Serpentskin | Part 1 Chapter 1

[sunlit_skycat]

Title: Serpentskin
Rating: Teen
Major Warnings: None
Genre: AU

Summary: 

In a world where the Carmine Conspiracy never comes together, Verona is scouted to join the Belanger Circle. With them, she is promised an escape from home, to learn Practice in the vaunted classrooms of the Blue Heron Institute. It’s paradise — or it will be, if she just makes friends and acts presentable like her master Tanner wants her to. And if she does extra well, she may even catch the eye of the canny, charismatic Alexander.

But something is rotten at the heart of the Belanger Circle. Prestige among this crew extracts a heavy cost. As a scrappy apprentice with no other backing, can Verona stay true to herself, or will she bow to the pressures of the new society she is in?

 

I: The Body in the Woods

 

When Verona was 12, she found a dead body in the woods. It was slumped facedown into the dirt, pitched halfway into a ditch with its legs sticking out. Flies were beginning to gather, buzzing lazily around the body's exposed skin at the edges of its coat and pants. A pool of crimson stained the ground around its head. Whatever happened here, it couldn't have been too long ago. A fallen shovel lay nearby.

Verona knelt down, grabbing a stick, and poked the body.

“Hello? Anyone home?” she called.

No response.

“Cool.”

The situation felt distinctly unreal, like she could wake up at any moment. Was it anyone she knew? She pushed the corpse with the stick, rolling the body over to get a better look at its face. It — he — had a full beard at odds with his balding head, and sunken eyes that glared out with accusation even in death. Looking at him, she felt a vague sense of recognition, like she had seen him skulking around town the way a criminal would to avoid the cops. Still, try as she might, she couldn't place his name. He wasn't anyone from school or a parent.

Under where he had lain, at the bottom of the ditch, was a slim black book nearly hidden by the muck. Gold letters glinted tantalizingly from the cover. Had he been digging it up when he died? On impulse, she leaned over to pick it up — and the dirt slipped under her feet, sending her scrambling for purchase. After a few seconds of embarrassing flailing, she regained her balance on the slope of the ditch. Only then did she reach for the book again, this time much more carefully.

Dark Side of the Moon, the cover said. Verona flipped through the pages, which were filled with a dense type that was hard to read. She paused at the first picture she saw, an intricately patterned geometric design. Supposedly, it was a meant to contain an Other for negotiation, whatever that meant. Clearly, the book was some sort of found media fiction thing.

A loud flapping sounded from overhead. A turkey vulture had landed in a nearby tree, watching the situation intently. Verona startled. Suddenly, it was all too easy to remember that she was alone in the woods with a corpse that had to smell like dinner to hungry predators, many of whom wouldn't mind a light preteen snack first. Did grolar bears exist this far south? She didn't want to find out.

She probably should go home and tell an adult, lame as that was. Maybe her dad. Better yet, Jasmine. Lucy would think it was just like her movies and be equal parts thrilled and disgusted to hear the lurid details.

Verona closed the book, ready to return it to the hole it came from — and hesitated. No doubt the cops would come investigate the whole scene, but she didn't think it would be that useful to them. Besides, she didn't want to get accused of tampering with the crime scene when they found her fingerprints all over it. Better to let it remain her secret, alone. She'd turn it over later if it had any relevant information on who the dead man was.

The turkey vulture edged closer on the branch. For a moment, its eyes seemed a piercing blue, almost like a human's. It tilted its head curiously.

“He’s all yours. Eat up,” Verona said.

Then she turned away from the body, leaving behind the grotesque vision of the woods.

The walk back home was cold and lonely. Her dad's car wasn't in the driveway when she arrived at the house, which was normally nice, but inconvenient this time. Verona silently let herself in, and then put the book away in her room. She'd look at it later. For now, her dad had asked her to rake the leaves on the lawn, run everything through the dishwasher, and start prepping food when she got back; she put away all thoughts of the dead man to focus on the tasks at hand.

That night, she had trouble eating more than a few bites of dinner, even though she'd chosen her favorite brand of chicken parm lasagna from the freezer. Maybe something was wrong with the meat? She'd defrosted the lasagna on the counter instead of in the sink with running water to save time, which might be the cause of it. Hopefully, she hadn’t given herself food poisoning.

“I don't get you, Verona. You say the food at No Frills isn't good enough for you, but when I buy from somewhere else, you don't want it,” her dad said. “Look at that. I can't even box that up for leftovers. You've destroyed it.”

Verona stopped dragging her fork through the layer of chicken and cheese. “I'll toss it.”

“That's my money you're wasting,” he grumbled.

She didn't say anything as she went to throw away the remains on her plate. Clearly, this wasn't a good time to talk to her dad, about reporting a dead body or anything else. It was never a good time, in the two years since the divorce. She washed all her dishes, in case that could earn back some points with her dad, and then padded upstairs, closing her bedroom door behind her.

She was supposed to do homework now, but wasn't really in the mood. Instead, she reached for the black book, and turned to the first page, ready to bury herself in another world.

 

---

 

The death of Charles Abrams did not go unnoticed by outside forces. Alexander Belanger caught wind of it within the first day. Next was his circle, which he instructed to investigate the town that Charles had lived in. Over the next week, Kennet was subjected to a battery of smoke visions, auspice consultations, knucklebone rolls, connection readings, spying omens, and more. They quickly determined two things: the mass of Others in town weren't responsible for Charles' death, but were a problem in need of solving anyway. Alexander called upon his allies, a coterie of war mages, and that was that.

Verona spent that whole winter holed up in her room, reading, studying. She doodled diagrams she wished were real. Outside, a battle raged on her front porch, but she remained blissfully unaware, even as the last of Kennet's free Others were bound and exterminated.

At last, there was only one more loose end to clean up: Verona herself, who had taken a crucial part of Charles' hidden book stash. Alexander wanted everything accounted for, and leaving something like that in the hands of an Innocent girl was not remotely in the cards. To solve this problem, he dispatched his newest journeyman and rising star, Tanner Gilpin.

That day, Verona was at home sorting dirty laundry when she heard a car pulling up outside. She scrambled, hastily dumping everything into the washing machine regardless of color, but the next sound was a knock on the front door, not the familiar jangling of keys. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Peeking through the window, she saw a handsome young man, dressed in a crisply pressed suit and tie that seemed to repel the dirt of Kennet in an aura around him. He held a leather briefcase. Blond locks fell over the side of his face, framing sharp eyes. He met her gaze through the glass and waved.

Whoever he was, he had to be from the city. She opened the door.

“Verona Hayward?” he asked.

“Depends on who’s asking,” she answered.

“I’m Tanner.” He extended his hand to shake; she didn’t take it. “I’m part of an investigation. Can I come in for a moment? I’d like to talk to you about something important.”

“My dad’s not home,” she said.

“Yeah. I want to talk to you, not him. Can we take this inside?”

Reluctantly, she let Tanner into the house. He went for a seat on the couch, setting the briefcase beside him and motioning for her to join him on the nearby armchair.

“I know you found Charles Abram’s body last November,” he began.

“The guy in the woods? I didn’t kill him,” Verona interrupted.

“I believe you. I want to know what you saw from start to finish that day,” he said.

With his prompting, Verona recounted the whole chain of events: getting dropped off at school in the morning (yuck), discovering that Lucy was out sick and she’d have no one to talk to, taking the scenic route back home along a new route, then finding the body. At that, she hesitated.

“What did you do next?” Tanner asked.

“Nothing. I let a vulture eat him and I went home.”

“Are you sure that’s everything?” Tanner said.

“Yeah. What else did you want me to do, stay and fight the vulture off? Something else would have gotten to him.” The words rolled glibly off her tongue.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m trying to help you, Verona. I don’t like being lied to.”

She rolled her eyes with feigned nonchalance, even as her gut clenched uneasily. “Sounds like you know everything that matters, bud. Why don’t you tell me what I did?”

“Sure. You were the first to see Charles after he died. You tampered with the crime scene. You took something that didn’t belong to you. You didn’t tell anyone about it after. Even when the town newspaper reported it and asked for tips. Does that sound accurate to you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. The feeling in her gut got worse. “Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No. Luckily for you, I’m not police,” he said. “Give me Charles’ book, and I’ll consider us even.”

She couldn’t resist asking. “Why? What’s so special about it?”

Verona had read Dark Side of the Moon cover to cover, multiple times. Her favorite part was a ritual that was supposed to call otherworldly life into her shadow. She’d thought that she could talk to it on the days her dad wanted her to stay home. Despite following the instructions to the letter, it hadn’t even made her shadow twitch on the ground, much less detach from her and become its own independent being. The other rituals were similarly disappointing. By this point, she was pretty sure the book was somebody’s overly in-depth roleplaying game tie-in, or something.

“Knowledge is dangerous. Don’t ask more than you can handle, hm?” he said.

She perked up. “This is a crime thing, right? Are you with the mob? Against? Undercover?”

Tanner leaned back, silently regarding her. The angle made it look like the brown had faded from his eyes, leaving behind only a blank void — but no, she had to be imagining it. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. Verona shook herself, and the effect ended.

“I used to be a lot like you. After a tragedy, I took something from the scene. Dangerous people noticed. I nearly lost everything over it. Later, I got my life back on track, but it took a long time.”

That definitely sounded like a crime thing. Verona shivered, mind racing as she tried to figure out what it all meant.

“You have a few options from here. First, give me the book and forget this ever happened. Keep yourself safe. Second, pursue this on your own and end up causing your own death, or worse. I don’t recommend it.”

“Is it really that bad?” she wondered. Unbidden, her mind flashed back to blood seeping into soil.

“It can be. What’s your choice, Verona? One or two?”

“Tell me why the mob wants a magic book so much and I’ll give it to you,” she said.

“What makes you think it’s a magic book?” he asked.

“Cause of the stuff inside?”

“Maybe it’s code for something else. There could be invisible ink. Or a cipher,” Tanner offered, too quickly.

This was going somewhere interesting. As dire as Tanner’s pronouncements were, she couldn’t resist digging for more information.

She kept a careful eye on him as she said next, “Yeah yeah. Are you going to kill me for knowing what it is?”

He fidgeted uncomfortably. “I was told to deal with you one way or another. If not me, it’ll be someone else.”

“So you’ll get your friends to kill me?”

“They’re not my friends,” he said. “How much do you want for the book? I have cash.”

Verona tossed out a number, just to see if he would accept it. That turned into full-on haggling. She didn’t care about the money, but she wanted to know how much Tanner thought the book was worth. Eventually, it got up to the tens of thousands before he put his foot down.

“I don’t have that much cash on me. Take it or leave it,” he said peevishly.

“Nah. Why does the mob care so much about a magic book?” she asked.

He rubbed his temple with his hands. “I see you’re not going to let this go.”

“Nope.”

“I’m trying to help you. You’re making it difficult,” he insisted.

“It’ll be easier if you tell me what’s going on. That way I’ll know what to avoid,” she insisted. 

“That’s not how this works, Verona. Once you’re in, you don’t ever get out,” Tanner said, low and urgent. “This world doesn’t run by the rules of anything you know. There’s dangerous things out there, hm? The only way to survive is to attach yourself to powerful people. Then you stay in their favor. No matter what it takes. Do you have it in you to do that?”

Despite his words, Verona was pretty certain that it was all an elaborate bluff. Tanner wasn’t even willing to threaten her properly.

“I’d rather call the cops and tell them everything you told me,” she said, taking out her phone and waggling it in front of him. “Unless you explain what the book is.”

He hesitated.

She navigated to the phone’s keypad, reading out as she dialed. “Let’s see. 9… 1… 1…”

“Don’t be an idiot. Are you going to confess you stole a book from a dead man? Then what?” Tanner said incredulously.

“Not an explanation!” Verona raised her voice. “Last chance before I call —”

Tanner lunged for the phone. He missed, instead knocking it out of her hand. Verona threw herself onto the floor after it. Just before she could hit the call button, Tanner grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her back. He kicked the phone to the other side of the room.

“I’m helping, you entitled brat,” he grunted out. “The cops will only make it worse for both of us. Trust me.”

Verona gave an earsplitting scream.

“Jesus! Okay. I’ll tell you. But only if you stop that right now.”

She quieted, going obligingly limp — enough that Tanner staggered under the unexpected weight. She let him haul her back into standing position.

“Deal.”

Tanner collected her phone, warily deleting the dialed number and putting it on the couch next to him. The irritation on his face was smoothed away into something more neutral. “Let’s start over again. In exchange for your cooperation, I’ll tell you why the book matters. But you need to prove yourself worthy of the truth. Can you do that?” 

It was what she’d wanted all along, the secret to why he cared so much. “Yes. Definitely.”

“Give me the book.”

She scurried upstairs to obey.

When Verona came back with Dark Side of the Moon, Tanner was smiling, or at least covering up a grimace in a pleasant, winsome way. She let him pack the book into his bag without complaint.

“I can’t explain what’s out there and then abandon you to your fate. That won’t be responsible of me,” he said. “But I can offer you the same chance I got. Work for me as my apprentice. In exchange, I’ll, oh, share my knowledge and introduce you to my network. You’re rough around the edges, but I bet I can shape you up.”

Verona perked up. “Is this the part where you kidnap me so I can’t tell anybody what happened? I’m okay with that. Can I leave a note for my best friend first?”

He shook his head. “No. You can’t tell anyone else about this. Not your friends, not your family, not anybody. It’s for their own safety as much as yours.”

After that, he finally began explaining.

Magic — the Practice, as he called it — was real, and the book had described how to do a form of it. If she caught the attention of the universe in just the right ways, saying the right things and falling into roles it understood, she could cue it to act on her signal. Minor things like physics and causality wouldn’t matter when she had the universe itself on her side. All it took was a permanent sacrifice of her ability to lie.

Verona frowned. “What if people don’t understand what I say? Or I’m not sure what’s right? Or —”

“That’s fine,” Tanner clarified. “As long as everything you say out loud is technically accurate, you’ll keep your ability to Practice. You don’t have to explain everything or make sure other people interpret it correctly.”

She nodded, taking a moment to digest that.

According to Tanner, Charles had been forsworn, the ultimate punishment for making and breaking a promise as a Practitioner. The universe had stripped his magic away, taking everything that he had. He’d survived for a few years in that state, plagued by daily torments, before running into the insurmountable bad luck of tripping and hitting his head on the ground. It was a strangely sad story, but Tanner encouraged her not to dwell on it for too long. There were many failure cases in Practice, and Charles was only the latest in a long string of victims. As long as she listened to Tanner, she’d be sure to avoid a similar fate.

Tanner checked his watch. “Any more questions? I need to go back and figure out what materials I’m allowed to send you.”

“You’re really not going to kidnap me? Aww,” Verona said.

He gave her an odd look. “No. I am going to invite you to the Blue Heron over the summer. It’s an elite Practitioner school where you can make a lot of connections. I’m sure Alexander will give you a reduced rate for being my apprentice.”

She gave a fist pump on the inside.

“Be on the lookout for an email from me tonight. I’ll be in touch,” Tanner said. He extended his hand out to her again. “I look forward to our partnership, Verona.”

“Same,” she said, this time shaking his hand.

Goodbye, dreary life in Kennet. Soon, Verona would be out of here attending magic school, learning everything about this strange new world she had landed in. No matter what issues befell her fellow Practitioners, she was sure she could figure things out.