Chapter Eleven

"Hey, 'Mule. You okay?"

Mattholomule jerked into full awareness at the sound of the question. Gus was watching him with concerned eyes, as were Luz, Willow, and even Amity. Gus had been slowly acclimating him into his usual friend group of late, especially since his Palisman Adoption Day — said palismen were sitting in the center of the group's lunch table and discussing things of their own.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," Matt said, then yawned widely.

"Are you sure?" Luz asked.

Matt chewed on his lip as if they were his next words before groaning and just letting go. "I'm tired. I was Bria's scroll-call after an incident yesterday."

At everyone's curious looks, Matt went on to explain how Bria had all but begged him to come and post her bail at the Emperor's Coven precinct the day before to keep her dad from finding out. It had taken all of his savings from his book delivery job just to get her out of the cells. Luckily, his old Glandus instincts hadn't faded away completely and he'd made her promise to pay him back, with interest, under an Everlasting Oath.

As they'd left the precinct, Bria had asked him to help her talk some sense into Gavin and Angmar. She'd been suspiciously spare on details with Gavin's situation, only saying that he was way too focused on bringing down the Amethyst Artisan and "making a name for himself," but she'd been vehement in complaining about Angmar's crush on the Silver Belle.

Naturally, he'd declined to help any further.

"What is it about the new teen apprentice fad that has those two so hooked, am I right?" Matt asked with a tired laugh. It took him a moment to realize that no one was laughing with him and he looked to find them all staring uncomfortably. "What? Was that one of those 'way too soon' or 'not ever appropriate' jokes?" He scowled and rubbed the ridge of his eyebrows. "Dangit, why are those so hard to see coming?!"

"Hey, man, it's okay," Gus assured. "It's just, y'know, a lot to take in."

There were general murmurs of agreement from the group and Matt's metaphorical hackles lowered again. "Oh, good." He smiled cockily, though it was a shadow of his usual grin. "Guess I'm turning into a real expert, huh?"

"Not even close," Willow giggled. Then she focused on something in the distance behind him. "Hey, Celine!" she said with a wave.

Matt flinched and whirled around to see the Fengari demon walking away to join Ladon Drake and Andre Loom; the reptilian demon in the Potions track and the huge, bespectacled redheaded guy in the Oracle track. Matt sighed and turned to find everyone looking at him with anything from Willow's sympathy and Luz's smugness, to Amity's amusement and Gus's surprise. "What?" he asked moodily.

"It seems someone appreciates the sight of the moon," Amity quipped with a small smirk.

As Matt sputtered denials and then focused on his lunch, the rest of the group traded glances. All of them had listened intently to Matt's story, even if he didn't realize how important it was, and were thinking through the possible consequences.

"As if things weren't complicated enough," Amity whispered bitterly.

"Hey, at least we know now, right?" Luz whispered back with a strained smile, looking at all of them as she said it. "And besides, what else could happen?" Her smile faded into horror and she slapped her palm into her face. "Why did I say that?"

Amelia hissed and then sighed with relief as Bo healed up an injury that might have been a sprained knee, her snake palisman Hepius curled around her bicep like a bracelet as he watched intently. Ever since Bo had agreed to be the unofficial medic for the Banshees' practices, the times after had gotten so much better. Granted, Boscha had also realized that an on-site medic meant she could push herself and the girls even further, but still.

"There you go," Bo chirped, quickly writing something down on a clipboard loaded with paper. "Sign here, please." Amelia laughed and gave her signature. Though Bo had accepted this position out of the goodness of her heart, Cat had insisted she use it as extra credit for their Healing classes. And Bo deserved that.

"I think that's it," she reported. "Sorry again for missing last practice."

"It's fine," Amelia said back, for the umpteenth time. "Family stuff is important." She looked up as Jewel flitted about before perching on Amelia's shoulder as if to support the point.

"You good, girl?" Boscha called from across the field as she approached.

"Yeah, I'm good," Amelia said, working her knee with no soreness before standing up from Bo's stool. "Gotta admit," she gestured at Bo, "she's the best decision we ever made as a team." Bo blushed and rubbed the back of her neck before handing a written report of all injuries to Boscha for her to look over, as per official protocol. Boscha nodded and took it, Bo waving and saying goodbye to them both before taking her leave.

"So how's Willow?" Boscha asked Amelia, without preamble.

Amelia froze in shock, like an eye-rat under the gaze of a bog snake. "Uh, Willow? As in 'Willow' Willow?" Amelia smiled uneasily. "Why ask me?"

"Don't play dumb, Amelia," Boscha said, unamused. "I know you're cozy with Park in your classes together. You think I wouldn't know? And, you know, I'm fine with that." She smiled darkly. "Or I will be, if you do me a favor."

"What favor?" Amelia asked, eyes narrowing. Jewel fluffed her wooden plumage to be intimidating and squeaked with warning. Maya, Boscha's crab palisman, scuttled out from behind her grudgby uniform and snapped her pincers in warning of her own. The message was clear, 'Stay out of it.'

"I want you to see what you can find out about her little boy-toy," Boscha said blaisely. "He may not come to school here anymore, thank the Titan, but something about him just doesn't seem right."

"Are you worried about Willow?" Amelia asked incredulously.

"Ugh, no way!" Boscha spat. "If he wants to rough her up, I say go for it." Boscha glanced around and sighed through her nose, her lips pressed together as if holding something back. "Y'know what? I can't take it anymore." She looked back at Amelia and fixed her with a dangerous look. "If you tell anyone, you're off the team and kicked down to the bottom of the ladder. Understand?"

Amelia blinked, her face pale as she nodded. She'd known Boscha for years, hung out with her on countless weekends, and been a driven and devoted Banshee … and she knew without a doubt that Boscha would toss her under the egg-bus if she thought Amelia deserved it. It was cruel and unfair, but it was the way things worked. Granted, she figured Willow would take pity on her and bring her into her friend group … but she loved playing grudgby. "What is it?" Amelia asked carefully.

"I think Strong's the Golden Guard," Boscha said quickly.

Amelia almost heard something in her own mind crack. Oh, Titan. Oh … no. Boscha knew. Or at least highly suspected. This was bad. This was very, very bad. "Wh-why would you think that?" Amelia asked, schooling her tone with as much confusion as possible. It wasn't hard to fake; if she hadn't seen Hunter don his gear that last day at Hexside, she never would have considered it.

"When the Golden Guard showed up and broke up my beatdown of that Glandus loser yesterday," Boscha said, her cheeks pinking as she recalled how quickly he'd taken them both down, "Park was there, too. Then Strong came running up just after the Golden Guard left. And I looked close and realized they're the same height and build."

Amelia tilted her head. "That's … kind of thin evidence," Amelia said, in all honesty.

"Well duh," Boscha said, her patience clearly fraying. "That's why I'm calling in that favor." Boscha's eyes grew brighter, more intense … almost frighteningly. "I need more evidence that it's him."

Amelia swallowed thickly. "I-I'll see what I can do."

"Awesome," Boscha smirked. "You're the best, girl!" With that, Boscha headed for the showers. Amelia grimaced and followed, not too keen on being sticky and dirty when she went home.

After the shower, Amelia felt like she was wandering in a haze as she got dressed in a casual red-orange blouse with a white bow on the neckline, khaki knee-shorts, and her boots. She said goodbye to all the girls and shuffled off the field with her thoughts whirling with dread. There was no way she could let Boscha confirm that Hunter was the Golden Guard. She didn't know what Boscha would do with that information, but it couldn't possibly be good.

She was so lost in her thoughts that the feeling of a hand on her shoulder lanced straight to her grudgby and self-defense training and she twisted her body before grabbing the assailant and wrenching them into an armlock without even realizing she'd moved.

"Ow, ow, ow! Amelia!" Jerbo yelped.

She gasped and let Jerbo go, folding her arms for something to do. "Sorry about that, Jerbo," she said, her face flushed with embarrassment. "You startled me."

"Sorry right back," he said with a pained smile. "But, uh … are you okay?" Gone was the smile and in its place was genuine concern as he stood up and massaged his shoulder. "Boscha isn't working you girls too hard, is she?"

"No, no," Amelia said, shaking her head. "Well, I mean, she is, but it's nothing we can't handle. I just-" Amielia blinked as her thoughts caught up to her and she realized something. "Hey, Jerbo, uhum …" She bit her lips and loosened her arms before she came to a decision. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," Jerbo said brightly. "What's up?"

Amelia glanced around for anyone close by before whispering, "It's about Hunter and his 'job'."

Jerbo's face went blank. "I know a nice diner that's never too busy," Jerbo said. "Maybe we can talk there."

"Okay," Amelia nodded.

In one of his large home's basements, Gavin Pilos stared down into a bubbling cauldron, his expression as stony as the walls around him. His hands glowed with orchid magic, the energy flowing down into the cauldron's contents to infuse and empower it. Sweat beaded his brow, but he kept up the effort.

After a few more moments, he cut off the spell and snuffed the fire that heated the cauldron, then overturned a sandglass to let the contents settle and cool. As they did, they slowly changed from bright orchid like most early Abominations to more of a wine red that was characteristic of his own work. When the sand finished falling in the glass, Gavin focused his power.

"Abomination, rise!" he commanded.

The sludge inside the cauldron, derived from his own recipe for Abomination clay, arose into a blocky, humanoid shape that more growled than groaned, its expression more aggressive than the usual dull subservience. "Yes, master," it said, its voice grating like the cracking of a boulder.

Gavin grinned and led the Abomination outside and into a patch of broken, barren ground in the yard that he used for practice. With a mix of verbal commands and spells, he put this new specimen through its paces to test its strength, resilience, and most of all its reaction time.

Unlike the generally passive and clumsy creatures that most students made in school as they learned, Gavin's Abomination was solid, ferocious, and even had a trace of initiative. Granted, that last part was a little risky, as Abominations who were granted too much free will and intellect had a habit of rebelling against their masters in one way or another, from outright betrayal to something as small as resisting orders and not moving fast enough to protect them. But Gavin was a risk-taker, and to topple a prodigy that would have caught his dad's eye, he would need a vassal who could think.

As he tested his latest Abomination, Gavin's thoughts couldn't help but turn to the reason for it: the Amethyst Artisan. He grimaced at the flowery and ostentatious title, having never cared for his father's "dramatic flair" that always seemed to be too over-the-top and campy. But more to the point, he focused on the mask he'd seen on the news as his dad announced her to the Boiling Isles, calling her the "most brilliant artisan of her age."

Gavin ground his teeth at the words he'd witnessed over his scroll streaming. His Abomination reacted to his ire and roared, lifting a small boulder and headbutting it into gravel. The sight helped calm Gavin down, but it didn't snuff the frustrated anger completely.

Ever since he was a kid, after his mom had died, Gavin had modeled himself on his father. Not his compulsive cleanliness or his campy choices in fashion, but his passion for Abominations and his drive to be the best. It had informed his choice of school track, even in spite of his mother's Deathwish — a serious concept on the Boiling Isles — that he be given a real choice in his education. And yet, he had chosen Abominations because it was what his dad chose.

Granted, he personally loved the art of fashioning Abominations. Everything from the baseline earth scooped from the Titan, to the quantities and varieties of materials added to the mix, to the intensity of the magic infused into it creating unique specimens with any number of applications. And, naturally, the feeling of commanding and molding them to suit a task or battle was a rush unlike any other.

But this girl from Hexside of all places seemed to have impressed his dad and taken what little spotlight Gavin had hoped to secure. He curled his fingers into fists and shook his head in sheer stubborn denial. "Not without a real test of your skills," he growled. Then he readied himself for his new creation's final test. The one that would make or break its use in his scheme.

"Abomination … Forearm!"

The Abomination nodded and melted into a puddle that rapidly crossed the distance between them to rise up around Gavin and wrap him in a tight embrace. As the process that he had planned in detail and molded into this specimen's very creation went on, Gavin grit his teeth to not groan or voice his discomfort.

When it was done, the process taking no more than a few long moments, he looked down at himself … and smiled darkly. "Nice," he said tightly, his chest straining for room to breathe. "Reform. Let's try it again."

The second time was faster and far more comfortable.

"So, what's going on?"

Amelia bit her lip as her and Jerbo's food was delivered by an elderly, multi-eyed demoness who smiled kindly at them and at the palismen perched on the table. Amelia smiled back and gave the lady time to move away before she answered.

"Boscha thinks that Hunter Strong is the Golden Guard," she whispered.

Jerbo's eyes widened and he stared, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought over this revelation. "Oh, man. That can't be good." He lowered his eyebrows as he tried to think through what may happen if she found out she was right, idly stroking Steve's spines as he did. "What, do you think she's looking for blackmail on an official?"

"I have no idea," Amelia admitted as she picked up a griffin nugget drenched in blood-sup and popped it into her mouth, then put down a cup of sugar water for Jewel. "I just know it can't be good for Willow or Hunter if she figures it out."

"So what are you gonna do?" Jerbo asked, picking at his salad.

"Well, I mean, Willow needs to know, right?" Amelia asked.

"That's probably smart," Jerbo agreed. "I mean, she's really protective of him anyway, but at least she'll be on her guard." He drummed his fingers and munched on his salad for a little while. "What if we throw her off the scent?"

"How do you mean?" Amelia asked.

"Well, we've got illusion extraordinaire Gus Porter," Jerbo pointed out. "What if we got together with the group and planned an illusion of Hunter while the Golden Guard is doing his thing? Willow could be holding his hand while they watch and you could be there to point it out?"

Amelia thought it over. "Boscha's not stupid," Amelia said. "I mean, it's a good idea, but what if she catches on just from sheer paranoia? She'd try to disperse the illusion." They were quiet for a while until another thought hit Amelia. "Unless we have a solid framework." Jerbo lifted his brows in curiosity.

"You or Amity could create an Abomination that's shaped like Hunter," she explained, gesturing with her hands, "and then Gus sustains the illusion around it." Amelia started talking faster in her excitement. "That way if Boscha hits something solid, she'll think he's the real thing!"

"What if she escalates?" Jerbo asked. "I mean, she's pretty used to getting her own way."

Amelia snorted at the observation before stifling real laughter. "True. I guess me and the girls will have to get involved. 'Cause for all they know, the fake will be the real thing."

Jerbo ran all of this through his head before answering. "We'll need to discuss this with the others, obviously," he noted.

"Well, duh," Amelia giggled.

"And how exactly did you learn about Boscha's suspicions?"

"She wants me to ask Willow about him to find evidence," Amelia mumbled.

Jerbo's eyes brightened. "Hey, what if you did talk to Willow and asked her for fake information to get to Boscha? It could help sell our scheme!"

Amelia blinked and smiled. "Sometimes I forget that you're a Troublemaker, too."

Jerbo blushed and rubbed the back of his head, shrugging awkwardly. "Well, I mean, y'know-"

"Here's your check, kiddies," their server said as she approached their table. "Young man, I do hope you'll be treating your girlfriend."

"My-?" Jerbo choked on his words, his face turning red as he looked at Amelia. Amelia, though, looked far from offended — in fact, the look in her eyes over her small smirk was … challenging.

"Uh, yeah, I'll take it," he said, fishing through his pockets for payment.

"I'll handle the tip," Amelia said, placing a generous sum with Jerbo's snails.

"Thank you kindly, you two," the waitress said with a sly grin. "Stay as long as you like. I'll be around if you need me." She turned to leave but stopped. "Oh! I almost forgot." She turned back and placed a shock-lot shake between them. "Y'all won a little contest we got here every week. Free shake on the house." Her smirk widened and she left for real this time.

Jerbo cleared his throat and gently nudged the shake toward Amelia. "Go ahead."

Amelia rolled her eyes with a smirk and put two straws in before moving it back to the center of the table. "We can share," she said, and took a sip, closing her eyes and humming in delight. She opened them again to find Jerbo frozen with indecision. "I was wondering when you would finally do something about it," she commented.

"About what?" Jerbo asked.

In reply, Amelia placed her hand on top of his, rubbing her thumb over the back. "This."

"I wasn't sure if, um …" Jerbo tugged at his collar with his free hand. "If it was just me."

"It's not," Amelia said. "I think you're really cute, Jerbo." She giggled and curled a strand of hair around her finger. "Especially when you're flustered."

Jerbo blinked, the color rising from his collar to the roots of his hair and he took a sip of the shake to try and cool off, the sweetness calming him down. Amelia took a sip from her straw, too, never breaking eye contact with Jerbo.

"So, ahum," Jerbo said, "would you like to go out sometime?" Jerbo asked. "On a date?"

"What do you think this is?" Amelia asked. "But a date where we both know it and can dress up a little?" She laughed. "Yes, I would like that very much."

Chapter eleven, everyone!

*Ladon Drake is the reptilian kid in the potions track - his only speaking role is kowtowing to "Mr." King in "The First Day." His name is derived from the Ladon, a hundred-headed dragon from Classical myth that guarded Hera's golden apples and was slain by Hercules for his 11th labor. Drake is derived from "fire drake," an old term for dragon often used as a separate species in modern fiction.

*Andre Loom is the huge kid in the Oracle track that went on the Emperor's Castle field trip and was dancing with a demon boy at Grom. His name comes from Andre the Giant, who played Fezzik in the classic film "The Princess Bride" and the word loom, which can mean to stand over someone. He's a big guy and I think it fits, even if he gives off a gentle giant vibe.

*I base Amelia's love of grudgby on the fact that she was on the team under Amity, too. She's in Amity's flashback of the thorn vault.

*Blood-sup is the Boiling Isles equivalent of ketchup/catsup. I mean, c'mon: we've ALL used ketchup as fake blood for a gag - I think it's appropriate.

As always, i hope you liked it! And also as always, leave a review! I love hearing from you all. And for the last "as always" may your inspiration flow freely!