Into the Gray

by Geanna Culbertson

  No.

  The net bounced as another player hit it. I looked up and discovered more kids were falling from high above and their trajectory meant they could miss the net like Gordon had. I would not let them get killed. Not like him.

  Furious, but in control, I knelt on the wobbly net and placed my hands firmly upon it. Golden light enveloped them in a powerful, swift pulse. “Separate, catch, and lower,” I commanded. Instantly the massive net tore into pieces. Several pieces individually scooped up me and the other players who’d landed here then cradled us and hurriedly descended to ground level. Above, remaining segments caught the falling kids like personalized, flying hammocks and lowered them in the same way.

  I landed on the field and my net de-bundled me. Other chunks of net continued to safely deposit players on the grass in quick succession. I redirected my energy and focused my magic on all the pieces of net that’d already served their purpose and the stadium’s left goal post. They ignited in my energy and I willed the nets to conjoin and bond with the goal post to form the equivalent of a giant butterfly net. Then I pushed my power harder. The entire goal post ripped itself from the arena floor and flew into the air, radiating my glow brilliantly, angrily.

  Capture.

  The massive butterfly net lashed out at the villains, gathering them and their centi-dragons like the putrid insects they were. Soon enough, the lightning stopped as all assailants that hadn’t flown away were contained in my net. Total I’d gotten six villains and their steeds.

  I squeezed my fist. “Tighten,” I ordered. The net in the goal post sealed itself so our enemies and their terrible creatures were all bundled together. I willed the goal post to stab back into the ground. That immediate threat handled, I turned my back on the sky and raced across the field. Sparks of hope burned in my footsteps as I ran.

  Where Gordon had come down, bystanders and medical officials were gathered. But they couldn’t do anything for him if he was dead. Only I could. And the rules of life and death magic made it very clear that I only had three minutes to act.

  I pushed through the crowd and found my friend lying on the grass. Without hesitating, my hands lit up and I slid next to him. Everything came easier this time. Maybe it was the practice; maybe it was the adrenaline. A powerful surge of magic blasted out of my hands into Gordon’s body. It was strong, but it didn’t blast me back. I was strong too.

  After a beat, my friend sat up and coughed. Thank goodness.

  “Ugh, I have such a headache,” he said, rubbing his gold-rimmed eyes.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, relief filling me. “A headache you can—”

  “Knight!”

  I turned as Daniel came running over.

  “It’s okay, Daniel. I saved him,” I stood with no dizziness and no pain.

  “No, it’s Jacqueline.” His face was pale, and my heart picked up speed. He grabbed my hand, tugging me to go with him. We broke into a sprint across the field. “She was the first hit. Lenore caught her with magic, but she was badly electrocuted on the way down. She’s dead. We need you now.”

  An area of the field where more faculty and medical officers gathered came into view. I pushed my way through and saw Jacqueline on the grass. Her helmet and pieces of armor had been removed to show gruesome burn marks on her skin. She’d gotten the worst of the lightning cannons.

  “Stand back!” I said. “Everybody get back!”

  I lit up with fresh magic, new golden energy. I poured it into Jacqueline, thinking of her smile and her kindness and her willingness to help others. Her skill on the field. Her sassiness. Her brains. But instead of being absorbed into her, my power just flowed around her and then dissipated. I growled and sent more, a downpour and then a flood of gold pouring over her.

  No matter how many charges of magic I shot into Jacqueline though, she did not sit up like Gordon. I felt as strong as when I’d revived him; my power wasn’t the problem. On the fifth attempt I knew what was wrong. I’d been through this before with Paige and couldn’t deny it any longer. Jacqueline wasn’t just dead. She was dead beyond saving. Her three-minute window had expired before I got here.

  I stopped my magic flow and stared down at my lifeless friend. The world felt unbearably silent until—

  “NO!!!!!”

  The scream behind me was not like my mother’s tone of pain when she told me about Emma—already broken. This soul-lurching, agonized cry was that of someone who was breaking right then and there. It caused my already damaged heart to get smashed like ice cubes desecrated by a mallet.

  Jacqueline’s mother and father rushed toward us and collapsed next to their daughter’s body. I slowly backed away as their tears and wailing processed in my brain in slow motion. Something in my chest was churning violently while my mind was slowing down. Then I felt a surge of uninhibited anger fill me like a volcano about to blow. I glanced down and saw my hands start to spark.

  “Oh no,” was all I managed.

  Magic Instinct took over and shoved my conscious control back. In an instant, I lit up with a swirl of gray and gold energy, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the night of my attempted kidnapping. The same energy ignited around my net of captured antagonists and centi-dragons. Even from across the arena, I could hear their hollers and sense their fear as I proceeded. But I felt no pity.

  Too much loss. Too much death. Give them a taste.

  A second later, a huge cloud of gray vapor exuded from the net. It was the most succinct, purposeful crossing of the Malice Line my magic had ever accomplished. Even in my blind fury, I could appreciate the display of power. Not a creature in the net struggled any longer. They were all dead. Every last one of them. And I felt no remorse.

  My glow extinguished and with it so did my Magic Instinct. The reflex had been satisfied. Complete awareness and control settled back into my body in time to see everyone gaping at me. Daniel glanced past me though, and looked up. A chill went through my spine and I turned toward the VIP box.

  Lenore was clearly visible, even from this distance. She stood at the front of the box where the window used to be and reached for her neck. A moment later my genies cuffs started to glow. With a flash, I was consumed within a magical cyclone that ripped me off the field and sent me hurtling toward the waiting Godmother Supreme.

  y genie bottle had pink walls. There were several mint-colored sofas surrounding a coffee table in the center with a vase of white orchids upon it. I’d say the vibe was like that of a posh waiting room at a lady doctor’s office.

  I wasn’t sure how long I remained there before Lenore let me out, but it was long enough to cry about Emma, cry about Jacqueline, yell in frustration, have a furniture-throwing fit, cry again, and then sit in dumb silence. When Lenore did open the bottle, I got magically sucked out and found myself in the VIP box of the Twenty-Three Skidd arena. It was empty now except for us.

  Lenore had her hair half up with curled tendrils hanging around her face. Her black blouse had long, see-through sleeves. Her lipstick was more on the cranberry side today and her earrings were clusters of large golden pearls. The genie bottle necklace dangled over the V-neck of her top and sparkled in the light.

  I’d never been in the VIP box before. There was a snack bar, a bar bar, plush seats, and a perfect view of the arena below.

  I turned to the Godmother Supreme. Her face was unreadable, but I could imagine what she was thinking. My stomach knotted with emotion and angst. What just happened was a list of bad things in more ways than I could count.

  “Thoughts, Crisanta?” Lenore’s tone was as hard to read as her countenance. The question was spoken plainly and directly. I couldn’t help but be honestly vulnerable with my response.

  “I was played, Lenore,” I admitted sadly. “I found out that Emma was murdered right before the match. The antagonists want my Pure Magic to corrupt me and they’re trying their best to force it. My guess is that they engineered that murder and this attack back-to-back to upset me enough to lose cont
rol.”

  “Well, they came up with a wonderful plan considering the stunt you just pulled,” Lenore replied sharply. “And in front of the entire protagonist student body and faculty, no less. Only weeks after the higher-ups and I decreed you weren’t a threat.”

  “You don’t think I hate that I lost control?” I took a moment to breath and continued more evenly. “But they killed Jacqueline. They attacked all of us. I saved the student body and Gordon before my magic retaliated. Don’t I get credit for that?”

  Lenore’s eyebrows pinched together and her jaw clenched. She walked over to a table by the bar and sat down. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the opposite seat. I started to head over, my Twenty-Three Skidd armor clanking noisily.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She waved her wand and in a flash I was in one of my classic outfits. Actually, I was pretty sure this was the exact red dress and leggings combo I wore the first time we met. My armor was now neatly stacked on a table nearby.

  I warily sat down across from her.

  “First, let’s dispense with any self-preservation worries you may have about getting sent to Alderon for your magical actions this afternoon,” Lenore said, her intense eyes scaring me a bit. “The Summit gave us a purpose for your life and I intend to stick with it. You crossed the Malice Line, Crisanta, in a big way that surprised a lot of people. However, as it happens, I don’t think what you did was the worst thing; and you shouldn’t be punished for it.”

  I raised my eyebrows. The comment didn’t fit with the woman’s established character at all.

  “I lost control of my Pure Magic, Lenore,” I said slowly. “That is literally the worst thing someone in my situation can do.”

  “Yes, that aspect is bad. But I am talking about what happened when you lost control. You killed a handful of antagonists and their monsters and protected a great deal of people from wrath and weapons. To use your words, you do in fact get credit for that.”

  My brain short-circuited. “I don’t understand. You’re not mad? At the Century City Summit you tried to hang me out to dry for killing one magic hunter.”

  “Because I was rooting against you,” she said simply. “And because I did not realize until now how useful your power can be. We were under attack today, Crisanta. And for arguably the first time in our relationship, I do not find fault in the actions you took. You saved the arena and punished those responsible.”

  “By killing them,” I clarified. Was she missing that part?

  “By stopping them,” Lenore corrected. “How you did that matters less than why. You may think of me as immovable, Crisanta, but I did listen to the testimonies at the Summit. There was some truth to what your headmistress said about my priorities needing an adjustment. The antagonist threat that you and your friends uncovered may be menacing, but it is clouded with uncertainty. The clear and present danger at the moment is the commons rebellion. With that menace growing, I need to adapt. We all do in order to stay a step ahead. And I believe that may mean widening the scope of our moral views.”

  I fidgeted with discomfort. It sounded like our realm’s Godmother Supreme was telling me she was cool with me murdering bad guys. I’m not saying I wasn’t cool with it—they certainly deserved it—but the fact that she didn’t condemn the turn of events, especially since it put me at greater risk of corruption, was strange.

  Should I not feel bad about it either?

  Do I feel bad about it?

  After killing that magic hunter in Madame Alexanders’s classroom, I’d been racked with guilt and shame about letting the darker side of my magic take over. It haunted me in the aftermath with great weight. Taking stock of today’s events . . . I didn’t think I felt remorseful at all. Maybe it was impossible to feel bad about hurting people who’d caused so much pain and inspired me with such anger and hatred. Feeling good about the retaliation seemed far more reasonable.

  While I waited for Lenore to summon me, I had cried for Emma and Jacqueline—not beat myself up over the deaths of the antagonists. If anything, what I did helped temper my wounds. Thirty-seven had been my death toll before the match. With the addition of poor Jacqueline, that number became thirty-eight. And while my heart sunk with sadness over her loss, I felt a little better knowing I’d avenged her and evened out the score a bit.

  Hm. I bit my lip. I’m not sure that’s the healthiest outlook.

  “Whether it was right or wrong doesn’t matter, you saw my aura,” I stated after a moment. “It was gold and gray. Taking life crosses the Malice Line and activates the dark side of my powers. I don’t want to, and can’t afford to do that again.”

  Even if it felt good and those guys had it coming.

  “We’ll discuss that later, Crisanta,” Lenore said dismissively. “It’s a topic I intend to revisit with you in the near future. For now, I advise you to lay low. You may have saved a lot of people, but you frightened a lot of people too.”

  I grimaced. “Are you going to put me back in the lamp?”

  “No.” Lenore stood. “I am going to leave you here to proceed on your own. I have many fires to put out and some thoughts on new tactics I need to discuss with the Godmother high council. I’ll be in touch.” Lenore strutted closer to the glass that faced the arena. It had magically reappeared since the attack, thanks to the Godmothers no doubt.

  “And by that you mean, if you need me you’ll rub the lamp and summon me?” I asked.

  I saw Lenore’s big eyes and powerful expression in the reflection of the window. Her lips curved ever so slightly like they did whenever she was plotting. She waved her wand and disintegrated into magic, her aura of raspberry energy passing through the glass then sailing across the sky.

  Once she’d gone, I went to the window and looked out, seeing the world from the higher vantage point Lenore frequented. All the damage, all the people below.

  What I’d done today was wrong and it was also right. It was a triumph and it was a loss. It was something I wished I hadn’t done, and yet I still carried so much anger inside me that I wanted to do it all over again. I wanted to hurt the people who’d caused me pain and suffering.

  A tingle went up my spine, like a tiny surge of power, or maybe the opposite—a reality check. That last vengeful sentiment churning through me was undeniably worrisome. Especially since I couldn’t tell if it was Pure Magic influencing me to think that way, or if those were my real feelings.

  What unfolded over the next three days was a slew of episodes centered on fear, sadness, and uncertainty. No one wanted to talk about Jacqueline, but everyone was thinking about her and what happened. How could they not? A student was killed. We almost lost plenty more, including Gordon.

  After the attack’s dust had settled, the Sinclaires found me. Marie hugged me so tightly that I felt she might squeeze the life out of me. I also got the world’s tallest hug from Gordon. Past those interactions though, we didn’t address what had gone down. “Thank you for saving my life” would make the fact that he almost died more real than we wanted it to be. Just like bringing up Jacqueline by name caused a quiver of emotion like an earthquake of misery.

  Jacqueline’s picture had been put up in the school foyer and countless bouquets and cards had been placed there since the tragedy. At night, the girls who knew her best from the senior class sat around with lit candles in a silent vigil, paying their respects. Jason told me that her Jacklebees team jacket had been framed and hung up at Lord Channing’s like all accomplished Twenty-Three Skidd players in their campus history.

  Interestingly, no one brought up my demonstration of power at the match, which I hadn’t expected but welcomed. I guess there was so much sorrow over Jacqueline and fear about the attack that I wasn’t a priority. Other than my classmates’ tendency to go around me in the halls, I was ignored. Maybe I was also one of those topics that was hard to address directly. Accepting that one of your classmates killed a bunch of people must’ve been a rough pill to swallow.

  It was difficult for me too.
I didn’t talk about the event with any of my friends—not even Daniel. That felt strange; I hadn’t put so much distance between us since the beginning of the school year when my character was undergoing massive development. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want to retreat to my old ways, but back then my friends wanted me to open up and I just resisted. Right now they avoided conversing about what happened as much as I did, so who was I to force it? I didn’t have the energy. I was too emotionally spent.

  Sigh.

  The remaining school days passed painfully slowly, but they did pass, and the end of the term came upon us in the blink of an eye. Despite how much everyone hoped otherwise, our final exams and graduation were not canceled. We had to take tests. We had to write essays. And we had to attend a formal graduation ceremony. The location of the latter, however, did get moved. Traditionally, Lord Channing’s and Lady Agnue’s had a joint graduation in the boys’ Twenty-Three Skidd arena. It was the only comfortable place to hold such a large-scale event, what with all the graduates’ families being invited. As a result of the catastrophe though, Lady Agnue and Lord Channing decided to hold the graduation on the flat terrain of our school’s practice fields.

  It was understandable. No one wanted to think about that match for a while. In the days following it, the team captains of the Jacklebees and Seven Suns had met with Lord Channing and mutually agreed to name the Jacklebees this year’s Twenty-Three Skidd champion. They’d been winning before the attack, no one wanted a rematch, and it seemed right to honor Jacqueline’s team that way. She had been one of their season’s most valiant players.

  On the afternoon that we gathered for graduation, I noted how somber the whole thing felt. Lord Channing’s and Lady Agnue’s graduates usually wore navy and purple, respectively. But per the graduates’ request, they donned black ensembles to symbolize their mourning. As a result, their procession was like a march of shadows.