Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

  *****

  Moments later I stalked into my own room, eyes scanning feverishly for the painkillers. They were nowhere to be seen.

  “What the hell,” I growled, hand probing around on the desk. Not there. I got on hands and knees and searched around the desk and under the chair. Still nothing. Straining, able to use only one hand, I pulled the desk away from the wall and checked behind.

  “Where the hell…?” The search became more frantic. I pulled down my uniform and patted the pockets, ripped open the bedside table drawer and tossed out the contents, threw back my bed blankets and pillows, groping beneath them, all the while unaware that a figure stood in the corner and watched. Finally I looked up and registered the intruder. The demon stared.

  “What?!” I spat at it.

  It said nothing.

  “Get out of here!”

  It went nowhere.

  “Fine, you son of a bitch. Stick around. Got a present for you. Stick around for two seconds…” I glanced around desperately, finally spotting my Cadet boots. My eyes lit up. “Ah. Just a second there, buddy…” I stumbled forward and reached into one, then the other. The painkillers were in the second. Two were tipped into my hand.

  “Don’t like these, do you?” I said smugly, holding one up for the demon to see. “See you later.”

  I tossed a pill into my mouth and swallowed, then plonked into my chair and drew in a slow breath. They would kick in soon. But after a moment peculiar thoughts began to line up. I frowned and looked up at the blue-face. Its red eyes watched me. A tiny spark of realisation blossomed. The implications made my eyes widen.

  “How did they get in that boot?” I asked the demon.

  It refused to dignify such accusations with an answer.

  “Did you put them in there?”

  I cast my mind back to the morning, trying to recall a moment the pill bottle might have accidentally landed up in the boot. While I dressed perhaps…

  Euphoria began to descend as the pills kicked in. The demon faded.

  “Adios you son of a bitch,” I muttered, “Not in the mood.”

  The rest of the day was spent in front of my desk, nose in various books and bullet point lists up to my eyeballs. Again the painkillers aided me, and again I managed to plough through until the early hours.

  The next morning, upon being dropped outside the Academy by a cheerful Benny, confidence in my ability to pass the theory part of the Basics had never been higher. The only real problem remaining was Delaney.

  “Wouldn’t take those meds in the Academy,” Benny said as I climbed from the car, “Stunts your magic.”

  “Thanks. I know.”

  Astonishingly the Academy appeared to be running like clockwork; this despite an entire wing of the facility being closed for investigation and repairs. A brief glance at the notice board revealed that training sessions had been shuffled and reorganised to accommodate missing halls.

  ‘Please bear with us in this trying time,’ a hand written note said at the bottom of the schedule, ‘We thank you for being patient and understanding until normal classes are resumed.’

  I headed first for the medical wing where the dressing on my hand was changed.

  “Is it still hurting? Would you like more medication?” the nurse asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt so badly today,” I replied, grimacing as she tightened the bandages, “Got some if I need them.” I patted my top pocket and realised the bottle was absent. “Damn.”

  On my way to Raw Spirit management, I came upon an arrangement of flowers and handful of framed photos in a central area. Depicted was the Academy staff that had perished. I stood for a moment and picked out the face of Gibson. In the photo he was smiling.

  My mind presented me with an image of Judy, her head snapping to the side and pink mist ejecting from beside her ear. Beside her was Linda, turning slowly into a living skeleton.

  “Funny, right?” a voice said.

  I looked up and saw a young female Cadet beside me.

  “What’s funny?”

  “No photos of any of the patients.”

  “Maybe they didn’t have enough space.”

  “Wanna bet they would have found the space if it were a hundred Enforcers that had died?”

  “I guess.”

  “This is for you. Good luck.” She handed me a folded note and stalked off.

  ‘Cadet Clarence. Be reminded of your appointment

  at the Mental Wellness Centre. 2PM.’

  I sighed and tucked the note into a pocket.

  The Raw Spirit Management session turned out to be a major success. I managed to catch and absorb multiple projectiles from Lotz with little trouble, having to favour one hand and keep the injured at my side.

  “Excellent work, Clarence!” Lotz beamed.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Once during the session I glimpsed Anderson, her eyes studying me from across the hall. But no words were exchanged.

  After class I headed to the canteen for my coffee requirement. Upon signalling for a second cup I looked up and saw Lotz entering the canteen. She approached the bar and ordered something, then spotted me and stood in silent contemplation. I did my best to radiate an unwelcoming aura. But after accepting her mug of tea she headed in my direction.

  “Sitting alone, Jet?” she asked.

  “So it seems, ma’am.”

  “Elaine. Neutral ground, remember?”

  “Of course, Elaine.”

  “Shall I join you?”

  My brain failed to present a valid excuse in a timely fashion. I nodded and she slipped into the chair.

  “You did well in class today,” she began, sipping her tea, “You’re really taking to it.”

  “Thank you. I do think I’m getting the hang of it.”

  “Your Spirit Level really is remarkable, you know.” Her eyes twinkled. She resembled a horsepower obsessed mechanic referring to a powerful vehicle.

  “I’ve heard so before. In fact I never stop hearing about it.”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  A silence settled in and she studied my face. I dropped my eyes. My brain, having failed to avoid the situation altogether, now attempted to concoct an escape plan. I had settled on mumbling something about having to get to a class and excusing myself, but she broke the tension with a sudden laugh.

  “Who is the lucky girl?” she asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re in love, Jet. Who’s the lucky girl?”

  “I’m what…?”

  “In love. Aren’t you?” She gazed at me innocently.

  My tongue struggled to untie itself. “No. Not as far as I can tell.”

  She laughed again, a musical tinkle that echoed through the canteen. “Of course you are, I can tell. And I’m not very skilled in any magic beyond Raw Spirit Manipulation. So who is it? Clara?”

  “Clara? I hardly know her.”

  “Then who?”

  I sat back, brow furrowing. Something about the woman’s insistence made me pause. In a parallel world a hand was stroking my cheek and sunlight was turning black hair into threads of silk.

  “I don’t think I am,” I replied carefully.

  “You don’t think you are? Maybe you’re just afraid she doesn’t feel the same?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You should un-complicate it.”

  “Trust me when I say some things are beyond simplification.”

  “Maybe not so much as you think, Jet.” She smiled, sipping her tea. “The complications are all just so much distracting fluff. When you strip it away, the truth of the thing is as simple as simple can be.”

  “Ah. I’ll take that into consideration.”

  “You do that.”

  We lapsed into silence again and I downed the remainder of my coffee. “Have an appointment at the Mental Wellness Centre.”

  “Well, you don’t want to be late,” she replied amiably.

  “Of course.�
�� I stood. “Thank you for the talk, Miss Lotz. Elaine.”

  “My pleasure. My door is open if you want to talk.”

  “I’ll also take that into consideration.”