by Sadie Moss
“And there will be one other change,” Tamlin continues. “From now on, you will no longer be fighting with your magic. Cuffs will stay on. Until you pass your final exams and then get tested on your magical control before the Circuit, you’ll have to wear your cuffs outside of this campus—and it’s outside this campus where you’d be most likely be attacked. Not to mention…”
Tamlin takes a deep, calming breath and gives us a bracing smile. “Not to mention, I honestly don’t know whether a point will come when you’re not allowed to take your cuffs off at all. And I think it’s better to be safe than sorry. From now on, you can’t rely on your magic to get you out of a dangerous situation. So we need you to be able to defend yourself non-magically.”
Given what nearly happened to me while I was shopping with Maddy, I’m grateful for this, at least. I don’t want to be caught with my pants down again, so to speak. Even though whoever has the magic is always going to be the more powerful person, power doesn’t mean shit if they’re cocky or unprepared and you can get the drop on them first.
Tamlin claps her hands together. “All right then. Pair up, and I’ll start demonstrating.”
We all look at each other for a moment, and then quietly begin to pair up. Usually, there’s a lot of joking around during Combat class, especially during the second semester. The fall semester, we’ve got first-years who aren’t super confident in their magic or their fight skills, so they’re always nervous. But by spring semester, the first-years have gotten comfortable enough to joke around with the rest of us, even if the second- and third-years are still better skilled, generally.
There are no jokes today though. Today, everyone is silent.
Tamlin has us practice the moves over and over again, at “quarter time” to start, which basically means as slowly as we possibly can, so we get the muscle memory in properly. It’s frustrating, after so many weeks of training to be more aggressive and fighting in real time, to have to go back to this kind of beginner stuff. By the time we’re finished, I feel exhausted and yet pent up at the same time.
I want to fight properly, damn it, the way that I’m used to, not have to re-learn everything and adopt a whole new style. I’m an aggressive kind of fighter, and while I definitely see why Tamlin’s thinking this way, it frustrates me.
Besides, you won’t find me going at all easy on someone if they attack me, even if it does get me in trouble in a court of law. I’ll go down swinging, thanks very much.
Combat class ends, and I can tell I’m not the only one who’s frustrated as people mutter quietly to themselves. A lot of people look frightened. Tamlin herself is calm and poised, clearly putting on a brave face, but there are moments where I see her falter just a little, and I know she’s probably just as exhausted and scared as everyone else.
As we walk out of Wellwood Hall, Cam pulls out his phone. “Check this out. I’ve been waiting to show you guys this interview.”
We sit on one of the benches in the quad, Dmitri looming over us from behind while I sit on Cam’s right and Asher sits on his left.
Cam plays a clip he’s saved on his phone—it’s from a talk show. The magical community has their own TV shows that are accessible mostly through Twitch and other online streaming sites. It keeps non-magical people from accidentally stumbling on things they shouldn’t know about.
This talk show, “Magic Today”, is one of those panel style shows. The host is there to mediate and ask questions that will get everyone on the panel arguing, then he’ll crack jokes when it gets too close to a bloodbath.
I’ve heard of the show, but I’ve never seen it. I don’t really watch that kind of TV much here, and before, when I thought I didn’t have magic, I wasn’t really doing anything magic-involved at all. I know Maddy watches some fictional TV shows, like the one about a bunch of magic-users sharing an apartment after college, one of those comedic “finding life and love” types of stories.
Today’s subject on the show is, unsurprisingly, the whole Unpredictable mess. I can’t help but notice there aren’t actually any Unpredictable people on the panel. It’s like when you see the list of people in government who voted on a women’s rights issue, and they’re all men. One of the panelists is supposed to be an “Unpredictable advocate”, but that means jack shit if you ask me. One of us should be on that panel. We should be able to speak for ourselves.
The panelists are going on and on about whether or not Unpredictables are dangerous. One of them is on the younger side and looks way too cocky for his own good. He’s got a sharp suit and the kind of “I went to Harvard” look that sets my teeth on edge.
“Here’s the thing,” he says in a condescending tone. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, any one magical user can become too powerful if they have the right knowledge and weaponry. A mage loaded down with charms and enchantments and potions could be dangerously powerful. Nobody’s saying they wouldn’t be!”
Another panelist tries to interject, but he overrides her, holding up a hand.
“But charms and enchantments and potions all have rules and regulations governing them. You have to pass certain exams and have certain licenses to perform powerful enchantments. You can only get certain potions from certain retailers and those retailers have to regulate and be licensed to sell those potions. You have to put in a request for certain charms, and you have a waiting period, and then you have a license or certificate that says you can own and use it. It’s just like owning a car and having a driver’s license. We have rules set in place.”
God, I want to punch this guy. My hand twitches, but I don’t think Cam would appreciate it if I sent his phone flying across the quad.
“And if you didn’t have all those tools at your disposal, what would your magic be?” Harvard Boy continues. “Ordinary, not particularly powerful magic. Not dangerously so, and not much more than anyone else. You need those outside enhancements in order to really pack a punch, and that’s why the regulations are in place—so that nobody can use those enhancements to become powerful beyond measure for nefarious reasons. Not without the authorities picking up on it.”
“I take it this prick’s never heard of the black market,” Dmitri mutters.
“Yeah, but look at his suit,” Cam jokes. “I bet he’s heard about bribes and the power of the almighty dollar.”
“Shh.” Asher lifts a finger, straining to hear.
“Our most dangerous enchanted objects are highly regulated or straight-out illegal. And if someone with ordinary magic were to get ahold of them, all the authorities have to do is take that item away, and the problem is solved. The perpetrator is weakened and can be defeated. It’s the item that gives them that boost.”
Everyone on the panel is nodding along, following his logic. Dmitri’s hand is on my shoulder, and I can feel him squeezing harder as the man continues talking.
“But Unpredictables—they have all that powerful magic inside of them! They don’t need enchantments or charmed objects of any kind. They don’t need to swallow a potion. I mean, God help us all if they do, I can’t imagine the kind of power that would give them, but the point is, if we regulate an item that can create sonic boom, why are we not also regulating the person who can create a sonic boom?”
He’s talking about me, I know he is. My stomach churns. I was in the Trials, representing Griffin Academy, and the Trials were filmed, so… I guess it makes sense that I’m the Unpredictable everyone knows and can use as a poster child.
But I didn’t ask for that. Fuck knows I don’t want attention. Not for the first time, I wish Dmitri had been in the Trials instead of me… except he’s under enough pressure from his parents already.
“Unpredictables are essentially ticking bombs,” Harvard-Boy concludes. “They’re way too powerful—and they think they should just be able to walk around unregulated? What if we said ‘hey, anyone who wants to can buy an assault disintegration wand’? But nobody can, because they’re illegal and to be used only by Circuit special force officers
in the case of magical war. But we’ve got a girl in that video with the stone towers who is clearly using disintegration magic, wielding it like it’s nothing. And that’s somehow okay?”
Cam closes the video.
I’m practically shaking with rage, and I think he can feel it where I’m pressed up against his side.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
We’re not objects, first of all. His whole premise assumes that we’re inanimate, that we don’t have bodily autonomy or thoughts and feelings of our own. We’re not talking about a goddamn wand—we’re talking about a human person! This is my body, my mind, my magic.
Nobody should be allowed to tell me what I can and can’t do with it.
“Well.” Asher speaks mildly into the silence. “This is bullshit.”
“You can say that again,” I snarl. “Did nobody see what Johnson did to me? Or are they all just willing to forget that? I’ll bet you anything he had proper clearance for all the shit he had on him that made him so powerful, and nobody thought anything was wrong with him until he was literally trying to kill me.”
I can’t sit still. Especially after working at quarter speed all through Combat class, I’ve got too much energy pent up inside me. I leap off the bench and start to pace before I explode.
“I mean, sure, taking out some of his charms helped me defeat him, made him weaker—but how is that any different from clocking me upside the head? I have a sonic boom, I’m not indestructible. I can bruise or break just like anyone else, I get tired and hungry just like anyone else. It’s ridiculous! Regular magic isn’t any more safe or dangerous than Unpredictable magic, because assholes like Johnson can find ways to take advantage of the system, and they can find ways to use magic dangerously just like any Unpredictable could!”
I’m working myself up into a full on rant now, practically yanking my hair at the roots like a crazy person. But I’m fucking pissed.
“Regular magic users aren’t any more trustworthy than Unpredictables! Your magic doesn’t define who you are as a person, and the fact that they’re acting like we’re bombs, we’re objects, we’re—we’re weapons and not people—”
“Come on, Sin. Tell us how you really feel,” Cam throws in, one side of his mouth tilting up. “Don’t hold back.”
I stop pacing to flip him off, but his joke has the desired effect—I smile and take a deep breath, calming down a bit and saving myself from devolving into a screaming rant in public.
“Did—did you guys watch the panel?”
The guys and I look over to see Kendal standing a few feet away, her books held in front of her, chewing nervously on her lip. She’s still pretty shy, but she’s been eating meals with us more, smiling and waving at me in the hallways, and generally coming out of her shell.
Maybe she still seems timid by most people’s standards, but the Kendal I knew last year could barely look people in the eye. She just followed Alyssa around like a shadow, kept her head down, and nodded when she was told.
Now, she makes eye contact, she smiles, she does her own thing. She’s dressing in her own style and she’s eating lunch with different people.
I’m weirdly proud of her.
“Yeah, we just watched it.” Cam sighs, tucking his phone away. “It’s pretty infuriating.”
Kendal nods. “My parents are really upset.”
“They support Unpredictables?” I arch a brow in surprise.
Kendal nods again. “Yes. They’re very competitive people, and when I manifested Unpredictable magic and was barred from competing in magical competitions like my sister—there are lots of rules and things—they were super upset. I didn’t want to compete anyway, I’m not… I don’t care that much about winning.”
I remember Kendal telling me something along those lines when she helped me with the Trials last year. The event was cancelled this year due to the mess the last one turned into, but there are a lot of similar magical competitions that people compete in like sports, both as amateurs and as professionals for sponsorships and prize money.
“My parents care though. They were furious that I couldn’t compete because of my type of magic. They’ve been campaigning for years for Unpredictables to be treated the same as anyone else. They’re different from… from a lot of other parents that way.”
Dmitri goes stiff, but I know that Kendal’s not thinking of his parents—she’s probably thinking of Alyssa, Megan, and Cristina’s. I don’t know details but I do know from Cam that there’s a lot of pressure from Unpredictables in good families to marry into another powerful family to make up for the fact that they’re Unpredictable and can’t advance in our magical society the same way.
Yeah, it’s really fucked up.
“I’m glad your parents are supportive,” I tell Kendal as Asher stands up, jerking his chin toward the dining hall to remind us all that we need to get lunch.
We start walking together, the five of us, with the three guys surrounding us two girls. It’s our usual arrangement—ever since I became kind of notorious at this damn school, the guys sort of circle around me to try and protect me from people coming up and bothering me.
“I just don’t know what we’re going to do,” Kendal admits. “My parents are angry, but I’m scared.”
As we head toward the dining hall, I can see the tower in the woods beyond. It’s tall enough by now that it looms above the trees, visible even from a distance. In fact, it’s taller now than it was yesterday.
A shiver runs through me.
Then we step inside the building, and it’s like a cold grip on my lungs has been released and I can breathe again.
“They’re scary, aren’t they?” Kendal whispers.
I nod. I hate to admit my fear, but I know that however worried I might be, Kendal is doubly so.
“We’re going to figure out who’s behind this,” I assure her.
The pretty redhead looks doubtful. “Whoever they are, they’re powerful. I wonder… sometimes I wonder if it’s the government looking for a reason to crack down on us, just so people stop getting mad at them for not doing anything.”
I admit, it’s not as crazy of a conspiracy theory as some might think. But given that I know there was one person behind the three previous attacks on this school…
Of course, I can’t say that to Kendal. Hardwick told that information to me in confidence.
So instead I say, “Whoever’s doing this, they’re going to an awful lot of trouble, and they’ve got a hell of a lot of resources at their fingertips.”
She nods, her eyes getting wider. “That’s why I was thinking it had to be the government. Who else but the High Circuit could have so much power and so many resources to pull this off?”
“Maybe it’s the work of another demon? Something like that bird, but more powerful?” Cam hazards. “Or we could have a traitor in our midst like with Raul.”
“Ugh, don’t say that. Now I’m going to be paranoid,” I groan, only half-joking.
“Predictable or Unpredictable,” Asher says, “magic or no, there will always be dangerous people out there.”
“Psychos, you mean,” Dmitri corrects.
“I’m not sure they’re all what we would call insane,” Asher replies, his voice level. “But they’re dangerous. It’s not about what type of power you have, or how strong that power is. It’s about how you think about yourself and other people. It’s about your worldview.”
He slips his hand into mine as we head toward the line for food.
“Whoever’s attacking us,” he says softly, “I don’t know if they genuinely hate us or if they just want to create chaos and take advantage of the fallout, or if they want to take control somehow. But whatever their reason, I don’t think what kind of magic they have matters. I think what matters is figuring out what they want. That’s the only way we’ll be able to guess their next move.”
He pauses, and he’s got his cuff on so he can’t read my mind, but he manages to say exactly what I’m thinking anyway
.
“Because unless we find them and stop them, it’s clear they’re not going to quit until they get what they want.”
And whatever this person wants—it can’t be anything good.
Chapter 16
The next week is weird, to say the least.
Everyone’s on edge. Usually, when I walk across campus, I can hear laughter and easy conversation and see people teasing each other, couples making out, or people sitting on the benches in the quad trying to soak up whatever sunshine they can. It’s full of vibrant life.
Not this week.
Nobody stays outside for long. People move in groups, but silently. Everyone avoids the towers, but you can see people glancing at them from the corners of their eyes, scared and watchful.
It’s like we’ve transplanted to a completely different place, to a funeral instead of a college. The Circuit might not be here, the angry parents and the magical talk show panelists might not be here, but we can feel them anyway.
Cam and I have adjusted our running route to avoid the tower in the woods. So far, the stone towers haven’t done anything besides grow and look ominous, but we don’t want to take any chances. There’s only so much we can do to avoid the two towers that are smack in the middle of campus—one near the faculty housing and one behind Wellwood Hall—but we do our best to skirt around them.
Everyone copes differently. I throw myself into my schoolwork to make sure I’m on top of that, if nothing else. I’ve always done well with the book-learning side of things, research and writing papers and all that. For the first few semesters, I struggled with the more hands on stuff, but I’m getting a lot better at that too—even learning how to control my mirroring power more effectively, although I only get to practice it in my Practical Magic class.
Ramping up my focus on schoolwork not only helps my grades, it also helps me feel like things are somewhat normal around here. Homework is the one constant that we have, even as everything else threatens to fall apart.