by Amy Hopkins
Professor Quaid’s introduction, though, snapped her back to attention.
“Most of you here know Agent Crenel personally,” March was saying. “Well, this is the man who taught him.”
The grizzled agent-turned-professor scowled, crossing his arms as he endured the curious looks of the fifty students. He stood, jerked a nod at them, then sat down with the same irritation his former protégé had shown earlier.
March informed the students that one of the new professors was absent. Professor Blaisey would arrive in time for his first class on Friday.
“You will note that Professor Blaisey shares his last name with the Academy itself.” Dean March gave a small smile. “He is, in fact, the financial backer of this fine institution. I hope you will give him all the respect that deserves, despite his…unorthodox teaching methods.”
March quickly introduced Professor McClure, a ridiculously handsome psychology professor and Professor Smith, the media studies teacher. Once done, she sat and gestured for the students to talk among themselves.
“Wow. So many people,” Penny said. She glanced over the hubbub to see the doors crack open as Amelia slipped through.
Her friend hurried over to their table, where Penny had saved her a seat. “I guess the mid-year intake was a success,” Amelia said. She craned her neck to look at the head table. “Wow. Who’s the hottie? Please tell me I’ve got him for a class.”
Red sighed. “Are you telling me I have to be jealous of the bloody psychology professor now? It was bad enough when you spent three weeks yabbering about how cute that magic party guy was.”
“God,” Amelia corrected him. “Bacchus wasn’t a guy, he was a god. And a really hot one, too.” She leaned over to peck Red on the cheek. “None of them can hold a candle to you, my dear, but I have to have something nice to look at when you’re not around.”
Red grumbled good-naturally, then looked up with glee when a platter of hot meat appeared at the table, courtesy of Cook.
The old woman had a suspiciously warm glow to her face. “You’ll like today’s dinner,” she said with a wink. “I had a bit of help with it, you see.” She gestured to a man carrying past a tray of drinks, headed toward the head table.
“Oh, strike me down. It’s him, isn’t it?” Red groaned and sank into his seat.
It certainly looks like Bacchus, Penny realized. But what the hell is he doing here?
“How in the world did you wrangle a god to help you in the kitchen?” Cisco asked.
Cook giggled. “Not me, love. Dean March organized it, something about an alliance of some sort. I wasn’t really listening, to be honest.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I was too busy watching him. He’s very handsome, he is!” She urged the students to “eat up so you don’t all waste away,” then left to continue serving food.
“I really hate that guy,” Red muttered.
Amelia nudged him. “Don’t be ridiculous. He was very polite when we met him. He hasn’t done anything to you!”
Red threw his hands up in defeat. “Aye, I’ll just go and make best friends with the handsome god my girlfriend is drooling over. Why not?”
He shoved himself up from the table and, ignoring Amelia’s hissed protests, strode over to intercept Bacchus on his way back to the kitchen.
The god—he really is handsome, Penny thought—listened to Red and nodded sagely.
When Red returned, it was with his new friend in tow. “There you go,” Red said with a smirk. “Bacchus himself. Scoot over, Penny, and I’ll grab him a chair.”
Penny did so with an internal groan. She still hadn’t quite forgiven Bacchus for promising them all the secrets of the Mythers, then making them promptly forget everything he had revealed.
“Greetings, old friends.” Bacchus smiled and took the chair Red offered him. “It is good to see you again.” He drew a plate out of nowhere and began to pile on food. A quick hand wave, and he had a glass of deep-red wine.
“One for us?” Amelia asked.
Bacchus laughed. “Apologies, Amelia. Your representative instructed me that only the higher ranks of your organization may imbibe tonight.” He gestured to the head table and the professors.
Curiosity burned away Penny’s frustration with him. “Maybe next time.” She motioned to the platter of meat. “I hear you’re to thank for the food?”
Bacchus shook his head. “Your chef is a delightfully talented woman. I merely assisted in tonight’s preparations.”
“And why is that?” Penny asked. She casually slid some beef onto her plate and drizzled it with gravy but didn’t eat any.
“Politics,” Bacchus said, watching her. “My people are aware of what Jessica March is attempting here. We thought it best if we showed we are with her, not against her.”
“And what exactly is she attempting?” Cisco asked, stuffing a hot roll in his mouth before he’d quite finished speaking.
“Why, assembling an army, of course!” Bacchus chuckled. “An army of young, virile warriors, trained to protect the populace from the demons summoned forth from the Veil.”
“And you want to…what, help?” Penny couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice. “Weren’t you summoned forth from the Veil?”
“I want to ensure the demons are not confused with the benevolent gods.” He placed his hand on hers and looked deep into Penny’s eyes. “Many of my kind have come here simply by chance. All we wish is for the right to exist. We mean no harm, and we have caused no hurt.” His grip tightened. “Others? Their motives are far more nefarious.”
He released Penny’s hand and ran his eyes over Amelia, Cisco, and Red. “We hope for an alliance that will benefit both your people and mine. Tonight is the beginning of such a relationship. Let us drink to the occasion.”
Penny glanced at her empty cup, meaning to remind him that they weren’t able to drink. To her surprise, it was filled with cloudy amber liquid.
“Fermented ginger. I may not agree with your laws about alcohol, but I abide by them. This is legal even for the youngest among you,” Bacchus explained. He leaned down so his lips were by her ear. “You may eat and drink, child. Nothing that happens tonight will be lost in your memory.”
Penny took a wary sip of the ginger drink. It fizzed gently, the hot tang warming her tongue. “It’s nice,” she said. “Really nice.”
“Surely, you expected no less?” Bacchus grinned and stood. “Alas, I must return to my duties. There is a poor child over there feeling quite lonely and homesick. As the god of festivities, I cannot let that stand.” He bowed deeply and sauntered away.
Penny watched him go. “He’s crazy,” she said. “But I want to know more about this alliance.”
“I wish I could do that.” Amelia pouted at her cup, already empty. She waved her hand over it, using the same gesture the god had. Nothing happened.
“Have mine.” Red pushed his glass to her. “I’ve had enough ginger jokes in my life to turn me off the stuff for good. That, and carrots.” He shuddered in disgust.
“Cisco, do you think your Mom can shed any light on Bacchus’s plans?” Penny waited for him to swallow the mouthful of food he was chewing.
He shrugged. “Probably not. This new deal with the feds means half of what she knows is classified.”
“What about the other half?” Amelia asked.
He grimaced. “It’s class stuff, which means it’s boring.”
Chapter Two
“Ready?” Professor Glass waited for Penny and Mara to drop into defensive stances before quickly walking over. “No! Mara, that stance is terrible. Put your feet like this.” He kicked Mara’s feet into the correct position with an awkward movement.
Penny quickly checked her own feet, relieved to see they matched her opponent’s.
“Begin!” Glass stepped back to watch the two students spar, his arms folded across his chest.
Mara adjusted her weight and Penny took a quick step back, raising her arms to a blocking position.
When Mara’s shoulders twisted, Penny ducked under the fist that followed.
Penny stepped to the side and jabbed a quick punch at Mara’s ribs, thrusting from her hip. Her opponent was slower, but Mara took the blow without flinching.
Penny waited for Mara to move again. She caught the snap kick, throwing Mara’s foot back to tip her off balance. A moment later, Mara was on the floor, flat on her back.
“You’re not fast, but damn, you can take a punch.” Penny leaned in, one hand outstretched to help her opponent up.
Mara smirked, and instead of taking her hand, she shoved a foot at Penny’s hip.
Penny curled over to take the blow, but Mara’s foot hooked her ankle, and suddenly, Penny was the one on the floor with Mara standing over her.
“Cheap shot,” Penny grumbled. She rolled to dodge a sharp heel-kick to the head and scrambled back across the floor, putting a distance of several feet between them.
Mara crouched low, grinning. “No, you let your guard down. Who has the upper hand now?”
“Fair point.” Penny twisted away from Mara’s charge, coming to her feet before she flipped the other girl onto her back.
Penny used her leg to pin the other girl down. “Won’t let it happen again.” She grabbed an arm and yanked it around.
“Ahh!” Mara withstood the twisted arm with grace for about three seconds. Then, she slapped the floor. “Okay, okay! I give up!”
Glass limped over, looking down at the defeated student. “You’re both too damn cocky. Penny should have had that round in the first few moves. Mara, you had her at a disadvantage, and you still lost. You both let your confidence get the better of you.”
He waited for Mara to stand and brush herself off before turning back to the rest of the watching class. “The moment you think you have won is the moment you are most likely to lose. It’s when you take your eyes off your opponent, when you relax and let your guard down.” He turned back to Mara. “It’s when your focus turns to celebrating your win instead of securing it.”
“It’s just a class,” Mara muttered. “Lighten up, Prof.”
Glass stepped up to her, his body inches away. He slowly raised his hand, holding it palm-out. The hand snapped back and punched forward, stopping just short of Mara’s face.
Her eyes widened.
“The creatures we are dealing with are ruthless. Do you think they won’t target you here? Or do you realize that training to destroy them might make you a target?” Glass shook his head. “You’re an idiot if you think this place is impenetrable. The defenses of the Academy are pathetic. A bunch of old teachers, washed up agents, and some untrained students. And our enemy? They’re not as stupid as you are.”
Ignoring the disgruntled protests of his students, Glass called up the next duo for sparring. “Cisco. Clive. You’re up.”
Penny stepped away from the foam mat, her attention on Glass’s words. Enemy? Not all the Mythers are malicious.
She reassured herself that it was just—could only be—a figure of speech. Dean March had been adamant that part of the duties of the Academy was to foster understanding between humans and Mythers. Otherwise, why would Bacchus be here?
Clive and Cisco sprang into action at the professor’s call. Where Mara and Penny had waited, assessing each other’s moves, the two boys sparred ruthlessly without pause.
Clive threw a punch, Cisco ducked and struck out with a foot. Clive spun away to dodge and backhanded Cisco in the kidneys.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Red groaned.
Penny winced in sympathy as Cisco’s fist shot toward Clive’s stomach. Clive doubled over but Cisco hobbled back, sucking in a pained breath.
“Stop!” Glass yelled. “Have you listened to a damn thing I’ve said? You back off like that, and your enemy will rip you to pieces before you can blink.” He gestured for the boys to leave the mat. “Class dismissed. I’ll come up with something for you to do next lesson that won’t involve pissing about like a bunch of women.”
Amelia snorted, and Penny raised an eyebrow. Rather than respond, Glass turned his back and walked out.
“Bunch of women?” Amelia seethed. “I could kick his ass in a hot minute.”
“Well, yeah.” Penny went to get her bag beside the door. “I mean, he’s only got one leg. It can’t be that hard.”
“Are you kidding?” Cisco grabbed the backpack and tossed it to her. “That thing is made of cast iron. One good hit and you’d be out cold.”
“How do you even know that?” Penny demanded. In retrospect, it was believable. Glass’s limp made him move less smoothly than a prosthetic would account for, like he was lugging a heavy weight with his missing leg.
For a man who otherwise moved with eerie grace, it had made Penny wonder.
Cisco smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Penny smiled sweetly. “Cisco, mate. This is the second time I’ve had to bail you out mid-class due to a lack of stationery. Next time, I’ll give you a very special notebook, one with a great big dick drawn on the cover.”
Cisco’s jaw dropped, and he stared for a moment, stunned. Then, realizing he was on the losing side, he groaned. “Okay! Fine. I would have told you eventually. He’s got three of the damn things. March had to lug the case upstairs for him.”
“He made Dean March carry his bags?” Penny’s hand covered her mouth. The dean was kind and cared deeply for her students, but she also held strictly to the rules of decorum. Crossing her was unheard of.
Cisco nodded. “Mom saw the whole thing. A real dick, right?”
“Aye, Glass is a big, floppy, dangling dick of epic proportions. One that’s impressive for its size and its uselessness.” Red finished speaking the barest moment after the training room door swung open and Glass stepped back inside.
The Irishman’s eyes grew wide with fear.
“Mister O’Donaghue, despite your apparently exhaustive familiarity with a wide range of penile presentations, I trust you will keep your opinion to yourself from now on.” Glass’s voice was like his name—hard and brittle.
The professor walked over to the small corner desk, iron leg thumping loudly on the floorboards, and snatched up a stack of papers before turning back to address the class. “You don’t need to like me. After all, I don’t like any of you. I am, however, going to teach you not to die. And you’re going to learn it whether you like dick or not.”
He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“I’m so dead,” Red whispered, his face gray. “So, so dead.”
Penny clapped him on the arm. “All good, mate. You took one for the team. When you die, we’ll make sure we fill your coffin with whiskey.”
Cisco’s face lit up. “Speaking of whiskey, we’ve got the afternoon off. You wanna hit a bar or something?”
Amelia clicked her tongue. “You might have the afternoon off, but I don’t. I’ve got Psych at midday.”
Cisco turned to Red, who shrugged. “I have Research Methodology at three.”
Penny winced when Cisco turned desperate eyes on her. “Sorry, Cisco. I managed to line up a job interview for this afternoon.”
“What?” Amelia grabbed her arm. “You only got back twenty-four hours ago. How the hell did you manage that?”
Penny laughed. “I was in Australia, not the Middle Ages. I applied online and told them when I’d be back for an interview.”
“Oh.” Seemingly disappointed there wasn’t some strange, magical explanation, Amelia let her hand fall away. “Well, I have to go and feed my hungry face before class.”
“I’ll come with you,” Red quickly said.
Cisco raised his hand and went to say something, but Red looked over his shoulder and shook his head, drawing a hand across his throat.
“Oh.” Cisco sighed. “Guess they want to be alone.”
“As long as they wash the towels after,” Penny shrugged.
“Dining hall?” Cisco held the classroom door open for Penny.<
br />
She checked her watch and shook her head. “I really have to go. Maybe after? We can celebrate the success of my amazing charm and impeccable credentials have brought me in landing a job.”
Cisco grinned. “You’re on!”
Chapter Three
Penny arched to stretch her aching back. The thin plastic chair in the waiting room had been bad enough, but the equally cheap metal version she was sitting on now was, if possible, even harder and more uncomfortable.
“Miss Hingston, what specific skill set do you believe you can offer Good White’s on a long term basis if you begin your career here?” Gervais, the greasy-haired manager, stared at Penny’s resume with dead eyes, his voice flat and emotionless.
“Uhh…” Penny’s mind raced. The advertised job had been for a delivery dock laborer. What the hell kind of experience did one need to shove boxed washing machines around a department store? “I’m fast, reliable, and hardworking.”
“You say you’re reliable, Miss Hingston, but my records show your application history here. You refused the first interview and requested a later date. Does that sound reliable to you?”
“I was out of the country when I applied.” Penny frowned. She knew she’d written that on the request for rescheduling. “I only got back yesterday.”
“Out of the country. Hmmm.” Gervais stared at the resume again, his eyes fixed on a spot in the middle. “You couldn’t have simply returned early? This is a big store, Miss Hingston, and we have schedules to maintain. We can’t drop everything to cater to the whim of one employee.”
“The ticket cost over a grand,” Penny said. He wasn’t serious. Was he? “They didn’t allow for reschedules, and besides, it’s a seventeen-hour flight. I only had fourteen hours' notice for the first interview.”
“Hmmm.” Gervais’s face showed his disapproval. “Taking an earlier flight would have been an excellent sign of reliability and flexibility. Those are what make a good employee.”
“That wasn’t physically possible,” Penny insisted. “An earlier flight still would have gotten me here late for the interview. I said in my application that I wasn’t back until—"