Outlast: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Warden of the West Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  Light filtered through an arched doorway up ahead.

  “Almost there,” Gray said.

  “Good,” I said. “My shaded tongue is all ready for action. I did a bit of practice with Robin during our last tutoring session.” The paranormals in the Obscura used a special coded language.

  “You practiced using your tongue with Robin, did you?”

  Ugh. “Stop. You’re being very immature. I worked hard to learn these phrases.”

  “Okay, Morrow. Lay them on me.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m not going to milk the pigeon, now that you’re coming along to the underworld.”

  Gray chuckled. “I don’t know that it would have been an impossible attempt, but it would’ve been far too dangerous.”

  “Insult me again and I’ll ribroast you to my heart’s content,” I said.

  Gray wagged a finger. “Careful who you say that to. They’ll be happy to give you a beating for sport.”

  I smiled and shrugged. “I can handle myself when it comes to ordinary thugs. It’s magical creatures I’m still learning to navigate.”

  “Oh, by the way,” Gray said. “You won’t need to use the shaded tongue with Clemens. He’s more casual than other vendors here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, I might just do it anyway, to show off.”

  We emerged from the tunnel and I immediately squinted. Even though we were underground at nighttime, the Obscura was far from a dark place. Delicate fairy lights twinkled above our heads and adorned every fixture.

  “I thought you said this place would be more on the creepy side at night,” I said.

  “I don’t believe I used the word ‘creepy.’ I just meant that the unsavory side is more likely to rear its head after nightfall.”

  Stalls lined each row, and I marveled at the exotic offerings. Fruits and spices I’d never seen before. The smell of sumptuous foods filled my nostrils. On cue, my stomach rumbled.

  “You’re so predictable, Morrow,” he said, mildly amused. “Let’s find our contact first, then we’ll grab a bite to eat.”

  “Clemens doesn’t own a restaurant?”

  “No. His business is a little different.”

  Turned out his business was a lot different from the Bottomless Cauldron. Clemens owned a shop called Medium Rare, and I was relieved to discover it had nothing to do with meat and everything to do with rare books and antiquities.

  Clemens was a round man with an equally round head. His unruly dark hair and bushy beard made me want to summon a pair of scissors. His mouth fell open when he set eyes on Gray.

  “It can’t be,” Clemens said, rising from his chair. “Surely, a ghost has wandered through my wall. Gray?”

  The vampire pumped the shopkeeper’s hand. “Good to see you, old friend.”

  Clemens arched a fluffy eyebrow. “Is it? I’ve heard talk of your visits here, but you’ve yet to come and see me.”

  Gray stiffened. “You understand my reasons.”

  Clemens clapped him on the back. “I do, and I’m sorry for it. She was a fine warden.” His gaze flickered to me. “They get younger every year, don’t they?”

  “She’s not a warden,” Gray said.

  “Not yet,” I added.

  “Oh, feisty,” Clemens said, perking up. “I like it. And what’s your name, poppet?”

  “Bryn Morrow,” I said.

  “Bryn. A wonderful old name.” He shifted back to Gray. “I take it you’re not here for reading materials?”

  Gray gave a silent shake of his head.

  “This way then,” Clemens said. He led us through the shop to a back room crammed full of books with exotic markings and small objects. There was so much clutter that it was difficult to focus on only one item. Who had the unfortunate job of dusting in here?

  “You don’t keep this place hidden?” I inquired.

  Clemens laughed. “In the Obscura? There’s no real need, poppet. We all have something to hide here. Breeds a certain kind of respect.”

  “Like honor among thieves?” I said.

  He pinched my cheek like a delighted old uncle. “I like this one, Gray. Sharp as a fang.” He stopped in front of a rectangular table in the center of the room. “Now, tell me what you’re after, and I’ll see whether I can manage it for you.”

  “Miss Morrow and I need to take a trip to the nether to pay a visit to a demon called Abraxas.”

  The shopkeeper’s brow lifted. “Abraxas? What’s he done now?”

  “You know him?” Gray queried.

  Clemens slotted his fingers together. “I’ve had dealings with the demon. Not exactly a pleasurable experience.”

  “What kind of dealings?” I asked. Did Abraxas have a soft spot for rare books?

  “Clemens used to be an underworld messenger,” Gray said.

  Clemens patted his stomach. “Before I decided to grow old and fat. Underworld nymphs are much more svelte, I assure you.”

  “You’re a nymph?” I asked. That wouldn’t have been my guess.

  “Not what you expected, eh?” Clemens chuckled. “Not to worry. I’m double the nymph I used to be, aren’t I, Gray?” He nudged the vampire with his elbow. “Gray knew me when I was merely a feather in the wind.”

  “What does an underworld messenger do?” I asked.

  “Exactly as it says on the tin,” Clemens replied. “I took messages from the underworld to the overworld, and vice versa.”

  “Is that why you had dealings with Abraxas?” I asked. “You delivered his messages?”

  “For a spell,” Clemens said. “The demon wasn’t one to develop long-term relationships in his business or personal life. Can I offer you anything to eat or drink? I beg your pardon, I’ve been terribly rude. Still getting over the fact that Gray Mappleworth is standing in my shop.”

  Gray hesitated. “Do you have any of those cookies?”

  Clemens clapped his chubby hands together. “Wishing Stars? You remember those, do you? Of course, I do. I try to keep a steady supply for my favorite customers.”

  I glanced from Gray to Clemens. “What’s a star cookie?”

  “How I love the unindoctrinated! I’ll show you, poppet.” Clemens returned with a round tin and popped off the lid. Sure enough, the inside was filled with star-shaped cookies. “Take one and tell me how it tastes.”

  Gray plucked one from the pile. “I don’t have to eat it to know how it tastes.” He took a generous bite.

  I chose a cookie and broke off a piece before eating it. “Oh, wow. Tastes like my mom’s homemade chocolate chip.” How was that possible? There weren’t even any chocolate chips in the cookie.

  “A Wishing Star tastes like whatever cookie you want to eat most in the world,” Clemens explained.

  The taste of my mother’s homemade cookie brought me right back into one of our many kitchens. Tears pricked my eyes as I succumbed to the overwhelming memory.

  “Don’t you like it, Morrow?” Gray asked.

  “I love it,” I said, and gobbled down another chunk of the cookie. “What does yours taste like?”

  He gave me a sheepish look. “You probably don’t want to know.”

  I cringed. A blood cookie? Ugh. “It’s amazing, Clemens. Thanks for sharing.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” He beamed at me. “Have as many as you like.”

  “So, what made you retire from your messenger job?” I asked, chewing the rest of my cookie.

  Clemens heaved a sigh. “The clients were often demanding and unreasonable. I mean, you can only move so fast from the underworld, depending on which demons you encounter along the way. I had a system, of course, but it wasn’t foolproof.”

  A-ha. That explained the reason for our visit. “You know the best routes in and out to where Abraxas lives?”

  He shrugged. “He moves a lot, but I try to keep my finger on the pulse of the underworld. There’s no guarantee, though.”

  Gray looked at me. “He’s still the best. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”r />
  Clemens seemed taken aback. “Thank you, Gray. That means a lot, coming from you.” He closed the lid on the tin and set it aside. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to map out your route.”

  “That would be helpful,” Gray said.

  Clemens wandered over to a row of shelves and began poking through items. He retrieved a rolled-up paper from between two heavy volumes. “Here we are.” He came back to the table and unfurled it.

  “Um, what’s this?” I asked. The map was full of strange symbols and drawings.

  “One second, poppet,” Clemens said. He returned with a jar of yellow powder and sprinkled it over top of the map. The drawings seemed to come to life, moving and shifting on the page. “I needed to update it.”

  “I see an alarming number of skull and crossbones,” I commented.

  Clemens chuckled. “You haven’t chosen the easiest underworld to visit, I’m afraid, but this is where you’ll find Abraxas.” He stopped and glanced at Gray. “And Rippon, of course.”

  My head jerked toward the vampire. “He’s in the nether? Why didn’t you say that?”

  “Because that monster isn’t the point of this mission,” Gray said.

  I hadn’t realized that Riya had died in the nether. And here I’d worried about his mental state in a random underworld. Now that I knew it was same one, I was even more concerned.

  “Bear that in mind once you’re down there, too,” Clemens advised. “If you’re intent on Abraxas, you’ll need to set aside your vendetta. You’ll be unlikely to go up against two formidable demons in one visit.”

  I fixed my gaze on Gray. “If you’ve been here, don’t you already know the way?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Gray explained. “Other than a few permanent entrances, the access points change over time.”

  “As does the landscape,” Clemens added. “Gray was there once many years ago. The nether is enormous and ever-changing.”

  I studied the map. “So, where’s the best point of entry?” I had no clue how to interpret the drawings.

  “There are a few good options for this underworld,” Clemens said. “Obviously, the less traffic, the better. You want to keep your presence concealed for as long as possible.”

  I bit my lip. “What about the Tree of Life? Can we enter through there?”

  Clemens cocked his head. “You have access to it?”

  I nodded. “That’s an option then?”

  “Absolutely,” Clemens replied, seemingly impressed. “One of the fixed entrances, as well as one of the safest bridges to the underworld. Of course, you still have to get inside the walls, and then find Abraxas…”

  Gray’s jaw tightened. “Tell us the biggest current threats.”

  Clemens nodded. “Yes, of course. They change constantly. Lots of movement, as you can imagine. New demons move in from other underworlds. Others move out.”

  “That happens?” I asked.

  “All the time,” Clemens replied. “A demon of nightmares has a border dispute with a demon of tears and wailing, so one of them relocates to a different underworld. Until the next dispute.” He blew out a breath. “Demons aren’t the easiest neighbors. Very temperamental creatures.”

  “But Rippon is stuck there, isn’t he?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Clemens said. “For the best, too. A very dangerous beast.”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” Gray grumbled.

  “So, we need to make our way through a variety of demons?” I asked. Easy peasy.

  “Demons and other obstacles,” Clemens said. “There’s a reason the AMF has a special division dedicated to underworld missions.” He shot Gray a knowing look.

  “We’ll take precautions this time,” Gray said.

  “Is that the new term for weapons?” Clemens asked. “Because I’d suggest an armory.”

  Gray gripped my shoulder. “I have a small armory right here.”

  Clemens scrutinized me. “This little poppet? I thought you said she wasn’t an agent.”

  “Not yet,” I said again. “I’m training at Spellslingers.”

  Clemens brightened. “Then you must know my old friend, Stefan Langley.”

  I cringed. “Yes, I know Professor Langley.”

  “Such a knowledgeable wizard,” Clemens said. “You’d be wise to learn from him.”

  I offered a half-hearted laugh. “He’s not exactly a fan of mine. I think he has something against me because I grew up in Terrene.”

  Clemens leaned forward with interest. “Is that so?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, feeling the weight of his stare. Just because my secret was out didn’t mean I wanted to advertise my parentage.

  Clemens seemed to sense my apprehension and attempted to change the subject back to Langley. “Stefan has always been a serious wizard. I suspect his inflexible nature strengthened after what happened with his old friend, Moldark.”

  I nearly choked on my own saliva. “Old friend? Langley was friends with Volans Moldark?” Why had no one told me this?

  “Oh, he’s swept their history under the proverbial rug, I’m sure,” Clemens said. “I know it troubled him greatly that he missed the signs of his friend’s departure to the dark side of magic. He imagined they’d be colleagues one day, before Moldark spurned formal training.”

  “How do you know all this?” I sputtered.

  Clemens flashed a broad smile. “Langley used to spend quite a lot of time in here.”

  “After you retired as a messenger?” I asked.

  “No, before then,” Clemens replied. “He and I frequented this place before I bought it from the previous owner. I’ve always had a love of the arcane, as does your esteemed professor. We spent many an evening here, drinking from our tankards and discussing our litany of regrets.”

  I listened to Clemens, enraptured by the revelation that Langley and my father had once been friends. But I was fairly certain he hadn’t known about my heritage when he’d taken a dislike to me. Was it possible that he’d sensed a connection somehow?

  “What’s Abraxas done anyhow?” Clemens asked.

  “It appears that he’s kidnapped a friend,” Gray said. “A young witch was taken from Spellslingers. Looks like a smash and grab.”

  Clemens’ smile faded. “He’s trying to kick off another Persephone season?”

  “What’s Persephone season?” I asked. “The oracle mentioned it as well.”

  Clemens ruffled his unruly hair. “Goddess of the Moon, I hope not, for your friend’s sake.” He went to the shelf and returned with a book. “Do you know the story of Hades and Persephone?” He flipped through the pages until he found the section he wanted.

  “I think so.” Part of my homeschooling had included mythology, but I didn’t remember every name and story. “Persephone was the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. Hades kidnapped her and forced her to stay in the underworld as his bride. Her mother was able to negotiate a settlement where Persephone only had to stay with Hades for three months out of the year.”

  “More or less,” Clemens said. “Abraxas has tried in the past to steal brides from the overworld. When he’s successful, he keeps them for three months, and then moves on to another one.”

  “What happens to the girls after three months?” I asked. Part of me didn’t want to know the answer.

  He grimaced. “I don’t know. There have been various complaints filed against him over the years, trying to force him to stop the practice. It seems he stops for a while, and then starts again somewhere else. That’s why he’s difficult to locate.”

  I tried not to think about the horrors Cerys might be facing at the hands of this demon. “We have to get her, Gray. Now.”

  “I agree,” he said calmly. “But we need to prepare, or we’ll never get far enough through the underworld to save her.”

  “Yes, no need to be hasty,” Clemens agreed. “Lessons learned from your last visit.” Gray’s silence drew the nymph’s attention. “You’re not a warden anymore, Gray.
What’s in this for you?”

  Gray flinched. “It’s a job, just like any other.”

  I tried not to take his answer personally. If he preferred that Clemens think I was a client rather than a friend, then so be it.

  “Do we take this map with us?” I asked.

  “Gray doesn’t need it,” Clemens replied. “He’s got a keen memory.”

  “I’d rather not rely on that,” I said.

  Clemens laughed. “Take the map, poppet. Consider it a parting gift.”

  I rolled it up and stuck it in my pocket.

  “What about weapons?” I asked. I wasn’t wholly comfortable with weapons, but I’d carry an entire armory on my back if it meant getting Cerys back safely.

  “Slow down, Morrow,” Gray said. “We can’t rush this.”

  “We have to rush this,” I said heatedly. “Cerys is in horrible danger.”

  “And if you want to rescue her without getting us all killed, then we need to stop and make good choices,” Gray said.

  “Stop being rational,” I grumbled.

  Clemens winked at me. “I almost wish I could tag along, just to listen to the two of you bicker. It’s a different side of you, Gray. You and Riya seemed to always be on the same page.”

  “Except the one time she decided to run headfirst into the nether,” Gray said tersely. “We weren’t on the same page then.”

  Clemens grimaced. “I’m sorry, old friend. I wish I could have prevented that.” He glanced at me. “Just like I wish I could offer more concrete information now. That’s the underworld, though. No guarantees. Like life.”

  Like life, indeed.

  7

  We stood in the armory in the middle of the night, staring at the selection of weapons.

  “Please hurry,” Robin said. “If Master Horton catches us in here, he’ll revoke my privileges.”

  “I don’t see why you have access to the armory anyway,” I said. “You’re the least likely wizard to wield a weapon in the whole academy.”

  Robin bristled. “I find that offensive.” He paused. “Yet entirely accurate.”

  Dani snatched a double-sided axe from the wall. “This’ll do me.”

  “Not exactly compact,” I said.