Welcome to wimblys, p.27
Welcome to Wimbly's, page 27
part #1 of Misfit Magic Series
“Yes,” Ryley said, his voice booming for all to hear. “Ryley Watkins, the one who should have been here all along. The one whose life you stole. The one you left to rot with Oliver and Patty when it should have been you.”
Quinn faced Ryley. The boy stood cross-armed a few yards away, a smug smile inching up his cheek. “Cat got your tongue, Quinn?”
“I—I…” Quinn thought he had prepared for this situation, having spent most nights thinking how it might all play out. But in his imagination, he’d already gained the power of trial and could fight off whatever Ryley flung his way. He never imagined the Witch Queen of the West would have found Ryley. He never imagined the librarian would betray him.
“That’s right, Wimbly’s,” Ryley continued as he addressed the crowd. “Quinn Lynch is a fraud. He never had any magical ability. He’s nothing. He cheated his way through school. He cheated all of you.”
“I knew it!” Porter Price shouted, pointing a finger at Quinn. “I knew you were different. I knew you were wrong.”
“No!” Quinn spun around. “You don’t understand. I had to get away. The Watkins were evil. They—they would have done awful things. I just—I just thought that if I could pass the trial, I could make things better.” His heart thundered. His stomach might turn inside out any moment. It shouldn’t happen like this. It couldn’t happen like this. He was being blamed, again, for ruining everything, just like they blamed him for the fire.
Maisie pushed through the crowd. The disappointment in her eyes, they way her lip quivered, it made him feel six inches tall. “And look at what you’ve done. I stuck up for you. Donal—he believed in you. Look at what that cost him. You’ve put us all in danger for your own selfish desires. Quinn—I—I can’t believe you’d do something so, so evil.”
“It’s not like that, Ms. Callahan, I swear.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, hot and embarrassing. “I knew I could get the trial in time. I knew it!”
Ryley gave his best slow clap and stalked forward. “Look at what you’ve done, Quinn. You’ve taken down Wimbly’s almost single-handed. Soon, because of you, we’ll have the other schools under our control, all thanks to the lying, cheating orphan named Quinn Lynch.”
“It won’t work,” Quinn said. “I’ll find a way to stop you. I don’t know how, but I will.”
Ryley smirked. His fingers danced. Thin trails of flame wove an intricate pattern before him. “I don’t think you’ll see the next—ooph!”
Nehemiah swung his cane toward Ryley, and it flung him toward the library. The building’s door flew open and swallowed the screaming boy.
Mr. Crawford rocked on his heels, his brows flashing above the lavender band. “Well? Aren’t you going to follow him, Mr. Lynch?”
“Why? Why are you doing this?” Quinn asked.
“All things in time, all things in time. I’d say you have just a few more moments to chase Ryley before he recovers. Might I suggest that if you really want the power you’ve desired, the power that might save all these poor magicians, you make your way into the library and finish the trial. Finish this, and it will be complete.”
“I don’t trust a thing you say.” Quinn planted his feet and glared at the librarian. “I won’t do it.”
“Meh.” Nehemiah shrugged. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But know this: Ryley Watkins is not a talented magician. He’s a misfit, like dear Ms. Velvet here, and just like her, he’s very powerful because he took a very powerful magician’s talent. You know how misfits are made, don’t you?”
“Yes…” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Through torture.”
“Indeed! And you know the misfits tortured you all those years ago because one of my doors showed you as much. Who do you think received your talent? What dark creature was made when Quinn Lynch lost his magic?”
Quinn’s knees nearly buckled, and a sick feeling filled his stomach. “You mean Ryley has my talent. He was the one they put it in?”
Mr. Crawford nodded. “And if you want what’s yours back, I suggest you go after him. You’ve come too far to give up now, but if giving up is your choice, so be it. Let Ryley visit all the evil he wishes on your friends. Believe me when I say he will be quite unforgiving.”
Nehemiah had barely stopped speaking when Quinn sprinted into the library. Billy screamed his name. Maisie called after him. Spells flashed. He dove through the doorway. The door slammed shut, leaving Quinn alone with the one person on Earth who wanted him dead more than anything in the world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It Ends
Quinn crouched in the doorway. He tensed, fearing Ryley would be waiting with a spell aimed straight for his head, but neither Ryley nor his spells appeared. Quinn crept from the doorway. He danced and hopped over the rubble littering the library floor, silent as a rabbit trying to outwit a fox.
He never should have chased after Ryley. Nehemiah wanted him here, and for whatever reason, he wanted Quinn to have this fight. The librarian had his own agenda, and Quinn knew now it had been in motion long before he set foot at Wimbly’s.
Quinn shook the suspicions from his mind and concentrated on the library. He crept behind a partially collapsed bookshelf and scanned the first floor. The last flames had extinguished from the broken desks, and since no lamps remained, only the light cast by the high ceiling lit the room, dusting the destruction in tarnished gold.
He crawled through his makeshift fort. On the other side, he peeked beyond. A fallen bookshelf shifted, groaning as it slid across the floor. A form rose from within a mound of cracked and broken books. Hunched like a terrible monster rising from a grave, Ryley shoved his way out of the books and strolled to the center of the room.
The boy had hit the rubble hard, and soot and charcoal covered his once perfect clothes. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed his shirt, and the careful part in his hair had become a messy squiggle.
Hands shaking, the boy wiped his shirt and inspected his stained clothing. He checked his hair, a deep, dark scowl twisting his features. Ryley clenched his fists, and his nostrils flared. “Looks like the librarian wanted us to have some quality time together. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ve got a killer game we can play.”
His fingers twisted in a grotesque dance, and flames erupted along the veins running from his fingers to his elbows. The fire popped and crackled like they burned on dry wood and not a boy’s arms. Ryley admired his handiwork, fire illuminating his toothy smile. “Isn’t it beautiful? My spells, they’re perfect. I made this enchantment especially for you. I know how much you hate fire, because, you know, your parents burnt to ash in one. Remember that?”
Quinn’s body shook. He dug his nails into his palms and concentrated on his breathing. Ryley wanted him angry. He wanted Quinn off-balance.
“Remember?” Ryley swung his arm, and a fiery arc exploded from his fingertips. Scorching flames blasted into a nearby bookcase. Quinn’s eyes watered from the heat and stung from the smoke. He pressed his arm against his mouth to block the reek of seared leather burning his throat.
Quinn scrambled from the bookcase and slipped behind another while Ryley laughed at his spell’s destruction.
“Feel that?” Ryley asked. “That’s power, Quinn. That’s my power. It’s mine, do you hear? It will always be mine. You stole the life meant for me, but you won’t ever take my magic. I should have been at Wimbly’s. They would have loved me. They all would have loved me!”
His fingers twisted in another pattern that glowed deep green. “Ms. Velvet says she loves this spell the best. She says it shows how powerful I am, how far I’ve come despite you. ”
He finished his spell, and his skin deepened to the same shade of green as the magic he cast. Scales sprouted across his fiery arms and made their way up his neck and over his cheeks. His eyes glowed like little yellow points of hate as a long, forked tongue flicked from between his sharp teeth. Quinn knew then that whatever piece of Ryley might have been human vanished with his spell if it had ever existed in the first place.
Quinn looked around for something, anything he might use to fight serpent Ryley. He wiped sweat from his forehead and swallowed, scanning through a thin gap between books. Unless Ryley melted into a wailing puddle if he touched a book, Quinn’s chances of stopping his enemy looked bleak at best.
But then he spotted one of the enchanted ladders, untouched by fire and propped against a nearby bookshelf. Nehemiah activated the ladder with a simple tap. Maybe, just maybe, he could use that to his advantage.
He turned his attention back to Ryley. The boy scratched his chin and searched the library with his beady yellow eyes. Quinn waited. Ryley slowly turned until his back faced Quinn.
Quinn sprinted toward the ladder and swiped it from the shelf. He pointed the rune end of the ladder at Ryley and whistled. “Maybe next time you should weave in some better vision in that spell. It’s totally understandable, though. Enhanced vision is pretty advanced spell casting. It’s not basic like slapping some scales over your skin and turning your arms into sparklers.”
Ryley spun around with a sharp hiss. His claws elongated, dripping fiery bits of poison at his feet. “Basic? Look at you, trying to be the brave little hero. You’re not the hero. I’m the hero. They’ll love me when this is through, and no one will remember you.”
Quinn laughed, edging closer. “I’m pretty sure if we took it to a vote, based on looks alone I’d be the hero here. I mean, c’mon, Ryley, how many stories have you heard of the brave demon lizard that tried to kill his foster brother and attacked a school? You’re twisted.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t care about those talented brats. I’m a winner, and winners write the stories. When we’re done with this place and all the other snotty little magicians, Ms. Velvet will be writing the stories, and they’ll all star her brave demon lizard because I’m the one she loves. She told me so.”
“I can’t believe you don’t see it yet.” Quinn rolled his eyes and inched closer.
Ryley cocked his head. “See what?”
“This story’s not going to end like you think it does. I used to think like you did, you know. But you were my third foster family. I learned after the first and second ones that fairy tales don’t have happy endings, that if I want something, I have to make sure I take it before someone else takes it from me. I also learned something else.” Quinn took another step forward. His arms strained against the ladder’s weight. “I learned people will use you to get what they want. I thought I was smarter, but I wasn’t, Ryley. I see it now, though, and I see how they’re using you, too. Problem is, they don’t need you anymore after tonight, but for whatever reason, they still need me.”
Ryley laughed. He cracked his knuckles, and the flames reaching for his elbows flared. “You’re wrong. Ms. Velvet loves me. She taught me. She freed me. She’d never let anyone hurt me.”
Quinn took another step. A hard jab with the ladder would almost reach Ryley, but in a few more seconds, Quinn wouldn’t have the strength to lift his makeshift weapon, much less whack the boy with it. “She doesn’t care about you. Nehemiah’s the one in charge. Can’t you see that?”
Ryley’s eyes narrowed. “And what if he is? Why should I care?”
“We don’t have to play their game. Let’s beat them. We can be better than them.”
Ryley considered his words. Sweat rolled down Quinn’s back. It dripped from his quivering arms to the floor. His hands would give out any moment.
“No,” Ryley said, focusing his poisonous eyes on Quinn. “You’re a liar, Quinn. I know you are. You’ll never be happy if I have magic and you don’t. Even then, we’re not better than them, and that’s the truth. You know it is.”
Quinn tightened his grip on the ladder. He stared at Ryley, unblinking. For the first time since he’d known his foster brother, he saw how much he hated Ryley, and how much the boy hated him. “You’re right. We’re not.”
He screamed and jabbed the ladder at Ryley’s chest. His foster brother caught it, claw wrapping around its rune. A light flashed beneath his scaly palm. Hope blossomed in Quinn’s heart, and he thrust harder, teeth clenched so hard he thought they might crack any second.
The ladder lengthened. Ryley slid back. He grunted. He scowled at Quinn. Quinn smiled. And then, so did Ryley. His serpent claw twisted, and he shattered the ladder like it had been made of Quinn’s hope instead of wood. The boy tossed the broken pieces into the rubble and cackled.
Quinn stumbled back, tripping on a desk and falling flat on his back. He scrambled away, but Ryley cleared the distance between them with a single leap.
The boy grabbed Quinn’s shirt, its threads burning and twisting from the fire on Ryley’s knuckles. An intense flash of pain burst across Quinn’s chest, and he screamed, kicking and swiping, desperately fleeing the hot pain. Ryley roared and tossed him like a doll into a bookshelf. Quinn’s head slammed one of the shelves, and for a split second his world blinked out.
It came back into focus as Ryley stalked forward. Flames around his hands erupted into clawed infernos. “Time to end this, Quinn.”
Quinn shuddered. He swallowed his tears. No matter how much he hurt, he’d never give Ryley the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Quinn had survived two great fires in his life. Asking fate to spare him a third time seemed too much.
Ryley stood over him, laughing. “Goodbye,” he hissed, bringing his hands high over his head.
Quinn braced himself. This was it. He wouldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t. He only wished he could have made his parents proud.
Quinn’s hands went numb. They lanced out, fingers twisting in arcane patterns. Confused, Ryley recoiled with a snarl. “Stupid. You can’t cast spells, you’re a nobody—NO!”
Light exploded from Quinn’s fingers. A beautiful, intricate tapestry flashed. Quinn’s eyes widened as he recognized Heidi’s puppet spell work its magic. This was why she went with her mother. If she hadn’t, she couldn’t have saved him.
Ryley splayed his claws and swiped at Quinn’s head, but the boy waited too late. Quinn slammed his palms into Ryley’s chest, the boy’s flaming, serpentine claws an inch above Quinn’s face. The heat forced Quinn’s eyes closed, and he shuddered from the borrowed power raging through his fingertips.
His foster brother grunted, and his fiery arms lost their flames. Ryley’s body twisted and fell to the side. Quinn opened his eyes and scrambled back. Ryley writhed on the floor, his scales melting away, the last of his flames dying in sad sparks. He clutched his chest and flipped onto his back, gasping at the ceiling.
Quinn gathered enough strength to wobble to his feet. He wiped his soaking brow and winced at the burn pulsing on his chest. “Ryley—are you—are you okay?”
Ryley gagged and gasped. His gaze turned to Quinn, and the terror swirling in Ryley’s eyes nearly toppled him. Glowing cracks appeared around Ryley’s chest and spread throughout his body. They made their way down his arms. They spread up his neck and into his cheeks. The boy reached for Quinn, and then, went still.
A blue orb rose from Ryley’s chest. It floated above him, growing brighter and brighter. Quinn shielded his eyes just as the orb slammed into his own chest, and for the briefest of moments, he felt as if he had become everything that ever existed all at once.
And then, he was a boy again. His wounds disappeared. Comforting cool pulsed within his ribs. A current of power filled his veins, and the world gained a clarity that left his jaw hanging. “The trial,” he whispered. “I did it. I did it…”
He smiled, but it faded when he saw the pile of ash that was Ryley Watkins. Quinn knew he deserved this magic. It was his, after all. But even knowing that, he felt wrong, like he’d stolen something even though it had been his all along.
The library door swung open. Quinn took a last look at what used to be his foster brother and stumbled outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Fall of Wimbly's
A funnel of ice erupted from Maisie’s fingers with a satisfying roar before encasing one of the warlocks. The evil wizard flew into the night, screaming. Without pause she spun around, already casting another spell. A witch swooped down, her long, crooked hand reaching for a running student.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Maisie roared, a hurricane-force wind blasting from her palm. The column of wind caught the witch and slammed her clear through a window in the administration building.
Cynthia and Egon fought valiantly as well. Egon had transformed into a griffon and tore into a murder of witches. Cynthia used her massive hammer to beat back any charging misfits. Rita the ogre had burst from the administration building moments before, a force in her own right. Her great body absorbed spell after spell, her mighty fists flinging misfits left and right. Other faculty members held their own, blasts of fire, shields of ice, and howling winds keeping the misfit army from the screaming students.
And yet Nehemiah and Ms. Velvet lounged near the library door, completely disconnected from the battle. Heidi stood beside her mother, her fingers weaving a powerful spell that for some reason didn’t appear around the girl’s hands.
The librarian leaned against Donal’s statue, picking dirt from beneath his nails like a bored child at Sunday school. The battle went well for the talented magicians now, but if the librarian and Ms. Velvet joined the fray, Maisie doubted things would continue in the same direction.
A bark troll barreled from behind the library with a roar that shook the earth. Its skin was living bark, its eyes and mouth dark pits full of spiders, snakes, and centipedes. Maisie twisted her hands and fingers into a mighty spell and blew a wind that froze the monster solid.
She marched past the troll, casting spells that turned her skin hard as granite and heavy as solid steel. She stood tall before the librarian and the Witch Queen of the West. “What is going on here, Nehemiah?” she asked. “Is this some kind of game to you?”
