The Rise of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  I stiltedly walked down the hall.

  “Ren—”

  “I know,” I said tiredly, without looking back. Sleep, I got it. I stared at Bellacia's door. It was mandatory curfew. I had to spend twelve hours with her anyway. Hesitation was dumb. And painful.

  Magic yanked.

  But...a night in the room would cement some sort of roommate bond. One that I didn't want.

  No. I was looking at this stupidly. Emotionally. This was not giving in. This was a strategic move that would lead me back to Olivia. I needed the recharge. To untwist my horrific magic. I needed to do nothing more than relax for twelve hours and rejuvenate. Get back on track so that when Marsgrove came back with Olivia, we would be ready to go. To resume Olivia's plans for world takeover. To continue my experiments. To get back to having a great time at school.

  I opened the door. I heard Dare finally stepping inside his room—having watched me the entire time.

  Magic zipped over me as I stepped inside—recognizing me and welcoming me back. There was a less organic feel here than in my room with Olivia, but still powerful. Likely to do with whatever Bellacia had done to secure me as her roommate.

  “Had an interesting night?” her lilting voice came from the left.

  Bellacia was in her work room. The door was open, so I stepped forward and looked inside, curiosity being one of my fatal flaws.

  Her work room was half a movie den—with deep, leather chairs and a number of viewing devices—and half a communications studio. Devices and enchantments of all sorts were issuing news releases in multiple ways, information was streaming along the walls and through the air, and banners were swirling around her, waiting to be plucked forth and examined.

  In the midst of the barrage, Bellacia was stretched out in a leather recliner in casual night clothes of green and gray, and she was holding a fully colored and textured hologram—rotating it in the air and carefully manipulating the edges, poking around the corners, trying to uncover secrets only she could see. It looked like a miniaturized room rotating above her palm.

  “Welcome back. Have a nice midnight adventure?” Bellacia asked lightly, eyes focused on the image.

  “Down to Medical? It was a blast.”

  She laughed. It was patronizing and sweet and I hated it. “Whatever you say, dear.”

  I had no idea what Camille Straught might have told Bellacia about tonight’s activities. With Dare involved, I couldn't believe that it was too much. Camille Straught seemed pretty loyal to their group, but she was a magicist whose nouveau family was working its way up the ranks of the Old Guard.

  Bellacia's hand flicked and the news streams surrounding her parted for a three foot span—skipping over the space she'd opened in the air, so that no visual magic lay between us.

  She touched the image she held, nudging it casually—just so—so that it turned to the side to be easily viewed by both of us. Then she flicked her fingers and it bloomed fully on the opposite wall—a 3D full size vision. My eyes focused, and my breath stuttered.

  General Telgent, the leader of the Peacekeepers' Troop was seated in a chair at the center of the image, cuffs binding his wrists to metal armrests. I clenched my fingers into fists. There had been evidence to suggest that he might have been involved—the interaction I had observed with “Emrys” had possessed me to tell Isaiah and the others to be wary of him.

  Telgent's fingers twitched and flexed.

  I took a step closer automatically. It was not a static image. It was an animated feed.

  “What is this?” I demanded.

  “Telgent's third interrogation.” The hooded, amused way Bellacia sent my way was telling. “Recorded after the events, while we were all settling in back here.”

  “Where is this place?” I couldn't help taking another step closer.

  Bellacia shrugged lightly. “That is the secondary question, isn't it? I've already been through both of his interrogations that took place here on campus.”

  That admission was more than mildly concerning—that she had been able to access recordings or memories of what had surely been secured information.

  Bellacia's gaze was serene. And it said—I can get anything.

  I pressed my lips together and looked back at the image.

  Telgent looked like he had been dragged through hell and hadn't made it back in one piece. I couldn't be too unhappy about that fact. I hoped Marsgrove had given him a good work over.

  Telgent looked up as five mages appeared. His eyes skittered over Stavros and latched onto one of the women. “I have nothing further to say. I've said it all. I was blackmailed and I went along with it and allowed the terrorists access to Excelsine. I am guilty of that. I am not part of their organization, though, and you know it.”

  “Do you think that will matter to anyone? Twenty-six students and three staff are permanently dead. One of our most secure facilities breached. People want your blood. It is up to us how much we allow them to shed.” She smiled. It was creepy. “Tell us what we want to know.”

  “They still have my family. You are crazy if you think I'm going to do anything to jeopardize that. My silence earns their survival.”

  She hummed a little as she tinkered with a small machine near him. “Of course.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked, obviously unnerved by her nonchalance and steady actions setting up the odd machine. “What is that?”

  “Nothing to worry about, General Telgent. Nothing for you to worry about at all.”

  The feed went dark.

  I stared at the wall. “What happened after?” I asked, unnerved.

  Bellacia didn't answer. The twist of her mouth said she didn't know, though.

  “Where did you get the recording?”

  Bellacia shrugged. “Where does any good journalist get her sources and material from?” She smiled.

  Telgent's family was being held hostage—that fact focused my rage elsewhere. “What was the machine?” They expected Telgent to answer the questions even though he had no intention to do so—that didn't indicate anything good.

  “That's the primary question, isn't it?” Bellacia rubbed her lower lip, looking at the feed. “You've never seen it?”

  “No. But that's hardly surprising.”

  It wasn't like I had to conceal the fact that I was feral anymore. Origin Mage, yes. Feral, no. That secret had flown the coop and was never returning.

  “Mmmm. I suppose not. Still, you've seen far more things and far fewer things than many mages, have you not? You aren't exactly stable or normal.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Ditto.”

  She gave a tinkling laugh, and leaned back. “Coming from you, that is wonderfully sweet. I know how you love collecting the interesting mages on campus.”

  “You mean the strays?” I said, stepping back, not willing to play this game.

  She leaned forward. “The powerful.” There was something greedy in her gaze for a moment, before it turned cajoling. “The interesting.”

  “You've been here for, what, two and a half years now?” I said, unimpressed. “You could have made friends with any of those people.”

  “But no one trusts me, kitten. They just see my father.” A forlorn expression appeared.

  I narrowed my eyes. “No, I think they see you just fine.” I looked around us. “You love this. This is you.”

  She laughed, and the forlorn expression dropped, leaving real humor in her eyes. “It's true. I do love Daddy's business.”

  “Your setup is pretty great,” I allowed, looking around the dynamic room. I could appreciate it. If it wasn't Bellacia, I'd be insanely curious about all of the gadgets and gizmo magic. As it was, I needed to become as lightly ensnared as possible in the traps she was surely setting for me.

  “Thank you,” she said graciously. “I've worked hard to be where I am.” A harder glint entered her gaze. “And I am good at what I do.”

  It reminded me of Camille, who had said something similar about her o
wn abilities once. Both extremely confident, and even though I wasn't much of a fan of Bellacia's views or tactics, I could respect her strength.

  I looked at the other work room. Technically, it was mine now. But did I want a place where Bellacia could snoop to her heart's content when I wasn't around? Or where her previous roommate had been?

  Who knew what sorts of traps Bellacia's roommate had left in there. Dare might be able to give me some pointers on securing the room—heaven knew he had his own locked down like Fort Knox. But tonight my magic wasn't up to it, even philosophically.

  No, better to continue schlepping my bag. Or just put everything in Constantine's room. He already knew all of my secrets. He could poke all he wanted.

  “I'm going to bed,” I said.

  I hauled my bag toward the bedroom and bathroom. I tried not to be unnerved by the lock clicking into place on the main door, locking us both in.

  When I got back, Bellacia was stretched out on her bed in her black, white, and green tank top and shorts, looking over reports.

  “There hasn't been a curfew in years. The Department is going to be going over all of the records and disturbances on campus,” she said, as if we were continuing some conversation. “The decisions that the administration has made. Decisions concerning your enrollment and your little outburst at the Shangwei Art Complex.”

  I winced, as I placed things on the nightstand. She'd been following me for so long, she'd probably learned of it fall term after it happened. Those students who had followed me at the party ready to enact whatever social control punishment they'd intended, were probably there on her orders, searching for the mage who had destroyed the building.

  “Such an interesting firework burst during the show. The man you were fighting looked just like that lovely one in your photograph. Did you two have a falling out?”

  Her voice was lazy.

  “I told you. There was a familiarity enchantment in place.”

  “Ah, yes. The mysterious enchantment. Who was underneath the enchantment then, Ren Crown?”

  “Some terrorist.” I lined everything up next to my pillow—Chapstick, my photo, magical ear plugs. The last, I desperately wanted to pop into my ears, but I was afraid of what would happen if one of my senses was dulled.

  “It looked very personal, that fight between you. I fed all of the information about it and a recording of it to the mage on staff who tackled the article. It's up to fifty million views already. The recording stopped so abruptly, though, that all of us watching it felt cheated. There's a reward for anyone who supplies the rest of the footage.”

  Everything in the room seemed to be closing in. I pulled back the covers, keeping her visible in my periphery.

  She twirled a lock of hair around her fingers. “You were just absolutely covered in paint, dear. What was that all about? And where did it all go? I saw no evidence of it on Top Circle.”

  They weren't questions. They were taunts.

  “Maybe it was just hidden under the blood,” I said tonelessly.

  “I do so wish you would just let me scrape through that brain of yours. Make it easy for both of us.”

  I touched the scarab in the interior pocket I had quickly, magically, attached to my sleepwear. It had taken almost no magic to secure it, but it had felt agitated since I'd pulled it from my bag.

  The scarab had possessed too much active magic to be hidden under the shadow cloak—and even Neph had reluctantly agreed it would be a red flag pointing right at her as two otherwise unidentifiable individuals illegally jetted across campus.

  The small stone beetle was hot under my fingers. I wondered if Bellacia was trying to do something to me, even now.

  “Good night, Ren.” Bellacia's lilting voice was smug.

  “Good night,” I gritted out politely. I hopped in bed and turned toward the window. The view was all wrong.

  And with Bellacia's light laugh in the background as she turned off the lights, all I had left was to think. We had all agreed that it was too dangerous to use any communication in Bellacia's room, even the armbands. After seeing her setup, I thought that wise.

  But that left me very much alone.

  Thoughts ran through my head like water overflowing an already full cup.

  Olivia. Constantine. Raphael. Kaine. Dare. Julian. Marsgrove. Greyskull. Bellacia. Stavros.

  Marsgrove had left campus already. While I was in the bathroom, Bellacia's audible feed had been playing the news of which officials had returned and which had left. She had been letting everything come through audibly. Taunting me with the knowledge she had access to.

  A banner of news tickertaped the top of our room, like a soft blue nightlight. I couldn't take my eyes from the words, as they magically changed from reporting on the student status of Excelsine to reports on Raphael Verisetti, his plans and access to alternate magical technologies. Twins and death were next and I followed that rabbit hole for a moment until I shook myself and looked at another headline. Next were words on Stavros and Kaine, then on Dare. A stream of reports appeared about him and in the midst of “breaking news” I worried for a moment that he had left his room and gone back to the competition.

  A report on how Dare had “escaped defeat” in one round of the competition heats made me narrow my eyes at the words.

  Then horror took me and I shut my eyes.

  Bellacia's laughter followed.

  The tickertape was magically changing to report on whatever topic I was thinking about. Automatically projecting the news I was interested in. I kept my eyes locked tight and breathed in deeply. An insight into my thoughts was not something I wanted Bellacia to have.

  “Oh, Ren, you aren't being any fun. That is a highly advanced piece of tech you are ignoring.”

  “And the fact that I'm a highly unstable mage is what you are ignoring.” My magic, recovering more now that we were both in here and resting, sparked.

  She laughed again, but it was a much shorter sound. When I peeked up again, the tickertape was still going, but it was in some sort of code. Whatever Bellacia wanted to see, then.

  My fingers clenched carefully around the deflated paper and tucked it half under my pillow. Close enough for comfort and for keeping it concealed from my new roommate.

  I was too wired at first to fall, then stay, asleep. Waking nightmares plagued me with the standard fare of Dare dying and Olivia slipping away and all of my friends calling out for help with me being unable to do a thing as I slowly lurched toward them in nightmarish fashion. Too late, always too late. One dream followed another, jolting me awake.

  But my thoughts soon turned sluggish, the exhaustion from a day of overwhelming emotion and physical activity taking its toll.

  I breathed in the magic of the balloon as I fell asleep—the tendrils slipping into my mouth. Worlds turned in my mind. Then blackness descended.

  Chapter Twenty: Nightmares and Consequences

  Perched high above—as if I was a spider in a corner crack—I looked down inside a bright, vibrant room that was edged in the same blackness that had overtaken me. Two very familiar people were facing off below.

  I opened my mouth to shout, but nothing escaped my throat. Locked in nightmare status—like with Marsgrove's ball, it was as if I was separated from what I was viewing by a clear shield of glass.

  Below, Olivia coldly examined Raphael. “I think not,” she said, continuing some argument.

  He gave her a smooth, nearly mischievous smile. “You will.” His expression abruptly changed to mirror the coldness of hers. “Or I will physically extract your magic through your fingernails. And such lovely ones, they are.”

  Olivia curled her fingers into her palm. “Your threats mean little.”

  “Of course they do,” he said, voice taking on a cajoling quality. “You are the daughter of Helen Price. And action is everything.”

  Even in a dream, my heartbeat sped up.

  “I knew her, once.” Raphael's eyes glittered. “And once again. And I can
see her magic, her marks all over you.”

  “Impossible.” Olivia's voice was dismissive, but not entirely capable of hiding her unease.

  “No? 'Helly' was such an adept student at figuring out how to take protection magic and turn it the other way. You forget that not only do I know exactly what to look for in her magic, but I devised most of the spells she uses.”

  He leaned into her space and pressed a finger into the hollow of one shoulder. Olivia stiffened, and her leg jerked uncontrollably, pain overriding her control.

  “She made sure to watch each spell I performed,” he said casually, twisting his finger just a bit and making her other leg spasm as well. “And she made sure to test each back upon me. Do you know what it's like to have a nearly limitless pain threshold, but the sensitivity of those with the least allowable amount? You feel everything, but never pass out. The pain just keeps going and going and going.”

  Olivia lifted her chin, pain obvious in the motions as her legs continued to jerk.

  “But you aren't the one who should suffer.” He lifted his finger. “Are you?”

  “Go to hell,” Olivia said in her crisp voice.

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I've never left.”

  His gaze lifted and met mine, and he smiled at me, then lifted his finger back into position.

  Panic rocked me and I tried to launch myself forward. The dream immediately began to shatter. I felt a foreign excitement that was not my own. It made me pause long enough to stem my panic. I drew back and looked at the shattering cracks of the dream. Olivia and Raphael were still moving inside, the jagged lines making their movement jerk from one shard to the next. I took a deep breath and carefully patched the glass shards together, shaking hands working feverishly to put each back in place, then smooth my hand along the cracks.

  The foreign excitement had dimmed, and I wondered at my strange, splitting brain.

  Raphael was prowling around again inside the dream, but Olivia was now released from the chair. Whether this was the same dream, or a new one, I didn't know.

  “Do you think while you have that, that you will be safe?” he said.