Conrad Edison and the Infernal Design

by John Corwin

  "Watch where you're going Edison!" Baxter shouted.

  I leapt to my feet and looked forward. The wyrm slithered beneath Galfandor's robes. The headmaster stiffened, face turning ghostly white. Grint kept talking as if unaware of what was happening right under her nose.

  "Galfandor!" I cried.

  The wyrm dropped to the floor out and snaked back toward the dark curtain. Galfandor collapsed in a heap.

  Baxter laughed and jeered at me. "Watch your feet, Edison!"

  I roared and spun to face the red-headed menace. I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and slammed his face into the potato soup on his tray. Jerked his head up and slammed it down again.

  "Agh!" Baxter cried, hands flailing at me. I let him go and raced for the fallen headmaster.

  Minister Grint looked down at Galfandor. She looked oddly calm, almost satisfied even, before backing away and shouting, "The headmaster has fainted!"

  I clambered up on the platform and rushed to Galfandor's side. "He's been attacked by a ripper wyrm!"

  Grint's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

  "Clear the way!" Percival pushed past the health minister and ran his wand over the stricken headmaster.

  "He fainted, Percival." Grint tugged on his robes. "Give him space to breath, and get that boy out of here!"

  Council security leapt onto the stage and pulled Percival away. Large hands gripped me and tore me from Galfandor's side.

  "Let me go!" I struggled to free myself, but their grips were like iron.

  "I will tend to the headmaster myself," Grint said to the other council members swarming around Galfandor's prone form. "I'm certain he's simply overworked himself."

  Horace Moon looked at her with narrowed eyes and his gaze wandered over to meet mine.

  "He didn't faint!" I shouted. "It was demon spawn!"

  A tall silhouette against the black curtain caught my eyes. A hood fell back from a familiar face—that of the man we'd seen coming from Ansel's office. His cruel eyes chilled me to the core. I felt something tingling, pressing against me, but it wasn't physical. It was as if something tried to worm its way into my soul.

  Fear gripped me. Who or what was that man? The tingling intensified. I felt it now—like someone tapping on a window, trying to get in. It reminded me of the sensation I'd felt when Cumberbatch exorcised the demon from me that had preserved my parents' souls, but the feeling was somehow different. I hardened my will, refused to let it take hold of me.

  The man's forehead pinched with confusion.

  He wasn't using any Arcane magic I knew. It felt demonic. I realized he might not even be an Arcane. Puzzle pieces clicked together even as council security pulled me off the stage and let me go.

  That man is Daemos. He controlled the ripper wyrm that attacked Galfandor!

  Even if true, security now surrounded the head table. Two men in healer robes put Galfandor on a flying carpet while students and professors watched in shock. Ambria and Max joined me.

  In the distance, I heard Baxter shouting, "He's over there, Professor!"

  "We've got to get out of here," Max said. "Baxter went to Professor Grace after you dunked his head in soup."

  "What good would it do to run?" I muttered. "Grace will just find me back at the keep."

  Ambria got in front of me. "What happened to Galfandor?"

  "A ripper wyrm." I trembled with anger. "I saw it coming for him. Baxter tripped me."

  Someone shoved me hard in the back. I stumbled into Ambria and we tumbled to the ground.

  "You're mine, Edison!"

  I didn't have to see Harris to recognize his voice. I grabbed Ambria and rolled her on top of me and out of the way just as a jolt of magical energy struck the floor where we'd been.

  Max reared back his arm and blind-sided Harris in the jaw. "Leave us alone!"

  Ambria climbed lithely to her feet and pulled me up just as Baxter let out a battle cry and ran straight for Max. Max dodged to the side and Baxter missed, crashing into a group of students, bits of potato flying from his hair.

  "Enough!" Gideon Grace roared.

  Harris wobbled on his feet, tears of pain in his eyes as he favored his jaw. "He punched me, Professor!"

  Max clenched his fists. "He shoved my friends and tried to kill Conrad with a spell!"

  "You." Graced jabbed a finger at me. "What was the meaning of attacking Baxter?"

  "He tripped me and hit me in the back." I fought to keep my voice calm. "I defended myself."

  Baxter disentangled himself from the students he'd run into. "He just attacked me for no reason."

  "Liar!" Ambria poked him in the chest. "I saw you trip him."

  "I've had enough." Grace's voice went cold. "Edison, you are to report to detention directly after supper tonight."

  "But Conrad didn't do anything!" Max said. "It was Baxter and Harris!"

  "One more word, Tiberius, and you'll join him." Grace looked at Baxter and shook his head. "Clean yourself up, boy." He spun on his heel and left.

  "I know you did something to Galfandor," Harris hissed. "Try anything else, Edison, and I won't go easy on you."

  Baxter smirked. "Aw, does the poor baby have detention?"

  A feline growl sounded to my left. Ambria lunged forward and punched Baxter square on the nose. He yelped and went down like a sack of potatoes. Ambria stared at her fist as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done, then looked guiltily at me. "He deserved it."

  Harris backed away from her. "You're all insane."

  "You're the insane one," Max shot back. "If you want to fight evil, you're on the wrong side."

  Harris gripped Baxter under the armpits and dragged him to his feet, all the while glaring at Ambria. "Let's see if Professor Grace has room in detention for you."

  Baxter held his nose to staunch the bleeding and shook his head desperately. "No, let's just go."

  Lily smirked and gave a thumbs-up to Ambria. "Don't want to tell the professor a girl put you down, Baxter?"

  "Shut up!" He ran away, tears streaming down his face. Harris scowled at us one more time before rushing off.

  I squeezed through the crowd and reached the head table, but the ministers crowded around Galfandor. I ignored a look from a nearby Blue Cloak and ran over to the stricken headmaster. Minister Grint noticed me trying to get through and nudged Minister Quiff. The pair blocked my path.

  "What peculiar claims you made a moment ago," Quiff said.

  Grint raised an eyebrow. "Yes, what's a ripper wyrm, Edison? What makes you think it's responsible for Galfandor's fainting episode?"

  Their tones set me on the defensive and I instantly regretted shouting about the wyrm. I scrambled to come up with an explanation, but Horace Moon jumped in. "Ripper wyrms are rare demon spawn." He patted me on the shoulder. "Did you see something, lad?"

  I wanted to tell them that I'd read a great deal on demon spawn recently, but couldn't think of a good explanation as to why. They would probably assume I was up to no good and intent on summoning spawn for nefarious purposes. Then again, Moon seemed much friendlier than Grint and Quiff and might support my assertions.

  "Demon spawn?" Quiff sniffed. "Why would a boy know about a rare form of demon spawn unless…" She trailed off and narrowed her eyes. "Victus Edison was a known demon collaborator."

  "Boy, do you intend to follow in your father's footsteps?" Grint took a step closer. "Did you summon a demon spawn?"

  "Impossible," Moon shot back. "A boy his age and skill level couldn't possibly summon spawn. Demonologists study for years before attempting their first summoning."

  I tried to speak again, but the ministers seemed intent on arguing among themselves. I slipped past them and knelt next to Galfandor even as healers prepared to move the carpet bearing him. "Galfandor?"

  His eyelids fluttered, but the headmaster didn't respond.

  I touched his hand. It felt warm and sweaty. I had no doubt he'd soon exhibit the same symptoms as Ansel. I looked up and locked gazes with Pe
rcival who stood behind a wall of security, a helpless expression on his face.

  "Step away, lad." One of the healers gently pushed me back. "Don't you worry. We'll take good care of him."

  I stood and backed away, swallowing hard in a vain attempt to quell the rising desperation and hopelessness draining the warmth from my insides. I couldn't believe this was happening. I closed my eyes and tried to wish it away. Instead, I saw my mother dying in my arms. I heard Della's voice whisper in my mind, Remember.

  I blink bleary eyes. I cannot move my arms or legs or lift my head to look around. A sheet of glass slides away and a face leers down at me. I gasp and strength returns. I'm in a box—a coffin. Victus steps back, ice glinting in his eyes as he takes me in.

  "Who is your master?" he asks.

  Something dark and malevolent rises inside me and consumes my self-control. "You are my master." I hear my voice, but it isn't me speaking. I feel as if my consciousness drowns in a pool of inky pitch.

  "I will suffer no more insubordination, wife." He grips my hand so tightly, knuckles crack. "You are mine. Any fruit you bear is mine to do with as I please."

  "I understand," my body replies, though my soul rages against it. "All I am is yours, master." All I wish is to please him. I will lie for him, fight for him, kill for him. I will even give him our children to do with as he pleases. A voice cries out in opposition, but it fades, darkness drowning the light.

  "You will never find her," the voice whispers before fading away.

  Victus leads me through the chamber, wending his way through more coffins. "The new foundry works even better than the first. I have prepared a surprise for you."

  "Yes, what is it?" My voice seethes with dark excitement.

  He grins. "Something I made to keep up appearances while you were in holding."

  Fingernails bite into the palms of my hands. I clench my fists hard enough to draw blood. The pain invigorates me. I wish to see blood spilled. I am ready to be let loose upon the world.

  Victus steps into a hallway and stops at the first door on the right. He lifts a black iron bar and pulls the door open.

  "Master?" A familiar voice calls from within.

  "Yes, love." He smiles and shivers with delight. "I want you to meet Delectra."

  "She is here?" A figure emerges from the shadows.

  I clap with glee when I see her lovely face. "Oh, she's perfect!" I inspect her closely. There are small differences—a dimple here, a freckle there—but in every other regard, she looks just like me. "Have you made others?"

  "No." He takes the woman's hand. "To craft a perfect replica takes weeks of effort. I can make others who look similar, but this one is virtually identical to you."

  "My very own demon golem." I can hardly believe it. "Does my soul fragment keep the demon flesh intact for longer than a few hours?"

  "She is nearly a month old, love." Victus chuckles. "She is like the real you in every way."

  "Are there others?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. "She is the first of the infernus, but soon there will be many more."

  My infernus looks at me and beams a brilliant smile. Joy sweeps through me, for this is the beginning of the end for all who oppose our master.

  I staggered back, knees weak, and stifled a shout of terror. Infernus? Victus used a demon to clone my mother? I saw Grint and Quiff turn away from Horace Moon. Their eyes locked onto me and I knew they meant to interrogate me more about my wyrm claim. A great weight settled on my chest until I could barely breathe.

  I turned and bumped into—Mom? No, it was Asha. I knocked her back a step and elicited a surprised gasp. Seeing her familiar face only doubled the horror blossoming inside me. There was no question in my mind now why she looked so much like Delectra. She wasn't the perfect clone from my vision, but she was close enough.

  Asha Fellini was not a real person. She was an infernus.

  Chapter 18

  "What's wrong, Conrad?" Asha gripped my hand. "You're white as a sheet."

  "No!" I jerked my hand free. "Not real!" I bolted down the stairs from the platform and sped out of the dining room, tears burning in my eyes.

  "Conrad!" Ambria shouted from behind. "Wait!"

  I didn't want to stop. Didn't want to face the creature Victus created in his infernal labs. I looked back and saw Asha talking with Max and Ambria. Fear and loathing jerked me to a halt. I can't let her near my friends. A lucid thought penetrated the haze of terror fogging my brain. I can't let Asha know that I know she's an infernus. This is why Victus wanted me dead. This is why Garkin tried to kill me. Victus plans to use these demon golems to conquer the Overworld.

  I had to get my friends away from that creature without her knowing why. I took deep calming breaths and tried to maintain a grip on rational thoughts. Asha might be an infernus, but in all the time I'd known her, she hadn't tried to harm me. Victus must have known how deeply it would affect me having a teacher who so closely resembled my mother.

  Asha had certainly thrown me off balance and caused me emotional turmoil all because she looked like Delectra. With the truth revealed, I could finally see past the illusion and know this creature for what she really was—an impostor.

  I gathered my wits and walked back to the others.

  Wide with concern, Asha's eyes looked so real—so human—I could hardly believe she was a copy of my dead mother.

  "Conrad, are you okay?" She reached out to touch me, but seemed to remember my earlier response and lowered her hand.

  "Where were you running?" Max said.

  "I was upset." My thoughts scrambled for a solid excuse. "A wyrm—" I stopped talking, suddenly realizing that if I told Asha about our knowledge of the wyrm, she would tell Victus.

  "Did you actually see one?" Ambria said.

  I changed the subject. "Grint and Quiff kept interrogating me. I wanted to get out of there."

  Asha's nose wrinkled. "I do not like that pair one bit. Minister Quiff asked me all sorts of personal questions about my history and threatened to hold a formal review if I didn't answer her thoroughly."

  "What sorts of questions?" Ambria asked.

  "Where I was from, my parents' names, and so forth." She shrugged. "It was unexpected and bizarre, especially since all of that should be on file in the human resources office."

  Except you don't have a real history. Victus must have created her shortly after his resurrection. Of course, if that was the case, why hadn't she killed me? Asha had the opportunity any number of times. Then again, so had Delectra while disguised as Esma.

  I wondered if perhaps Asha as a clone of Delectra had the same emotional conflicts as my mother. Perhaps she was here to kill me, but maternal instinct had transferred from the soul fragment used by my mother.

  Another loose puzzle piece clicked with the larger picture. Soul fragments—the ripper wyrm. The man with the ripper wyrm was collecting soul fragments for Victus. He planned to create copies of important people and use them to control the Overworld!

  I nearly blurted out my thoughts, but bit my tongue. Asha is a spy.

  "Where are you from?" Ambria asked.

  "I was born and raised in Italy," Asha replied. "My mother was Italian, and my father British." A sad smile lifted the corners of her lips. "They died when I was too young to remember, so I lived in the countryside with my adoptive grandfather."

  Lies. I wondered how deep her false history went. "What is his name?"

  "Stan." Her face flushed. "He's one of my favorite people in the world."

  "Stan doesn't sound Italian," Max noted.

  "Oh, he's British," Asha said.

  "Still alive?" I asked.

  "Yes." Her head tilted. "You sound upset, Conrad. Are you certain you're okay?"

  "I think Minister Quiff is full of hot air." Ambria huffed. "Then again, most adults are." Her eyes flashed wide. "No offense, Professor."

  Asha laughed. "None taken, because I happen to agree with you."

  "Thank goodness."
Max breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment, I thought Ambria made us fail your course."

  "No, you'll have to pass or fail on your own merits, Mr. Tiberius." A smile lingered on Asha's lips. "Oh, how I miss Granddad Stan. I really should visit him soon."

  I wondered if Victus implanted her with memories, or if Asha had simply rehearsed her lines over and over again. I wanted so badly to challenge her but didn't want to arouse her suspicions either, so I held my tongue and let the others talk.

  "You certainly should," Ambria said. "I have no family, well"—she flashed a grin—"except for these two bumblers."

  "You're one to talk." Max snorted. "My family is awful, and I prefer to avoid them whenever possible." He sighed. "My grandparents were just as bad as my parents."

  Asha's smile faded. "None of you were blessed with good family, and for that, I am truly sorry." Her gaze lingered on me. "But sometimes, the family we make in life is every bit as good."

  How can she sound so nice? I wanted to hate this demon clone, but a part of me wished more than anything that she was a real person—someone genuine instead of evil hiding behind an illusion. If Delectra changed, why can't Asha? Another realization hit me. She might be a demon clone, but she's made from a fragment of my mother. I allowed hope to penetrate the wall of anger. Maybe I could turn this infernus into my ally and preserve a small portion of the woman Victus had so callously murdered.

  Determination swelled the hope, and my anger crumbled. I would turn Victus's own creation against him. Asha would become my ally. But I had to take it slow. The memories Della implanted in my mind had revealed a great deal about Victus's plans. I couldn't reveal to Asha what I knew until I felt certain she was on my side.

  For now, everything had to remain between true friends.

  "We should really get going," I said. "Class starts soon."

  Ambria's forehead wrinkled, but she picked up on my hint and sighed. "Yes, I suppose we must."

  Max, however, didn't get a clue. "Ugh, really? Galfandor is in a coma, I'm in emotional shock, and you want to go to class?"

  "Yes, Max, we have to." Ambria elbowed him in the ribs.

  Max grunted and blinked as he caught our mood. "Okay, then."