by Anne Zoelle
As I knew well, they had plenty of those.
“They'll be trying to pin us. Hard. The Department not only wants to pin the blame on the Administration, but they want all of us under their thumbs, and some of us under their dissecting scopes.”
I pressed my lips together. The Department wanted powerful tools, but anyone connected to me was most at risk. “I don't want any of you caught in the crossfire. There will be crossfire. And it will be my battle to fight.”
Adrabi didn't break eye contact, and he didn't hesitate. “Nephthys Bau resurrected me four times yesterday,” he said frankly. “Four times. And we all know she wanted to be at your side—she was leaking magic like a mother bear full of rage and purpose—yet she hunted each of us down, repeatedly, to make sure we survived the day. All of us. Other than Price, and that was an extenuating circumstance, every single one of us connected to the Plan made it to see sunset, and we were in the thickest parts of the battles in separate circles of the mountain. Bau waded into every one like a wraith and plucked us each from the eversleep.”
Neph studiously didn't look up, busy as she was manipulating the emotions of the room. Keeping us all on even keel. I could feel the tight knot of emotion inside her, though, that she was trying to hide.
Guilt, shame, and fierce gratitude all wrapped together again inside of me. “I, uh, accidentally whammied her.”
“Yeah,” Adrabi said dryly. “We know. Obviously with instructions to save us all. Listen, Crown. You let us take care of things around campus for a bit, got it?”
Neph looked up and pierced me with her gaze. It wasn't hard to decipher what she was trying to convey.
I looked back at Adrabi and swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”
“And don't worry about your muse. I've already got some things in the works for protecting her. We've got her back in the days to come.”
Frowning, I started to ask, but the conversation mysteriously switched direction and I blinked for a second. What had I been about to say?
The thought slipped free of my mind as we started to discuss what could be done when we were released from lockdown. Loudon continued to fret.
“Think positively, lad,” Patrick said. “Location protection charms and eavesdropping interference devices are a hot market right now. And the steady traffic wanting to ask us about Bloody Tuesday is only increasing those sales as they buy devices in an excuse to meet and ask questions. We are selling out across the board.”
Patrick winked at me. “I'm keeping a log. Price will want to know all about it when she returns.”
I nodded slowly at him. It was a foregone conclusion to them that Marsgrove would get her back. I wanted to believe it too.
“Chin up, Crown,” Patrick said.
~*~
During my first round of calls, more than one person sputtered, stuttered, and dropped what they were doing, when I showed up. I was also nearly blasted four separate times in reaction. By the end of the hour, though, I was receiving far more considering looks and far less accidental blasts aimed my way. The news had spread that I might answer a Justice call.
I had my hands full with a slew of grief calls too. And those...those were both easier and harder to bear.
I made a side trip to Medical halfway through my first rotation and shakily whipped up a dozen more roses, this time using Christian's orb as the focus for my feelings and limited magic. I dosed each paper flower with a liberal swipe of the healing wards. It helped that when Greyskull passed me, instead of chastising me, he plucked a ward from the wall and draped it over my hand without breaking stride.
The ward, and the inherent permission within the action, had been similar to Marsgrove's device—and it made it easier for me to get past my blocks, allowing me to direct some of the Administration Magic instead of using my own.
I used all twelve of them within twenty minutes. Tucking them into the room when the Justice offender was looking elsewhere, or simply handing it to them, if their grief was especially fierce.
As each minute ticked by with no positive news about Olivia or Marsgrove, though, the feeling inside of me darkened as well.
I clicked out of service and opened the door to Bellacia's suite, determined to spend one of my mandatory hours logging reports and searching for any scrap of information on Olivia or on Marsgrove's location. Maybe I'd luck out and Bellacia would be out.
As luck had it, not only was she in residence, but five of her magicist cronies occupied chairs around a table in the main room.
Bellacia smiled sharply at me. “Ren, welcome back.”
I nodded and walked quickly to bypass the table and get to the bedroom. There was no need to wonder about the tracking spell blocker Will, Adrabi and the others had made. I could see the panic in some of the faces around the table as they indiscreetly checked devices, wondering why they hadn't been alerted to my presence.
“Outrageous that she walks freely,” someone said, jerking in the opposite direction as I passed.
“Her magic is up,” Oakley said, making a note. “Too far up.”
“Her magic can hear you,” I said, without breaking stride.
“Don't antagonize the Origin Mage, Oakley,” another chastised. “But I do agree it is suspicious. The lack of tracers could be due to a visit to her little friends. But, she should only be recovered twelve percent with the room's magic. Where is she getting the extra? What if she's pulling it from the earth or grounds? What if we are about to suffer an event? Or she's Rising?” He shook his head. “Record her levels and check them against the readings from this morning and yesterday. We'll need it in our report.”
I slammed the bedroom door closed.
Clenching my fists and breathing heavily, I marched over to my bed. Was it worse or better for me to be here while their group was meeting? I shut my eyes. Whatever. Too late. One hour here now. One hour later.
I secured my things with a protection ward, and aggressively pulled Bellacia's streaming headlines into reach. Screw Oakley, Bailey, and their crew.
News reports soon scrolled every wall. Another Third Layer facility had been hit by the Legion. And a list of all the locations the praetorians had been spotted flashed for my attention.
I quickly absorbed those, and admitted temporary defeat—no news source, not even Bellacia's, had any mention of Marsgrove or Raphael being seen.
I touched one of the scrolls labeled “Campus: Live!” and a surveillance feed opened up. Someone had set a spell mimicking a drone on top of the Magiaduct, and it was circling the superstructure, giving a live, rotating view of the levels on either side. There were still members of the Legion, the praetorians, and troops from the surrounding countries visible all around the Magaiduct. But the latter were growing thinner in number, as the searches around campus were completed and the areas pronounced clear.
I touched another scroll labeled, “Campus: Report!” which indicated that the Magiaduct would be re-opened at Cancer Rising—six in the evening on the twenty-four hour clock.
The combat mages, it was reported, were leaving at the same time.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight.
I'd be able to get to the library and, maybe, the art vault. But I'd lose Dare.
I touched another scroll that said, “Latest on the Loss Report!”
Olivia's picture flashed, making me jerk upright.
Listed beneath her image was the message, Have you seen her? Beneath that different methods of magical spotting were encouraged—gazing, printing, casting—along with numbers to call with information generated from each method.
The whispers about her being missing had started shortly after the battle, and had been confirmed with the student listings that chronicled critical, missing, or dead students. Most of the missing students had been magically transferred to one of the other lists as campus sweeps had taken place and bodies had been recovered.
Olivia was one of fifteen students who remained on the missing list the day after Bloody Tuesday.
Three of the other missing students were hiding in their Third Layer homes. Students who had slipped by peer notice of being “Thirdies” and who had retreated in the wake of worrying that they would be harassed about their birth layer. Or who had been allowed to escape.
The final four students had proven to be beyond magical detection. One of those was Olivia.
I tightened my hand around the origami balloon.
Helen Price, meanwhile, had capitalized politically on her missing daughter—just as Olivia had known she would. She was maintaining a brave facade, denouncing the Third Layer, the terrorists, and the school's capability to protect itself.
“It wasn't someone on our watch, of course,” Helen Price said to the interviewer. “It was someone who infiltrated the Troop who had already been cleared at Excelsine. In the direct aftermath of the attack, we found the body of Emrys Norr in a bunker under his home. Why the officials at the school didn't recognize that he was not the same person, I cannot speculate.”
“Wasn't the Troop your pick for Excelsine's security?” the interviewer asked.
Helen lifted a brow. “Our pick? No. The officials at the school required aide after the unexplained events of the previous term. We offered Legion protection, but Excelsine chose the option of having the Troop. It's really been one blow after another for Excelsine's security. More and more, I'm coming to realize that it would be better for the educational system for the Department to oversee it in its entirety. We need a managing body. These are our children.”
My fingers clenched so hard that my pencil snapped. Half-truths wrapped around past manipulations. She was making it sound as if the administration had made one poor decision after another, instead of being forced to pick between three bad options—two of which had the Department all over campus, and the other that had the Troop providing security for a week.
“Look at Excelsine, in particular, and their actions over the past few months. What is it that the school's officials have to hide? Why are they trying to prevent a security body from looking at administrative information? If everything is legal at Excelsine, why are they choosing to hinder routine investigations?
“If something isn't done, I'm not sure I can send my child back once she is returned.”
My control cuff compressed around my wrist. I had enough magic back, that without it managing me, I would have blown up the entire hologram device.
“Speaking of your daughter—”
But I couldn't listen to any more. I punched off the feed with shaking fingers. I was far too furious.
Being Bellacia's roommate gave me firsthand access to every broadcast and piece of news—some before they went live. It was an unexpected benefit of living with the enemy.
And an unexpected downfall, as I sat shaking on my bed.
Bellacia slipped inside the room. I pulled all of the spells into my hand and pitched them toward the recycling grate in the floor.
“Oh, Ren, there's no need to hide anything.” She twirled a number of news articles around her fingers, pinching them together, then splaying them out. The spell seemed to be looking for connections in my previous searches. “Archelon Kaine,” “Raphael Verisetti,” “Phillip Marsgrove,” “Olivia Price,” “Helen Price,” and “Enton Stavros” all popped up. She twisted two fingers, and another report formed.
My breath seemed to be coming faster.
“Whatever is the matter, Ren? You seem to be concerned over something?”
I grabbed my bag.
“It's only been an hour,” she called out.
“Yup.”
I walked out the door, slamming it shut behind me.
The door five down from hers opened before I reached it.
Chapter Twenty-five: Civilized Couch Warfare
Constantine gave me a look. I sighed as I walked inside. He closed the door behind me.
Dare appeared in the doorway of his workroom.
“Hi.” I wiped a hand over my face, looking between them. “I just...couldn't stay there longer than an hour.”
“You are welcome here,” Dare said, hands stretched to either side of the doorframe. His gaze narrowed on Constantine, then turned to me. “Stay as long as you want.”
With the two of them prowling around each other?
“I've already witnessed enough bloodshed this week,” I said ruefully. “I'll go to Neph's.”
Though for some odd reason, I was already dropping into a chair, limp with relief, and my legs were lifting up on an ottoman that hadn't been there seconds before. I stared at my feet for a moment, then shook my head.
I let my head fall back on the club chair. Just a minute or two. I'd just stay here for a minute or two, then I'd go to Neph's.
Little bolts of magic were zipping along the edges of the room where the walls met the ceiling. I stared at them, watching the colors meet and meld or travel alongside each other. A week ago, two days ago, none of this magic had been freely flowing through the living room. Whatever else had happened in the interim, Constantine and Dare had put aside their hatred long enough to allow the wards free rein in the suite. The wards that shut the other off from their individual work rooms were still there, but even those wards were...laxer.
Perhaps it had to do with Medical, and the two of them being separated overnight. Or perhaps it was what had been set up for the competition, and finally turned on. I had asked, after all this roommate insanity had come to light. All of the combat mages' rooms had been hooked into receiving extra Community Magic for the week, so their roommates wouldn't be adversely affected. The same way that Olivia had gone without a roommate for long stretches of time.
The emergency procedures in place now didn't allow for those dispensations, unfortunately. Though, Bellacia and I were benefiting from that extra magic in Room Twenty-five.
I nestled into the chair a little more. Constantine and Dare's magic was highly sympathetic to mine, but in a natural, organic way. As evidenced in Medical—we could probably overpower the grid given time.
There was a larger, active power boost in Bellacia's room, because whatever she had done to secure me as a roommate, worked. But it was an artificial feeling.
My eyes started to slip shut, as they'd been unable to do for the last hour in a place where I had to watch my back. I had only been awake for four hours, but I felt like, were circumstances different, I could sleep for a week.
“We will limit the bloodshed for the next few hours,” Dare said dryly, though in a more serious tone than anticipated.
The “home” connection reached outward toward their wards. My eyes shot open and I aggressively reeled it back in.
“Why?” I said, trying to cover my actions.
Dare raised a brow, and I quickly added to my statement, “Not why on the bloodshed, why on the invitation to camp out on your couch? I can go to Neph's.”
Even though my feet weren't currently moving me in that direction.
Neph's roommate didn't like me—probably was terrified of me now—but Neph would invite me in anyway.
Will and Mike's would be a fine alternative, as well, though our magic was neutrally sympathetic, and those news reports had increased my urge to heal faster.
“Have your muse come here,” Dare said. “The room magic is helping you.” He pointed to the zips of magic which had doubled since I last looked. “Helping you slowly, which is supposed to be the point of healing.”
The expression on his face said he knew what I'd been thinking.
I shrugged.
“So, what did lovely Bellacia do?” Constantine asked. His lips indicated that he was amused, but his eyes were steely and...anticipatory.
I waved a weary hand. “Nothing. The normal. She keeps recording everything I do in there. She's exhausting. And she's probably right—I will be kicked out of here within a week. She'll have it all magicked up neatly too with pyrotechnics—Bulletin at Nine, Wicked Girl Gone, Our Layer Saved!”
I tipped my head back. “What happens if I don't stay there for my allotted twelve hours? I'll embrace a few hundred justice hits.”
Neither of them responded vocally.
Dare's gaze strayed to the wards, then to Constantine. Constantine tipped his head and looked smug for a moment. Smugness turned to fury at whatever Dare mentally conveyed to him.
“You think it will always work out the way you want it to,” Constantine said out loud, anger underlying every word. “Frequency flash—Alexander Dare does not always get what he wants.”
“You're being a child.”
Whatever Constantine said in return was mental, but one finger jabbed in my direction. Both of their expressions turned pinched and unpleasant, the kind that happened in a heated argument. Sneering, in Constantine's case and lethal, in Dare's. But after a moment, their demeanors changed and they both gave short nods to each other.
“Do it,” Dare said grimly.
Constantine's grin turned unholy.
They both turned to me.
I started humming the Twilight Zone theme music.
At their twin blank stares, I sighed and quit. “Never mind. What did you two just agree on? And, may I say how freaky it is that you two communicate somehow?”
Constantine turned on his heel, unholy grin still lifting his lips. “I think the word you are looking for is unfortunate. I'll be back, darling.”
I blinked at him. “Where are you going?”
“Just down to Medical,” he said lightly. “Have to check in, you know.”
I didn't know. He was probably going to Medical—Constantine didn't lie usually, you just had to ferret the truth from his words. This likely meant he was going there, but not only for a check in.