January 2008

In some foolish way, Vanessa had expected the Society to grind to a stop without her. That she was just so vital—they wouldn't know what to do without her. People would protest in the streets, asking for her help, because how could the Society possibly function without Vanessa Santoro? They would say they had never truly appreciated her and grovel and—

But, of course.

The Society functioned just fine without her.

She was just a cog that could be replaced, that they had chosen to replace, because the niches had rusted too much to run anymore. They didn't want her back.

However, the silver lining was that every time she witnessed the indifference of the Society, she was in an agent's vessel, gathering information against the Society. She could take pleasure in the fact that they might forget her, but she would not forget them. She would burn the Sphinx and his Society to the ground, and that was a promise.

The list of traitors barely fit on a single sheet of paper now, but the tips just kept flowing in. Vanessa forgot how espionage intoxicated her. Inhabiting, acting, improvising on the spot. Exhilaration flooded her veins. During her time as an agent, the most consistent note on her mission file had always been her exceptional ability to melt into a role. That hadn't changed.

Unfortunately, her workaholic tendencies hadn't changed either. She worked day and night, pausing only to eat or succumb to sleep. If reconnaissance exhausted her enough, she wouldn't have any time to think about Warren or Dougan or any other ghost as her head hit the pillow. She could outrun the grief threatening to choke her at every dead end.

—

Holing up in the dungeon, sifting through vessels, and submitting reports every morning compromised most of her days—but only most.

Not all.

Three times a week, she coached Kendra and Seth on their sword fighting from breakfast to lunch. Fairies often gathered in the gardens, tittering at the kids' missteps or glaring at Vanessa when she swatted at them like flies.

Her pride preened at the fact that Stan had chosen her to teach sword fighting. Her precise blade work had been well-known throughout the Society and to the few unmasked Knights who knew her well enough. Unfortunately, her teaching skills? Those carried less renown.

Nevertheless, the familiar weight of a well-balanced sword warmed Vanessa to her core. Birds flew between flowering branches, and the fresh air invigorated her mind. These lessons were her only time outside, and she treasured it greatly.

"Dale can teach you how to shoot a shotgun," Vanessa said. "But, bullets that can pierce magical hides are too expensive to procure and use over and over. A sword with a magical blade is your best friend when killing a magical creature."

Today, her students graduated from wooden swords to the real deal. In front of Vanessa, leather armor draped Kendra and Seth's figures, a safeguard against the two steel swords in their hands. Kendra focused on Vanessa's words, and the excitement that had lit up Seth's face the moment he had heard the term "real swords" had yet to vacate. Of course, he didn't realize that this upgrade meant they were going to have to redo all of the basic drills again. His excitement might soon dampen at that prospect.

"This sword I have is a particular favorite of mine," Vanessa continued. The dark mahogany hilt gleamed in the cold February sunshine, and the blade cut like butter through the strong winds. "See the glittering edge? It's been reinforced by swamp witches."

"Where did you find it?" Seth asked.

Vanessa hesitated for a single moment and swept her fingers across the flat plane of the sword. "On a Knights mission, my partner and I looted a minor temple and procured twin swords. This is part of a set."

"I thought you didn't have any of your stuff anymore," Kendra said. "Like, all your animals and weapons."

"Well, this one isn't mine. Mine is far from here. This sword was here, at Fablehaven."

Kendra knit her eyebrows. "But—"

"Let's finish the drills first," Vanessa cut her off. "Then, we can talk more about the swords. Seth, right arm up."

Seth did as she said and they worked through the first drill. Pleasant silence allowed each fighter to focus until the last motion when Seth opened his mouth. "So, whose sword is it?"

Vanessa hesitated for a split second and missed the next step of the drill, giving him the upper hand. Seth grinned.

"Good job. You distracted me. That is a useful strategy in combat."

"The only people at Fablehaven who could've brought some treasure home are Tanu, Warren, or you." Kendra leaned on her sword. "Was it Tanu's sword? Did you guys go on missions together before Fablehaven?"

Vanessa sighed. They weren't going to let it go, and she wanted to finish at least the basic forms before lunch. "It was Warren's. I got it from the cottage."

Seth straightened, his eyes wide, his voice loud. "You and Warren were mission partners?"

A thousand words begged to tumble through her mouth to qualify and twist her sentences until she could truly say yes, but and cobble an explanation together that could explain the dual shallowness and depth of their partnership. But, the thought of doing so burned. It reminded her that Warren had already spent a month, alone, in that god-forsaken knapsack. An anxiety not productive to sword fighting entered her mind.

Vanessa checked her watch and lied. "Well, I think that's about all the time I have reserved for your lessons today."

"Vanessa!"

—

March 2008

Like always, Vanessa reported success before any other spy. Meticulous mapping of her vessels' connections, long hours spent trading fond banter with strangers, and sleepless nights had paid off in the form of a major tip.

She had discovered how the Translocator worked, how it looked, and what to expect. Giddiness rose inside her as she asked Voorsh to fetch Stan immediately. Her value rose with this breakthrough. She knew this. Hope wriggled into her mind. Hope of a release, a pat on the back, something.

Unfortunately, the rest of her spying had proved unfruitful. She could find nothing on Marla and Scott Sorenson, or anyone who knew anything about hidden entrances to extra-dimensional spaces. But, she cut her losses and moved on.

The Translocator could save Warren if he was still alive. The Translocator could hurt the Sphinx.

Together, that was a definite win.

—

Vanessa had been so ecstatic about her victory that her briefing the next morning almost didn't compute. She sat on her couch in her cell and leaned forward. "I'm not invited on the mission to recover the Translocator? Not invited?"

Stan sent her a look of reproach. The bars of her cell framed his frown. "The team to retrieve it was specifically chosen for each member's trustworthiness."

Vanessa scoffed and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Her sharp tongue itched to be unleashed. Instead, she blew out through her nose. "Fine. That's whatever. But, you are aware that I am quite possibly the most qualified adventurer you could send on that mission. I was one of the Society's best agents."

Stan sighed. "Exactly. The Society's."

She frowned. Her sins would never fail to haunt her. It annoyed her but she understood. If Vanessa stood in Stan's position, she would definitely not let herself loose. But, Vanessa's trust stretched about as thin as a thread. She had hoped Stan would have had a bigger heart than her.

Unfortunately, with this dead end in mind, she couldn't foresee a way forward. What more could she do to gain trust? Nothing that she hadn't already done. Any secrets she still held did them more good as secrets than out in the open, especially with the Oculus in the Sphinx's capable hands.

"You're making a mistake," Vanessa said.

Stan shrugged.

It killed her to not be on the mission. She knew she excelled at the kind of death-defying stakes an artifact vault called for. She could redeem herself after the Inverted Tower failure. Also, her intel was the only reason they even had the information to launch this mission. She deserved this.

Moreover, Warren's life balanced precariously on the line here. It had already been three months since Navarog had burned up the knapsack. If Warren wasn't already facing starvation, he soon would be.

To know the only way to help him was the Translocator and to also know she wasn't allowed to be on the mission to recover it frustrated her to no end. She tapped her nails on her journal in impatience. "Who are the people on the mission?"

"I can't tell you. But, this one isn't personal. We're not even telling Dale until it's all over."

"At least Tanu, Kendra, and Seth, right? Trask, obviously. " Vanessa narrowed her eyes at Stan's impassive stance. His lips twitched. "So, two children are more suited than a woman who has been on magical adventures her whole life. But, fine. I won't pry further."

"A rare blessing."