages thick. He looked up at her. “What happens if an employee breaks his or her contract?”

  She winked at him. “I gobble them up, dear.”

  Slowly, he picked up the thick stack of papers. Did she jest? For the first time, it dawned on him. She was capable of killing. “Do you do that often?”

  “Oh my,” she said. “More than you’d think. I’m still short a gym teacher since my unfortunate dinner with Ms. Halliwell last month.”

  Caden remained still, unsure of what to think.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I was hungry, dear, and she was rude.”

  Like someone who says the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time, the phone rang. A little green light flickered on its face. Ms. Primrose’s good mood flickered. “The lawyer again,” she said, and something in her voice sounded ravenous.

  It was Caden’s duty to protect commoners. That included ones he didn’t like. “May I request you eat neither Derek nor his mother?” he said.

  She shrugged in a noncommittal way. “I rarely eat locals. It’s bad manners.”

  He tucked the thick papers into a large pocket hidden in his coat’s front flap and gave her back the box. He spoke as calmly as possible. “Generally, I’m against eating people,” he said.

  “Well, if everyone is polite and does his or her job, you’ll get your wish.” She looked Caden up and down. “School is your job now.”

  His job was to protect the realm, become an Elite Paladin, and serve king and kingdom. His job was to find kidnapped and missing Jane Chan. When in the presence of those with more power, it was still important to stand one’s ground. “I’m not one of your villains,” Caden said. He patted the papers in his pocket. “I’ve signed no contract.”

  “Of course not,” she said, and sounded sincere. “They’re part of my prison; they’re here for life. You’re part of my youth program. As long as you get good grades, you won’t be removed, and you’ll be free to go in five years.”

  Caden planned to leave as soon as Brynne could magic them back. To Ms. Primrose, he said, “I see.” He asked no details about how students were removed. He feared the answer would upset him. “Thank you for the favor,” he said politely.

  “Off you go,” she said.

  There would be time later to convince her he was neither one of her baubles nor her future food. It was more important that he keep his arguments inside. They needed to find Jane by Monday. It was Friday. For now, that had to come before the puzzle of Ms. Primrose. An Elite Paladin always prioritized.

  As science class ended, Caden dragged Tito into the hall beyond Mrs. Belle’s earshot. Her bumbling manner and red nail polish likely hid a dark core. She was one of the banished. It seemed likely all the teachers were. Caden trusted none of them. In hushed tones, he told Tito about his morning phone call from Brynne, his visit to Ms. Primrose’s office, and his encounter with the creepy secretary.

  Tito leaned against a pale-pink locker and nodded. “Dude’s creepy,” he said. “Creepy Creedly.”

  “He’s high on my list of suspected kidnappers.”

  “How long is that list?” Tito said. “It’s no help if everyone is on it.”

  “No one can be ruled out. Not now. Anyone could be one of Ms. Primrose’s prisoners cast out from the Greater Realm.” Caden looked at his friend and kept his expression serious. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “you’re at the bottom.”

  “You’re at the top of my weirdo list.”

  Students for the next class began to file into the room. Ward and Tonya were in their midst, walking side by side like two small soldiers. With a nod, Caden tried to show his solidarity. They walked past him. He watched as they sat at two desks in the room’s dead center—a strategic choice if ever Caden had seen one.

  Tito nudged him toward the cafeteria. “Lunch.”

  Those of the first lunch group were back in their classrooms and tucked away. The students and teachers who had second lunch were in the cafeteria, devouring the lunch witches’ questionable food. More important, Rath Dunn was in the cafeteria.

  Even if Rath Dunn hadn’t taken Jane, he knew enough about her disappearance to offer Caden help—should he choose to trust the villain and help him in return. Plus, the twenty-four other villains were in the cafeteria or in classes. The more he thought about the list of possible suspects, the more he feared Jane’s fate.

  Ms. Primrose, possible Elderdragon and speaker of forgotten tongues, didn’t seem to care about Jane. Caden, however, did, and he would work to find her. He scanned the halls. “You go to lunch without me,” he said. “There is something else I must do.”

  Tito fumbled with his backpack. “They’ll notice.”

  “Not if you distract them.”

  They separated, and Caden hurried to the math room. The door was locked. This was unusual, as doors to classrooms were never locked. He kicked it, pushed at it, but it didn’t budge.

  He pulled out his pink, bejeweled, stolen phone. Bringing even a legal version was against school rules. Ms. Primrose, however, had given it back to him when she’d given him the purple detention note. She must have known he might need to use it. He tapped the Brynne button.

  “How do I get into a locked room?” he said.

  “Hi to you, too,” she said. There was a worried pause. “It’s not Ms. Primrose’s room, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well, then you pick the lock, or, if you had any magic talent, I suppose you could just magic in and out, or—”

  “I need to get in now.”

  Another pause. “Isn’t patience one of the ten virtues of the Elite Paladins?”

  Patience was a virtue he must practice, sure as he must practice his sword and his speech. Not today, though. “Patience in battle, not in door unlocking.”

  “So you say,” she said, and laughed. “Actually, I have an idea. I’m going to try something I’ve been thinking about since acquiring the phones.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

  “Remote telekinesis.”

  “That sounds made up.”

  “Sorcery requires creativity. I’m going to unlock the door using the phone connection and a spell.”

  “So you did make that up,” he said.

  “Shush, prince,” she said. “I’m concentrating.”

  He stood, looked left to right, and rocked on his feet. The door was a solid obstacle in front of him, the handle a sphere of unturning metal. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “It’s not like hitting something with a stick, Caden. It,” she said, “takes skill.”

  He could almost hear her mind wor
king over the phone. Five seconds later, the lock clicked open. Another second after that, the door went flying from its hinges. Caden dived to the gritty tiles. The door barreled past him. It slammed into the pink lockers of the opposite wall, exploded, and made a resounding boom.

  “Did it work?” Brynne said, breathless and excited. “It sounded like it worked.”

  From every direction, Caden heard classroom doors opening. There was little time to hide and no place to run. He jumped to his feet.

  “Wait,” Brynne said. “It’s not Rath Dunn’s room? Because that would almost be as foolish as the dragon’s room.”

  The pink lockers were crunched. The metal seams were broken and sprouted torn textbooks. The splintered pieces from the door were impaled in the lockers.

  “Caden?” she said.

  He heard people coming from both directions. Soon the empty hall would be full of gawkers and investigators. He needed to find out what he could, then hide. “I must go,” he said, and pushed the off button.

  He bolted into the math classroom. Instantly, he felt a sting in his arm. The skin pulled against his stitches. Rath Dunn might have been at lunch, but his dagger was not.

  There were no cabinets in the room. There was no closet. The only place to stow blood daggers and secrets was the desk in the front corner.

  Caden crouched in front of it. The top was smooth and was supported by wooden pedestals, each with three drawers. Small pegs kept the pedestals off the dirty floor.

  Caden tried the drawers. None would open. He considered calling Brynne back. She could remote telekinese them open. Of course, then the desk would explode, and that seemed both dangerous and beside the point.

  From the hall, he heard the murmur of voices, the tap-tap of women’s shoes. He had but one chance to get inside the desk before ducking for cover. His arm stung the most when closest to the bottom left drawer. With all his power, he kicked the bottom left drawer’s lip. Like a slow-wheeled catapult, it rolled open.

  The scent of roses tickled his nose. Outside, he heard Ms. Primrose scoffing at the destroyed lockers. Caden crawled between the two wooden pedestals and peeked in the drawer.

  The contents were tidy and few. The blood dagger lay on a white satin cloth, clean of Caden’s—or anyone else’s—blood. The image of the Bloodwolf—the symbol of Crimsen and the Autumnlands—was embroidered on the cloth’s corner. Caden dared not touch such an evil blade.

  Beside it lay two open glass vials and one sealed one. Caden picked up the sealed one. The cork was burned with the image of the wolf. In sharp-looking handwriting, it had been labeled in a language he could read, that of Crimsen, as “Tear of Elf.” He set it back down and peeked at the empty ones. The second said “Magical Locks,” and the third “Blood of Son.”

  Caden picked up the “Blood of Son” vial. Was that why Rath Dunn had so carefully saved the dagger? The vial was empty though. Perhaps Caden’s blood wasn’t strong enough. He was unsure how that made him feel. His blood should be plenty good for whatever reason. There was more noise from the hall. Quickly, he put the vial back.

  As he did, he saw another empty vial. It was further back in the drawer, like it had rolled as the drawer had opened. It was labeled “Essence of Dragon.” Caden was staring at it when he was startled by Ms. Primrose’s irritated voice. “There you are!”

  The empty vial slipped from his hand. It landed on the satin cloth with a soft thud but didn’t break. He held his breath.

  “Mr. Creedly,” he heard Ms. Primrose say, “did you hear me? Get these students back to class.”

  She was only talking to her assistant. She hadn’t seen Caden. With a slow exhale, he propped his body and legs between the desk pedestals so he wouldn’t be visible. Also, it kept him off the dirty floor.

  “Oh my,” he heard Ms. Primrose say. “Such a mess.”

  Charming as Caden could be, blowing a door off a classroom seemed an eatable offense. He stayed as quiet as the dead. The legends said the Elderdragons were powerful and fickle. Nothing said they were all knowing. There was no reason to believe she’d sensed his royal presence.

  The next voice he heard wasn’t one he expected. “Does this type of thing happen often?”

  “Certainly not, Officer Levine,” Ms. Primrose said. “Exploding doors are not a common occurrence at my school.”

  Caden heard Officer Levine moving around the room. “No other damage, though,” he said. “The rest of the room looks untouched.”

  “I allowed you here to interview my faculty, nothing else.” She tap-tapped around after him. “You’re here to investigate the girl.” She sounded furious. “Without any evidence she’s more than a runaway, I might add.”

  “Your janitor says he saw a pink backpack in the cafeteria Dumpster the day after Jane disappeared, thinks it might have been hers.”

  “You interviewed my janitor?”

  “Yep.”

  Officer Levine’s heavier boot-clad footsteps stopped in front of the desk, and it creaked and shifted under his weight as he sat on it. The open drawer slowly and silently rolled shut. Caden felt the soft click of the lock.

  Officer Levine returned to pacing. “It looks like a bomb detonated. That’s definitely police business.”

  The room grew cold; there was the sense of something powerful nearby. Ms. Primrose’s voice was the sharpest ice. “If you say bomb, I’ll get calls from parents. From the news station.”

  “Ms. Primrose,” Officer Levine said in his calm, placating manner, “my job is to protect your school and your students. This may have been rudimentary and not very powerful, but it’s still an explosive. And if someone’s setting explosives, I need to stop them.”

  The chill crept from the room. The sense of something powerful dimmed. “It’s in your nature. It’s in your rights.” It sounded like that irritated her beyond measure. “Fine, investigate what you will. But my people know better than to do anything to tarnish the reputation of my school. It’s my prize jewel.”

  “Thing about people,” Officer Levine said. “Knowing better doesn’t always mean they do what they should.”

  From the door, the overly dramatic voice of Rath Dunn rang out. “What’s happened?”

  “Keep him out,” Officer Levine said, and from the way he said it Officer Levine didn’t like him. “Follow your lockdown procedure until my people are able to process the area.”

  Ms. Primrose’s noisy shoes tapped, tapped, tapped back toward the hall. “Let the man do his job,” she snapped. The room remained chilled. “Everyone, get where you need to be chop-chop.” In the hallway, her footfalls faded.

  Caden heard Officer Levine exhale as he paced around the room, stopped by the window, then the door. When he walked near the desk, he sighed. “You wanna come out now?”

  Caden unfolded, lowered to the ground, and crawled from under the desk. His knees were covered in dirt and pencil shavings. “I’m innocent of this destruction,” he said.

  Officer Levine raised his brows. “You just happened to be hiding under the desk when the door blew off?”

  “I took cover to avoid being blamed.”

  “Uh-huh?” Officer Levine inhaled, and his nostrils flared. With a shake of the head, he said, “Go wait in the hall with Jenkins for now.”

  “I don’t want to wait in the hall.”

  Apparently, what Caden wanted mattered not. Jenkins stayed with him in the hall. “My sister won’t stop talking about that horse you found,” he said.

  “I didn’t find him. Sir Horace is a kindred soul.”

  “Well, she thinks your kindred soul is getting out of the stable and jumping the fence at night. Always comes back the next day, though.”

  This was nothing Caden didn’t already know. “A Galvanian snow stallion cannot be fenced.”

  A moment later, Rath Dunn stalked around the corner. He looked surprised when he saw Caden. If Rath Dunn hadn’t suspected him initially, he had suspicions now. “Caden,” Rath Dunn said in a voice like daggers,
“why are you outside my classroom?”

  Caden wanted to ask him about the vials, demand to know their purpose, but perhaps it was better Rath Dunn not know Caden had found them. He stepped closer to Jenkins.

  “Boss is driving him home in a few,” Jenkins said.

  It was a futile attempt to protect Caden. It was noble enough in its way, and Caden mustered some gratitude. For his part, Rath Dunn didn’t acknowledge Jenkins at all. He kept his gaze locked on Caden.

  “No matter,” Rath Dunn said. “We’ll have lots of time to talk during detention next week.” With a cruel grin he turned his back and peered at the twisted lockers.

  Jenkins moved toward him. “Sir,” Jenkins said, “you need to leave.”

  Rath Dunn ignored him. He inspected the splintered pieces of door and the crushed lockers, and ran his finger along the sharp edge of the torn metal. “Powerful,” he muttered.

  He switched from his leisurely pace so quickly that neither Caden nor Jenkins had time to react. One moment he was looking at notepaper sprouting from pink metal, the next he was pushing Caden against the wall and hissing in his ear.

  “This seems beyond your skill set,” Rath Dunn said. “Very interesting, indeed.”

  Then he let go and was moving on. He slowed as he passed the broken door of his classroom and looked inside as if he was memorizing everything. After a moment, he walked down the hall and around the corner. His laughter echoed in the halls. Long after the fact, Jenkins put his hand on his weapon. His hair was frizzy like an odd red halo, his mouth contorted into a confused line. “What was that about, kid?”

  This was not the time to explain interrealm travel to Jenkins. There might never be a time for that. Caden, however, would not lie. “He is enemy to my people,” he said.

  School was released early, and Officer Levine did drive Caden and Tito home. He stopped the car beside the metal sun sculpture. Brynne ran out from the house. As soon as she saw Caden, relief seemed to come over her in waves. Rosa followed her out.

  While Rosa talked with Officer Levine, Caden, Tito, and Brynne huddled on the porch.