The Awakening of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  Will nearly vibrated in his seat as he explained information in one big spew, his hands motioning so hard that he knocked his glasses askew on his nose. He took a breath finally. “So, to sum up, you need to find an accelerator to move past it or another magic that will overwhelm or trick it.”

  I gave him the “keep explaining” sign with my hand.

  “Accelerators are difficult to obtain, and tricky to make, but once you have one, you tap the accelerant on the object, then let the magic do its work. Even better if you can make an accelerator box or spider. Device magic is the best—many mages like to pretend to be all otherworldly.” He waved his arms around in a mystical fashion. “Me, I acknowledge and celebrate the practicality and brilliance of toys.”

  He gave his pockets a pat. “You insert the magic during a controlled lab setting, then don't have to worry about point focusing in the field. The tricky part is inserting the right magic. Like your magic paint. Definitely a powerful accelerant. I've been meaning to ask you about it. What kind of paint did you use? I want to buy some.”

  I rubbed my hand along my neck. “I don't know.” I looked around. “I got it from...my teacher.”

  “Ah.” Will put a small plain black device on the table between us. He looked around, then pressed the top. It lit red and he relaxed, but leaned forward. “Tiny bit of chaos magic—it will disrupt our conversation for anyone trying to eavesdrop past the silencing fields. Works for ten minutes. I did a little research on your teacher after I returned. He studied art here.”

  That made sense—what with the mountain paintings and Marsgrove knowing him.

  “I found an old school picture,” he continued. “He was standing between Dean Marsgrove and another guy. Chummy.”

  Will looked like he was expecting me to take the news badly. I shook my head. “Marsgrove called him by first name a few times, so I'm not surprised. Speaking of which...” It was as good an opening as any. “If you could not mention me to Marsgrove at all, that would be great. I don't trust him.”

  And if Will was ever in conversation with him, I didn't want my name dropped.

  Will looked surprised, but said, “Sure. He's a big deal around here, but I only know him because of that research project. He was in charge of my pu—I mean, assignment.”

  My eyes narrowed immediately. “He assigned you to that project?”

  “Yup. Wanted me to look for magical technologies in the First Layer.” He shrugged. “It paralleled my own aims. Was what I got in tr—noticed for. I, ah, might have tweaked the parameters for my own purposes, though.”

  I tapped my fingers, thinking hard. “So, the paint is an accelerant?”

  “Definitely seemed to be. Special, though. I'd love to study it. I'm going to do some serious delving into art magic now. Good for conceptualization at the very least, especially if I can gain some rudimentary skill.”

  I blinked at him and my mental brown paint bucket of “uncategorized” information immediately spit out an item. “Hey, there is an Art Expressionists meeting tomorrow. I have no clue what that is, but do you want to go with me? I'm not exactly signed up for classes yet. Middle of term and all.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “And it might be informative?”

  “Sure!”

  I smiled at him and relaxed as he returned the grin. Maybe I wasn't the worst communicator in the world after all.

  ~*~

  Well past midnight, and after I had done another practice round with Draeger, I sketched the day's events into my personal journal. Long ago, I had found a quote from Pablo Picasso that I had taken to heart. “Painting is just another way of keeping a diary,” it had read. I had used art as my emotional log ever since.

  A broken heart led into a book, then morphed out to become a budding rose. Two birds tentatively hopped toward one another, each extending a wing.

  My scientific journal was a tightly written database of tests and formulas. My personal journal was all about the emotion. I needed both.

  As I finished up my log of the day's events, my gaze wandered over to the sketch that had held Will prisoner. When everything in front of the drapes had been mysteriously cleared, the jar containing the single drop of paint had been too.

  But now...

  My pen slashed a jagged line up the journal's page as I lunged forward to grip the sketch.

  Now it sat in front of the drapes again, as if something had pushed it out from beneath. Nearly shaking, I put my hand on top of the paper and willed the jar to come out. I needed this. I focused hard, thinking of a perfect spot of ultramarine blue spreading into a glass of water, each tendril separating exactly as I wanted it to, then spreading to collect as a single, large focused intent in my mind.

  The jar started shaking, then sliding across the sketch floor. The paint inside briefly glowed, then half of it disappeared at the same time that one of my fingers glowed blue.

  The small jar popped half out beneath my palm. I quickly grabbed the glass and pulled it against my chest, pushing the paper away, in case it tried to reabsorb my treasure.

  The drop in the jar was now only half the size, but it was still paint. True magic paint.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  ~*~

  Another substance abuse charge earned me a stint cleaning the dark, empty entrance hall. I was so on edge with excitement and nerves that I practically vibrated the dirt into the floor grate.

  As Olivia turned off her light for the night, I continued to stare at the jar, now lit only by a faint reflection of moonlight seeping through the blinds. The drop was not enough to paint Christian out, but it might be enough to trick an arch. I gave Will's sketch, propped near my pillow, a stroke with one fingertip, then curled around the jar. I would go in the morning.

  Christian screamed in increased agony all night.

  Chapter Fifteen: Ganymede Circus

  I hitched my bag higher and watched the morning activity around the arch to Ganymede Circus with heavy, exhausted eyes. No one was going into or coming out of the arch, but there were a number of mages in business suits chatting together nearby. A henge of twelve Druidic-styled arches occupied the center square around which walking paths were situated. Excelsine travel seemed confined to static portals, foot traffic, and the occasional unicycle.

  The library search had revealed that Ellery Square, the twentieth circle's business district, was an exit portal to major magic spots throughout the Second Layer—including Ganymede Circus—and was used frequently for off-campus activities. Three days ago I had unsuccessfully tried every portal here.

  My eyes drew up to the rest of the mountain towering above. Far up, the mountain flashed, and clouds swirled around most of the levels, like some fairy-dusted Mount Doom. It was raining on three levels today, including the fifth circle where the dormitory was located, and though it wasn't raining in the thick middle section that comprised the Midlands, there was something strange about the clouds there, all green and black and swirly.

  I shook off the dark pull toward the area and walked to the arch that would take me to Ganymede Circus.

  Like the inner-campus arches, I could see through to where it led. The static picture of a five-spoke circus of streets zoomed closer as I stepped nearer. Within a few feet, an opalescent barrier grew over the image. One foot away, the barrier turned thick. I touched it tentatively with my hand. It was impenetrable, just as the other off-campus arches had been.

  Taking a deep fortifying breath, and a quick look around to see if I was being observed, I unscrewed the jar. The paint drop vibrated wildly as I reached my fingers inside, then jumped eagerly to my fingertip. I slowly extended my finger toward the opaque arch, allowing the paint to lead me.

  There was a crack and groan, then as if I were on a conveyor belt, the barrier pulled me through a dry, milky waterfall and into an antique store filled with things decrepit and strange.

  Boca de Vida lions roared on the walls, tapestries with rippling threads billowed, and murmuring sounds issued from mirrors an
d pieces of fractal art. Odd trees, garden pools, and dozens of arches filled the space.

  Turning back toward the arch I had come through, an image of the henge was projected in its interior. Stepping away, the picture zoomed out until it featured only edelweiss in the foreground and an enormous mountain far behind.

  A man at the desk didn't even look up as I passed through the store and nervously gave wide clearance to the pools, trees, and mirrors. Who knew where they might take me? I needed to go to Black Magicks Unlimited before exploring anything else.

  I opened the door to exit the antique shop and stepped into a different world.

  A silly smile spread over my face as I walked. A narrow street full of colorful and bizarre shops flowed into a cozy, roundabout circus that was madly alive. Unlike Excelsine, people here were riding all sorts of crazy contraptions—magic carpets, beasts of burden, little cars, motorcycles, tanks, and flying vehicles. Horns, shouts, and magic flew in the air between mages.

  In the middle of the roundabout was a statue of a boy holding a gleaming gold chalice toward the heavens. Nearly invisible tendrils of gold and white smoke lifted from it, then flowed downward, spreading out in all directions. The tendrils seeped into the buildings clustered around the circus, then continued down the spokes and into a nearly clear dome that surrounded the small town.

  The buildings here were more crazily arranged than they were at Excelsine. Erected side-by-side were castle turrets, adobe abodes, office buildings and tents. It was as if a drunken man had dumped out the contents of his children's toy boxes, then haphazardly glued them to a large wheel—putting teepees and princess castles together with Legoed units and animal pastures—capping it all off with a giant Tupperware dome. It was bizarre and wonderful.

  The store I was seeking was the next spoke over. I would waltz in; get Christian raised, then we'd celebrate in this festive atmosphere.

  No more loneliness. No more pain.

  I hummed a silly tune as I walked. My daydream was rudely interrupted when a siren shrilled.

  “Tremor!” someone yelled frantically and everyone ran. Portal pads were thrown and mages disappeared into the ground by the dozens. Some sprinted toward storefronts, others dashed down the street, vanishing through the walls of the dome. Flying vehicles shot upward, disappearing through the roof. A mage pushed me from behind, causing me to stumble.

  BOOM.

  A cacophony of sound erupted and colored lights shot from every direction.

  The thinning crowds on all sides of the circus started ducking, throwing, and deflecting the magic, chunks of concrete, and earth. Carpets whizzed past, animals shrieked and flew. Beams of light flashed everywhere. Mage after mage disappeared into a portal pad or a store.

  Another siren sounded, and I heard locks engaging on the stores to my right.

  Not good.

  A chunk of rock flew toward me, and I thought of Marsgrove's crappy shielding promise. I formed a gun in my mind and shot my finger toward the projectile. The rock exploded and a light shimmered in front of my eyes. I looked down at my hands and saw a light gold dusting layered over my skin. My shield?

  Another boom sounded, and I concentrated on the gold, making it form a thicker barrier. It shimmered more firmly, collecting energy from my intention.

  Keeping partial focus on the gold shield, I ran down the spoke and ducked behind a car just before a purple beam shot over my head. Black Magicks Unlimited was directly across the street.

  Two mages were dragged into Black Magicks Unlimited—torsos and appendages dragged in with them, and moments later disoriented, but whole, people emerged, then abruptly ported away.

  God, I had to get in there.

  A huge half-winged beast flew in front of the store, shimmering in and out of sight like a projection without full power. The half-elephant, half-giant vulture suddenly bloomed into full color and form, roared, then started pecking at something on the sidewalk in front of the store. It looked as if some mad person had split two animals down their spines, then sewed together opposite halves.

  What the hell? I instinctively touched the leather bracelet Will had made for me.

  There was a beep and a visual of the animal came to my mind's eye along with a small list of basic facts. Called a sweeper, it was dangerous and always hungry. It liked human flesh and apples and belonged firmly in the Fourth Layer.

  I felt competing urges to laugh and hyperventilate. As far as I knew, I was still in the Second Layer.

  A bolt of yellow flew toward the sweeper. The animal raised its beak/trunk and heaved a stream of thick indigo. The yellow light turned to ten feet of solid stone, then shattered on the sidewalk. Three men exited Black Magicks Unlimited and upon seeing the sweeper, one screamed like a starlet in a horror movie, and they all started running and fumbling for their pads. The sweeper roared and stalked after them.

  This was my chance.

  I shot out from my hiding spot, ducked a yellow beam, dodged a piece of flying debris, sucked in my midsection as a red beam flew by, then skidded to a too-abrupt stop and threw open the door to the shop wedged between a magical tattoo parlor and pawn shop.

  The deathly knell of bells signaled my entrance.

  Black Magicks Unlimited was a narrow shop with a long stainless steel counter spanning the length, leading to a curtained area at the back. I forced myself to relax and breathe normally. Thankfully, the primary odor was an antiseptic cleaning smell and not the smell of death.

  The guy on the other side of the counter looked like a leather-clad biker who had been dead a week already. Nothing on his face indicated what he thought of me.

  I put my hands on the counter to steady myself, as another explosion hit and the street outside exploded. I let the explosion settle into aftershocks before speaking. The sweeper had taken up position in front of the store again, licking the sidewalk.

  “Shouldn't be here during a Layer Tremor, kid.” The man's expression clearly said I was an idiot.

  Touching the bracelet deliberately this time, Will's encyclopedia kicked in again to tell me that Layer Tremors happened in areas containing too much magic. The magic needed to untwist itself and the result was always explosive.

  Also, layers “thinned” during tremors and sometimes things passed through. The warnings about Ganymede Circus made sudden sense. I wondered how the dome over the city functioned. I wondered if yeti sightings in the First Layer could now be explained.

  But none of that was important. This was my single opportunity, and I wasn't going to waste it. “Your sign says you can reanimate the dead.”

  The term produced images of Christian with giant eyes and a tiny triangle of a nose. And maybe that really concentrated look of anime fierceness as he flew through the air toward a foe. I was feeling a little high.

  “Yup. Put the stiff here.” The man patted the counter in front of me.

  I quickly removed my hands and rubbed them on my jeans.

  “I don't have a stiff.” Probably could nab one from the street right now, though... Still, my nervous excitement morphed into euphoria again that I was so close to my goal that I was being asked for a body.

  He frowned. “No stiff? What are you here for then? Information? I don't do government or university surveys.” He spit over his shoulder and into a bucket on the floor.

  “No. I mean, I have a...stiff...but he's not here.”

  “Well, go get him.”

  “I...now? You need the actual stiff, I mean, body?”

  That would set me back. I would have to get to the First Layer and drag back a six-foot two-inch male. Though, I was fairly brimming with the need to do so right now.

  “What does this look like? A form-shifting shop?”

  “Um, no? Er, do I just wrap him in a carpet? A normal one?”

  “What do you have him kept in now?”

  “Nothing?”

  The guy looked at the ceiling, then back at me. He still looked half-dead, but now he looked irritated at his half-su
ccess. “What does the guy owe you? Do you need to know where to find the safe?”

  “What safe?”

  “Do you need information from him? Does he have to apologize for something?”

  “Dying?”

  “Do you need to talk to him so you will get the last word in?”

  “What? No.”

  “How did he die?”

  “He...he was hit with a spell. It overcame him. That night we were pretty far away from help.” Like a whole other dimension away.

  He gave me a look that delved right into my soul. “That night? The body isn't fresh?”

  “Fresh, like recent? No.”

  His face shuttered. “I can't help you. Sorry.”

  “What? Can't we just...dig up the body?” I would get gloves and a shovel right now and work out the logistics of getting his remains through a port later.

  “Dig up the...how long ago did he die?”

  “Seven weeks ago.”

  “Seven weeks? Young lady, I reanimate the dead.”

  “I know. That's why I'm here.”

  “I reanimate them for thirty seconds. Five minutes at most. These things have an expiration date. Seven weeks?” He shook his head.

  “What? No, I don't want him to just pop up for five minutes to chat. I want you to bring him back completely.”

  “Ten minutes post mortem, or not at all. And even if I did try to raise a two month corpse, you wouldn't be pleased with the result.”

  “He'd be alive. That would make me very pleased.”

  He shook his head. “You could get a zombie wearing your boyfriend's skin.”

  “It's my brother,” I said stiffly, hope rapidly dwindling.

  He gave me a brief look of sympathy. “Listen. You don't want to pursue this. Where are your parents, anyway? They should have told you all of this. My advice—and it's against my business profits, you hear, because I could sell you all kinds of crap—is to let him go.”

  I thought about the books locked in the library cages. I wet my lips. “But what about The Twelve—”

  He leaned hard against the counter, and so fast, that I took a step back.