The Protection of Ren Crown (21 page)

“Many mages hate all of the rooms and rely on the first management spell they find,” he said.

“Okay.” One word answers seemed safe.

He hesitated strangely for a moment. “I saw your notebook. You bridge the information, don't you?” His eyes were piercing.

Combat mages had such
focused
gazes, but his was unmasking—like he had already searched and found what he needed and was simply guiding his opponent,
me
, into the carefully laid trap he fully controlled.

I gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, I use a bridged indexeting spell.”

Indexeting wasn't a word—in any language.

His focused gaze never wavered, but either irritation or amusement briefly flitted across his expression. “Which indexing spell do you use? I'm looking for a better one.”

If I didn't know any better, I would think he was attempting to make small talk with me. But there was no way that could be true. Which meant he was digging for information for nefarious purposes.

Panic and adrenaline surged and combined with the one effect I had managed to maintain from the
Enhancing
enchantment. The ultramarine string attached to his chest twanged into luminous view, spanning the space between us. Linking us quite clearly.

My hand went to my earlobe and I tugged it, desperately casting about for anything not completely insane to say as my mind spiraled out of my control and I tried not to stare at the connection. Indexing spells, indexing spells... “There are a dozen good indexeterering...in-dex-ing,” I said slowly and stupidly, “spells for the reading rooms.”

Die, die!

But my mouth decided it needed to make up for all mental shortcomings. “For average searches, I like Mueller's. I read that combat mages usually like Calaveri's, but that's shortsighted, don't you think, as it is exactly the same search order your magic would already perform. And the streaming room is like a reading room on crack.”

The words spewed out faster as my panic increased. “Or you could get a book on them. I know where those are.”
You know, right here. In front of us.
“Or, wait, what do you want to stream? I should probably ask that first. I think it would be pertinential.”

Pertinential? Panic overlaid panic and my brain shorted to survival blips. The kind of blips that were flaring neon signs that said—
Escape! Escape as quickly as possible!

“Pertinent, I meant
pertinent
. But wait, you asked about mine,” I said, steamrolling on, unwilling to listen to an undoubtedly agonizing response questioning my fitness as a member of the human race—magical or otherwise. “It combines Mueller's, Calaveri's, Winslop's, and Ng's, with some extras. It's in beta stage with a recording spell that locks in your head for an hour afterward—I based it on magic locks, crazy things, yeah?”
Oh, my God
. “And it downloads in crazy bits to an enchanted notebook using Perry's code, but the lock works well and gives you an extra hour, and our magic is very sympathetic and connected—”

His brows shot upward at that and I started stuttering worse. My gaze was drawn again to the ward connecting us—the one that was now pulsing weirdly.

Escape!
“So it should work for you, and here!”

I laid my hand on his wrist, and the ultramarine connection immediately reformed along the completed circuit of skin-to-skin contact, running from chest to arm and up the opposite path. Blue light flared brilliantly. I shoved the magic through the connection, and the blaring neon mental signs suddenly read—
Holy-Dragon-Fire!
—at the thought that I had just thrust magic into Alexander Dare without asking first. His face could only be described as a mirror of my thoughts—filled with astonishment, and a dawning “smite her immediately!” vibe.

Neither of us moved for a full second, full on shock overtaking everything else as the warm sienna of the spell transferred. No colored spell ball had formed in either of our hands, as one might politely pass a spell to someone else. No, the spell had gone directly through and into him––bypassing any shield.

I tore my hand away and the floor wavered in my view. I quickly and mechanically grabbed a blank piece of library memo from the floating tub that was always zooming around. My fingers were still warm from touching him.

He needed instructions. I was going to be dead after he killed me and he wouldn't be able to use the recording spell.

I force-shoved my magic to scribble the directions for the spell's use—panic and horror making my magic sharp and crazed and available for mass personal destruction of the social kind.

Vivid
dove out of a looping spiral, and a blue bookmarked tongue reached out and swiped my cheek. Its spine curved into a smirk. I jerked, elbowed Dare in the chest, and sent my shouldered bag careening into the shelf to the right. A piece of paper from my bag fell to the floor. But grabbing it would take 1.5 extra seconds that I needed for running.

“Here.” I shoved the papered directions against his chest. His hand automatically curled around it.

Then I ran as if the hounds of Hell were nipping at my heels.

Chapter Eleven: Always Back to You

I immediately activated the spell I had created last term that specifically allowed me to avoid Alexander Dare. But by the next morning, I discovered there was something weirdly off about it.

So I avoided the library like it was a plague-infested ship of rats. I avoided the cafeteria. I even avoided a Draeger visit in the Battle Building, just in case. To top it off, I entered the Midlands on the south side of the Ninth Circle, far from the paths normal mages took.

My paranoia stretched high. Eluding the Junior Department, as I had taken to calling the students who seemed to consider it their duty to register and report campus threats, was nothing in comparison to my desire to avoid Alexander Dare. The Department was a shadowy threat. Alexander Dare, on the other hand, was real and ridiculously godlike—likely with all the gorgeous, smiting vengeance associated with the divine.

Thankfully, upon entering the Midlands, the Okai building appeared immediately, welcoming me inside. Both of my animated rocks were doing well, though Guard Rock communicated with his gestures and pencil strikes that they had been staying inside for the past two days. Relieved, I gave Guard Rock and Guard Friend pats and talked to them while I painted on a magical canvas I had purchased at an Expressionists' meeting. Painting soothed the edge of my magic, though nothing could cure my mortification or underlying unease.

Still, seeing Guard Rock and Guard Friend whole and hale was a huge weight off my mind. They counted in the category of “beings I needed to keep safe.”

In the forefront of a farmhouse scene, I inserted images of the rocks in a parody of Grant Woods’s
American Gothic
. Guard Rock touched the paint of the pitchfork his counterpart held, then thumped his pencil down in approval. Not wanting to risk my Awakening paint on frivolity, I was still able to use one of the better batches of paint I had made with Stevens, resulting in the costumed rocks slowly and theatrically moving inside the world of the picture. It made me smile and Guard Friend clap.

Because Okai appeared immediately upon my entry into the Midlands, and deposited me on the edge of the Midlands when I exited through the front door again, there was little need for me to be concerned anymore in the otherwise deadly territory. But even taking the few steps from the edge of the Ninth Circle to Okai's door, I could feel the foreign magics filtering through—and the junior stooges stalking the deadly mists.

I had to admire their fortitude, even if their creepy gazes unnerved me. Talented mages died in the Midlands every day and even stooges weren't exempt from mortal danger.

Upon exiting Okai, I checked the door to make sure the lock engaged. The building never stayed in one place long enough for a normal mage to approach it—but better safe than sorry. A good amount of my research—including the golem and empty dolls I had made to house my brother's soul—had been stolen by Raphael last term.

I had felt Raphael poking at the dream wards last night, laughing, but the wards had been a success. Hopefully, the wards I planned to raise tonight would prevent even his pokes, and maybe deal him some damage.

Five watchdog stooges stood just outside the mist when I exited. I let a few stray calming vibes that were floating around campus attach to me, but no amount of pressing or calming magic could diminish my tension completely. One of the boys stared hard at me, took a note, then went back to speaking with the other four.

Justice Toad alerted me halfway back to my dorm that an immediate all-hands meeting had been called for the Justice Squad, so I wove over to another port, and triple-hopped the mountain—fifth level south, third level northeast, fourth level west—to minimize walking distance, then trudged to the break room. Since all external forms of magical transportation, like portal pads and carpets, were banned on campus, it was a campus-wide game finding the best port paths or naturally occurring transfers to get from point A to B.

Isaiah Gellis, the head of the Justice Squad, stood in the front of the room as everyone filed past and took seats.

I nervously glanced around, but no one was looking at me strangely. Good. No one on the squad usually paid me much attention. Currently, I was the only community service member assigned to the squad—the token delinquent in a room full of do-gooders. The Justice Squad was made up of students who were dedicated to making campus a safer and more orderly place. The community service folks who got roped in never quite fit that mold. And most of the mages who were forced into community service on the squad, only did it for a night or two.

Not for two hundred hours, like I'd initially been assigned. My excessive amount of hours meant I was considered a semi-permanent member, and had to attend meetings.

“Folks,” Isaiah said, “I have just been informed that for the next month we will be increasing patrols and sanctions on campus, per new security stipulations. Effective immediately, Level Four Offenses will require board review.”

I grimaced, and my least favorite member of the squad, Joseph Aldwin Peters, smiled, his back unnaturally straight due to the metaphorical pole stuck up his...spine.

Board review on Level Fours would put a serious dent in the lives of many of my cohorts in magical crime. Olivia was about to get a lot of new business as a defense attorney.

“I'm sending the new information to your tablets, but this might be a good time to shore up punishments. Let people know that the noose is tightening and that the administration will be watching.”

The administration. Right. The back of my neck itched, and I could already feel the cold stares of Department eyes. Thankfully, the campus's forcefully calming magic continued to keep my very real panic mostly contained. I could see the blue mists seeping in through the vents.

“Also, keep in mind that the Second Layer Combat Competition is coming up in six weeks. We usually work with Excelsine graduates to provide security on campus while the combat mages are competing, but this year...the Department and Excelsine officials have made...an agreement. The Department is dropping their review into the craziness that happened last term, and the much revered Peacekeepers' Troop will provide security for campus during the competition week.”

Most of the others, including Peters, nodded grimly. I sat up straight, alarmed by their response, and elated that the Department wasn't going to interrogate all of us after all.

A promotional video for the Peacekeepers' Troop appeared on the wall. Men and women bent their knees in succession, then took aim, firing spells. Like some sort of cheer squad doing battle drills.

The video zeroed in on capable, determined faces and well-practiced maneuvers. “Your magical security is our magical business!” The video feed exploded in a shower of lights. Showy and empty.

Isaiah continued through his agenda, but I stared at the finished feed, mystified, a little horrified, and a lot intrigued.

I waited a few minutes after the others had cleared out of the room then approached Isaiah.

“Security? But that doesn't include me, right?”

He looked amused. “Since your community service period extends past Winter Term, you're an official part of the squad for whatever happens during the winter.” His dark brown eyes sparkled with humor. “Congratulations.”

“Great.” I sighed. “What does security entail?”

The Justice Squad dealt with the contractual magic that each student on campus was bound to. Usually we didn't have to chase people down or fight them. The Combat Squad dealt with those types of things—escaped Midlands magic, intruders, monsters—and the Neutralizer Squad was called in to put mages and magic back to rights. But now Isaiah was saying...

“When the combat mages leave campus en masse to attend the Second Layer Combat Competition, it leaves campus without security. So every year our squad works with an outside group—usually made up of combat mage alumni—to provide campus security. But with the way the Department is reacting to Layer events, the higher-ups pushed for the Peacekeepers' Troop.”

Isaiah shook his head, frowning. “Usually we just partner up to provide eyes, ears, and aid to the alumni, nothing exciting happens, and the Combat Squad ribs them about being too old to fire spells. This year... Well, no one wants the Department getting a toehold into Excelsine, but the public is currently terrified and crazed and they've convinced the people in power—many of whom have kids who attend here.”

I stared at him, no response forthcoming from my brain.

He gave me an encouraging look. “Politics. But Selmarie and I will take care of everything. Don't worry about it much, okay?”

Dare might be the unofficial leader of the combat mages, due to his outright badassery, but Selmarie Senthuss was the twenty-two-year-old head of the Combat Squad. A no-nonsense mage who answered to the administration on the Combat Squad's behalf, created their patrol schedules, handled their crazy personality clashes, and who was a fierce fighter herself.