Victory: Year Four

by Amabel Daniels

  “Yes.” I bit the reply out and faced the sidewalk again.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t care for her snippy tone and haughty scowl. “And aren’t you supposed to maintain a safe stopping distance from my truck?” Yeah, I’d stopped suddenly. If she hadn’t been nearly tailing me while I’d stubbornly stuck to the speed limit, maybe she would have been able to avoid hitting me.

  “Don’t get all sassy with me,” she started.

  I bit back a groan and let her rant go in one ear and out the other. Whimpers, faint but real, came from the slim alley space between two buildings. Perhaps the dog ran into there. I began walking toward the space.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she yelled at me.

  Now would be a perfect time for Sabine to be here… She’d handle this nuisance in a heartbeat. At the thought, I winced. So, now I want to be manipulative? Use my own sister for her Impressor power? For as perturbed as I was about the council trying to use me for my powers, it only made me the worst kind of hypocrite to want to use any elf for theirs.

  “None of your business. Call the cops if you want.” Because it’s your fault. “It didn’t cause me any damage so I’m going to go about my day.”

  I reentered the truck and pulled over to a parking spot on the side of the street. Parallel parking wasn’t my strongest suit, but I made sure I had the vehicle within the painted lines. I exited again, after turning the engine off and pocketing the key. Miss Convertible Clunker sped off.

  I jogged toward the alleyway and let my eyes adjust to the lack of sunshine. The sun hung heavy and hot in the sky, with little cloud cover to reduce its intensity. Brightness didn’t shine on this strip of gravel and busted cement, though. In the corner, huddled next to a stack of crushed cardboard boxes, was a shivering grog.

  Seeing it immobile, and not a fast-running blur, I knew it was definitely an ancient species. Its lion mane was a silvery white and much shorter than Arthur’s. I approached it, hand outstretched.

  “Hey, buddy.” I smiled when it stilled and looked at me with piercingly bright blue eyes. Assessing me. I’m not a threat. “Easy.”

  He snarled at me and I frowned. Well, maybe he was really wary of people.

  “Easy…” I squatted lower to him, banking on my connection to mammals to work like always. He snapped at me and I pulled my hand back. I narrowed my eyes at it maintaining a low growl. A warning. Weird.

  All right… All right. Take it easy. Perhaps I needed to concentrate more. It’d been a while since I connected and communicated with an ancient species. Maybe I’d gotten rusty away from the variety of fantastical creatures at Olde Earth? I stepped closer and my necklace slipped from my collar. As I gripped the stone, I thought soothing ideas.

  It’s okay— Green light began to shine from my stone. I blinked at it. The grog ceased its growl.

  “It’s…uh, okay…”

  What the heck?

  He didn’t bare his teeth or show any sign of aggression as I stepped even closer. I squatted lower to my haunches and let it sniff my hand, releasing my stone pendant. “I won’t hurt you.”

  It’ll be okay. I’ll help you.

  Along the short fur of his hind leg was a festering gash. Something must have sliced it. I scooted closer and it reached out to nuzzle my hand.

  This is more like it. Odd, though, that it only calmed once I touched my necklace. Nearer now, I could see the cuts on the paw closest to me. A tear had worked through the webbing between two toes.

  “What happened to you, boy?” I whispered, hating how malnourished and injured this poor thing was.

  It answered with a whine and limped into my reach. I huddled it in something of a hug and realized then just how small this grog was. The size of a beagle, and with the coloring—minus the mane—of a terrier. He nudged into my hand and I stroked my hand over his filthy fur. I took the chance to look at his tail, seeing the barbs slightly retracted into the ball at the end.

  “How about we clean you up? Huh?” I stood and the little guy almost wagged his tail. Maybe he was so skittish because no one could see him and had never had someone approach him.

  Why was this ancient mutt out here, in a little city in Texas? Were there other stray ancients lost and untouchable in the world? In cities where cars could hit them? In the wilderness where other predators might take advantage of them?

  I had no way to know if ancient species co-existed in the real world. Surely, they couldn’t all be at Olde Earth and in the Menagerie. The only two approaches I’d been introduced to were Glorian’s: wanting to seclude all things elven and ancient, and Bateson’s: expose the magic to everyone.

  Finding this small grog here, injured and in need of medical care, hit me hard. I patted my thigh and returned to the truck, and he obeyed immediately.

  How long has he been wandering alone? Where did his injuries come from? Does he have a family somewhere?

  If I’d stumbled upon a normal canine, my reaction would’ve been the same. Approach it and take it to the shelter for help. The fact that this was a grog, and I was the only one—at least around here—to help it, drove in the fact that I was, well, needed.

  Being a Pure elf meant I could contribute a lot. Only now that I was away from the Academy and off campus, I could consider that concept from a different perspective. I didn’t have to think about “serving” Olde Earth because I was one of the few with Pure powers. I’d never and likely would never consider keeping my powers to myself and not doing anything with them. Seeing the grog here, and watching him settle into a curled-up ball on the bench seat next to me, revealed a new fact to me.

  Pure powers were needed out here too, in the real world. And not being confined to the Academy felt like a much better option.

  Chapter Six

  I brought the stray grog to the shelter. Susan wasn’t aware, of course. She immediately went about storing the supplies in the storage room and I led the grog to an empty surgery room.

  None of my classes had taught me how to stitch a wound or assess an animal for injuries. But I didn’t have to wonder how to cleanse the cuts, give the creature a bath and dry him off, offer some food. Just to be safe rather than sorry, I administered an antibiotic and anti-inflammatory to him as well.

  Susan was—thank God—busy on the phone at the intake desk, and no one else was working this late in the evening. I finished wrapping up my chores, keeping an eye on the grog in a stall with a docile and mother-henish collie who’d lost her puppies in a barn fire. The mama licked at the smaller, younger grog with the tenderness of a true parent.

  When I was done with my volunteering tasks, I pocketed a few more rolls of gauze for the grog and asked it to come home with me. Sure, it would’ve been fine at the shelter. No one but the animals could sense it, and the mama collie was awfully attached.

  It felt wiser to bring him home to the trailer, though, until I could figure out something better to do for the short term.

  Short term easily turned into a longer term. Because as my summer break came to an end, the second month passing by too quickly, the grog I’d rescued had become my pet. His wounds healed nicely. I’d given him a full trial of antibiotics. Ribs weren’t as visible as I’d slowly brought him back to something above a starved weight.

  Knightley, as I’d named him, was never far from my side. He sat off to the side while I trained with Hazel, and trotted next to my heel when I ran. When I volunteered at the shelter, he came along and even interacted with other shelter animals, like a puppy coming to daycare with mom.

  With Knightley’s rehabilitation to focus on and my nonstop cycle of run, train, work, and sleep, I was content. As the summer neared an end, I almost wished I didn’t have to leave this comfortable bubble I’d reclaimed in Coltin.

  Funny, when I was supposed to start high school, I couldn’t wait to leave the small town. Now, on the brink of starting my last year, I sort of wanted to stay. Being at Olde Earth and thrust into so much danger and
drama…well, Coltin had a certain appeal. If anything, it showed me that I could do just fine as a Pure elf in the real world.

  “When will you hear back?” Dad asked the night before I was supposed to fly back to the Academy. Knightley sat at my feet and I slipped a piece of charred meatloaf to the floor. Dad still hadn’t improved his cooking skills. Actually, Hazel did most of it, but since tonight was something of a seeing-me-off last supper kind of meal, he’d insisted on doing the honors.

  “I think some colleges will reply by wintertime. Especially since I filled out the early applications.”

  Hazel smiled at me and Dad nodded. “With scholarships?”

  “Of course,” I replied. Suthering had been funding my travel expenses back and forth over break—the least he could do, he’d explained, as thanks to stopping Griswold’s experiment. Yet, I wasn’t aware of Olde Earth actually offering money to graduates for college education elsewhere. I guessed I could ask Ethel, perhaps. She’d know.

  “Well—”

  Dad didn’t finish as my cell phone rang on the kitchenette counter. Since I’d grown up without one—no money for a decent one—it was still awkward to remember to carry it. Last year, I’d forced myself to keep it close, under Suthering’s order to us. Here, though, I had no need. Susan, Hazel, and Dad saw me every day. Before dinner, I’d already caught up with texts from my friends.

  “Hang on.”

  I hope it’s not something with the others. Dread pooled in my gut, knowing this unusually timed call had to be something from Olde Earth. I’d told my friends I was going to dinner. I’d called Suthering in the morning, asking for permission to bring Knightley to school with me—to which he easily agreed.

  “Susan?” I said as I picked it up and checked the screen. I didn’t hesitate answering. “Hello?”

  “Layla, I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Animal Control just busted a breeding operation. Near the edge of the county. I’m talking thirty to forty pitties.”

  Dammit. Why did it always have to be those poor pitties? Didn’t they suffer enough with a bad rep?

  “We’re trying to get them out of there and set up at the shelter.”

  “There isn’t even room there for them!”

  She huffed. “I know. I don’t really know what to do. And since Fiona’s out of town, she left me and Darren in charge. He doesn’t have any clue what to do, and won’t listen to a single thing I’m saying. I thought maybe we could convert the shelter’s garage into a temporary holding space.” Another huff. “But, these poor things, Layla….”

  I didn’t even want to imagine. I ground my teeth and refrained from growling at the inhumanity of the situation.

  “What do you want me to do?” Without a doubt, I’d help.

  “You think your Dad might let you borrow his car? Or can you get dropped off? If you could help me calm them down—you always do somehow—then we can start shuttling them to the shelter.”

  I reached up and tugged at my earlobe, that old habit I still couldn’t let go of completely. Sure, I’d help. But the timing made me uncomfortable. I was supposed to leave tomorrow morning. Susan knew I was going, and she’d gotten a couple of assistants to interview next week.

  She needed my help now though.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  After I explained the crisis to Dad and Hazel, he offered to drive me out there.

  Once Knightley and I arrived, I was overwhelmed with the problems before us. So many neglected, tortured, and otherwise abused dogs hoarded in this dilapidated house. Susan showed me to the worst of them, starving and whipped canines in the basement.

  And then I did what I did best. I connected with the animals well into the night.

  However, it wasn’t only that night. With so many animals to move, and then to lead them through the intake process at the shelter, and then to secure them a place to recover, it took way longer than anticipated. Susan and I, even Hazel for a little bit, when she’d brought us and the animal control officers some breakfast, stayed up and worked all around the clock.

  It wasn’t until the next night that I stole some sleep. I’d been too damn tired to head home, so I took a break and ended up slouched on the chair in the intake office. Knightley curled up on my lap and we’d taken a few hours of sleep. When we woke, it was more of the same.

  We’d finally hit a resemblance of calm the afternoon two days after Susan had called. Every dog was set on a medication schedule, had been checked for all injuries, assessed for behavioral priorities, and assigned a makeshift spot in the kennels.

  “Any chance you’ll come back after you graduate?” Susan asked as I readied to leave, well past time for the start of classes.

  Eh, two days late. It’ll be okay. I’ll catch up. First day is always the same old, anyway, going over syllabi and stuff…

  “I’m not sure,” I told her. Because I truly didn’t know. Veterinarian school was in my future. Where, though, was yet to be determined. First, I had to get through my fourth year at the Academy.

  She pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  I chuckled and returned her fierce embrace. “We’ll stay in touch, okay?”

  “Better than before.” She smiled as she let me go and then I walked back to the trailer.

  I hadn’t had a chance to call Suthering and inform him that I’d been delayed, but I assumed my absence would explain as much. My phone blew up with texts, probably from Paige and Flynn, but it had died that first night of clearing out the breeding house and I hadn’t had a chance to plug it in yet.

  When I neared the trailer, I slowed in my steps.

  Knightley glanced up at me and I forced a smile. “It’s okay.”

  Or, I hoped it would be.

  A black SUV sat out front, immaculately clean and new, and looking way too out of place for the lack of shine in the trailer park. It had to be from Olde Earth. Maybe it was Suthering? Personally coming to collect me for class, almost like he’d done when he’d found me before freshman year?

  “Come on. No point dilly-dallying.”

  Knightley agreed, because he readily tracked along after me toward the trailer. Instead of marching right in, I stepped toward the front window and leaned near the screen. I peeked up to see who’d come.

  Inside, Hazel stood facing off Glorian. The women stood at opposite ends of the living room space. Dad was seated in the ratty chair.

  “What does an illegal breeding operation have to do with her studies?” Glorian asked.

  “If it’s summer break, her studies are on break. Right?” Dad asked with an uneasy chuckle.

  “She volunteers at the shelter,” Hazel said.

  “And she’s chosen to do this instead of continuing her education?” Glorian said with a bite. “She’s choosing this shelter over her academic expectations?”

  I clenched my jaw and felt the first of spikes erupt from the pine beads on my bracelet. Oh, yeah, I was defensive. I reined back my emotions, a feat easier said than done. Anytime the headmistress spoke the word expectations, my temper escalated.

  “She’s going back,” Dad said. “This just came up unexpectedly. They don’t have a big staff and Layla’s always been so good with the animals.”

  Glorian barely stifled a snort.

  “This was nothing more than a little snafu.”

  “I don’t condone snafus, Mr. Holden. Nor tardiness. It’s unacceptable for her to delay her return to the Academy.”

  Hazel stepped closer. “Are you saying Layla won’t be accepted at your school now?”

  Glorian smoothed at her pencil skirt. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s twisting my words. The Academy is the only place for Layla.”

  More spikes grew on my bracelet and I focused on calming my breaths.

  How dare that woman…confine me?

  “I’m not so sure,” Hazel said. “If you’re this uptight about missing a couple of days over a crisis she had no c
ontrol over—”

  “And who are you to determine what’s best for her?” Glorian huffed. “You’re not even her mother.”

  “Nor are you,” Hazel replied coolly. “And as Layla’s friend, I’m not sure I like your tone or attitude.”

  “Okay. Okay,” Dad said, standing and laughing too hard. “Ladies, you forget, I’m her parent. I’m her father. So if anyone needs to approve of her schooling, it’d be me.”

  Only…Dad wasn’t my dad. He was. And I loved him for as hard as he tried. My sperm donor, my biological father was Zane.

  The anxiety of that secret weighed on my shoulders. Glorian wouldn’t tell them that, would she? Would she expose that truth and inevitably hurt Dad? I had no idea how he’d react to that news, and I certainly didn’t want this witch of a headmistress to be the one sharing it.

  I pushed from the trailer’s wall and shot inside. Making sure to leave the door open long enough for Knightley to follow me in, I glowered at her.

  “Layla!” Dad said. He cleared his throat and dimmed his smile. “Your…head, uh, madam is here.”

  It had to have been challenging not to roll her eyes, but Glorian faced me with stoic stoniness.

  “The only person who’s going to say what’s best for me is me.”

  Glorian tilted her head a little. I wasn’t sure if her waiting game was to rile me up or if she was truly deliberating a response.

  I’d faced worse. I could wait her out. She owed me an acknowledgment of my statement. Because if I was returning to Olde Earth, it wouldn’t be under her say.

  “I fail to see how you even know what is best.”

  I crossed my arms and Knightley stepped forward, the short fur on his back rising in a ridge.

  Easy…

  He sat but still kept his attention on Glorian.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You have so much to learn about your talents.”