Doom retrieved from his pocket an old, shabby penknife with several symbols carved into its handle. He made a few more passes.
Lebenstein’s face dripped with sweat, the reflection of reality in his eyes drowning slowly in a cold quagmire of sticky fear. But he kept walking, tin soldier-like, puppet-like, toward the penknife’s blade.
He didn’t stop until his pupil was so close to the blade that a hair’s breadth seemed a relative marathon.
Alex bent over the dean and hissed softly for no one but him to hear.
“Don’t ever think you can enter my hall and interrupt my lecture like that.”
Doom gestured a couple more times, and Lebenstein pursued the same broken pace out lecture hall B-52. Not until then did Alex dispel his magic and, doing his best to conceal the effort, sink back into his chair.
Damn that dean. With the number of amulets he had on, it was like he was a military investigator dealing with inter-racial crime, and not just employed in academia.
The Frozen Tear amulet alone was something—it could withstand pressure of up to 140 points, and it was worth a fortune. Fortunately, Alex was skilled and knowledgeable enough to get around all that mass-market stuff.
You need bespoke charms to avoid getting your ass kicked by a real black wizard. To be fair, Alex was not about to physically touch any part of Lebenstein’s body. The very idea disgusted him.
“Any questions?”
Silence. Then, suddenly, a storm of voices.
“How did you bypass his defense, Professor?”
“The spell you used, was it Warlock’s Doll? My lenses didn’t recognize the structure.”
“Are you really not afraid of Lebenstein?”
“How old are you?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Did you neutralize the energetic load in the reversive field using—”
“No questions. That’s good,” Alex interrupted, opening his ‘porn magazine’ again. “Get to work, juvie—…mm…kiddies. The sun is high and blah, blah, blah.”
The lecture hall fell dead silent (that always sounded like a pun to Alex, what with his knowledge of necromancy) again. Cutting the stillness, a thin voice called out.
“Thank you so much, Professor. It was a gift from my mom.”
Doom looked over at the girl who’d almost gotten her phone destroyed by the dean. He didn’t need Detective Gribovsky’s prompts to tell him that she was there on a scholarship she’d earned with wits instead of wealthy parents.
Alex looked away.
He just didn’t care.
Not a damn.
He had to find out how badly the Guards needed him at the university. Dealing with the Mask and paying off his debt to the Syndicate was next, followed by catching the first tailwind out of Atlantis and leaving for good.
He didn’t give a damn about those youngsters and their problems.
“My pleasure,” Doom replied, showing with his whole demeanor how little he cared.
The girl smiled and went back to scribbling on her tablet.
***
Alex stretched and looked around. The sun was high and shining brightly, while the lecture hall was empty…almost.
He looked at his watch, a poor match for his expensive suit and shoes. It was plain. Childish. Shaped like the head of a baby lion from the beautiful old Disney cartoon that was later remade into a movie, a franchise, a series, and even a video game.
“Two o’clock. How many lectures did I sleep through?”
“Four,” called a voice from the top row. Sitting there were five students: a stern-looking Asian guy, a flirty blonde, a youngster who looked like a fashion model, and two more atypical characters—a gray-haired girl and her ginger friend.
Why are they here…?
He remembered—he was supposed to supervise them.
“Do I owe you something?”
“A tour, Professor,” the blonde replied instantly.
Doom was perplexed. The last person who’d told him he owed them something had found himself excreting a very unpleasant substance from his anus. That was when the negotiations stalled and the shooting began. Anyway, that was in past.
He’d meant for the question to be rhetorical.
“What tour?”
“You don’t know? The Natural Museum! All the freshmen are going there today, and we’re already late for the bus.”
Alex glanced out of the window. Damn you, Gribovsky.
Chapter 23
As Alex discovered right then, the university had at least one other gate besides the central one, and it was right across the outdoor sports complex that included a football pitch, running tracks, bleachers, and several magic ranges.
Alex had never used the latter. As a rule, he, just like all the other prohibited black wizards, tested and practiced his new spells at the city dump.
That made his magic dirty in addition to being dark.
Three yellow buses, looking almost exactly like their counterparts for school children, stood by the road. Not all the groups riding them were as small as just five people—if that had been the case, the freshmen would have been accompanied by at least twenty-five adults.
But there were just three there.
Excluding Doom.
Two middle-aged women and one elderly man.
“Are you—”
“Yeah,” Alex interrupted with a brusque wave as he got onto the bus ahead of his group. Greeting the driver by lifting his hat slightly, he glanced over at the young prodigies who instantly fell silent.
The faces were all ones he’d already seen at the first lecture. At least, he seemed to remember them. That blood magic trick had drained so much of his strength that the meditation he’d started to restore it gradually turned into a sound and healthy sleep.
Stepping past the students sitting there, Alex stopped in front of a group of youngsters occupying the wide seat at the back.
“Our apologies, Professor.”
“Please, Professor, sit down.”
“We’ll find somewhere else.”
The seven students looked stunned out of the merry hubbub they’d been making a moment before. Sitting down in the corner, Alex put his feet on top of the seat in front of him, opened the window, and pulled out a cigarette.
That brought instant relief.
“Can we go now?” The disgruntled driver, who was dressed very plainly, looked as if he’d just woken up from a quick nap grabbed after a night shift at some factory. In fact, it was quite possible that that was what had happened.
“Just a moment,” one of the ladies replied a bit nervously. “We’re waiting for one more colleague.”
Alex almost choked on his smoke and cast a reproachful glance at the five padawans taking their seats at the opposite end of the back row. They kept pretending, rather realistically, that they hadn’t woken him up a long time before they’d actually needed to.
“Excuse me, sir.” The old man in a tweed suit was holding a brown leather briefcase with the demeanor of someone long married to his books, his gaze shifting back and forth between Alex and the driver. “Didn’t you tell us smoking is prohibited inside the bus?”
“I did,” the driver replied with a nod.
“Then why is Professor… er… What’s your last name, young man?”
Purple fire flashed around Doom’s fingers, but he subdued it.
Old habits die hard.
The scholar couldn’t be expected to know the ways of High Garden.
But, hell, old habits die so hard.
“He didn’t ask,” the driver snickered.
Keeping his seat, Alex lifted his arms into the air and clapped. That time, it was the driver who tipped his hat to him.
“Oh, please forgive me,” a thin, melodious voice came from outside. “I beg your pardon, everyone. So much to do… I lost track of time and—”
“We would be amazed, Miss Perriot,” the older woman said in a tone more appropriate for reprimanding a subo
rdinate than talking to a colleague, “if you managed to keep even a single appointment. Your group will have to ride this bus. With the new black magic teacher’s group.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic! Thank you so much for your help.”
Alex couldn’t see the other woman, but her voice was pleasant. Too pleasant, even. Nice and bell-like.
Judging by the clatter of high heels, Miss Perriot, if that was her name, was already climbing onto the bus when she was stopped by the old man. Alex could see dry fingers holding a thin, slightly tanned wrist. Good skin she had. Smooth, apparently young, and well-groomed.
“Miss Perriot, may I ride with you?” The old man was speaking softly, but Alex put his lip-reading skills to good use. “That dark wizard… I don’t like him. Dean Lebenstein had some very negative things to say about him.”
“Dean Lebenstein has negative things to say about everyone lower than him,” the girl replied in a suddenly loud, even abrupt voice. That did it—Alex was sure she was a young girl, and not just someone else born before 2050. “It looks like they’re waiting for you in your bus, Professor Camil.”
That said, Perriot deftly (which betrayed her skill) released her wrist from his grasp and flew onto the bus, bringing with her the aroma of young spring. Like a breeze coming from a well-kept garden, it scattered the stiff smells of old leather, textile, and rubber that filled the inside of the bus.
“Good afternoon, Miss Perriot!”
“Thanks for your lecture, Miss Perriot!”
“Please sit here.”
“Could I ask you for some coaching?”
“You, idiot? Why? You don’t need Magic History for your exams.”
“As if you need it.”
“Miss Perriot!” The pretty blonde suddenly jumped up. What was her name?
[Name: Eleonora Wessex. Race: Human. Mana level: 691. Open the extended dossier?]
The worldwide web. Incredibly useful at times…
That was when Alex actually did choke on his smoke.
Somehow, a girl from the Wessex family was part of his group!
The house whose emblem was a leprecone.
In ancient times, those white whales were lucky enough to become trade mediators between the mortal world and magic races. The fortune they acquired put them on par with the elven families and human mega-corporations.
“Elie, guys, great to see you all.” Smiling at everyone, Miss Perriot floated through the air to the back row.
Her hair was the color of a ripe peach, wavy and falling down a bit below her shoulders to her white leather jacket. A light blouse and a wide, ankle-long skirt made up the rest of her outfit. The plain clothes did little to hide her fit body or long, strong legs and curvy, springy hips worthy of the front cover of the magazine Alex habitually used to disguise everything he was reading.
And he read a lot.
A graceful waistline eased into high, firm breasts.
A round face. Dimples on rosy cheeks. A chiseled nose, slightly upturned. Narrow cheekbones. Bushy, but well-groomed and spreading eyebrows.
She could have been anywhere between 18 and 25.
And to Alex’s great surprise, her hair wasn’t dyed.
The peach color of her hair and eyes was natural.
Hell’s bells. She’s an esper. An esper working at the very heart of the magic world. Who let her in here? And why?
Of course, that fact lessened in shock value when compared to Alexander Dumsky becoming a professor.
[Name: Leia Perriot. Race: Human Esper. Rank: D.]
Her eyes met Alex’s. Knocking the ashes off, he pulled his feet off the seat back in front of him just to put them on the armrest of the empty seat next to him.
The girl with the princess name sat down and held out a hand.
“Leia Perriot, Magic History and Magic Law. Nice to meet you.”
Alex looked down at her outstretched hand before glancing up at her. Smiling broadly, he puffed smoke right into her face.
“Professor Dumsky! What are you doing?”
“Professor!”
“Miss Perriot!”
The bus doors closed. The clamor inside not dying down, it followed the other buses in the direction of the next district over for the traditional museum tour.
Putting on his headphones demonstratively, Doom turned his music up.
He liked the girl.
Too much, in fact.
And that was why he needed her ready to call the cops every time he got close.
Chapter 24
A little and somewhat plump boy watched Miss Elisa meandering around the magic flowers. Smeared in earth, with black traces on her hands and cheeks, her dress was a mess, though her white hat was immaculate.
“Hand me the small rake, please.” She was tired, but still smiling openly and happily.
Alex, clutching his practical magic handbook (disguised as a porn magazine) to his chest, handed her the tool she’d asked for. It was old and shabby like everything else at St. Frederick Orphanage, including its employees and wards.
Miss Elisa pottered around for a while longer, the rake moving precisely and gracefully around the sprouts like a painter’s brush.
They were tulips.
But not regular tulips.
They were the kind that only blossomed in the light of the full moon to soak up its silvery glow and turn into beautiful crystals.
The crystals were then used by wizards to decorate their homes, also helping them restore mana.
“That’s all for today.” She wiped her forehead with a forearm. Still smiling, she stood up heavily and plodded over to a small cherry tree.
As she sat down beneath the tree and half-closed her eyes, Elisa held her face up to the cool wind. Smelling of fuel oil and kerosene, it was blowing in from the industrial quarters. Everyone in High Garden was used to the smell and the factory smog.
Her hair swayed slightly.
Alex came over to stand in front of her. Even sitting, she was taller than him.
“You walk like a baby bear,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “Waddling from side to side.”
“So what?” Alex grumbled, dropping his gaze to the grass.
“Nothing.” Elisa laughed. “I just feel bad for all the girls whose hearts you’re going to break someday, you little devil.”
Alex looked up at her with his bright green eyes.
“I’m not going to break any hearts at all! I—”
Before he could finish, Elisa gripped him tightly with her small but very strong arms. Laughing, he tried to break free from her as she squeezed him, tickled him, and whispered something in his ear.
Their game didn’t last long, though it was enough to exhaust them both. They puffed, panted, and rested their backs against the tree.
“Miss Elisa?”
“Yes, little devil?”
“May I?”
“What?” she asked back with sly eyes.
She knew exactly what Alex wanted, but she wanted him to say it out loud.
“Sit on your lap,” the plump boy said, blushing bright pink.
“Let me think.” Elisa put her index finger to her chin in a funny way.
Alex was starting to get scared she’d refuse him when her strong arms lifted him off the ground and landed him on her soft legs. Then Elisa put her hands on his shoulders and clasped him tightly to her chest.
It felt so warm and soft. Cozy. Like curling up in bed and pulling the blanket over his head.
“So. Let’s begin.”
“Hurray!”
Alex opened the handbook at his special bookmark.
The Laughing Peony. That was the name of the spell graphically presented in the figures surrounded by paragraphs of terms and calculations.
“Look, Alexander. That’s the central ley line. When you draw magic from a source, it mostly comes along this line. It’s like a central highway or a tree trunk. The crown of the tree is what you see as a seal, and the root is you.”
E
lisa explained magic to him for several hours. They argued, they laughed, and then she fell silent so Alexander could concentrate on his calculations.
While he was busy doing them, she used her fingers to comb his curly, ever-tousled black hair. She used to say that his hair had been woven by fairies from the same silk they weave into the black veil of night to cover the sleeping universe.
Alex was too old to still believe in fairies. He knew very well that it was just the sun sinking beyond the horizon that caused the darkness of night.
And the stars weren’t jewels strewn by fairies over their magic silk; they were distant balls of hot gas.
That was actually what they were arguing about.
“Look, you little devil.” Elisa lifted a palm to the sky, bringing her big and index fingers together to “grab hold” of a star. “See me holding it?”
“That’s just an optical illusion.” Alex frowned.
“An optical illusion? Oh goodness. You do read too much, you little devil. But if it’s just an illusion, how do you explain this?”
Twitching her wrist, Elisa showed him a small sparkling jewel lying on her palm.
“How…” Alex reached for the jewel, but it crumbled to dust as soon as he touched it.
He looked up and saw the same star Elisa had just plucked out of the sky.
“That was just a trick,” the boy said, frowning again. That made his cheeks even bigger.
“You can think that.” Elisa smiled and ruffled his hair. “Or you can believe I just plucked a star out of the sky for you. It’s just a matter of faith.”
“That’s magic.”
“Magic is faith, too. People believe in magic today more than ever, which is why it’s growing stronger.”
“Did you learn that at church?” Alex asked, still peering up at the starry sky. It was hard to see most of the stars thanks to the thick city fog. “Does god approve of magic?”
On a golden chain around her neck, Elisa wore a small cross with a crucified man on it. He was called god, though Alex had his doubts.
What kind of god would let ordinary people crucify him? The gods Alex had read about would crucify anyone who even thought about doing that to them.
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