The Villain Keeper (12 page)

Mr. McDonald sighed, came over, and flipped on the computer in front of Caden. “Go at your own pace. You have any questions, hit F one.” He instructed Caden on how to use leathery green earmuffs. Then he wandered back to a desk across the room and disappeared behind a thick book. A moment later a mystical voice came from the earmuffs. Caden tried speaking to it. It ignored him. He tapped the muffs, but the voice only gave him dull computer directions.

So this was the class—a boy who didn't talk, a girl who stuttered, and a useless magical voice intent on teaching letters. Caden felt his frustration grow. He needed to be among the mountains and city. He needed to bring news of Rath Dunn to his father and brothers. Still, he steadied himself and forced a warm grin for his classmates. It was always important to show grace to commoners.

His next class smelled of copper and burned wood. The back wall was full of cabinets encasing row after row of tall glass flasks like an alchemist's shop. The instructor, Mrs. Belle, was tall and thin with brown hair and warm eyes. Her shoes were scuffed and her blouse wrinkled, but she maintained an air of elegance. For someone older, she was pretty enough. Her voice was kind when she welcomed Caden.

Like in math, Tito sat in the front of the science class. Caden took the front middle seat beside him. This time, no one ordered him elsewhere. There was a picture of a tree carved into this desktop—the same tree that had been carved into the stone of Jane's amulet. Something was scribbled beside it in the letters he was learning with Mr. McDonald. He asked Tito.

Tito looked sad. “It's Jane's name,” he said quietly as he set out multicolored pens for note-taking. With a shrug, he added, “When you're in foster care, you've got to know what's yours.”

“It's not really her desk, though. It's whoever sits at it.” To prove his point, he added, “Right now, it's mine.”

Tito neither looked up nor agreed. “Don't talk again until lunch,” he said.

Lunch, unfortunately, did not come quickly.

The cafeteria was down a flight of stairs. To the stairs' left was a serving station and kitchen. To the far right, the wall was made from the mountain—a speckled granite and mica masterpiece—while the wall across was filled with large windows that overlooked the leafless winter forest. The ceiling was high and the room hummed with noise—clanking forks and spoons, chairs scraping against tiles, and students talking.

To get food, he had to take a plastic tray to the serving area. Behind the counter, a withered-looking woman stood over a large metal pot. She tasted the contents and smacked
her lips. An even older man hobbled from behind a partition with a tray of steaming baked bread. His cheeks were sunken and his skin looked thin. He tossed the tray on the counter with a loud rattle.

When it was Caden's turn, a third lunch attendant, a beautiful young woman, spooned stew, white mush, and a square fish onto his plate. Her eyes gleamed and her skin glowed in a way that didn't strike Caden as normal. She smiled, but Caden didn't smile back.

He hurried to the eating area. Tables were lined in neat rows. Tito sat alone at a middle one. Caden sat beside him and asked him about the witches serving the food.

“Don't start,” Tito said. “The lunch people aren't witches.”

“The old woman is stirring a big witchlike pot.”

“That's Ms. Aggie, and her stew's delicious.”

“The young one is glowing.”

“She's beautiful,” Tito said, gazing over at her.

Caden trailed his spoon through his delicious looking stew. The aroma tempted his tongue. “Witches are dangerous. They prey on children and the foolish. There is no telling what poisons are hidden within these temptations.”

Tito swallowed a large spoonful of the no doubt poisonous stew. “They're not witches, bro.”

“They look like witches.”

Tito raised his eyebrows. “Ms. Jackson looks like a supermodel.”

“I don't know what that is, but if you're talking about
the young one, she's obviously the leader.”

“Bro, no. Just no.”

At the tables, boys and girls gobbled down the witches' food. The teachers gathered at a large table near the stairs. Mrs. Belle and Mr. McDonald were there. Rath Dunn sat in the middle, at a place of little importance, and ate slowly. When his gaze caught Caden's, something cruel flashed in his eyes before he turned back to those near him. Truth be told, there was something uncomfortable about all those at the table.

Caden nodded toward the table of teachers. “There's evil here.”

“Uh-huh.” Tito followed his gaze. “Mr. Rathis, the lunch people, or everyone in general?”

“We'd be foolish to trust the lunch witches, but I speak of Rath Dunn.” From the teachers' table, Rath Dunn grinned at him. Caden felt his muscles tighten. “And the other teachers strike me as strange.”

“Relax,” Tito said, turning back to his food. “You're the strange one.” He opened his mouth to say more but then snapped it shut. He watched something behind Caden with the same fierce expression that Caden's seventh-born brother, Jasan, got before a parry.

If battle was imminent, Caden would fight with whatever weapon he could grab. He palmed his fork. Slowly, he turned around, fork at the ready.

He expected to see Rath Dunn, but a boy approached.
He was short and wore sneakers as white as the beard of a frost giant. “Tito nonbonito,” the boy said. “Looks like you got a new girlfriend.”

It took Caden a moment to realize he and Tito were being insulted. He prepared his fork. Tito darted a glance at it, and shook his head. No forking the enemy.

Very well, Caden would battle with words instead of kitchen utensils. He set the fork down, and glared at the boy in the white sneakers. “Looks like you have none, nor much hope of one.”

The boy's smirk wobbled, then came back full force. “Where'd you get your shirt?” he said. “The girls' department of Goodwill?”

Caden glanced at Tito. “I assume it came from the same market as yours.”

“Dude, I got this online. Special order.”

“Look, Derek,” Tito said. “Get lost. We're eating, and you're making us sick.”

Derek snarled at Tito. “Why don't you go back to Mexico already? You can take Goodwill here with you.”

Tito literally growled. “Because I'm Puerto Rican, butt face,” he said.

Students from other tables were now watching. At a table near the back, a boy yelled out, “Uh-oh, you're making him mad, Derek.”

Derek laughed. He raised his hands in false surrender and went to sit down with the students at that back table.
One of the girls there patted Derek on the shoulder. “Don't worry,” she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “If you were that ugly and didn't have parents, you'd have a temper, too.”

The teachers did nothing. Rath Dunn seemed amused. Caden, however, wouldn't sit while his friend was insulted. This battle had been brought to them. He started to stand.

“Sit down,” Tito said through clenched teeth.

Caden sat. “I can flatten them.”

“Good for you, but they're not worth it. They're jerks. That's all. Ignore them.”

“They weren't ignoring us. They want a fight.”

Tito pushed his tray of food away. “So? We could get kicked out for fighting. We've got more to lose than them.”

It seemed to Caden that Tito's reluctance to engage grew from the belief Rosa would send them away. As Caden's father had sent him away, Caden felt he knew something about that. “Rosa would understand.”

“Trust me, she wouldn't. She'd be ticked to high heck if we got in a fight.” Tito sank down in his chair. “And disappointed, which is even worse. Besides, don't you already have enough enemies?”

“Sometimes,” Caden said, “you have to fight.”

“And sometimes you don't,” Tito said. “So don't.”

In math, Rath Dunn gave a lesson on the spread rates of contagious disease. Caden watched; he spent the entire
class memorizing the contents on Rath Dunn's desk, the shine off his head, his clothing. His shirt was deep red and pressed—the color the same as the colors of Crimsen—and his trousers looked like they'd been sewn and fitted by the famed tailors of the lower Autumnlands.

“Pandemic is unavoidable,” Rath Dunn said. With a glance at Caden, he adjusted his sleeves slightly. Under his right cuff, there was the glint of red metal.

Even partially hidden, Caden knew what it was and knew Rath Dunn meant for him to see it. It was the famed Blood Dagger, a weapon feared by all. Rath Dunn shifted, and the blade was tucked back out of sight.

To Caden's left, Tito's mouth was set in a hard line. No doubt, he was starting to see Rath Dunn for what he was. Horrific. Dangerous. Capable of killing.

When the freedom bell rang, Rath Dunn stood in front of Caden. A slow, unfriendly grin spread across his face. “Caden,” he said. “Wait a spell. I'd like to talk to you.”

Caden didn't like the wording: “spell.” If he had his sword, he would have a chance at defeating the man. Not a good chance, but better than none, better than he had now unarmed and outmatched.

There was no use trying to resist, though. An order was an order, and he was cursed until the end of the day. He felt the color drain from his face. “As you wish,” he said, hating Brynne more and more.

Rath Dunn peered at him and grinned bigger. He
seemed surprised by Caden agreeing. Immediately, Caden felt his jumping nerves start to sizzle. Would the tyrant figure out Caden was cursed? If so, he could simply order Caden to kill himself. A horrible thought occurred to Caden: Rath Dunn could order Caden to kill someone else. Someone innocent.

Around them, the classroom emptied. The other students hurried into the hall until only Caden, Rath Dunn, and Tito remained.

“Tito, I'd like a word with Caden in private,” Rath Dunn said.

As Tito had pointed out, since Rath Dunn hadn't killed Caden yesterday, likely he wouldn't today. Still, Caden felt lingering doubt, and there was no reason for Tito to be “talked to” also. “Go,” Caden said.

Tito backed out. “Relax, bro. It's just math.” Under his breath, he added. “If you're not out in ten minutes, Rosa will come looking for you.”

Rath Dunn closed the door. He looked more like his portrait now, eyes mocking, grin condescending. “I wasn't expecting you,” he said. “I remember every last son of King Axel. But from that coat, it looks like things have changed since I've been banished. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he'd remarry.” There was hatred in his tone. “He is, after all, resilient.”

“I'm a proud son of Axel.” Caden fought to remain brave. “Last I read, you were banished to a slow, painful
death in the Land of Shadow, Rath Dunn.”

He smiled like he was savoring a fine food. “Ahh—slow, painful deaths. I could educate you on those. I'm a good teacher.” He laughed, loud and amused, and pulled out his dagger. “And now here you are, my enemy's son, served to me in a coat of enchanted wool.”

“Yet, you didn't kill me yesterday.”

“You know the old saying, it's the cat that plays with the rat that has the most fun.” Suddenly, Rath Dunn was looming over him. “I'm in no hurry.”

Caden's brothers were always underestimating him, his father never listening. Now, the great not-dead enemy of his people toyed with him. He felt his face flush hot. “Then you're a fool,” he said.

Faster than Caden could move away, Rath Dunn reached out and grabbed Caden's wrist. Caden knew, at that moment, he would die. With a flash of red glinting metal, the magical dagger ripped through his magical coat, to his skin beneath it. Caden covered the cut with his hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.

It took Caden a moment to get steady words out. He'd expected his throat slit, not his arm. There was a reason he wasn't dead. “Why haven't you killed me?”

Rath Dunn sighed. “It's not allowed.”

Through his fear, Caden thought that strange. He wasn't allowed? When had Rath Dunn cared what was allowed? And if he wasn't allowed to kill, it seemed unlikely he was
allowed to wound. Caden heard his voice shake. “Yet you're allowed to wound me?”

Rath Dunn glanced toward the door, toward the hall. He lowered the dagger. From his careful expression, Caden suspected neither cutting nor killing was allowed.

Rath Dunn pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket. The coiled symbol of the Bloodwolf, the protector of Crimsen and the Autumnlands, was embroidered on the corner. “
She
won't care about a little blood.” Forcefully, he pushed Caden's hand away and wrapped the handkerchief around the wound. “Trouble within the city isn't allowed. Outside the limits, however, you're fair game, son of Axel.”

Caden pushed Rath Dunn and his bloody handkerchief away. He collected his textbooks and notebook. As he picked them up, he noticed, again, the tree carved into the desk. Rosa's house was at the edge of the city. The mountain outside, the nature trap, those were beyond her land. Caden forced himself to meet Rath Dunn's gaze, to not wince in fear or pain. “Is that why you put the trap on the mountain? You couldn't steal Jane away while she was in the city?”

Rath Dunn waved him off. “You shouldn't be worrying about Jane.” He pulled a second embroidered Crimsen handkerchief from his desk, and wrapped the knife in it, still wet with Caden's blood. “That horse on the news resembles a Galvanian snow stallion. He's yours, I assume?”

There was no reason to deny it. “Sir Horace.”

Rath Dunn tucked the wrapped dagger back under his cuff. It made Caden uncomfortable to think that it was still bloody. Rath Dunn smiled. “Sir Horace is the one you should worry about,” he said. In a low dramatic tone, he added, “The mountains are full of interesting things.”

Truly, Caden was beginning to feel like the poor rat Rath Dunn had called him. Still. “Sir Horace can take care of himself,” he said.