The Villain Keeper (20 page)

Annoyed, he went to search the house for a Korvan battle staff. He needed to practice and focus. He needed to lead Tito on the path of the Elite Paladin before he was further corrupted by Brynne. Soon, he suspected, she was going to try to teach Tito some magic. Yes, Tito's Paladin training needed to start right away. Rummaging in the kitchen pantry, he found a good-weighted broom.

The broom needed to be cleaned, but he took it to his attic room. He didn't even bother to remove the broom's bristles before he swung it around in battle formation four. When he'd worked his way up to formation eleven, Tito sulked into the room. He sat on his bed between his piles of books. “Hey, thanks,” Tito said, and didn't sound grateful at all.

Caden paused. “For what?”

“Rosa spent the last hour telling me how striking and handsome I am.”

“She believes that.” Caden returned to his practice.

He was annoyed at Tito for taking the phone, and he missed his brothers and father. They'd know what to do in this situation. They'd know the honorable way to act. He turned away so he could see out the window and twirled the broom above his head. The mountain looked cold, the ice on the trees sharp. Jane had been kidnapped out there; she remained missing among the snow and dragons. She was an enchantress lost among villains.

“You know,” Tito said, “Brynne said there's no way your father sent you on a quest alone.”

Caden flipped the broom back into the air. Brynne knew nothing about Caden's father. She and Tito had no right to talk about him. He executed a forward strike with the broom and ran his pillow through. The pillow mushed in defeat. “She's wrong.”

Tito made some small talk, but Caden ignored him.
Finally, he heard Tito sigh—a loud and exasperated sigh. “So,” Tito said, and motioned to Caden as he performed attack formation eight, “you gonna teach me to do that or what?”

Caden felt some of his anger drain. Of course, he'd known that Tito would agree to train. He turned and nodded. “Your journey begins here,” he said. “One day, you will become a great Elite Paladin.”

“Uh-huh,” Tito said. “Just teach me to twirl the broom.”

He reached for it, but Caden pulled it away.

“I have to knight you first,” Caden said. “Those who choose the path are given a title.”

Tito scrunched up his face. “So you're a knight already? I thought that's why you wanted to slay dragons.”

For one so smart, Tito could be quite dense. Caden spoke slowly. “I'm a prince. That's my title. The honor of Elite Paladin can only be earned.” Caden readied the broom. “Now, kneel, peasant, so I may knight you.”

Tito looked skeptical. “You're going to use that?”

“The police stole my sword,” Caden said. Tito remained standing. He squinted at the bristly end of the broom. Caden was doing his best here. He raised the broom like a ceremonial sword. “Stop being fussy and let me proclaim you Sir Tito of Asheville.”

“I'm not fussy, bro, you're fussy,” Tito said.

Caden pointed to the floor. “Kneel,” he said.

Tito glanced to the floor like it was a giant fanged
mucus slug. “You know,” he said, “if you can use a broom to knight me, you can knight me while I'm standing up.”

If Caden needed to practice with his gift of speech, this seemed the time. There were many reasons for Tito to kneel. But they only had four days. Chadwin couldn't be saved, but Jane could. Caden touched the broomstick to Tito's shoulder while Tito stood and looked uncomfortable. “You will make a noble Paladin,” Caden said. “And for your first task on that path, we will save your Jane.”

“Darn straight,” Tito said. “And then we'll find out why you're stuck here.”

With the broom's handle, Caden tapped Tito's left shoulder, then right. “We will, indeed”—Caden lifted his chin and smiled— “Sir Tito of Asheville.”

C
aden awoke and dressed in his boots and training clothes—the sweatshirt Rosa loaned him and the worn pants and shirt Tito had given him. Out the window, the trees dripped with melting ice. The sun was rising into a cold, clear sky. He used the broom handle to poke Tito. “Time to train,” he said.

Tito groaned and mumbled something that sounded like “No.”

“You did it the other day.”

“Rosa gave me today off. So.” He turned over and pulled the covers over his head. “Sleep.” Tito didn't move.

Caden poked him harder. “We must train.”

With a huff, Tito sat up. His hair stuck out at odd angles. He threw off the covers and pointed at Caden with the exact middle finger he had advised Caden not to use.

They practiced fighting forms three and five before adjourning for breakfast. Rosa plunked a bowl of suspiciously round grain in front of Caden and patted Tito on the back like she was especially proud of him. “Eat your cereal,” she said. “We leave in twenty.”

Tito motioned to an empty chair at the kitchen table. “Where's Brynne?”

“Asleep,” Rosa said.

“Not getting ready for school?”

“She's not feeling well.” Rosa's tone was soft. It wasn't one Caden had ever imagined her using, and it wasn't one he suspected was used much by anyone with regard to Brynne. “The police can't find any record of her or her family. She needs to rest. I'll enroll her Monday. Now, hurry it up. I want you there on time,” she said, and went outside to deice her truck.

Tito pointed his spoon toward the ceiling, milk dripping from the handle to the table. “Your sorceress won't get away with playing sick for long,” he said. “Rosa will see straight through that soon enough.”

Caden raised a brow. It was true. Brynne's deceptions were easy to discern. Caden glanced at the ceiling with a slight feeling of worry. Rosa seemed sincerely concerned. “There is another possibility.”

“And what's that?”

Outside, the truck revved. Caden picked up his spoon and made a point of avoiding the floating grains as he
spooned up milk. “Maybe the magic has finally gotten to her.”

In Caden's first class, the mysterious voice in the computer taught him to read “cat,” “hat,” and “bat.” Ward seemed to be playing a computer game. Tonya peered without blinking at her computer and mouthed words.

On the other side of the room, Mr. McDonald leaned back, entranced by another of his thick books. Caden cataloged his face, his mannerisms. Nothing about him seemed familiar. Caden didn't remember a portrait looking like Mr. McDonald in the Hall of Infamy, but many had been banished over the years, and not all the portraits were as impressive as Rath Dunn's.

Suddenly, music blared. Mr. McDonald jumped. His book fell to the ground and flopped open. To Caden's left, Tonya's eyes were wide behind her glasses. To his right, Ward scowled at Caden's backpack. Caden was confused. He took off his earmuffs and the music was even louder.

Ward pushed back his red earmuffs and said in his soft, strong voice, “Your backpack is ringing.”

Mr. McDonald stomped over, stooping to pick up his book on the way, and said, “No cell phones.”

Caden pulled his backpack to his lap. “I have no cell phone.” The front pocket of his pack seemed to pulse with each music beat.

Mr. McDonald's snow-white hair glowed against the
ceiling lights. He reached into the front pocket of Caden's pack, pulled his brows into a deep furrow, and dragged out a pink-bejeweled cell phone. The music stopped.

Tonya looked as confused as Caden felt. Ward glanced at the phone with what seemed to be mild amusement. Mr. McDonald looked bothered.

“That's certainly not mine,” Caden said.

“It's in your pack.” He pointed to the phone. “This is your name in pink crystals.”

“As I can't read or write, it's highly unlikely I put it there.”

Mr. McDonald nodded like he could relate. “You've been framed,” he said, and flipped the phone over. He squinted at the phone's display and handed it back. “Tell this Brynne to stop calling you at school, then report to Ms. Primrose for punishment.”

“Punishment? I'm innocent; you've agreed to as much.”

Mr. McDonald's shoulders sagged. “When has innocence ever mattered?”

“It always matters,” Caden said.

Mr. McDonald pointed to the glittering letters. “Show her the phone and argue your case, you'll see it really doesn't.”

In the long hall that led into the mountain, the phone again played music. The display flashed letters—“b” and “r” and “y” and others—and Caden had no doubts they spelled Brynne. Maybe his earlier concern for her was
warranted? He pushed buttons on the shiny pink device until Brynne's voice filled the empty hall.

“I need to talk to you.”
She sounded quite healthy.

He should make sure, though. He held the phone in front of him, unsure of what to do. “Hello?”

“Push the green button and put it to your ear,” she said.

Caden did as she said. “Are you well?”

“What? Yes, of course.” Her voice no longer echoed down the hall. “I need—”

Caden didn't let her finish. Sometime in the night, she had snuck a stolen device into his possessions. He wanted to throw the phone across the hall. He told her how angry he was, how wrong her actions were. In the middle of his rant, the phone started playing music again. He pushed buttons until it stopped and put it to his ear.

“Don't make me hang up on you again,” she said.

“I'm in trouble because of this phone,” he said. “It rang out loud music in class!”

“I set it to vibrate.” On the other end of the phone, she was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You must have knocked it.”

Brynne was so frustrating. “I didn't know I had it,” he said. “Ms. Primrose won't be happy. Another note to Rosa is a real possibility.”

“Oh. You've been sent to see Ms. Primrose?” She sounded nervous. “Are you with her now?”

He was tempted to say yes—if for no other reason than
to see what she would say—but he didn't. He glanced down the hall. It seemed to lead into shadow. “I'm alone,” he said.

“Well, that's good,”
she said, and definitely didn't sound sick at all. She sounded sharp and well rested. “Look, I've been thinking about
her
, about Ms. Primrose,” she said, and he heard her take a deep breath, “about what she might be.”

“And?”

Brynne seemed to hesitate. “To control the villains of our world, she must have great power. She's no normal magical being. Maybe she's a being of legend—like the Elderkind, or maybe she's something of this world we've never encountered.”

Perhaps she wasn't feeling well after all. Caden traced the sleeve of his coat and remembered the myths of the beginnings. “With the possible exception of the great Winterbird,” he said, “the Elderkind don't exist. They're just stories to explain our world.”

He heard Brynne huff. “The Ashevillians believe magic, gnomes, and the Greater Realm are myth. You, prince, are a hypocrite.”

Caden was not a hypocrite. He was practical. “Why would a great and powerful being live here?” Truly, why would anyone pick quaint Asheville over the magnificent and magical lands of the Greater Realm?

“How should I know? Maybe she's a mystical being of this world?”
Brynne said. “Does it matter? The villains behave. Rath Dunn behaves. She must have great power to
make them do so, no swamp doppelgänger could manage that. The Elderkind could take human form.”

“She appears like an old woman who smells of roses. She runs a school in a city of small mountains and limited magic. She's no being of legend.”

“I fear you're wrong. And if she's one of the Elderkind, we need to figure out which one.”

Caden leaned against the wall and considered. Could Ms. Primrose be an Elderkind? A being of great power. Well, she must be powerful to keep the villains in their teaching jobs.

Still, she was certainly no Winterbird. Despite the many trees carved into things, he immediately dismissed the idea she could be the Walking Oak as well. One, spring was said to follow the great tree. Two, unlike the others, the tree always was said to appear as a big talking tree. He doubted she was the Bloodwolf or Sunsnake either. They were protective and wise; they were said to have become one with the Greater Realm.

The Elderdragons, though, were known to be fickle. And Ms. Primrose had been strangely angered when he'd called the ice dragons, well,
dragons
.

Could Ms. Primrose truly be an Elderdragon?

Perhaps Brynne's opinions had merit, perhaps not. He peered at the flashing letters on the phone then brought it back to his ear. “Why didn't you tell me this morning?”

There was a pause. Then, “I was asleep.”

That wasn't it, though. Something Brynne thought so important, she'd have told him immediately. “You've drained yourself,” he said. “I knew you'd done too much.”