2. Keelan

Chapter 2

Keelan

I t felt strange walking beneath the arc4h of the Mages’ Guild. The glittering jewels set in the sockets of the Phoenix’s eyes that stared down as I stepped through followed me with each stride. I knew the magic contained within examined each person. For what, I was never sure.

Declan and I called the place home for ten years. He still did.

Students scurried from building to building. A few glanced up as they passed, likely wondering who the massive Guardsman was and why he walked the hallowed grounds of their Academy. I recognized a few who’d been little more than youngsters when last I attended classes there.

The stately stone of the Mages’ quarters came into view. Stairs that looked as new and fresh as the sunrise rose toward a richly stained wooden door where yet another stylized etching of the Phoenix greeted. To an outsider, the ever-present Phoenix might have been intimidating. To those of us who lived there, it was a simple reminder of magic’s presence in our world.

“Keelan?” the familiar voice of Mage Fergus drifted toward me as I entered.

Before the door could click shut behind me, a portly man had waddled faster than one might’ve thought possible and slammed into me, his chubby arms wrapping about my waist. The diminutive man’s nose nuzzled into my belly button, where his laughter vibrated throughout my body.

“Uncle Ferg.” I squeezed tight and tried to lift him off the ground. Gravity—and his years of a voracious appetite—won over my strength.

“Have you grown taller? I thought you would’ve stopped at some point.” Ferg released me and stepped back, inspecting me like a physiker examining a patient. “And I swear your muscles grew muscles.”

I chuckled and tried to hide a growing blush. “The Guard has been good to me.”

“Sure looks like they feed you well.”

“Not as well as you, if I remember right. Nobody in Saltstone cooks like my Uncle Ferg.”

Fergus beamed as his laughter echoed off the walls. He tottered to sit at a table. “You shouldn’t let years pass without a visit. We live in the same town, you know.”

I ducked my head and stood next to the table. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“If not for us old men, for your brother.” Something in his tone pricked my ears.

“Is Dec okay?”

“He is . . .” Fergus was slow to answer. “. . . complicated.”

“Huh,” was the best I could do. “I’ll make sure to see him before I head back to the other side of town.”

“You just got here,” Fergus protested. “And you’re already talking about leaving?”

My face flushed again. Disappointing Fergus was a cardinal sin.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ferg. This is more of an official visit. I need help with a case.”

“A case?” He sat up straight. “This sounds exciting. How can I help?”

I shook my head and grinned. “I need to talk with Atikus. I suppose, if you wanted to help—”

“Yes!” Fergus hopped up, knocking his chair back into the stone wall. “Absolutely. Let’s go. It can get boring around here. I could use some excitement.”

Before I could say another word, Fergus had grabbed my arm and was tugging me down a hallway toward Atikus’s chambers. He spoke so quickly, with the excitement of a three-year-old who’d just eaten several blocks of raw sugar, that I could barely catch most of what he said.

I smiled the whole way down the hall.

“Atikus, open up!” Fergus shouted through the door as he banged on the wood. “Keelan’s here.”

A heartbeat passed before the door flew open, and we were greeted by the warmest smile ever to grace a face.

“My boy!” Atikus bellowed. “My not-so-little boy.”

Atikus stood just over six feet tall, looming over most other Mages. In my time with the Guard, I’d stopped growing at six-eight. Virtually everyone looked up to me whether they liked it or not.

When Declan and I first arrived at the Mages’ Guild, boys of three and ten, Atikus wrapped us in his weathered arms and sheltered us from the big, bad world. We were lost and rudderless. He offered love and compassion and reminded us daily how much he believed in the men we’d become. How he had such confidence in us, I would never know.

Still, the old Mage’s faith was unshakable.

Hugs were exchanged as Atikus rushed us into his chambers and insisted on brewing tea. When I tried to argue, he waved me off and said, “I will do it the Mages’ way. It’s much faster.”

Two waves of an Enchanted spoon later, mugs of steaming water thunked on the table before us. Tiny mesh balls filled with tea leaves splashed next, followed by cubes of sugar. I’d barely gotten comfortable before the grilling began.

“Where have you been? What does the Guard have you doing? How do they keep you in cloaks that large?”

I laughed at that last one, though jests about my ogreish size were so common I rarely paid them much mind.

We chatted of little things: my days of training, Sergeant Sted’s brutal sessions, the culture within Saltstone’s Constable force. While I was eager to turn the conversation toward the case, it felt good to relax in the warmth of Atikus’s unfading love.

Atikus was a father, grandfather, uncle, and every other amazing man a boy could have in his life—all rolled into one insatiably hungry, infectiously amusing old man. I loved him more than words could ever express. Seeing him again breathed life and joy into my soul.

Ferg remained silent, his eyes bounding from Atikus to me as though watching a sporting match. His broad grin never faltered.

When Atikus asked, “Have you seen your brother yet?” the somber shift in his tone sent a chill up my spine.

“I will after we talk.” I eyed him a moment, then asked, “Is he okay? Uncle Ferg seemed worried about him, too.”

“He’s . . . Declan,” he said in his most frustrating Mages’ tongue, eyes narrowing. “Just . . . make sure you see him, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Atikus sipped his tea, then set his cup down, watching a few stray leaves swirl in the murky water. “Now, as much as I would love to sit and tell stories about when you were a boy, this feels like more than a friendly visit. What brings you here today?”

I shook off images of Declan and sat up straight. “I have a case.”

Atikus chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “All right. You say that like it is unusual. Is that not what you blue cloaks do?”

“This is my case. My first case without a senior Guard staring over my shoulder or leading the investigation.” The ten-year-old boy I was when Atikus met me vibrated with poorly contained excitement. “Lieutenant Grieve—he’s my supervisor—he never gives anyone a case to lead before they make sergeant. I’ve only had my cloak for a couple of years. This is huge!”

The lines around Atikus’s eyes deepened as his grin grew into deep-throated laughter. Fergus joined him, giggling like a schoolgirl beside me.

“What?” I feigned offense. “Can a boy not be excited?”

“A boy.” Fergus snorted.

“I believe you are well past being a boy. You knocked your head against my doorframe.” Atikus’s eyes watered. When I crossed my arms and sat back, he forced his face to smooth. “Oh, come now. Let an old man have a little fun.”

I looked at Fergus, then back at Atikus. Neither hid their amusement well.

“Fine, fine. Tell me about this case,” Atikus said, waving a hand in the air while lifting his tea to his lips with the other. I suspected he wanted to hide his grin more than take a drink.

It took less time to recap what I knew than it did for Atikus to drain his cup. As the silence stretched between us, his bushy brows twitched, then rose.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “What do you mean? I don’t know what to think. There were no obvious clues, and the accountant refuses to give me any information that might identify suspects or offer a trail to follow.”

“And why do you think that is?” Atikus asked in his most infuriatingly calm mentor-asking-an-obvious-question-to-his-idiot-mentee voice.

My eyes rolled hard. “He said his clients don’t like their financial information getting out. That makes sense, especially for the wealthy and powerful.”

Atikus waited.

And watched.

When I banged my face into my palm and rubbed my eyes, he grabbed his cup, stood, and poured himself more tea.

“Don’t you have some way to locate an item? Track its movements? Find lost things?” I stood and paced along the wall opposite where Atikus turned and sipped his tea, staring at me out the tops of his eyes. “There’s got to be a magic we can use to find the damned book.”

“Language, Keelan,” Fergus scolded, though his tone held more amusement than scorn.

“Quite right, Fergus.” Atikus grinned at his brother Mage, lifting his cup in salute.

“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling more like the ten-year-old they’d met all those years earlier than a fully grown lawman.

Atikus chuckled and waved a hand. “We can locate people using personal items. Finding inanimate objects is far more challenging.” He lost himself in thought a moment, then added, “We would need a page from the book . . . perhaps . . .”

“A scrap of its binding,” Fergus offered.

“Yes, that would likely work, too,” Atikus said. “But without something like that, something that was formerly part of the tome, there would be no point in scrying.”

I dropped back into my chair and let my head fall back to rest against the wall. I heard Atikus settle back into his chair as Fergus’s hand reached out and gripped my forearm.

“What do you know about the contents of this ledger?”

“Not much,” I said. “Albre—the victim—said it contained financial information on some prominent families throughout Saltstone. That’s all he would say.”

“It sounds like you need to get this victim of yours to talk,” Fergus said, patting my arm and standing. “I need to get to my next class before the barbarians decide to flee.”

Mage-Apprentices were taught to be patient, but teenagers would only wait for an instructor so long before thoughts of mischief overcame them.

“I have class as well.” Atikus blew out a sigh as he set his cup on the table. His gaze sliced through me as he said, “You should see Declan before you leave. He . . . needs his brother.”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. Declan had been a lost soul since he was old enough to talk. Everyone loved the little jokester with his puffy hair and infectious laugh, but he had yet to manifest a Gift, and he wasn’t getting any younger. If his Light didn’t appear soon, it likely never would.

“I will now,” I said, standing and brushing off my cloak. “Any idea where he would be this time of day?”

Atikus’s gaze fell as he closed his eyes. “He spends most of his time alone in his chambers these days.”

That didn’t sound promising.

“All right, come let me give you a hug, old man. I’ll go sort out my wayward brother.”

Atikus fell into my arms and groaned as I squeezed him tight against me.

Despite Atikus’s ominous tone and the confounding work ahead of me, I was eager to share my new case with my baby brother. He might not be a Guardsman, but Declan had a sound head on his shoulders and was better at thinking creatively than anyone I knew. Where the orderly mind of Mages might not have helped, the disheveled mind of a teen brother might offer new insight.

Or so I hoped.

Declan wasn’t in his room. I found him sitting under a tree in the courtyard with a book in his lap. He glanced up as I approached, a brief flash crossing his face before it faded back into teenage indifference. By contrast, his unruly locks shot in every direction, spirals of gold whose enthusiasm refused to be tamed.

“Hey, little man.” His immediate scowl reminded me how much he hated that nickname. He’d loved it so much when we were little.

“Hey.” He closed the book and rose to his feet. He leaned back against the tree, not making a move toward me for a hug or punch to the arm—or anything. “What are you doing here?”

“Got my first case,” I said, trying to keep the grin off my face as I reached out and mussed his hair. He shoved my hand away, then shoved my chest, failing to budge me an inch. “I’m bigger than you. You will let me greet my brother.”

“Stupid gorilla.”

I laughed. “I may be a gorilla, but I’m a smart one.”

He almost grinned.

Almost.

“What’s with the case thing?”

I grunted a chuckle. “The case thing is a missing ledger.”

He made an “O” with his mouth, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his eyes, then wiggled his head so his hair flopped back and forth. “So exciting.”

“Hey, it is exciting. I’ve gotta start somewhere. Besides, I think there’s more to it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course there is. The great Keelan Rea wouldn’t be called in if there wasn’t.”

He was teasing, but his words still bit. Where had my baby brother gone, and who was this sixteen-year-old trading barbs?

“I’m just out of the Academy. They don’t call me ‘the great’ anything.”

“Right. Whatever.” Declan’s smart-ass grin faltered. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

I didn’t see Declan as often as I liked. Hell, it had been over a year since I’d seen him last. Guard duty was unforgiving, but I was beginning to wonder if little brothers were even more so.

I frowned, but before I could say anything, he changed the subject. “Have you seen Sergeant Sted lately? How’s the training going? He asks after you every time I see him. He sounds like some girl in a tale fawning over a lost prince.”

I snorted. The idea of that old bucket of rusty bolts fawning over anyone was as comical as it was ridiculous.

“I’m glad he says nice things to you. He pushes me hard as ever. I thought he was a tough teacher when I lived here, but now that I’m grown, he’s ruthless.” I shuffled on my feet, wincing at how many times Sted had knocked me on my ass in our session the day before. “The Guard lets him train me two days each week in place of the regular Armsmaster. He rotates between polearm, daggers, swords, and marksmanship. I fall into bed wondering how so many muscles can ache at the same time.”

“Good for you.” Declan smiled again, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I was about to ask about his studies when “Guardsman Rea!” thundered from across the yard. Both our heads turned to catch two men in navy cloaks trotting toward us.

“Looks like your new brothers are here to retrieve you.”

I wanted to fight or argue, anything to let my brother know that no one could ever replace him, but the men approached too quickly.

The taller Guardsman heaved from their jog, words mingling with deep breaths. “Sir, Lieutenant sent us. He needs you now.”

“Now? Can it not wait—”

“No, sir. Hadrin Albrecht is dead.”