The Villain Keeper (4 page)

Officer Levine watched Caden like he knew he was hiding things. “Those look a little small for Sir Horace.” It wasn't a question, so Caden didn't respond. With a soft sigh, Officer Levine reached into his shirt, pulled out a folded paper, and handed it to Caden. “Have you seen her?”

Caden kept his distance but came close enough to take the paper. When he unfolded it, a picture of a girl smiled from the page. She wore a wool hat pulled down over her ears and had straight dark hair that hung to her shoulders. There was strange writing under her image—the written language of this land, no doubt. Caden's gift of speech didn't translate the written word. He held the paper up.
“This is who you are looking for?”

“Jane Chan,” Officer Levine said.

There was nothing familiar about the girl. Caden felt his shoulders ease, some of the tension in his muscles lessen. It was definitely not Brynne these men sought. “No, I haven't seen her.”

Officer Levine looked away and frowned. It seemed finding this girl was important to him.

“I'm sorry,” Caden said.

Officer Levine nodded, taking Caden's words as the truth they were, but he didn't leave. Instead, he walked around the camp, taking in the piled wood and the stack of tuber tops in the corner like he was calculating hours and days in his head. “How long have you been out here?”

Again, Caden told the truth. He always told the truth. Future Elite Paladins didn't lie. “We've been in the city three days.”

Officer Levine took a deep breath. Beside them, Sir Horace and Jenkins were locked in some sort of man-horse staring contest. Caden patted Sir Horace's neck. No lanky city guard could stare down his steed. As if Sir Horace read his thoughts, he neighed mightily.

Jenkins was not as foolish as he seemed, for he stepped farther back. “Three days, huh?” he said with his gaze darting between Caden and Sir Horace. “Same night Jane Chan disappeared.”

Caden looked back down at the paper. Suddenly, it felt
heavier. Something—or someone—had brought Caden and Brynne to this strange world. Perhaps that same thing had also taken Jane Chan. “The girl disappeared three days ago?” He hoped Brynne was listening, but there was a good chance she'd already fled.

“That's right,” Officer Levine said.

He held the paper up. “What happened to her?”

“That's what we're trying to find out,” Officer Levine said.

These men were searching for a missing girl. They were protectors of the city. Their misplaced suspicion of Caden aside, he felt it only proper to share what he knew. “It was dark magic that trapped me here. Three days ago just as night fell. Perhaps it also trapped her.”

Neither man looked impressed with Caden's deduction, nor grateful for his help. “Evidence suggests she ran away,” Jenkins said.

“Are you a runaway, son?” Officer Levine said.

Caden raised his brows at the shift to him. “I'm on a quest. I was sent by my father.”

“A lockout, then,” Jenkins said.

That sounded insulting. Caden narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Officer Levine stepped toward him. “Your father's not allowed to send you away.”

Caden, indeed, was insulted. He pulled Sir Horace back; they moved beyond Officer Levine's reach. “He's the
king, he decides what's allowed.”

“No one's above the law,” Officer Levine said.

“You're not grasping the concept of king,” Caden said. “And I'm twelve turns. I can care for myself.”

Officer Levine rubbed his brow like Caden's words made his head hurt. “You're not allowed to camp out here, and you have to have a guardian until you're eighteen.” He said it as if he thought Caden didn't know these laws. Which Caden didn't—so he was thankful for the explanation.

Certainly, he jested, though. “Eighteen?” Caden said.

“That's right,” Officer Levine said, and held out his hand. “You need to come with us.”

Unlike Brynne, Caden always did his best to honor foreign laws. He squared his shoulders. “I'm willing to relocate farther up the mountain.” And he was. Sir Horace would prefer the steeper terrain, although the sorceress would likely complain.

“I got a better idea,” Officer Levine said with an annoyingly gentle tone. “We'll go to the station and Jenkins will round you up some dinner while we talk about who you are and where you came from.”

“Thank you,” Caden said, “but no.”

“Son, that wasn't a request,” Officer Levine said.

“I know,” Caden said. “It was a kind offer, and I'm respectfully declining.”

Officer Levine reached for Caden, but Caden easily
dodged. “Son,” he said, “I already have one lost kid on my conscience.”

Caden was no lost kid. He didn't need a guardian. His place wasn't to be jailed in some Ashevillian police station. He needed to find a dragon to slay and find his way back to his father. Then the king would be proud and let Caden serve with his brothers. His place was in Razzon, beside his seven—Caden paused and collected his royal self—no, not seven anymore. It was beside his six brothers, fighting for his father and his kingdom.

“I'm not going with you,” Caden said.

Officer Levine looked like he was losing his patience. His expression fell, and he seemed tired and worn, like he'd had too many late nights dealing with frustrating individuals. “You don't have a choice,” he said.

Officer Levine motioned to Jenkins. Jenkins moved to the left of Caden, boots crunching the dry leaves, while Officer Levine circled right. Both raised their hands in placating gestures, but Caden was not so green that he didn't recognize a coming ambush. He dropped into a defensive stance.

His sword was as sharp as a griffin's tooth and just as deadly. It was not a weapon for this combat of ignorance. He kept it sheathed and darted for the hiking stick.

Like Jenkins read his intentions, he jumped between Caden and his goal. “I don't think so,” he said, reached out, and seized the stick.

Caden lunged for him, grabbed the stick's narrow end, and used the momentum to flip Jenkins through the air. Jenkins landed flat on his back, long legs sprawled, air knocked from his lungs. Caden jumped back, the stick grasped securely with both hands.

Officer Levine ran in front of the fallen Jenkins. “Stand down, son.”

Caden flipped the stick so that the blunt end, the end he hadn't whittled to a sharp spear, faced Officer Levine. “Allow me to collect my things, and I'll let you go unharmed.”

Officer Levine's gaze darted to Jenkins and back to Caden. He took in a deep breath. “I can't do that, son. Now, drop the stick.”

Caden didn't drop his stick; he flipped it so Officer Levine faced the pointy end.

Behind Officer Levine, Jenkins rolled to his stomach and pushed to his knees. “Careful, boss. The kid's a ninja.”

“An Elite Paladin,” Caden corrected. Or he would be when he found a dragon to slay.

Jenkins climbed back to his feet, his hand on his belt. “You need to relax, ninja kid, and put down the weapon.”

Officer Levine's expression softened. “Son, we want to help you. We'll have animal control take good care of your horse.”

Sir Horace would defeat any animal control. Beside Caden, Sir Horace pawed and snorted. If he entered this
skirmish, Officer Levine and his Jenkins would certainly be trampled.

Caden signaled Sir Horace to fall back and find Brynne. Sir Horace hesitated long enough to convey his displeasure, then disappeared into the trees. “Run, Sir Horace!” Caden yelled after him. Neither man followed.

Once Sir Horace's hoofbeats had dimmed, Caden put his full concentration on the men. They weren't spellcasters or trained swordsmen. They were city guards, ignorant of Caden and his world. They couldn't help Caden complete heroic deeds, fight a dragon, or find his way home. “Your help isn't needed,” he said. “Now, leave me.”

“That's not going to happen,” Officer Levine said. “You need to understand that.”

“I won't go with you. You need to understand
that
.” To prove his point, Caden whirled the stick like a Korvan battle staff. If they doubted his skill in combat, that display should convince them otherwise.

The men exchanged a quick look. Jenkins pulled a strange square device from his belt. It crackled with electricity. “Kid, I'll subdue you if I have to.”

The time for talk had passed. Caden charged.

T
he police station had low ceilings and cluttered desks. Caden sat on a hard wooden chair and stared at a trash bin overflowing with crumpled tissues. The castle guards would never keep their quarters so untidy. Caden told Officer Levine as much.

Officer Levine seemed amused. “Cleaning crew comes in the morning,” he said. He held out a pink sugared pastry in a strange wrapper. “Why don't you eat something? Social worker won't be here for a while yet.”

The food looked nowhere near as healthy as the vegan bread from the baker. Caden crossed his arms. Officer Levine frowned. He pulled up a second wooden chair and sat beside him. “Don't worry, son. We'll sort this out.”

Caden didn't need him to sort this out. Matter of point, he didn't need him to sort anything out. He was an heir to
the throne of Razzon, trained since he was four years old in the ways of battle and diplomacy. He sorted his own things out. The squeal of metal sliding past metal—the unmistakable sound of his sword being drawn—jerked him back to the current situation.

“This thing is sharp,” Jenkins said from a room behind them. “Heavy, too.” He strolled into sight and waved the sleek blade in front of him. “Where'd you get this?”

Jenkins had no right to wield it. Suddenly, the failures of this night weighed on Caden, and he fought to keep his expression even. His sword was in the hand of another man. Sir Horace was to be animal controlled. His questionable ally, Brynne, was nowhere in sight and likely had fled into the night. Caden was to be imprisoned in a strange land. He felt shame heat his cheeks. There was no honor in this night.

Officer Levine smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “It'll be all right,” he said.

The next afternoon, Officer Levine drove Caden to the western side of town. No telling what terrible punishment awaited—amputated hands, a long jail sentence in a small cell far from sunlight and fresh air. Caden was in the backseat. His compass was safe in his pocket, but the police had taken his sword, and he was weaponless. He caught Officer Levine's gaze in the mirror. “What do you intend to do with me?”

Officer Levine explained it again.

It sounded like no jail Caden had ever visited. “I'm going to be given free food and lodging?”

“For the last time, it's not a prison.”

Caden was trained to show no fear, no weakness, but his concern that someone might cut off his hand was strong. It was a common punishment in certain lands. He pulled his arms close to his body. “Will they try to cut off my hand? Or burn me? Or flog me?”

Officer Levine's back tensed. “No,” he said quietly. He added, “Have you been subjected to those punishments?”

Caden held up his fully attached hands. “Obviously not.”

“What about the burnings and the floggings?”

“What about them?”

Officer Levine drew a deep breath. “No one will hurt you where I'm taking you.” He caught Caden's gaze in the mirror. “That was quite a story you told the social worker.”

“She asked for the truth. I obliged.”

Officer Levine shook his head. “Son, Child Protective Services wanted to send you for treatment. I stuck my neck out to get you temporarily placed. I called in favors I won't get back.”

“There was no reason for you to do that.”

“I want to help you.”

This well-meaning man underestimated him. Caden crossed his arms, felt his seat belt pinch. “I'm well trained,
smart, and determined.”

“I said I wanted to help you,” Officer Levine said. “I didn't say you weren't a survivor.” He cleared his throat. “Rosa, the woman you'll be staying with, she's a survivor, too.”

“I doubt she'd be a good warden if she were dead.”

Officer Levine continued as if Caden hadn't spoken. “She's been where you are. She's a metal artist; some of her stuff has won national acclaim,” he said. “She's taken in lots of troubled kids over the years. Jane was one of hers.”

Caden felt for the flier he'd pocketed of the missing girl. It was folded and solid in his pocket

Officer Levine turned onto a large road. “Now stop yapping and eat your food.”

A Paladin's body was his finest weapon, to be crafted of the best materials and given the most vigilant of care. Recommended dietary restrictions were clear. Caden didn't understand why Officer Levine kept pushing unpalatable foods at him. Caden pulled the crinkling, oil-stained packet from the bag.