My God, he was like the anti-me...
I went through what little I knew that could be pertinent, not that it was much. Meanwhile. he ordered something with bacon, butter, bread and cheese that would give even me pause, while I ordered scrambled eggs (my stomach was bothering me). Tom quickly overcame his attachment to healthy living, and ordered three more things off the menu before we settled up and left, with me almost having to prop the twit up.
"Best breakfast ever," he said as he staggered back towards Naiad, "Oh, I'm going to have to run for a month to work that off.
I smiled. If nothing else, I could make him fat; that would do the trick...
Damn, that was evil, even for me.
It was just before nine when we turned the corner into a bustling plaza near the centre of the campus. Students with early morning classes were out and about, most seeming bright and eager. I was actually starting to feel a bit better about the place. Tom may have been something of a twit, but he was good company; he had dirty jokes and stories that would make a sailor blush, and he had a genuine interest in Magic that kept me thinking.
As we were approaching the Great Hall, a small clutch of girls appeared, books and pads in hand as they laughed and joked. They were freshmen, like us, all of them attractive and dressed fashionably (and just a little bit provocatively, even in spite of the cold weather). I moved to steer us clear, while taking a surreptitious look.
And then I stopped dead, the blood draining from my face as my mouth dropped open. Tom noticed and turned to see what was wrong.
"Wha-"he started before I darted to put his bulk between me and the girls, where I cowered.
I was hyperventilating, trying not to panic... what was she doing here?!
"What is it?" he asked, his voice slightly panicked, "Are we in danger?"
"My ex-girlfriend is right behind you," I whispered.
He took a subtle look at the group.
"Which one?" he muttered.
"Redhead on the left!"
Bloody Jocelyn Faust! This was just not sodding fair! Though quite predictable if I'd given it even the tiniest bit of thought. Damn it!
She looked good, though. Long copper hair in a headband, falling in a sheet down her back, her blue eyes dazzling as she smiled and laughed with her friends. Her lips were full and red, her face heart shaped and lovely. She wore a cotton shirt, blue cashmere cardigan and silk skirt over knee length socks and patent leather shoes.
My appreciation came to a screaming halt as the image of her and Des sprang into my head and I gritted my teeth against remembered pain.
"I take it this isn't a happy reunion?" Tom said sympathetically.
"Cheated on me with my brother, nearly got me eaten by Ogres, it's a long and complicated story."
"Nothing's simple with you, is it?"
I ignored him, and kept peering around his body until they'd rounded a corner.
Finally, I relaxed, letting out a breath.
"Not as such, no," I finally answered.
I led the way back towards Naiad Hall, my equilibrium ruined, and my mood along with it. I made my way back to my room. I still had an hour to go until my lecture, and I didn't want to spend it out in the open (or near Tom while he was pawed by the Naiad ladies).
What the hell was I going to do now? I didn't want to have to deal with Jocelyn. The emotions were too complicated, and still too raw, even after all this time. In the end, there was no way to avoid her forever; I was fairly certain she went to the Magic School, so we almost had to run into each other eventually...
I would just have to take things as they came. Maybe luck would be with me for the next three years, and I'd never run into her at all?
Don't look at me like that; denial was all I had to work with!
The hall where I'd have my first lecture was easy enough to find, located in one of the sub-levels beneath the Magic School. There was enough space for about two hundred, the seats in ascending rows, covered in cracking brown leather. There was a projector in the ceiling; a podium and wide table on a stage at the front.
I was the youngest student there by quite a margin, which I should have expected. It was an introductory class for advanced students, after all, which meant level seven and above (not something one generally managed before the age of forty or fifty, unless you were a prodigy or an Archon). About fifty men and women filled the seats towards the front of the room. Most looked young, but they were all Wizards and Sorcerers, so that was misleading.
I'd discovered that I could get a general feeling of someone's age from looking at their Aura with Mage Sight. Experience accumulated as complexity in the shapes and colours, and from that I made a guess that nobody else in the room was less than fifty years old, and a couple were over three hundred. This was quite a normal sampling for an advanced class; education was an ongoing thing for Magicians, with many continuing to attend classes and seminars throughout their lives.
I noticed that the other students seemed to know one another already, or knew someone who could introduce them to those they didn't know. One or two introduced themselves to me, but it was out of simple politeness rather than as a genuine desire to include me in their conversations.
Already there were cliques, and I wasn't a part of them...
At ten on the dot, the professor came in. He was tall and thin, wearing tweed under an academic gown. His face was lined and craggy and his eyes were bright and incisive under short-cropped receding white hair; a short white beard covered the lower half of his face.
I recognised him immediately as the head examiner of my Level Ten test, and current number one on my shit-list. He had introduced himself as Professor Martin Aldwich. I hadn't known he was a professor at Stonebridge when I'd taken my test, which was idiotic, now I thought about it. The test had been held at the bloody university, after all. My eyes narrowed, and my temper flared dangerously at the very sight of the bigoted prick.
"Good morning everyone, it's good to see so many familiar faces. Most of you know the drill by now, but the rules say I have to give the talk, and I believe that we do have a new face or two, so we'll do the introduction properly," he said with a smile as he took in the familiar crowd.
"Firstly, before we carry on, Concealing-Magic is dishonest. Someone in here is using it, and I invite him to stop immediately."
That was odd, and worrying. I hadn't seen anything with my Mage Sight, and that Spell was supposed to be able to see through just about any Illusion or Concealment Magic. I looked around for the culprit more carefully.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Aldwich said, "makes no difference to me."
I still couldn't see the culprit; maybe this fellow did have some things to teach me after all?
"Alright, have it your way, Mister Graves. Would you come to the front, please?"
My eyes narrowed in suspicion. What could he possibly be playing at?
"Now," the professor said, his eyes boring into me.
I did what I was told. I stood and walked down the aisle and stepped onto the small stage.
"You were given a chance to be honest with your classmates, the people you sit among as your peers. You lost that chance, and now you will stop what you are doing, or you will leave."
"What?" I asked, aghast and annoyed at the accusation. I wasn't doing anything... oh! The Illusion covering my scars and eyes!
"My Illusions are doing no harm, and they make me feel better," I said after a moment's thought (and a couple of very deep breaths).
"This is a place of knowledge; fact, not deception. If you are not willing to be who you are, then you have no place here. Now, shut down the Illusions, or leave."
I was fuming mad and grinding my teeth, but again, I did as I was told. My eyes turned back to their normal colour and the scars reappeared on my face. The other students gasped, one woman actually squeaked. Aldwich looked satisfied.
"You are a cruel man, Sir," I said softly before turning on my heel and walking bac
k towards my seat.
"We're not done yet, Graves. You will now apologise to me and your classmates for your deception," he said.
There was angry muttering from the other students. Magicians stuck together, and that kind of humiliation was not to our taste. Aldwich didn't care; he was so determined on my debasement that he didn't realise that there were now fifty powerful and experienced Magicians looking over their shoulders for the day when he might do something like this to them.
Not that any of them spoke up for me.
"I offer my apologies," I said to the others, "I merely wanted to spare myself a little humiliation. I can't imagine why I thought that would be an issue."
I turned to look Aldwich in the eyes, and something in mine made him flinch, "Will that do, Sir? Perhaps you'd prefer it if I gave it another try on my knees?"
"Don't talk back to me, Shadowborn. You're only here on sufferance."
He'd said it like that so that the others would know what I was, and would be less likely to sympathise. A few did look scared, but the rest didn't seem particularly bothered. Most had figured out what I was already; the scars on my face were very well known, about a dozen people had been given them a while back by the same group of Shadowborn-hunting fanatics. It was meant to say, 'Here's a Shadowborn! Feel free to aim the rotten fruit at this point'.
I had to say, though, this was a new record for me, only ten minutes into day one before my first public humiliation... wonderful.
"You are straying dangerously close to a complaint for discrimination, Professor Aldwich," I said softly.
And also a Shadow Lance to the face.
"You don't intimidate me here, Graves," he replied, sneering.
"More fool you," I said, now starting to get really angry.
"Was that a threat?"
"More a comment on your intelligence."
"You think you can stand there, a duellist and a monster, and speak to me like that in my own lecture hall? And get away with it?!"
"Yes, and I'll tell you why. Three reasons: one, you are in the wrong, two, you are in the wrong in the most stupid possible way, and most importantly three, I've been recording this conversation," I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket for him to see.
There were some appreciative mutterings from the others.
"Start being civil right this second or this goes to the Dean by close of business."
Even if he did as I asked, it was still going to the Dean. I was that mad.
"You may return to your seat, Mister Graves," he said in a snarl.
"Thank you," I said, slipping my phone back into its pocket.
"I'll take that now, please," he said, pointing at a sign on the wall:
No Mobile Phones.
He held out a box and I turned my phone off before placing it inside. He smiled at his small victory and turned away with it. I thought I felt a bit of Magic, but if I had, then it was nothing, barely a flicker of a flicker. Probably just anger on his part; no teacher liked to be shown up in front of their students.
I don't remember much of what he said after that; though I retained some little bits and pieces of orientation. It was mostly warnings about using Magic outside of the School building and other things like that. But as long as I used some version of common sense, then I shouldn't have any problems. Finally, he was done and everyone filed out, some eyes lingering on me as I remained sat down, staring at the Professor.
"What do you want?" he asked with a glare.
"To provide you with food for thought," I said.
I stood and walked slowly down towards him.
"If you're wrong about me, if I'm not the monster you think I am, and I find a way to live quietly, without using the Black, then you've just been unnecessarily cruel to a good man just trying to live in peace."
He snorted his disdain at that idea.
"And if you're right," I said, my voice a menacing whisper that made his eyes go wide in fear, "then you've just seriously annoyed the next Master of the Black. Tell me, Professor Aldwich, which of those scenarios makes you look like a genius?"
He gulped audibly and took a step away from me.
I picked my phone out of the box.
"Like I said, food for thought," I said, stepping back, "I'm willing to let today go. Damage done. I won't report you; all I ask is to be treated like anyone else, and not like a second class citizen because of my powers."
His face remained a snarl, I doubted I was getting through.
"Or, we can just do this until you piss me off so much that I call you out. And it seems to me that you can guess how that would go."
"I wouldn't demean myself by fighting the likes of you!" he spat.
"You say that like you'd have a choice," I said, turning on my heel and walking away, "Think on the benefits of civility, Professor."
Well... that was a pain.
I started stomping towards the exit, barely looking where I was going, I was that upset. I thought briefly of recasting my Illusions, but what would be the point? Even if I covered up, people would still point and stare at the Shadowborn. It wouldn't be too long after that before they realised that I wasn't just any Shadowborn, either. Aldwich had used my name, and I was relatively well known in my own right, First Shadow stuff aside.
As far as Magical Society was aware, I was a Shadowborn Sorcerer, and there hadn't been one yet that hadn't gone cataclysmically bad, and taken significant chunks of a population with them. I already had something of a reputation in that direction; I'd beaten up Conclave Hunters as well as Councillors, I'd assaulted the nobility, caused scandals...
It wasn't all bad; I had a little good press. That Agrammel thing, for example, I'd saved a hospital; oh, the Crooked House, that was common knowledge, saved some Fairies.
Even so, very little of what I was known for made me look warm and cuddly. Generally speaking, people were scared of Mathew Graves, Shadowborn Sorcerer, and I couldn't blame them. On paper, at least, I was rather an unsavoury fellow.
I emerged into sunshine, and found a few people were already pointing and staring, though they were taking the trouble to at least try and be subtle. I scowled, which actually sent a couple running, and walked away from the building. I had my first Advanced Flesh-crafting Class in an hour, which would then last two, but in the meantime I intended to hide in my room until I had my temper under better control...
"Mathew?" said a gentle voice from behind me.
Oh, balls. Not her, not now...
I stopped.
"Jocelyn," I said turning around, "I'd heard you were here."
"Me too, about you, I mean," she said, a little nervously, I thought.
The crowd was being less surreptitious about their staring, one woman in particular, who stood out. She looked young, but not that young. There was something in her eyes that spoke of experience, and she wore clothes baggy enough to conceal weapons. She watched our interaction very carefully. I met her eyes and she actually blanched a bit. I deliberately looked at her hand, which was inside her jacket, and she twitched it back to her side, flushing slightly.
"Your bodyguard, I assume?" I asked.
Jocelyn turned to look and went red herself.
"Nobody's supposed to know. She's supposed to be discreet," Jocelyn said, a tiny expression of annoyance crossing her features, which crinkled her nose in a rather adorable fashion.
"Don't feel bad, paranoia is a habit I've had to form. Well, good catching up with you."
I turned away; I didn't need her sort of stress...
"Matty, wait, please?"
I winced, but like an idiot, I turned back.
"Did you talk to Lady Hopkins?" she asked softly, "Did she tell you what really happened?"
The last time we'd met, I'd been unaware of Hopkins' involvement in the Jocelyn-Des drama. Jocelyn had told me, and Hopkins had later admitted her role as mastermind, leading to a colossal falling out that took an assassination attempt to resolve. Like I said... complicated.
&nbs
p; "She did," I said neutrally.
"Then... then why didn't you call?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Because it didn't help," I said, with a sigh, "I loved you, and you broke me. I was a zombie for a solid week. I still think of that as the worst day of my life, and there have been some bad ones since then."
I exaggerated a bit for effect, but it was a bad day...
"I'm sorry, I'll always be sorry! When are you going to forgive me? You know I only did what I did for you. It disgusted me, I felt dirty after. I was miserable too! You're the only boy I ever met who saw me, not a Faust. Do you know what it was like to lose that? It broke me too, Matty!"
I rubbed my eyes, feeling frustrated and guilty.
"What do you want, Jocelyn?" I asked, my voice very tired.
"Can we start over? I don't expect... I'm not rushing anything, just talk? Maybe we can both find a little peace?" she said, her eyes starting to glisten.
I had to fold. I couldn't deal with crying girls, especially if I was the cause. Something in me panicked and drove me to do anything, no matter how stupid or expensive, trying to get them to stop (that was how the Pixies got their way all the time).
"Alright. I have class at twelve till one, I can meet you then?"
She nodded, "See you here?"
"Okay."
She beamed at me and bounced off, the tears gone, and the bodyguard following at a discreet distance, giving me the evil eye. Unwise of her; mine were scarier. She looked away first.
Advanced Flesh Crafting was held in a small laboratory in the west end of the Magic School. It was a relatively small space with three rows of benches, shelves around the walls and fridges set into a small alcove. I was one of four students, two other men and one woman. I recognised them from the introductory lecture, and they obviously recognised me, as none of them would sit anywhere near me.
The Professor came in, a bright, young-looking woman with blonde hair, brown, soulful eyes and a wide smile. She wore a business suit under robes and carried a thick textbook under her arm.
"Good morning, I'm Professor Hadleigh, and welcome to- Eeek!"
Saw my eyes. I didn't normally get this strong a reaction from other Magicians; she must have been startled. After the screech, she just stood there, staring at me. Like a deer caught in headlights, she couldn't look away. Her face had even gone white with mounting terror. I sighed and recast my Illusion, which seemed to snap her out of it, just a little. It also caused her to go bright red and become even more incoherent.
Heart's Darkness Page 8