Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,66

want to get Naomi in trouble.

“No.” I sighed, choosing the righteous path.

“Persie, I’m sorry, but I can’t hand over any puzzle boxes without Victoria’s permission.” Naomi sounded apologetic. I’d already known the answer when the truth had tripped off my tongue. Nobody defied Victoria lightly, if at all.

Genie set down the puzzle box. “Shouldn’t, not can’t. What if we were to tell you that we had a really good reason for wanting them?”

“I would listen, but that doesn’t mean my answer would change.” Naomi smiled, her eyes glittering with curiosity.

“How about this: These are Persie’s creations that are on the loose, and she wants to tidy up the mess she made.” Genie cast me an apologetic glance. “You’re all about showing and not telling at this Institute, so how is Persie supposed to learn if she’s not allowed to fix the situation herself? It’d be like one of your Omnispheres glitching during an experiment, and someone telling you that you can’t make tweaks so it doesn’t glitch next time.”

Naomi swirled her tea. “Interesting.”

“Plus, she knows these creatures better than anyone.” Genie dove back in. “Victoria’s worried about them snatching other students, but that won’t happen to Persie. She made them, so they respect her. If anyone can catch them, it’s her. But she needs puzzle boxes to do it.”

Naomi looked back at her private project, the exposed inner workings of her Omnisphere on display. I saw the cogs whirring behind her eyes, as intricate and sensitive as her self-made device.

“I created them, Ms. Hiraku,” I said softly. “All I’m asking for is an opportunity. They’re my Omnispheres, and I want to make sure they don’t hurt anyone. Please think about it before you decide. Who are they more likely to listen to—hunters they’re afraid of, or the woman who brought them back from extinction?”

Naomi took a lengthy sip of her tea, leaving Genie and me on tenterhooks. “You make an excellent argument, but…”

My heart sank. It was going to be another no, and I really didn’t want to have to steal the boxes. Nor did I want to rely on the handful of Mason jars I had in my backpack. They wouldn’t be close to enough, but with a decent number of puzzle boxes and the jars—then we’d be in business.

“But?” Genie urged.

Naomi sighed. “I can offer you five boxes. That’s all I can spare.”

“Seriously?!” I yelped with excitement.

“Yes, but I have provisos.” She waggled a stern finger at us. “They are to be brought back as soon as you’re done with them, and all captured pixies are to go to the Repository every single time. No keeping them as pet projects, tempting as that might sound. The Institute is already on edge about this fiasco, and they will be until Xanthippe is returned. Don’t make me regret this, do you understand?”

I grinned at Genie. “We won’t let you down, Ms. Hiraku. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Why do I already feel like I’m making a huge mistake?” Naomi griped, but she didn’t rescind her offer, and that was all that mattered. After a relentless day and night, things were finally starting to go my way.

Fourteen

Persie

Puzzle boxes and Mason jars safely stowed in my backpack, Genie and I set off on our two-woman mission through the Institute. Keeping things nonchalant, of course, so as not to attract any unwanted attention. We paused beside display cases and pretended to read the notes, all the while eyeing our surroundings for any whisper of a pixie. Black-suited hunters swarmed the main corridors and common areas, encouraging us to stick to the paths less traveled. The pixies wouldn’t be foolish enough to come out where their would-be captors were congregating, which made me wonder why they were being so obvious. Perhaps the hunters had some sort of flushing operation to siphon the creatures into one spot.

Anyway, their plan of action didn’t concern me too much. We just had to stay out of their way and keep our heads down. Not literally, though, or we wouldn’t be able to scan for the mischief-makers.

“Anything?” Genie whispered, as we walked down a narrow corridor that housed a bunch of study doors. They had bronze plaques outside, bearing names I didn’t recognize: Scheherazade Rouhani, Advanced Tactical Practice; Damian Greatorex, Covert Operations; Kofi Smithson, External Affairs. I guessed they weren’t people we needed to know in our first year. There were so many people in this place, from students to teachers to graduated hunters to visiting hunters to general