Herobrine's Revenge (The Wielder Chronicles Book Two)

Chapter 25: Collecting The Clues

Chapter 25: Collecting The Clues



- Nya's POV -



Zach had insisted to come with Mackenzie and I, but I practically forced him to stay behind; for all we knew, we were walking into a death trap. I didn't want Zach to get hurt on my accord - Well, actually, I didn't want him hurt at all, my fault or not.

We had fought over it for ages, Zach proclaiming that the two of us may need help with defending ourselves, since Mackenzie couldn't even lift a sword let alone use one, and I had too little training. My first strategy was the ol' "We won't get hurt". When that didn't work, I pulled the "Better me than you". That was a terrible idea and resulted in a lot more arguments, so I played for "We need someone to stay behind and make sure Clare doesn't figure anything out." That seemed to do the trick.

After a few hours of insisting my plan was fool-proof, Zach finally (but awfully reluctantly) agreed to stay at the University and come and warn us if something occurred. Mackenzie had her brown hair tied into a ponytail, like mine, and she was already saddled onto her white-and-brown-spotted mare. We were outside the University, and it was Monday night. Since I didn't have any classes apart from English on Tuesdays, today, though a little soon, seemed the perfect time to begin our plan.

Murray Street was always packed with people, even on weekdays. There were so many stores (that usually sold luxury goods of all sorts) that the few times I had gone shopping there it was impossible to remember the order of which they lay on either side of the road. The gravel street was one of the longest in the city, horses constantly trotting down the lane. This place was the the heart of Bloquear, its pride and joy.

Mackenzie and I pushed ourselves against the overflowing side-street crowds, struggling to stay together in the throng of people. I kept seeing faces I swear I recognised; for a moment, I even thought I saw Gemma and Vent's faces somewhere amongst the ever-moving group of civilians. I must be more insane than I realised.

Eventually, we found a small empty alleyway between an armour shop and a clothing store. We took several deep breaths, hands on our knees. Pushing against a tidal wave of people is oddly tiring.

Without stopping for long, I went to check the address number of the clothing store. Posted just next to the entrance were the number '15' in extremely marked and scratched gold lettering. That only meant four more shops until we reached the address that slipped out of Clare's pocket. What lays there, I don't know - I don't even bother to guess. The possibilities are endless.

I ran back to Mackenzie, pushing past several poshly-dressed men and women (who grumbled in annoyance - something along the lines of "damn teenagers these days") and we didn't waste time in passing a few more clothes shops, an expensive looking toolmaker workshop and a very decorative wool store. I barely even noticed the building that lay between two fancy department stores: it looked as if it hadn't been repaired in years, its old spruce framework practically falling apart. One darkly stained window lay on the left side of the wooden door, giving off a very creepy vibe - something that most certainly did not fit with the modern, swift atmosphere of Murray Street. A large, weathered sign hung from the roof, spelling out the words "Ol' John's Potions Brewery". What a lovely (note the sarcasm) choice of titles.

Mackenzie filed behind me as I walked up to the front door, glancing quickly at the faded '23' where the right-hand window should have been. I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

It wasn't as bad as I had expected from the ancient outside appearance, but still, the place was awful. It was hauntingly dark, so dark in fact that I could barely see what was in front of me. I heard Mackenzie gulp, and I tried not to feel nervous. Only, it was difficult, because it was as if the building were trying to scare us. There were shelves stacked around the room, too, only visible because of the glowing sets of potions stacked on them. I felt a little proud that I was able to recognise some of them - potions classes were paying off.

Suddenly there was a voice - from the clerk, I presume. "Welcome to Ol' John's Potions Brewery. Do you require any assistance?"

Their tone was bored and robotic - obviously a teenager. I walked up to the front desk, Mackenzie by my side, her head held high. The boy at the counter looked about seventeen, with floppy blonde hair, dull blue eyes and slumping posture. Everything about him screamed 'get me out of here!'. His eyes widened when he saw us, and he hurriedly stood up straighter.

I smiled. "Yes, we do, actually. This may sound a little weird, but was there a girl who came into this shop? Did she ask for anything in particular?"

His gaze turned from interested to curious within seconds. "What kind of girl?" He asked.

I ignored the fact that I doubted anyone, let alone a teenage girl, would come to this place at all, and answered him swiftly. "Black hair, blue eyes, slightly insane. Ignore the latter." I added hastily.

He looked confused - and a tad startled. But he answered anyways. "Yeah, actually, I did."

Mackenzie leaned forward, putting her hands on the counter. "And? What did she ask for?"

The boy seemed even more startled now. "Why do you need to know?"

I sighed in annoyance, trying to keep patient. "Look," I started, failing miserably from holding my temper, "It's not really your business-"

"Your interest in one of our customers isn't your business either." He interrupted sharply, earning a death glare from both of us. Narrowing my eyes, I pulled out five iron ingots and smiled in satisfaction as I watched his eyes widen on the sight of the glittering metal. I lay them on the front desk, almost tauntingly. He shifted on his feet a little, and with a snap reached forward and grabbed the ingots from the table, hiding them in his pockets.

He looked up at us, his expression newly grinning. "So, what did you ask again, ladies?"

Mackenzie took this moment to take charge. "The girl we asked about. What did she come here for?"

The clerk's squinted as if he was concentrating. "She came by about two days ago. She was very. . .pushy."

"How so?" I inquired. I felt like a detective.

"Well, she waltzed in as if she owned the place, and asked me where John Foreman was. You know - Ol' John. It was his bright idea to start up a potions business. He was my grandfather. He died nearly three years ago."

I thought about this for a moment. Clare, requesting the company of a dead man. I hoped there were some logical, non-crazy explanation.

"So, you told her that?" Mackenzie asked, still leaning across the counter.

The boy continued. "Pretty much, yeah. She kept asking, though; after the, like, fifteenth attempt she kicked down a couple of shelves and started yelling insults at me and the world. Then she left, and let me tell you, I was afraid she would actually go kill someone."

I nodded slowly, carefully. I kept a blank expression and an even voice. "So that's all you remember about seeing her?" My tone was irritatingly tight. "She didn't say anything strange, anything odd?"

"While she was screaming at me, she said something 'bout "him being disappointed". I don't know what she meant, though. I suspected she came from a mental institution."

Mackenzie nodded seriously. "Fair enough."

I bit my lip to contain a smile, but I was also troubled about what Clare had apparently said. I was worried about Clare in general. Very worried.

"Okay, thanks for your help. . .?" I said, trailing off.

The boy held out a hand. "Conner Brandons. Pleasure to meet you."

I grinned shyly. "Nya Analove, and Mackenzie Reed."

He must've realised our desperate need to get back to the University ASAP. So he just smiled and said, "See you round."

And we left the shop, leaving behind a boy we bribed and taking from it a heavy feeling of dread.



***



Zach was waiting in the parking lot.

He looked impatient; leaning against a fence post, tapping his foot in a rocky, hilly rhythm. His blonde fringe was flicked across his forehead and his expression was one of exasperation.

When he saw us, his eyes lit up: he raced over, giving me a swift peck on the cheek and a short, yet reassuring embrace. It was his way of telling me that no matter what condition the world was in, no matter what kind of situation we were trapped by, everything would be alright. That he would always be there.

We explained the trip in detail, and he listened intently. We told him of the creepy, run-down potions store, the (rather cute, I dare say - but not to Zach) clerk who told us about how Clare had been searching for an old, dead man. Zach looked as puzzled as I felt.

We stood together for a while, all of us stuck in our thoughts.

Mackenzie bit her lip. "Once my mum told me that when people write mystery novels, they scatter the clues across random chapters and slowly let the reader piece the case together. If we want to find out what Clare is doing, we need more clues. We need to read more chapters."

Although her riddled speech confused me, I nodded, along with Zach who was looking at Mackenzie as if she had discovered the purpose of life.

"What are we going to do about the others?" I asked, referring to Gemma, Vent, Ethan, Emerald and - never mind.

Zach shook his head. "We can't tell them anything. It could put them in more danger if they knew more."

"But if we don't tell them, and they have no idea about the fact that they're in danger, they won't expect an attack!" I snapped back, ignoring Zach's surprise at my sudden, harsh outburst. "They could be killed because they weren't prepared to fight!"

Zach put his hands on my shoulders. "Yes, but Nya, think. You know Vent and Emerald; if they knew about Clare and Herobrine, they would try and fight back. And we know how that'll end. Ethan would go 'round breaking things, and Gemma would go all ultra-protective mode on us. No, Nya - we need to protect them. We can do that without them knowing what's going on - we've been doing that ever since we found out about the revenge. We can protect them." His voice was soft and calm, but I spat back despite his kindness. I was just so, so done with everything.

"We didn't protect Emily."

Zach froze on the spot, his beautiful hazel eyes visibly saddening, and his grip on my shoulders weakened slightly. I saw a flash of memories passing over his somber gaze, and I instantly felt guilty about my lack of compassion; of course Zach would be particularly affected by Emily's death; he was the one who found her lifeless body covered in blood in the street. I can't even imagine the sadness, the pain, the helplessness, he must have felt.

But he pushed it away and looked at me clearly, and when he spoke, his voice was even and controlled: "Nya, I'm sorry about Emily. I really am. But you have to trust me on this." He reached down and entwined our fingers, and I watched as they locked together like puzzle pieces. "I promise you, Ny, I won't let you down."

He looked so strong, so sure, that I couldn't help but catch on. He was Zach, and I trusted Zach more than anyone else I knew. Besides, he'll have me to help too - At least I'm not completely useless.

I kept my eyes on his hand, which was enclosed around mine. "I love you, Zach. And I trust you."

He leaned down and kissed me. "I love you too. Just please, please remember, Nya, while we're fighting against Clare, that even though you're a Wielder, you are not indestructible. You might have special powers, you might be able to control fire, but you still have to be careful. Swear to me."

I raised one hand. "I solemnly swear I will be careful during this battle between good and evil, that will ultimately result in one side's defeat."

Zach smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Their's."

As we were walking back to the campus, hand in hand, with Mackenzie third-wheeling along side us, I asked him the question that had been on my mind.

"Did you call me Ny?"

He grinned, obviously happy that I'd noticed. "Yep. Does it work?"

I nodded. "Go ahead and use it. It's definitely better than Bow Brain."

"Find then, Ny."

We laughed, but I stopped abruptly when I realised my class started five minutes ago.

Oops.




***




- Tali's POV -



"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely."

"Talia Heather."

"About 80%, give or take a little interest."

"Tali."

"Okay, fine! Half-half."

"That sounds better."

"I still think 80%."

"I heard that, Tals!"

"Yeah yeah, let's just do this."

Harry huffed in annoyance. I was right - I mean, he's already got his hands on the file, and we had already sneaked into the Bloquear University main office.

After I had explained my ingenious plan to Harry: to creep into the Uni late Monday night (mum and dad work late on Mondays), "borrow" Clare's student records, see if there's anything out of the ordinary, run away before we're caught, and go report any findings to Nya and Zach; he reluctantly agreed to help. Only because I would have done it on my own even if he had refused.

Since he worked here for a while, and the campus seemed like a maze to me, Harry was the one who lead me around the darkly lit corridors as we silently crept through various spacious, wooden rooms. I could hardly believe this was a school; it seemed more like a mansion. Or perhaps a castle.

When we reached the door, which was locked shut, Harry pulled out a key that he had stolen sometime during the day. Being as quiet as possible incase there were any guards about, we unlocked and opened the door and entered the very large main office.

Without saying a word, we both begun searching for the student files. I was looking through the left side of the room, whilst Harry insoected the right. There were many teacher's desks, tons of storage, and when I went closer to check the shelving, I pulled out an extremely big draw that was filled with papers ordered alphabetically. I hastily searched under the 'J' section, which was difficult because there were a lot of files, and eventually found what we came here for.

Clare Jones's student file.

I gestured for Harry to come over, and he did so as soundless as possible, and showed him the thin folder. He nodded, giving me a playful salute, getting up to leave. To be honest, this break-in to a very expensive multi-resourced well-known university went a great deal easier than expected.

We were at the door, turning the knob, when we froze. There were several pairs of footsteps, thumping up and down the main hall that lead to the office, straight towards us. There were voices, too.

And apparently they knew we were here.




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Lots of stuff going on this chapter! Anyways, I'm so sorry for the lack of updates, I'm still camping... And the minimal internet I've had is about to run out D;

QOTD: Favourite Wattpad story?


- Jazz