by Anne Zoelle
“In other news, Alexander Dare was retested for his ability as a Bridge Mage this morning before the competition restarted. He scored a fifteen on the ability test, not enough to register on the Bridge scale. However, it has been noted that fifteen is five points higher than his baseline, and people are talking about whether—”
I walked away.
I didn't want to see Axer lose. And I didn't want to hear about the people wanting to persecute him.
Chapter Thirty-two: Two Devils and a Bag of Popcorn
The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a flurry of magic gathering, checking in on the members of the group and their “assignments,” mandatory justice rotations, peeks at the combat competition feeds, and check-in hours in Bellacia's room.
By the end of it, I was exhausted.
Constantine caught me as I was heading back to Bellacia’s room for the night. He opened the door to their room before I even got close to approaching. He closed it and fell into step with me as I made my way the remaining five doors down the hall.
“I have to go beard the dragon for the night. Talk tomorrow,” I said tiredly.
“Of course, darling.”
The smile on his face should have concerned me more. With each step, his anticipation seemed to increase.
At Bellacia's door, however, his anticipation turned to anger.
“What is this?” Constantine sliced his hand through a spell on the door. Sparks shot to both sides as it fizzled.
“Another message?” I asked, not all that interested.
The door had experienced far too many messages and jinxes—all targeted at me—for me to care what this one said. I unlocked the door and opened it. Bellacia stood in the middle of the room, weirdly waiting.
Constantine's gaze narrowed on me. “Another message? Why haven't you been implementing the standard room spells? I don't care how temporary the roommate assignment is.” He looked at Bellacia, gaze malicious. “You still get to implement protections.”
I'd never needed them before, so I didn't know the spells. And, “I was, and am, too tired to care,” I admitted.
“You can't let people put things like that on your space, Ren.”
It was rare that he called me by name. I wondered at his tone, and at what the message he had destroyed had said. There had been threats, thank you notes, slurs, and worshipful prose, along with a plethora of condolences to Bellacia for getting stuck with the devil's spawn. I might as well have posted an advertisement saying “Post your note about the possible Origin Mage in your midst right here!”
There had been some notes about Constantine too, since his stunt in the cafeteria. I wondered if that was it.
Olivia and I had barely had five notes pinned to our door in all the months I'd been at Excelsine. Mages had too many other ways to communicate, and so unless someone was overtly advertising a message—a declaration of love, celebratory news, death threats—then mages used other communication channels.
“It's fine,” I said. It was easier to ignore the notes than the stares, and far preferable.
“It's a sign of weakness, and says that you aren't adequately protected,” he said grimly. “That bitch knows this.”
“Oh my, no, I'd never,” Bellacia said, leaning one hip against the arm of a sofa. She looked smug and superior and so very darkly pleased. “Come, Ren, shut the door so the boy can return to his room. We have so many things to discuss before we sleep.”
What she really meant was—I have so many awful things to make you witness or to taunt you with tonight. Yay!
“No, what she means is that she loves to hear herself talk,” he said cuttingly, reading my mind.
Bellacia shot a vicious glance toward the room's threshold, as if waiting for him to try and cross it. Constantine hadn't yet, and I was starting to think that was because there was some terrible magic that Bellacia had placed there.
“What were you trying with that little stunt in the cafeteria, Connie?” She tutted, lifting her gaze back to meet his. “People are saying the wildest things.”
“Are they? I wouldn't know. It's your domain to care what people say. However, Ren seems distressed by your little rumor mill, and we can't have that.”
Eyes going wide, I motioned with my hand to him. Not helping. Do not try and help.
Her smile grew. I had never seen it so dark. “Is that so? Axer was a surprise, I'll admit. You, I expected,” she said with a certain amount of relish, as if she was about to deliver a payback she had long planned.
“Did you?” Constantine's voice turned almost pleasant. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. “And did you expect this?”
He gently pushed me to the right of where I had been holding open the door and walked inside the suite, then flipped the door closed.
“Wha—how did—get out,” she hissed, jerking to stand straight. I could feel the temperature in the room drop, and the pressure from her Sirenic magic increase.
“No,” he said languidly, and sauntered further into the room, as if he owned it. I could see magic rippling over him, Bellacia's magic, pulled violently from the walls, trying to eject him. I could see the smirk he couldn't hide behind a studied nonchalance as he continued walking, unhindered.
Bellacia looked angrier than I had ever seen her. “Get out of my room.”
The scarab around my neck burned, and I hissed, pulling the cord away from my skin.
She blasted magic from her palms at Constantine, but it slipped over him, like oil slicking over water.
Both horror and fury combined on her face.
“Ah, Bella, your magic just isn't enough to overcome darling Ren's.” He fanned his fingers in a rolling wave and wards in the hues of violet, bronze, and ultramarine drew into view, pushing Bellacia's angry shades of crimson easily away. “Even when she's twelve spells to an ill wind.”
Horrified, I looked between them. “I don't—”
“And dear Alexander made such a sacrifice to have this happen. Surely we owe it to our school champion—and likely two-time winner of the All-Layer Combat Competition with this little boost—to funnel our magic appropriately.”
Unlike me, Bellacia seemed to understand what he was saying immediately, because she blanched, skin going paper white. “The officials would never—”
“They already have,” he mused, poking at something on the wall as if a listening fly device was more interesting than the girl with steam emerging from her perfect ears. “Stuart was beyond pleased to have me ask so kindly. It seems that the roommate reassignment magic wanted to put Ren in our room, and would have, if you hadn't opened yourself to the Root Magic. Tut, tut, Bella, what would Roald say?”
“He says that you will never work anywhere in the magical world again,” she said viciously.
Constantine smiled. “Is he listening in? Right now? How delightful. Too bad that he doesn't control that choice.”
“You will get out of my room,” she hissed.
“Who would want to stay? Come, Ren.”
I looked nervously at the clock. “I need to spend eight more hours here.”
With the girl who was now looking to physically, verbally, and mentally annihilate someone. Thanks.
“See, now that's where you are wrong, darling. Look at the magic again.”
The room magic was streaming in three different directions. At one point it had been in two—from my old dorm room to here and back. Now there was a third room added in, and from the context of the conversation, it was pretty obvious which room that was.
“So you can decide, dear Bella, in what room Ren will sleep tonight, and subsequently, where I will sleep. Will it be here? Or there?”
She looked like she might hyperventilate on the spot. I was vaguely concerned for her, truth be told.
“You can't take away all her hours here,” she hissed.
“No, but I can cut them significantly.” He smiled. It was a strange smile that was both unpleasant and exhilarated at the same time. �
��In fact, I was told they could be taken down by two-thirds. A third for each of the three of us Ren is currently attached to in the housing system.”
“Axer's not—”
“Here, no, but he is still linked into the room. The officials were quite pleased when they thought they might increase his chances to win by giving him some extra juice. He is competing with a few injuries that are hindering him, poor boy.”
“I will file an injunction.”
“You do that.” He leaned in. Her angry red magic slammed against his shields, and he smiled. “But in the meantime, what's it going to be?”
“Take her! Take her. Get out.”
I scrambled to grab everything, not even questioning it. There was no way Bellacia would have capitulated so furiously if Constantine wasn't right. Constantine and Axer had somehow gained permission so that I could spend eight of my hours in their room, and four with Bellacia.
I'd take it. I'd take it so hard. I grabbed everything—including Constantine's arm—and threw open the door.
A Justice Squad member blinked at me. “Er, Bellacia Bailey, Level Three?”
I nodded, pointed behind me, and shuffled around the squad member and into the hall—without letting go of Constantine.
I could hear Bellacia in icy tones accept her punishment for her overuse of Sirenic magic and violent use of spells with intent to harm.
I shoved my key into the lock of Room Sixty-nine. The key made so much more sense now.
“That was hardly a dignified exit, darling,” he said as I unlocked the door. “I would have really enjoyed playing a last card or two. Just to watch the defeat fall over her face one shutter at a time.”
“Ugh. How did the two of you ever think it was a good idea to hook up?” I pushed him inside and shut the door behind us, then slumped against the wood. I half expected the door to splinter behind me, and my last sight on Earth to be Bellacia shrieking as she murdered us.
“Beauty and madness are a delicious cocktail, darling.”
“I hope you enjoyed the hangover.” I wiped a hand along my eyes. I sure wasn't enjoying the aftereffects.
“It was quite unpleasant,” he allowed. “I've switched to far better fare since.”
I looked around the room. Sure enough, the wards had multiplied, little facets of Bellacia now running through.
“So...I'm really staying here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank God.” I slid to the floor.
“I can have you saying that more than once tonight, if you wish.” He leered.
“You. No.” I pointed at him.
He laughed.
“But, seriously, I am going to bed.”
“Perfect.” He smiled.
“No.” I pointed again, then motioned with my hands at the furniture.
The living room had long since retreated back to the standard layout Constantine employed with its expensive, but mismatched furniture—none of them sofa shaped.
He raised a brow.
“Couch me,” I said, motioning again.
“Don't be an idiot, darling,” Constantine said. “The whole point is to hook you into the wards.”
He turned and walked briskly to their bedroom.
I pushed myself off the floor and followed at a much slower pace.
Their room was as small as Bellacia's. Just two beds, two armoires, and two nightstands. But whereas in Bellacia's room, everything was a little more interconnected, in here the room had two distinct sides. The two beds were against opposite walls, and a field separated the two halves of the room. Very likely it involved all sorts of evil enchantments I didn't want to know about.
Who was I kidding. I touched one of the wards. It sung with warning, but didn't shock me. Someone had spent a lot of time on these. They were a permanent addition instead of the quick curtain pull that Lifen and her roommate used.
All of the wards ran around the edges of the field, not interrupting any of the magic share. They simply prevented normal sensory things—like communication, viewing, and hearing, and so forth—from being shared.
However, the magic had to be influenced by emotions, at least a little, and I wondered how that worked when Constantine invited his conquests inside.
Then again, maybe Constantine was just that detached. I'd seen him plenty of times with his number of the day, or week, during fall term. He had never actually seemed to emotionally engage with them. Not that they seemed to ever realize this. I wondered again at what my gender was thinking.
I shook my head and looked around again. Okay, it made a lot more sense now why Axer had pointed out where he slept. I stared at the bed.
This was a little weird. Okay, a lot weird. Not like sharing with Olivia or Neph. At all.
Constantine came up next to me and mimicked my posture. “I know. It's like the cooties are real.”
I shoved him in the side, barely moving him, but making him laugh all the same.
He smirked down at the bed. “Here, let me help.” He waved his hand and the bed became a princess setup, all pinks, tiaras, and silver.
I could feel the protest in the magic, in the permanent wards, but they allowed it, probably because Axer had allowed me to have a say.
I stared at the changes, aghast, Axer would kill him.
“No?” He waved his hand again, and it was dripping black and silver with gothic spikes and twisted posts. “Though, I think, that you would be far more likely to—”
I wrestled his hand down before he could change it again, as if his hands were what was responsible for the magic, instead of Constantine simply channeling the magic through the gesture.
“We could combine the two into one larger one,” he said slyly. “Far more restful and easier for our magic.”
“Pass.”
He laughed, and I shoved him through the field.
I changed quickly in the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Delia could look at my t-shirts and yoga pants in disdain all she wanted to, but this situation, here, was where they were a huge win.
Constantine was sitting cross-legged on his bed, in casual sleepwear, and thank god he had decided to be a normal human. Not like that show he had put on in the cafeteria.
“Hey,” I said, punching the pillow and using the room's wards to remake the bed into what I was used to, trying to think of it as mine instead of...whose it was. “Your little exhibition in the cafeteria has caused me nothing but grief for the last twenty-four hours. And, now this? Ugh. Bellacia is going to spin the worst tales. Tomorrow is going to suck.”
I settled under the covers and blew a stray hair from my face. “And I have to figure out how to tell your real roommate that I'm leaving campus.”
“Don't bother worrying over much. He knew what was going to happen when he left,” Constantine said in disinterest.
“You told him?”
“I didn't know, did I.”
“You're saying he anticipated it.” I sighed. “Probably. He was packing for inevitability.”
“Don't you think it interesting, darling?” Constantine tapped his finger on his bent knee as he examined me from the short space across the room. “That Alexander Dare knows all of your weaknesses? Exactly how you fight and how your magnificent brain works? Suspicious.”
“You know those things too,” I pointed out.
“And look how that always ends for you,” he said.
I sighed.
He smiled. “I know how you solve. But Alexander knows exactly how you react in combat. It is his specialty, knowing what opponents are going to do before they do it. I could almost admire the forbearance he puts forth, if I could stand to contemplate the individual himself. How long do you think it would take for him to take you down, should he feel the need or desire to do so?”
There was no doubt of the answer. “I'd never even have the realization that it was about to happen. I know that. Everyone knows that when it comes to him. It's probably the best check to have in place on me.”
“It
is the worst check that the Second Layer governments could possibly contemplate.”
I sighed again and tucked myself under the covers. “Yeah, the Department rats watch him with something akin to a nature documentary on modern, rampaging T. Rex's that they think might...rampage at any moment.”
“And for you?” He hummed. “If he did display his mother's skills, have you thought what he might do to you with them?”
I put everything that I had clutched the previous night on the nightstand. Constantine wasn't going to mess with my things. “I've heard the warnings already.”
And I didn't want to give away that I knew a lot more about what might happen than everyone guessed. That whole scenario Delia had described was a lot closer to the truth than anyone would be comfortable with.
“I worry for you.”
“You do not,” I retorted.
“Don't I?” he said lightly.
“Good night, Con,” I said, turning off my light. “You were awesome to get me out of Bellacia's clutches, regardless of how painful it's going to turn out to be.”
“Good night, darling, and it was my pleasure.”
I touched the nearly empty paper balloon, then the orb, then let my fingers drift away. I fished the dragon figurine from my armband and gripped the dragon against my chest. Deep breaths.
It was disconcerting, trying to connect via a dream after the disastrous ones I'd had. It was also really, really weird to do it in the bed of the person I was trying to call. Even though it wasn't really his bed. I had changed it to look like mine in Room Twenty-five. But his magic was all over the space.
But sleep soon came, and with it so did a feeling of flying along on the back of a dragon made of clouds.
Axer was doing something in his mindscape. I couldn't quite see what it was behind the curtain that seemed to float in front. But he waved his dream away as soon as he sensed me, and opened the curtain. We were surrounded in white.
“What happened?” he asked, touching the clouds of white around us, as if each one held an answer.
“I'm in your room,” I blurted.
He relaxed. “That's unfortunate for a number of reasons. But you seem fine.” His fingers drifted through another cloud and he seemed to find the answer he was seeking. He nodded.