by Amy Hopkins
"How do I kill it?" Penny called to her teacher.
"What? Don't kill her! I still haven't fixed my gnome."
"Asshole," Penny muttered. Her back pressed against a row of rope weapons hanging on the wall behind her. "So, how am I meant to stop it?" she yelled, hoping against all odds that her teacher would divulge some actually useful information.
"However you want.” The padded monstrosity that was the professor shrugged. "Just don't damage her, please."
Annie lurched closer, dragging the broken leg behind her. "What, don't you want to play with me?"
"I was more a Pokémon kind of kid," Penny explained.
The red embers glowing in Annie’s eyes flared. "You're saying you don't like dolls?" Her voice dripped with fury.
With a movement too fast to see, Annie lifted her arm and flicked the knife forward. Reacting purely on instinct, Penny dove to one side. A sting in her ear told her how close she had been to losing an eye. "I wouldn't like to be paying the insurance for this place," she mumbled.
Now weaponless, Annie began using her hands to drag herself along the floor faster.
At least she can't reach the knife, Penny consoled herself as she continued edging away.
The doll stopped. She lifted her head, violent red eyes meeting Penny’s. "I don't like people who don't like dolls."
She pounced, wooden body shooting through the air like a bullet. Penny ducked, but not fast enough. The doll connected with the top of her head, a chunk of hair ripping from her scalp as Annie grabbed it to halt her momentum.
Penny screamed; the thought of the creepy little doll touching her was almost scarier than the prospect of death. All such notions were quickly abandoned, however, when a sharp pain bit into her shoulder. Penny shrieked.
She scrambled with her hands, trying to pull the vicious little monster off her neck. Annie had a good grip on Penny’s flesh with her teeth and a handful of hair. Unable to maneuver the sword in a way that didn't risk her own neck, Penny punched the doll with her fist. The knuckle-dusters crunched against Annie’s skull. Over and over again, screaming in pain, Penny hammered the doll to a crumpled mess.
Finally, she let go. The doll slipped to the floor.
Penny stomped on it with her heel. "Take that, you creepy little shit." Tears dripped down her face, and blood tickled as it ran down her arm and back.
Finally, Penny's adrenaline began to ebb. She stepped back, examining the crushed pile of debris that had been the horror movie doll. Her eyes lifted to the professor.
Professor Jones leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and posture relaxed. I just beat the shit out of his doll, Penny thought. A sick pit of worry grew in her gut. He should be furious, not relaxed.
Confirming her fears, the pile of splintered wood and torn fabric quivered.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
Now seriously injured, Penny wondered if she had any chance of winning this fight. Her eyes fell on the duffel bag. Without knowing Annie’s specific weakness, Penny had no doubt that any injury she inflicted upon her wouldn’t have a permanent effect.
“Come plaaay.” The creepy whine sent a shudder up Penny’s spine as the doll reassembled itself, this time without the broken leg.
“Wow. Guess I really fucked that up!” Penny darted away as the doll came for her, then blocked an attack with her boot, thrusting Annie away with a solidly planted kick.
The doll stumbled, rolled, then came to a kneeling position beside the open chest. Though small, the glowing red eyes that peeked out from beneath patchy, synthetic hair were utterly terrifying.
“Talk about a Pandora’s Box,” Penny noted. “Wait… Oh!”
Without giving her brain time to dismiss the incredibly stupid idea it had plucked from the sky, Penny wiggled her fingers. “Sure, devil spawn. I’ll play with you.”
Annie grinned, although it looked more like a snarl to Penny. The doll scrambled forward on hands and feet, and Penny waited until she was little more than arm’s reach before ducking sideways.
“Can’t catch me!” she cried. Fear tightened her voice, spoiling the sing-song effect she’d been going for, but it didn’t matter.
Annie rounded on her with a growl as Penny backed up slowly, unwilling to take her eyes off the tiny monster for a moment. Her calf throbbed and each small movement pulled at her shoulder where the blood had begun to thicken, sticking her shirt to her skin.
“I love playing catch. Catch n’ kill!” Annie jumped and landed a few feet in front of her.
“You know who else loves to play?” she asked. “That guy.” She pointed at the professor. “You probably don’t want to play with him, though. He thinks you’re kinda ugly, and no fun at all.”
Annie’s head turned slowly, eyes rigid, until she faced backward. Penny swallowed hard. That’s some exorcist-level shit right there.
Professor Jones held up both hands. “Woah, now. I never said that. I love you, Annie! You’re the best in my collection!”
It was the wrong thing to say. “Collection?” The doll asked, the words low and menacing.
Jones didn’t back down, pleading his case as he backed toward the locked door. “Yeah. Sure. I’ve got heaps of little trinkets like you. Nothing this scary, though.”
“Collection?” Annie repeated.
She moved so fast Penny couldn’t follow the blurred streak that shot across the room. Jones screamed and staggered back as the small beast pounded into the padded armor. Annie howled with maniacal laughter, then plunged the knife into Jones’s chest, ripping through nylon and scattering white fluff on the floor.
Shit, how’d she get the knife back? Penny didn’t have time to figure it out. On light feet, she bolted across the room, reaching the two just as Annie turned to see Penny’s outstretched fingers reach for her throat.
Penny grabbed the doll by the scruff. The knife plunged into her hand, and she cursed but didn’t let go. “Get. In. That. Box!”
Blood trailed on the floor as she dragged the doll to the center of the room, fighting Annie’s frantic attempts to shake her off. Though she was small enough to hold aloft, she pushed against Penny as though her feet were secure on the floor. Twice, Penny had to use her second hand to stop the doll escaping, quickly snatching it back before she lost a finger to Annie’s furiously gnashing—although painted—teeth.
Penny shoved the doll toward the box. Annie threw her arms out, grabbing the corner to stop Penny jamming her all the way in.
“Die, bitch!” Annie hissed.
“Annie, that’s no way to speak to a lady,” Penny grunted. She pried the wooden fingers away, then realized the knife jutting from her hand had pinned her to the doll. “Balls! You’re a persistent little psychopath, aren’t you?”
She flicked the doll off and slammed the lid shut, then jerked the knife out of her hand with a yell of pain.
Panting, she sat on the box, feeling it tremble beneath her as Annie tried to beat her way out. “Professor? You might wanna lock it.”
Jones looked up, pulling a pale hand away from his chest. Some of the filler in the padded chest was tinged with red.
Yikes. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt. Penny glanced down at the smeared blood on the floor where she’d struggled to dislodge the doll and rolled a stinging shoulder. Then again…
Jones shuffled over and clipped a padlock onto the box with one hand, the other still clutched to his wound. The kerfuffle inside stilled immediately, and Penny wondered what magic the lock held.
She was too tired to ask, though.
“That’s...that’s over now, at least.” Jones didn’t look her in the eye. He hobbled over to a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a black staff wound around with silver rope.
He propped it on the wall, then struggled to take his shirt off, discarding the armor to reveal a shallow scratch down his sternum.
Penny resisted the urge to ask how it had even bled enough to stain the flocking on the padded vest. Jones touched the staff to the w
ound. When he turned back, his skin was unmarked.
He threw the staff to Penny, who caught it with a pained gasp.
“You’ll lose points for endangering a teacher,” Jones snapped.
“How could I possibly endanger the defense instructor?” Penny asked coldly. “Especially with a tiny doll. I mean, if the doll was dangerous, then setting it on a first-year student might be considered reckless, no?”
She bit her lip, hard, to suppress the rest of what she wanted to say. Especially for a professor whose job is already under threat for endangering students.
Jones muttered something under his breath. Then, louder, he told her to use the staff and head to the dining room when she was done.
He left, slamming the door behind him and leaving the box of psychotic doll with Penny.
She eyed the chest. “Go fuck a dingo, Jones.” She eyed the staff, realizing the “rope” wound around the main body of the staff was actually a snake. Its head rested on the top, eyes glinting with silver wisdom. “The Asclepius staff!” She remembered her discussion with Cisco and touched the snakehead to her hand.
Muscle writhed and skin pulled, knitting back together to repair the damage Annie had inflicted. Goosebumps ran up Penny’s arm as the wound healed, leaving no trace of injury beneath the already-drying river of blood that ran to her elbow.
“Pity it doesn’t fix clothes, too,” Penny muttered as she inspected the damage to her leg. Frayed threads of denim had matted with the sticky blood that still oozed as she prodded it. “Ugh. Wouldn’t want to get that stuck in there.”
Unwilling to bank on the staff removing the foreign material from her wound as it healed, Penny looked around for a sharp blade, chuckling as she realized she was surrounded by them. She selected a short, utilitarian dagger with a paper-thin edge, using it to slice off the leg of her pants at the knee.
Once the wound was exposed, Penny picked out the threads she could see. Then, she healed it. Like her hand, the process made her skin contort and ripple, though it was less startling the second time.
Penny touched the staff to several smaller wounds on her legs and torso, healing bruises and scrapes she had endured during the fight. She left her shoulder until last, unsure how well she could heal a wound she couldn’t see.
Just as Penny was wiping away the dry blood to inspect the now-healed flesh, the training room door flew open.
“Penny! I’m going to kill Jones. Sadistic bastard.” Amelia looked half ready to run to Penny, and half eager to go and punch the defense professor in the teeth.
Penny snorted. “Yeah, he’s a real knob. Before you go kick him in the ‘nads, though, can you help me take my shirt off?”
Amelia hurried over and helped Penny peel off her ruined shirt and tend to her shoulder wound. The staff did its trick, and once the last painful wound was healed, Penny sagged with relief.
“That feels amazing.” Tired, drained, and filthy, Penny still felt like a million dollars. “I’d forgotten what it feels like to not be in pain.”
“He deserves to lose his job,” Amelia snapped. “Crazy son of a bitch.”
“Has Cisco had his yet?” Penny asked. “And how’d you get through it, anyway? I thought I was going to die! Or at least fail the class after I smashed that little fucker to pieces.”
Amelia winced. “Cisco was the first up. He checked on me after I did mine. I guess you didn’t pick the flamethrower?”
Penny shook her head. “Nope. But I can see why that makes sense.” Her brain tripped over the long list of beings sensitive to fire. “Damn, I’m such an idiot!”
“Nah, if you beat that creepy little monster without it, you’re a damn genius.” Amelia helped Penny to her feet. “Lunch?”
Penny’s stomach answered before she did, growling loudly. “Wow, I’m starving!”
“It’s the staff,” Amelia explained. “One of the side effects from healing.”
The door handle rattled and twisted. Penny gritted her teeth, expecting Jones, but it was Cisco who stuck his head in. “Penny! Did you— Uhh. I’ll just...wait outside.”
He vanished, leaving Penny bewildered. “What’s his problem?”
“I dunno.” Amelia cupped her hands around her mouth. “CISCO! What’s your problem?”
He crept back in, one hand firmly over his eyes. “Just...you know. Penny’s not wearing a shirt.”
Penny gasped and looked down at her bare, blood-smeared midriff. “Oh.” She folded her arms over her chest, grateful she’d worn a sports bra under her shirt but painfully regretting her choice to wear a white one that particular day. “Well, shit.”
Cisco turned his back and wriggled out of his black t-shirt. He passed it over his shoulder. “Here. That’ll get you back to your room, at least.”
Blushing madly, Penny pulled Cisco’s shirt over her head, trying not to inhale the scent of his deodorant too deeply, just as she tried to ignore the rippling muscles down his back.
That is to say, she tried.
Unsuccessfully.
The sudden rush of blood to her cheeks almost made her swoon. Hunger had set in deeply now, along with loss of blood and the draining of adrenaline. Her head swam, her stomach cramped, and her body felt light as a feather.
“You good there, Penn?” Amelia asked quietly.
“Hungry,” Penny groaned. “Falling-down hungry.”
“Of course, you are,” Cisco said. “How many times did Jones have to use the staff on you?”
“Jones?” Amelia snapped. “Jones ran off like a pussy. When I got here, Penny was healing her own damn wounds.”
Cisco sucked in a breath. “Did he explain the risks?”
Penny shook her head vacantly. “I just used it...a couple of times. Like, two or three. Or maybe four? Yeah. Four chickens sound good. Roast ones, with lots of gravy.”
“You get the food, I’ll get her to lie down,” Amelia said in a clipped voice. “Make it a big meal. Then we go to the dean.”
Once her stomach was swollen with food and she’d washed off the blood, Penny began to feel human again. She sat on her bed, blanket pulled to her chin, Boots snuggled in her lap. The serpent had fussed and flitted until Amelia had told her off, instructing Boots to “sit down and stop making a fuss.”
Chagrined, Boots had obeyed. She seemed much happier now that Penny was coherent again.
“Do you feel up to seeing the dean now, hon?” Amelia asked, putting a hand on Penny’s knee.
Penny bit her lip. She wasn’t one to complain, and she didn’t really know if Jones had broken any rules—after all, the Academy existed to teach the students to deal with supernatural threats. Some degree of danger had to be expected, right? But Amelia’s explanation that incorrect use of the Asclepius staff could lead to death had set her temper afire.
“No need.” Cisco licked his fingers, salty from the packet of potato chips he’d polished off once Penny finally proclaimed she was full. “I ran into Mom in the dining hall. She guessed something was up, so I told her everything. Don’t be surprised if the dean’s already—“
There was a knock at the dorm door.
“Come in,” Penny called warily.
The door opened and the dean stepped in, her heeled boots clicking on the floorboards. She wore a vibrant red suit that matched her glasses, a look that made her seem young despite the platinum hair knotted in a neat bun and deep wrinkles lining her face.
“Penny, dear. I hear you had a little trouble in the Defense exam?” Dean March’s eyes swept the room, landing on Cisco, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She stared at him for a minute, then turned away, ignoring his presence. Boys were not allowed in the girls' dorm, after all.
“I...got a little hurt. And the staff… Well, I didn’t know it—“
Dean March raised a hand. “Perhaps this will be best done alone. Thank you, Amelia and Cisco.”
At the clear dismissal, both students scurried out of the room and shut the door behind them.
Sudde
nly alone, Penny bristled. Was the dean here to help her or chastise her?
“Tell me everything.”
Boots raised her head to examine the dean, undulating her body in a mesmerizing pattern. To Penny’s surprise, the serpent leaned forward and butted her head against the woman’s cheek, a sign of affection usually reserved for Penny and her closest friends.
The gesture gave Penny the confidence she’d lacked moments earlier, and she listed the events of the testing from start to finish.
The dean listened, nodding occasionally, only a soft intake of breath denoting her surprise when Penny detailed her wounds. Her mouth hardened when she learned Professor Jones had abandoned a wounded Penny when the ordeal was over.
She didn’t pass judgment, only nodded when Penny was done. “We will have to speak to Professor Jones.” Penny bit her lip, wondering if, when it came down to it, her word would be trusted over Jones’s—or if his track record would be enough to indict him.
“And we will check the security cameras, of course.” A hint of a smile touched Dean March’s lips. “They’re in every classroom. Dreadfully expensive to retrofit a building this old, but perhaps worth it in the end.”
She picked up Boots, who had slithered halfway into her lap, and set her on the bed. “Look after Penny, will you?” The dean looked Boots in the eye as she spoke, sounding as if she thoroughly expected the snake to understand every word.
Of course, as far as Penny knew, she did. “Thank you, Dean March.”
“Take care, dear. And good luck on the rest of the exams.” Dean March closed the door gently behind her as she left, leaving Penny to contemplate the exchange.
The dean was often seen, but only glimpses. Walking by a classroom or appearing in the dining hall to address Cook, or occasionally seen from a distance, walking the grounds. She rarely engaged with the students directly, but somehow…
Somehow, Penny had the impression she cared about every single one of them.
Chapter Thirteen