Harley Merlin 19: Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere Read online

  “I don’t know. They looked magical to me.” Genie stared at the spot where they’d been.

  “Ireland is meant to be teeming with Chaos, right? Maybe it has something to do with that? Residual energy?”

  Genie pursed her lips. “Could be. Or they’re a part of the Institute we haven’t learned about yet. Security hexes that patrol the whole place on a loop, that kind of thing.”

  I nodded uncertainly. “I think I’ve heard of that before.” Her theory definitely worked better than mine, but those orbs had given me a peculiar feeling of… I didn’t know, it was hard to describe. A magnetic pull, similar to Leviathan’s hypnotic angler-fish appendage. Anyway, they’d disappeared, and it didn’t look like we’d be getting any answers.

  We seized our moment and hurried the rest of the way to the group. They had their backs to us, listening to Charlotte as she swept a hand across the gaping archway. It gave us a chance to slot into the back of the cluster without anyone noticing we’d been gone, though it seemed Nathan had noticed Genie’s absence, judging by the relief that washed over his features when we returned. He really seemed taken with her, but I wasn’t sure how that worked in a place like this—was it okay for assistants to have the hots for a student? I guessed so, or he wouldn’t be so open about it.

  “This is the future site of the new Monster Repository. Please be mindful that it’s still under construction and try not to touch anything.” Charlotte didn’t even turn around before pressing on through the archway.

  Entering behind the rest of the class, I realized why it had looked so dark from outside. Several hunters stood at intervals around the space, working their magic to build this addition to the Institute’s interdimensional bubble. Sacks of raw building materials sat on the ground beside them, and above it all stretched a gargantuan black tarp that blanketed the space below in semi-darkness. In fact, the only light these workers had to see by were a few wall-mounted lamps and the glow of their own Chaos. With their palms up, they drew out the materials and crafted girders from metal and stone bricks, replicating the architecture of the rest of the Institute. They pulled up shards of glass, which formed more of those stained-glass masterpieces. The end products floated up and slotted into place in the grand puzzle of this new wing.

  “I’ve never seen an interdimensional bubble being built before,” one of our classmates whispered, though it was too gloomy to see who’d spoken.

  Charlotte glanced back. “It’s impressive. Our Magnetons, Masons, and Igneons work in shifts during the day to ensure it’ll be completed by the deadline.” She pointed into the darkness ahead. “Once the main parts are finished, they’ll start on additional rooms for research and testing, and quarters for visiting hunters.”

  “Igneons?” I looked at Genie.

  “It’s an ability that blends Earth and Fire, to turn things molten,” she explained. “I guess it’s good for glassmaking.”

  Nathan and Charlotte led the group through the tarp-covered entry hall, only to stop again where the construction gave way to an enormous open section. Nathan formed a fireball and tossed it into the yawning beyond. It hovered like a flare in the center of the cavernous addition, though the dense darkness seemed to suck away the majority of the light, leaving behind only an anemic glow. Even so, I could see enough. It didn’t look like much had been done here yet. It only bore the metal and glass skeleton of a massive sphere, the bottom half falling away below the precipice where our guides stood. The bones of metal walkways were partially erected, but it was hard to see how far they stretched, considering this sphere provided almost no light to see by.

  “Is this where the monsters are going to be put?” a classmate asked.

  Charlotte stared out into the sphere. “Eventually, yes. The bubble poles you saw in the old Repository will go floor to ceiling, with circular platforms that run up and down each pole, accessed by these walkways.”

  Suddenly, the glowing lights reappeared on my right and fluttered across the tarp overhead. I pulled on Genie’s arm and jabbed a finger upward. Her gaze flitted toward them, her face scrunching in confusion. Charlotte and Nathan appeared to notice them at the same moment, the latter’s eyes widening in surprise as the lights whooshed about the black sphere.

  “What are they?” I piped up. “We saw them a few minutes ago, in the hallway.”

  Nathan squinted at the pastel trails, watching the orbs twist around each other before they plummeted down into the lower hemisphere and their glow sputtered out into gaping nothingness.

  “I have no idea,” he said, after a moment or two. “I’ve never seen them before.”

  “So, they’re not security hexes?” Genie called out.

  “Not that I know of.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “They could be remnants of a hunter’s magic, maybe. Sometimes, when a magical is powerful enough, they leave shards of their Chaos behind when they die.”

  Charlotte cut in, clearly unimpressed by the light show. “If that were the case, I’d have seen them before. I’ve been here all my life. They’re probably just aids for the workers, to help them see.”

  “Then why did they just take a nosedive into this… sphere thing?” I pointed out. Hexes could sometimes have a mind of their own, but these orbs didn’t feel like manufactured puffs of light to help with construction.

  Charlotte shrugged. “They could be additions to the décor—magical fairy lights. It wouldn’t be the first time some continental hunter decided to spruce the Institute up a bit. We once had a visiting hunter from Paris who decided to try something out for size and wound up turning the whole East Wing pink. And when I say pink, I mean pink. So bright, I don’t think my eyes ever fully recovered.” A hint of a smile turned up the corner of her lips. It was the first sign of personality I’d seen since I first heard her name. “Or it could be students messing about. A prank that’ll burn itself out.”

  “Yes, perhaps a joke of some kind.” Nathan took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the edge of his polo shirt before putting them back on. “Let’s just hope they don’t let off an eggy stench or start exploding. We had to close the East Wing once, after a student decided to unleash a cloud of gas that made people talk in high-pitched squeaks for an hour. Seeing Ingram try to keep his class together during that debacle… I’ll never forget it.” He chuckled to himself, and Genie joined in. Man, did he seem pleased about that.

  “It’s always the East Wing,” Charlotte muttered before weaving through the group to lead the way back. “Anyway, we need to get moving.”

  Genie grinned at her. “Where to next?”

  Next to her, Charlotte paused. “Wherever you like. Once I take you back to the entrance hall, the orientation is over.” Her ghost of a smile had gone. “But you should keep up this time. Don’t want to be getting lost.”

  It was hard to tell if she was concerned or sarcastic. I just hoped she thought we’d been sidetracked back there, by looking at the glowing lights and not by something else—AKA, my mental state. I hadn’t Purged, after all, so it really didn’t need to be talked about. Just some first-day jitters, leading to an all-out panic attack. Nothing too serious… Well, not as serious as a hydra or something worse, like a bahamut or a dragon, loose in the corridors. Who knew what I was capable of Purging?

  “No problem.” Genie sounded a touch hurt by the cool response. As the old adage went, never meet your heroes. I guessed Charlotte wasn’t quite what Genie had hoped for. For my part, I wasn’t overly impressed by her general attitude. She might’ve been a talented hunter, but she behaved so coldly to people. I thought it was odd, too, that she hadn’t seemed particularly warm toward her mom and aunt when they were on stage together.

  Charlotte turned her attention to me. “I hope there wasn’t an issue?”

  “Not at all,” I replied, a beat too quickly.

  “Good. I don’t like cleaning up messes.” Charlotte strode on, her frostiness leaving me a little stunned. If she had any idea how painful and taxing multiple
Purges could be—on top of not knowing when they’d strike—I’ll bet she would’ve shown more understanding.

  Genie gave me a reassuring jiggle. “Ignore her.”

  “I plan to,” I mumbled. The rosy sheen had well and truly worn off of Charlotte, judging by Genie’s clipped tone.

  No one has any idea what this is like. Becoming a hunter would be the challenge of a lifetime, made all the more difficult by my unique, one-of-a-kind power. I had a lot to learn, and, honestly, I felt like those builders, speeding toward a deadline—if I didn’t figure out how to capture my Purges fast, then there would be messes that I couldn’t clean up. But I’d come to the Institute to prove to myself, and to everyone else, that I was capable. I wouldn’t let Charlotte knock down my confidence before I’d even started.

  “I don’t care how many monsters she’s caught, I bet you’ve seen things she’s only heard of in books.” Genie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Soon enough, you’ll have a grip on this catching thing, and you’ll probably end up with a list of captures longer than anyone in the history of the Institute. Rarer and cooler, too.”

  “Maybe. Right now, I’d be happy to just catch one.” We walked along with the rest of the group, though we hung back to bring up the rear. “But thanks for the ego boost.”

  As much as I liked to think I could’ve done this alone, I was grateful to have my stubborn friend there with me. After all, I’d almost blacked out from the mere threat of an oncoming Purge. Without her, I’d be on the ground somewhere, willing the overwhelming anxiety away. But, like I’d sworn to my mom, I wouldn’t get in the habit of relying on someone else. I needed to learn to control my emotions and my creations. They were the lynchpin to this whole Purge thing, and it was better to take the bullets out of the gun than to fire at a bulletproof vest.

  Five

  Persie

  Evening snuck up on Galway like a child playing a trick, chasing the sun down to the horizon. I sat by the window and let the vivid colors wash over my face, my fingertips eager for paint and canvas, both of which were still waiting to be sent over from the SDC. So, I let my eyes be the artist, picking out the tones and marveling at each: the bursts of oxblood fading into tawny orange, deep notes of plum foreshadowing the oncoming night, and the residue of daylight hiding in notes of citrine and yellow ochre. San Diego had some stunning sunsets, but this was otherworldly, as though Galway itself were ablaze.

  The nights in Ireland were proving to be the hardest. I’d never realized how loud my family home was until I wasn’t there anymore. The familiar tread of my mom’s footsteps in the hall, the sound of doors opening and closing, the rush of the faucet in the bathroom, the murmur of my parents talking before bed.

  Louisa May Alcott’s words came to mind as I watched the sunset an ocean away from my mom. Mothers can forgive anything! she wrote. Tell me all, and be sure that I will never let you go, though the whole world should turn from you. Mom was the one I usually spoke to about my dreams, and I worried about what dreams awaited me once I slipped into my narrow bed and closed my eyes.

  “Maybe speaking to her would make me feel calmer,” I said aloud to the stark room. Anything to dispel the stony silence. My nerves had eased up throughout the day, but I still didn’t feel peaceful. Frankly, I wondered if I ever would again. And, you know what? No matter how old a person gets, sometimes, you just need to talk to your mom.

  I set my phone on the windowsill and dialed. It would only be about eleven in the morning where she was, so maybe she wouldn’t be too busy with work yet. Five rings later, the call connected.

  “Persie!” My mom’s face appeared in slightly fuzzy hologram form, but her smile came through crystal clear. “I was just about to have lunch and give you a call.”

  My hands fidgeted out of sight of the camera. “Oh. Did I interrupt you?”

  “Not at all. I was just plowing through paperwork. Super boring.” She lifted up a folder, as though I needed evidence. “What time is it there?”

  “Nearly seven.” There was something about technology that stilted conversation. If I were home, there’d be minimal small talk. We’d just jump into a rundown of our days over dinner or coffee, but it was different over the phone when we’d hadn’t spoken in a few days.

  She chuckled. “Don’t you have more exciting things to do than call your mom? Socials, mixers—whatever they’re called now.”

  I shrugged. “There’s nothing going on tonight except a movie in one of the common rooms. I didn’t feel like going, so I came to my room to do some… reading and stuff, but then I saw the sunset and thought of you.”

  “You did?” Her smile turned bittersweet. She didn’t need to say it—I could tell, from the pitch of her voice, that she missed me. But my mom was a tough cookie. She wouldn’t say she missed me unless I said it first.

  “Yeah.” I had no idea why I felt so shy. This was my mom, for Pete’s sake.

  “It was your orientation today, right?” she prompted. “How did it go? Are you making friends? Do you know your way around yet? Have you started classes, or was it just an introduction to the Institute? Is there anything you need? I’m working on your art supplies, so don’t worry about that.”

  I laughed, my discomfort ebbing. “I didn’t realize I’d called the Spanish Inquisition.”

  “There’s just so much ground for us to cover, and I want to know everything!” She propped her chin on her hand and waited expectantly.

  I didn’t know where to begin. Did I start with the good stuff and go into the dream and the panic attack afterward, or did I spill the bad news first?

  “Well, we had a welcome assembly, then Charlotte Basani showed us around. I saw the training halls and library, and they’ve got really pretty grounds. We didn’t get to meet the scholars yet—that’s their version of preceptors—but I’m sure that’ll happen soon.”

  I’d decided to keep it short and sweet. Weirdly, I found it a bit disappointing that I couldn’t produce more high-octane excitement. My first foray into the world of independence was, at present, a bit banal. But that would change when the hard work started, so I would try to enjoy the calm before the storm.

  My mom’s eyes lit with intrigue at the mention of Charlotte, so maybe I hadn’t painted as boring a picture as I thought. “Charlotte Basani, eh? What’s she like? I’ve heard great things about her. They say she might actually deserve the title of legendary monster hunter, unlike her mom and her aunt. Are the twins at the Institute a lot? Maybe I should bring Finch one day, just to see their faces.”

  I glanced at the sunset. The colors had turned darker and muted, like someone had accidentally streaked navy blue onto the palette. “She’s… kind of hard to gauge. You’d call her a cold fish, but I only met her while she was giving us a tour. Maybe she’s one of those people who grows on you when you get to know them better.” I paused, realizing what she’d said. “Chaos, no, please don’t bring Uncle Finch while the twins are here! I don’t want them kicking me out because he makes some joke about them being con artists.”

  My mom grinned. “Good point. He’d definitely have a few choice words for them, after the stunts they pulled at the Mapmakers’ Monastery.” Her image sharpened as she leaned closer to the phone camera. “But you’re having a good time, right? Do you feel like you made the right choice?”

  “I do.” I swung my legs, trying to unkink the knots that had taken root in my thighs. I ignored the other question because I didn’t have an answer to it.

  Was I having a good time? I hadn’t really been here long enough to know yet.

  Genie had partaken in more socializing than I had. She’d gone to a couple of the “organized fun” events during the settling-in time: lectures, a few dinners, a baking competition, and a “disco,” which showed the age of the organizers a bit. She hadn’t said much about them when she’d returned to check on me. I guessed she hadn’t wanted to hype them up since I hadn’t been able to go.

  My banshee recovery had put a
major dent in my mingling time, and so had the restless nights, but then I’d never been one for parties or gatherings. Besides, I would get to know my classmates better once classes started. It would beat standing off to one side with a soda in hand, painfully bobbing along to music I hated and wondering how much longer I had to stay, out of politeness, before I could vamoose.

  “And Genie’s getting along all right?” If my mom noticed I’d skimmed over her question, she didn’t give anything away. “Her dad’s worrying about her.”

  I toyed with a pencil, tracing random lines and shapes across the bottom of my sketchbook. “She’s fine. I think she might actually be at that movie, but I’m not sure. She still hadn’t made up her mind at dinner.”

  “That’s a relief.” My mom pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s not always… easy for Atlanteans to integrate, especially when they’re the only ones. Hector will be pleased. He’s so happy you’re there with her, and so am I. As long as you’ve got each other, I know you’re not alone, and sometimes that’s all a mom needs to know.”

  I chuckled stiffly. “You know me. I can only put one toe out of my comfort zone at a time.”

  “You’ll get there. It’s always difficult when you strike out on your own.” She lifted her hand, as though she was about to touch it to the camera. Evidently thinking better of it, she put her hand back down. “I had Ryann and the Smiths to lean on when I got my first apartment, but when the front door closes, it’s just you, you know? That takes some getting used to, but one day, you’ll wonder how you ever coped any other way. Change is good, in the end.”

  I realized if I dithered any longer, we’d have a whole conversation without me mentioning the dream and the panic at all. “I’m not sleeping very well,” I blurted out. The instantly concerned expression on her face made me wish I’d worked up to it a bit more. My mom was still getting used to this new situation, too. In a way, I thought it might be harder for the one who let go, as opposed to the one who went away.