Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map Read online

  “So you say.” Shailene folded her arms across her chest at the same time as Fay. “Everyone knows you can’t trust the media.”

  Fay nodded. “We weren’t there. We don’t know what went down in Elysium. We can only go by what the papers and the news say.”

  “Maybe you fell out of favor with your mother and wanted to take power yourself, not save the world,” Oliver added to the triad of pressure. “I heard you worship Erebus. Maybe you killed Katherine for him.”

  My brain damn near exploded out of my head. “I’m no Erebus worshiper, and I definitely didn’t kill Katherine for him. If I’d had my way, Erebus wouldn’t have had anything to do with it.” I took in a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. “I killed her because she threatened everything I care about. I didn’t do it out of selfishness. You’d know that, if you knew what I gave up to make it happen.”

  “Your mother killed my husband for the Cult of Eris.” Blanche’s small voice cut through the rising heat of the conversation. Everyone went quiet. Blanche’s face rippled to reveal a completely different woman. Still elderly, but more elegant and refined than the squat, overly made-up person I’d met. Her silvered hair was short and sleek, and her features carried a regal beauty that suggested she’d been a stunner in her prime. Cold blue eyes peered up at me.

  “You’re a Shapeshifter? Goodness, it seems everyone has their secrets, doesn’t it?” Melody chimed in with a nervous giggle. “I wondered why I couldn’t sense your emotions, but I’ve learned not to make assumptions about people. There might’ve been a number of reasons why I couldn’t sense yours, though I ought to have used the principle of Occam’s razor—the simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

  Blanche ignored her. “I don’t like to show my true image when I first meet new people, but in this case, it’s necessary. I don’t suppose you recognize me, do you, Finch?”

  “Should I?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Don’t you remember the people affected by your mother’s murder spree?” Her entire demeanor had changed in a split second, and I wasn’t just talking about her appearance. All her former friendliness had evaporated like a fart in a wind tunnel. Now, she looked at me the way the Muppet Babies had when I first left Purgatory. I always forgot that Harley had been the exception. She’d seen something in me that nobody else had. Evidently, these folks hadn’t gotten the memo.

  I’m good now… aren’t I? Haven’t I done enough? Besides, how could I tell Blanche that there were too many to remember? It would’ve sounded cold.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry for your loss, Blanche. But I’m not my mother. I’m nothing like her.”

  “The apple never falls far from the tree,” Blanche retorted.

  “This apple did.” I knew it was pointless to think I could change her mind so quickly. How was it possible that one word, Shipton, could unravel all I’d done, and all the changes I’d made? It didn’t seem fair. Would I always be tarred by my mother’s psychotic brush?

  “Let us save these conversations for later, shall we?” Etienne reentered the conversation, giving me a much-needed reprieve. “You must prepare for dinner this evening. I will show you to your quarters. Tomorrow, you begin the trials of map-making. Three more await you before you can hold a map of your own making in your hands. I hope you weren’t disenchanted by the puzzle to gain entry, for it will only get more difficult from here on out.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. Four trials in total, with one down and three to go. It’d still be a rough journey, I imagined, but at least he wasn’t hurling out twenty hoops to jump through.

  “Wait, what was the point of the first trial?” I stopped Etienne before he could move off.

  He smiled. “I am glad you had the sense to ask. It relates to the idea of Occam’s Razor, that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”

  “But I knocked, and that didn’t work,” Melody interjected.

  “Yes… perhaps not that simple.” Etienne pressed on through the corridors, giving us no choice but to follow.

  Mean Girls took the lead—Fay, Shailene, and Oliver—with Blanche keeping her distance from me. I trailed behind with Melody, Luke, and Mr. Abara, none of whom seemed keen to start a fresh chat about my past. I was grateful for the silence. My mind gremlins were making enough noise to last me until this entire thing was over.

  Turning the corner into another labyrinth of hallways, I got the shock of my life. A monk in a blue-and-gold robe walked in the opposite direction, hands tucked into his sleeves. I’d always wondered if monks really did that. Now, I had my answer. He gave a nod to Etienne as he passed but didn’t say a word to any of us. One thing was sure—he was definitely human.

  “There are monks here? That’s dope,” Oliver said.

  Etienne nodded. “This is a true monastery. They are here as a security measure and as caretakers. I don’t trust magicals. I have seen too much, and encountered too many, to ever be able to do so. Humans are simpler. Humans are trustworthy.”

  Someone’s got a chip on their shoulder. I wanted to ask why he didn’t trust magicals, but after what happened with Blanche et al., I didn’t feel like drawing attention.

  Fortunately, I was shown to my room first. Maybe it was a prize for being the one to put the key in the lock. Etienne pushed open the door and gestured for me to enter. The room’s beauty matched the rest of the monastery, with paintings of verdant landscapes and gods and goddesses plastering the walls. In the middle of the chamber stood a huge stone pillar, carved to resemble a Greek god. A circle of water surrounded the base, which had eerie statues clawing their way out, trying to grasp at the god in the center. I guessed the central statue represented Hades, and those clawing figures were the spirits of the Underworld.

  Ah, the stuff of nightmares—perfect. I tried not to shudder, considering the rest of the room was so pretty. Greek writing filled the blank spaces between the paintings. My Ancient Greek was hella rusty. And my modern Greek wasn’t much better.

  “One of the monks will collect you for dinner,” Etienne said, closing the door behind him.

  I padded into the room and straight to the bed, sitting down on the surprisingly soft and oh-so-welcoming mattress. I desperately needed it after what I’d been through in the last twenty-four hours. I had a lot of questions, but they’d have to wait.

  Must sleep… must rest… must ignore creepy-ass statue.

  I had just lain down when said creepy statue vibrated. My eyes darted toward it. Was that supposed to happen? As I watched, the carved face started to move, and the limbs stretched out. I froze in fear.

  “So, you managed to get in. Well done, boy!” Erebus’s voice boomed out of Hades’s mouth, the stone lips moving and everything.

  My fear turned to anger. “You better watch who you’re calling ‘boy.’”

  “And you had better watch your tone,” Erebus-slash-Hades replied.

  “You dumped me on a cliff, and you didn’t give me a single bit of information about why! It’s a friggin’ miracle I’m not ripping your stone head off your stupid stone shoulders right now!” I got up and stalked toward the moving statue. “I’m hoping you’ve got answers for me. If you’ve just shown up to taunt me, you can pack it in. I’m not in the mood.”

  Erebus tutted. “Temper, temper.”

  “Yes, temper, temper.” I glared at him. “How are you even doing this, anyway? Let me guess, Etienne’s protective protocols are no match for the Great and Irritating Erebus?”

  “It wasn’t easy, but I couldn’t leave you here without a line of communication. I need to know how you’re progressing, so that I can—”

  The statue stopped moving, then twisted in a different direction from its original state. Now, it sort of looked like Hades was running away from the creepy hands that reached for him. Something had clearly gone wrong. Likely, the monastery’s magical defenses fought against this intrusion.

  “Hello? Earth to Erebus, this is Houston, come in.” I waited
impatiently.

  “I will have to figure out another way to communicate with you.” Erebus’s voice slipped out of Hades’s lips. They moved slightly, as though buffering. His voice sounded stilted. “In the meantime, I suggest you get to work and make sure you learn all there is to know about magical map-making. You are not to leave here until you have succeeded in the trials.”

  “And how long will that take?” I pressed.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “But what am I looking for? What is it I need to find with these maps? I need to know, okay, otherwise I won’t know where to start!”

  Hades’s lips froze. “I… will… be in… touch… again.”

  “Don’t you dare! Tell me what I’m looking for!”

  “I… will… find another… way to… communicate.” His voice sounded irritated.

  “Erebus? Erebus, get back here!” I shouted, but he’d already left. The statue didn’t move again.

  It didn’t make sense. A super-powerful Child of Chaos shouldn’t have had any problem breaking through a couple protective defenses. It should’ve been, quite literally, Child’s play. Yet, somehow, the spells had pushed him out.

  Did this have something to do with his human body limiting him? I’d have to keep an eye on that, or I’d be stuck on this island forever, in this monastery, trying to learn a skill without any context whatsoever.

  As far as Erebus’s tasks went, this one was turning into a major headache.

  Six

  Kenzie

  Taking care of Mom had never been easy. I’d been juggling her needs and my line of work and trying to keep away from the authorities—human and magical—for years now. By now, it had become second nature. I could take it all in stride. Until things took a turn for the worse. This past year felt like ten.

  Mom had always been a tough cookie. It used to be that, even through her memory fog, she’d have days or even weeks where she had clarity and knew who Inez and I were. Now, though… we were lucky if she recognized our faces for more than a couple of seconds. If that.

  This wasn’t Alzheimer’s. My mom had a Voodoo curse, old and determined to suck the life out of her. I’d nicknamed it “the Vampire.” Not to minimize it, but to cope. A monster was a physical thing—simpler to deal with than an untouchable curse I didn’t know how to fix.

  So far, nobody had been able to help. Finch’s talisman hadn’t worked. All the pills from the magical docs hadn’t done a damn thing. Even Marie Laveau, badass Queen of Voodoo, had been stumped. Turns out, some things even an awesome, super-powerful sorceress didn’t know. She’d told me she suspected the curse predated her, said she was sorry, and turned me out empty-handed. Watching Mom lose more and more of herself, going from total exhaustion and brain fog to flying into sudden bursts of rage and fear which came out of nowhere… sucked. And the changes in her state were near-impossible to predict.

  I catalogued my latest batch of burner cells, lifted from here and there in San Diego, when Inez padded out of Mom’s room. I looked up from the kitchen table. My little sis. Half my size but twice as ballsy. When she got older, she’d be a force to be reckoned with, that was for damn sure. But right then, she looked so freaking small and lost. I hated that, seeing her fire snuffed out.

  “What’s up, Nezzie?” I asked gently.

  “Mom keeps calling me Rhiannon.” Her little face scrunched up. That look, I knew well. She was trying not to cry. There’d be little crescents on the insides of her palms from her fingernails.

  “Come sit down. You can help me put new SIMs into these, then put them in boxes.” Work is the best way to take your mind off the bad stuff. I’d learned that early on. If I hadn’t had my side hustle in stolen goods, I’d be on some kind of meds by now.

  “Who’s Rhiannon?” Inez bit her lip to stop its shaking.

  Mom had called us every name under the sun. On the worst days, she didn’t know us at all. She screamed and wailed and stared at us like we were strangers, demanding to know where she was and what we were doing there.

  “She probably thinks you’re Aunt Rhiannon.”

  Inez frowned. “We don’t have an Aunt Rhiannon.”

  “She died when Mom was little. You’re around the same age she was,” I replied. I might’ve seemed cold, but my way of taking care of Inez involved tough love and constant distraction. We wouldn’t make it otherwise. I couldn’t appear weak when she needed strength.

  I’d have done anything, given anything, to make things better. I’d been so sure about Marie. That letdown had round-housed me right in the gut, and I still hadn’t recovered.

  Inez got down to business, taking the new SIMs and slotting them into the burners. She’d helped me before. Don’t get it twisted—I’d never let her get caught in the same underworld as me. But if putting a few SIM cards into some stolen phones could keep her mind off Mom, just for a while, that wasn’t a bad thing in my book.

  These cell phones kept us afloat. The local gangs always needed them, since the cops liked to scope out this neighborhood more than most. They were constantly being monitored, and I worked as their middle-woman. Simple supply and demand. Plus, it paid to make friends in shady places. I gave them a way to communicate; they kept me and my family safe. The gang leaders posted members on the street corners to make sure nobody bothered us. Some would even walk Inez to the bus stop when I had too much work to do it myself, so nobody got in her way or tried to hurt her. It made a pretty odd image—huge tattooed dudes flanking my little sis and holding her backpack for her.

  Everyone had their shades of gray. If you looked closely enough, everyone had a reason for doing stuff others considered wrong. Most people weren’t totally bad. The only person I’d ever met who I could truly mark down as one hundred percent evil was Katherine Shipton, but she’d gotten what she deserved.

  “Actually, leave those, Nezzie. You’re going to be late,” I said, seeing the time on the nearest cell phone.

  Inez pouted. “Can’t I just stay home with you? Just once?”

  “You want to live in this place all your life? You want to live in this neighborhood till you’re old and gray?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts. Get your ass to school. A real education will get you somewhere, Inez. If I let you stay home today, you’ll ask again tomorrow. Sorry, Nezzie, it’s not going to happen.”

  I got up and took her lunch bag off the counter. I shoved it into her hand and fetched her backpack, forcing it onto her shoulders. She’d huff the whole way to the bus stop, but once she got to school, it’d take her mind off home. I envied that. A break from this. Even thinking that way made me feel guilty, but hey, that’s life. I’d dropped out to look after Mom. Inez had choices I didn’t, and I wouldn’t let her give up to be like me.

  “Will you walk me?” Inez scuffed her way to the door.

  I shook my head. “Diego and Crossbones will be on the corner. They’ll take you.” I nodded to the huge pile of burners. “I’ve got to sort through these by lunchtime.”

  “Will you be home tonight?” She peered up at me as I ushered her out the door. Damn those puppy-dog eyes.

  “I’ll try to be.” I stooped to give her a kiss on the forehead. “Now go on, fill that mind with clever stuff so you can go and be a doctor or something, instead of shifting burner cells for the rest of your life. Or maybe a lawyer, so you can get me out of my messes.”

  She gave a reluctant smile before hurrying down the creaky stairway and out of the apartment building. That was the beauty of this derelict spot. I could hear every footstep in the empty hallways, and the rusty clang of the front door acted as a readymade alarm. I’d picked this joint for that exact reason. Ain’t nobody going to sneak up on me.

  Turning, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Mom stood in the doorway of her room, giving the apartment a blank-eyed stare. She looked like a ghost. Pale, dark circles under her eyes, her body thin like a baby bird. No matter how much I fed her, she stayed painfully skinny.

 
; “Who are you?” Her words cut me like a knife. “Why are you in my house?”

  “Mom, it’s me. Kenzie.” I stepped toward her, but she put up her fists. Not now, Mom… please.

  “I don’t know any Kenzie. Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Panic edged her wavering voice. “I’m going to call the police!”

  “Don’t do that, Mom. I’m your daughter, Kenzie.” I edged toward the landline, trying to block her way. She’d threatened this a thousand times, and it never got easier to handle. It wasn’t her fault. She was scared. She thought some lowlife had come to rob her blind.

  She shook her head wildly. “I don’t have a daughter. Who are you?!”

  I reached the house phone and opened the drawer beneath it, where I kept syringes of magical serum. A consequence of her almost making it to the phone about six months ago. I doubted the police would take kindly to an apartment full of stolen goods. I hated doing this to her, but the only way to calm her down was to use that serum to put her into a magical sleep. Krieger had given me a whole bunch, just in case. A sweetener to entice me to join the SDC, but this one I could get on board with.

  I let Mom come closer. Risky but necessary. The voodoo curse had robbed her of magic, draining what was left of it this past year, or this would’ve been way harder. Once she reached me, her fists ready to give me a pummeling, I lunged forward and sank the syringe into her arm. It worked instantly, all those magical juices flowing. Mom sagged in my arms, the fight gone out of her. I held her tight to stop her from falling on her face and dragged her to the couch like a gangster trying to hide a body. As gently as possible, I lifted her limp limbs onto the cushions until she looked vaguely comfortable.