Crash Course

by Ivy Hearne

  I drifted in and out of consciousness as those other hands dragged me inside the now-open door of the well house.

  I’d seen those hands before. They dropped me to the ground, and a figure swayed almost into focus above me.

  It was Davis. His top half, floating, but not like it had been floating before. This time, he was moving. Saying something about interfering where I didn’t belong.

  His voice was different, too. It kept changing.

  So did his face.

  I heard something clink behind us as he shut the door. Then he picked me up by my wrists and dragged me down a circular staircase. My legs thumped down behind me.

  The hands that dragged me kept changing. They were Angelica’s, then Mr. Jamison’s, then Davis’s.

  I must be dreaming. This had to be a nightmare. Any minute, I would come out of it, wake up in my own room.

  And then he was dumping me in a heap next to...himself?

  I rolled my head from one side to another, staring first at the Mr. Jamison beside me, and then at whatever it was standing above me. Sometimes Mr. Jamison, sometimes Angelica, sometimes Davis.

  “What are you?” I managed to spit out. The question was understandable, even though my words were slurred.

  And then, to my horror, the things standing over me shifted again, and it was like looking into a mirror.

  It clenched its fists—my fists—and said, “I’m you.”

  It spoke with my voice.

  And then it used my hands to chain me to a bolt in the floor next to the unmoving form of Mr. Jamison.

  “So you were planning to go to meet with Angelica and asked some questions about centaurs?” the me-in-front-of-me asked. “I think I can handle that.”

  It began systematically stripping my clothes off of me, so that when it was done, I lay naked, shivering on the floor, while it wore my clothing.

  Whatever it had given me in that injection was already beginning to wear off, leaving behind a mild nausea. That feeling only intensified when I glanced around and realized there were brownish-red stains on the stone floor. Bloodstains.

  “This is where you did it, isn’t it? This is where you killed Davis Carruthers.”

  Whatever it was that had taken my shape snarled at me. “If he had simply shifted into his human form I would not have had to.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m certain it was all his fault.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my tone. It was unfortunate, too, because I’d had on serious boots when I left my room earlier—and the kick this shape-stealer aimed at my stomach hurt. I coughed and gagged, trying to keep from vomiting from the pain.

  “And now, because of you, there’s a hunt on for a killer.” It was strange to see me shake my head. “But they won’t suspect you. And now that you’ve gotten close to that wraith bitch, I’ll be able to take her down.”

  Should I keep it talking? Figure out what it was doing and why?

  “So she deserved to die?”

  It laughed, sounding horrifically cheerful in my voice. “Traitors all deserve to die. She never should have abandoned our cause.”

  It all fell together. It was that simple. Ms. Hush had left the Lusus Naturae to come over to the hunters’ side, for whatever reasons that happened. And now the Lusus Naturae were determined to kill her for it.

  “And then what?” I asked. “How will you get away?”

  The Lusus Naturae member in front of me simply laughed. “I don’t have time to tell you everything. I’ll only be able to hold this form for a little while. Don’t want to waste precious time.” It grinned. “But I’ll be back to take care of you, too. You’ll be a nice bonus—there’s a good little bounty on your head.”

  And with that, it was gone, my boots clomping back up the stairs.

  Mr. Jamison had not moved at all during that conversation. I reached out and poked at him, trying to decide if he was even still alive.

  The clothes that the Lusus Naturae had discarded—the ones that I assumed must have been Mr. Jamison’s originally, or maybe Davis’s—were scattered all across the floor. I stretched out with a foot and snagged a T-shirt. It was enough to cover me, at least. Then I went back to poking Mr. Jamison.

  “Wake up, please?” He didn’t move.

  A moment later, the light went out entirely, leaving me in utter darkness.

  I couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper.

  Chapter 11

  “Who’s there?” The voice came out of the darkness next to me.

  “Mr. Jamison?” I gasped.

  “No,” he all but sobbed. “That’s me. You are not Mr. Jamison. You cannot have my form.”

  “No, no. It’s me—it’s Kacie Deluca.”

  “Oh, no,” Mr. Jamison moaned. “It got you, too?”

  “Yeah. What is that thing?”

  I heard him shifting around in the darkness, sitting up next to me. “It’s a doppelgänger.”

  “A what?”

  “It can take on other people’s forms for a short time, but only if it touches them.”

  I thought back to the way it had handed Angelica her pen. That must have been when it had gotten her form. And then it had dragged me into this abandoned building. “But it’s been on campus for days,” I said. “It’s had the chance to touch dozens of people.”

  “Its goal is to assassinate the new parabiology instructor, the wraith.”

  “And I gave it the perfect excuse to get close to her when I said I could see her better than my classmates,” I groaned.

  “It’s been giving me something to depress my psychic abilities,” Mr. Jamison said. “But maybe we could pool our power together.”

  “Sure.” I was willing to try anything. “What do we do?” I asked.

  “Reach out, see if you can hold my hand.”

  Mr. Jamison’s hand was cold, and I could feel him shivering through the contact.

  “Are you sure this is something you need to be doing?” I asked.

  “I have to. This monster has used my form for days. I will do anything I can to stop it from reaching its goal.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I understood that desire.

  I don’t know how long we spent in the dark trying to pool our psychic power, fighting against our own exhaustion and whatever drugs the doppelgänger had given us.

  Finally, after what felt like days and probably was hours, the tiniest spark seemed to flare between us.

  “There,” I exclaimed excitedly. “Did you feel that?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Jamison’s exhausted voice came from of the dark. “We can use that, connect it to the doppelgänger, keep it confused.”

  “Confused how?”

  “Doppelgängers draw their strength from their victims—and they draw their knowledge from them, as well. As long as he keeps us drugged and docile, he can pull information from our minds.”

  “But with this?” I prodded.

  “If we push enough psychic power into this, if we share our minds, we can confuse it. Maybe even enough so it won’t be able to keep its shape.”

  “And then, maybe someone will see him? Or her? Whatever it is?”

  “Yes, see it for what it is.”

  I considered that for a long moment. “How will that save us?”

  Mr. Jamison’s laugh didn’t hold any humor. “It won’t.”

  I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. I remembered Tony saying just this morning—or was it yesterday by now?—That Davis’s death had not been for any higher purpose.

  But at least mine can be.

  I inhaled deeply. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Mr. Jamison’s fingers closed around mine, and I felt the power pulsing between us, faintly at first, and then more strongly.

  With it came images. Mr. Jamison and a woman, two small children. His family. Their names came to me as if I knew them. Sondra, Basil, Haley. And then I was in some of the scenes, as well, talking to these people I’d never met.

  Moments later, Mr. Jamison was in my m
ind, chatting with my parents, watching as Souji and I practiced sparring, standing off to the side as Tony brushed his lips across mine. I blushed, but I didn’t try to stop the exchange of information.

  “That’s a good start,” Mr. Jamison said. “Let’s try to go deeper.”

  I opened myself to him completely. If I was going to die, it didn’t matter what he knew. Not if it could help save others.

  And it was like I knew everything he knew for just an instant. We were swirling together, and I didn’t know where Everest Jamison ended and Kacela Deluca began.

  I don’t know how long we floated like that.

  But another booted kick to the stomach pushed us apart and sent me rolling over, clutching my stomach and retching.

  “You nearly ruined everything!” The doppelgänger raged, marching up and down in front of us. I blinked tears out of my eyes and looked up to find a horrific amalgamation of three of us in front of me—Mr. Jamison’s legs, Davis’s torso, and my own face. I recoiled in horror.

  “You’re just lucky no one saw me like this.” It marched up and down, muttering. It took me a moment to realize that the things it was saying didn’t really make any sense, then another moment after that to recognize that I could see it because the light was back on.

  I glanced over at Mr. Jamison. He was eyeing the doppelgänger intently. “Were you able to kill the wraith?” he asked.

  The doppelgänger hissed and spun on him. “No.” Then he turned on me. “And it’s all your fault.”

  “My fault?” I shook my head and turned my hands up in a shrug, even as I scuttled back out of reach of those boots of mine.

  If I got out of this, I might never wear them again.

  “How is it my fault?”

  “You can’t be killed. I have to keep you.” Its form shifted as I watched, melting away through Davis’s face, and on to Jamison’s. I glanced over at the real Mr. Jamison, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Whatever we had done to confuse it was working. He gave a little roll of his finger as if to tell me to keep it talking.

  I could do that. I had questions to ask—whether or not this creature could answer them.

  One, in particular, had been pressing against me for days. “This is a campus full of hunters-in-training. Why am I the one who keeps getting mixed up in these things?”

  “Because you’re special,” the faux-Jamison said. “Hasn’t anyone told you yet?”

  I stared at him blankly. “No, I’m not. I can’t even do basic magic. My psychic ability is barely any better than it was when it was blocked.”

  “Ah, but why do you think it was blocked?” he asked—but then the moment of lucidity was over, and he was back to mumbling. “Why? Why indeed? Why hide the magic of the girl with the power, the girl with the bloodlines, the girl with the blood. Blood. Oh, there was so much blood.”

  Was he talking about when he’d killed Davis?

  “Blood?” I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle. “You mean when you had to cut that boy?”

  “Oh, yes,” he breathed out. “Had to cut him. He wouldn’t shift, wouldn’t change, and I couldn’t make the horse legs work. Needed human legs. Can’t do halves. I told him. Can’t do halves. So I halved him.”

  My stomach lurched at the picture I was putting together. But I had to know for sure, so I kept talking. “You couldn’t copy his centaur shape, the one with the horse legs, so you tried to get him to shift to his human form?”

  “Yes. Human form. Horrific human.” He made a gagging noise. “So I kept cutting.”

  How had this monster kept himself together long enough to impersonate Mr. Jamison?

  It sure wasn’t keeping itself together now. Its form melted and reformed in front of me, taking on parts of the three of us.

  “But now all I have are halves. Pieces.” With a glance down at his misshapen body, he scuttled across the room on Jamison’s legs and caressed my face with Davis’s hand.

  I threw an anguished look at the real Mr. Jamison—but he was busy working on something in his hand.

  And then he held it up triumphantly behind the doppelgänger’s back for me to see: a key.

  The key—the key to the chains that held us down here.

  At some point, he had managed to pluck it off the monster.

  He waited until the doppelgänger went back to pacing and muttering. And then he handed it to me.

  Go, he mouthed at me. I unlocked my chain, then offered to give the key back, but Mr. Jamison pointed at the top of the stairs. I would need the key up there. And he wanted me to leave him here.

  Could I do it?

  Yes—but only if I took the doppelgänger with me. I wouldn’t let it stay down here and kill Mr. Jamison.

  I would send someone back to save him.

  If it was the last thing I did.

  Quietly, I unhooked my chain, watching to make sure the doppelgänger was still distracted.

  And then I threw the chain aside with a loud rattle and bolted toward the stairway.

  Chapter 12

  Mr. Jamison had been right—at the top of the stairs, I had to use the key again. The doppelgänger had chased after me as soon as he realized what was happening, and the door slowed me down so much that it almost caught up with me.

  I burst out of the well house into the bright afternoon light. I hadn’t been down there nearly as long as it felt like. It was still daylight. Classes were even still in session.

  I made a beeline for the nearest classroom building. I hit it at full tilt, running down the hall and screaming at the top of my lungs.

  And the doppelgänger was right behind me, also screaming at the top of my lungs.

  Classrooms emptied out, instructors and students pouring into the hallway to find...

  Me. Facing off against myself.

  Oh, no. Whatever had caused the doppelgänger to decompensate had faded in the face of the adrenaline rush of a chase. It was holding my form perfectly.

  “Help!” I shouted. “It’s a doppelgänger, and it killed Davis Carruthers.”

  “Help!” it copied me. “That’s the doppelgänger, and it killed Davis Carruthers.”

  Everyone around us looked from me to it and back again.

  I gestured down at my bare legs and feet, the T-shirt I wore that barely covered me at all. “It kidnapped me and held me prisoner. That’s why I’m dressed like this.”

  “It didn’t have any of my clothes. That’s why it’s dressed like that,” the doppelgänger said.

  Two of the instructors glanced at one another. “Everyone wait here,” one of them said. “We’ll get Ms. Gayle and the investigating hunters here to take care of this.”

  “Call Souji,” I said suddenly. “My hunting partner. He’ll be able to tell us apart.” I hoped I was right. But somehow, deep inside, I knew I was. He would never mistake this monster for me.

  The instructor who’d spoken nodded. “Okay,” he said. “We can call both. Just wait here.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief. There was no way Souji would get us mixed up.

  Still, I watched the doppelgänger carefully.

  It kept its eye on me, and I was so busy watching it to make sure it didn’t lash out and hurt someone, that I completely missed when it simply reached out and touched the closest person.

  I realized what was happening seconds too late. “Watch out!” I shouted.

  But the doppelgänger had grabbed its latest victim by the hands and swung him around in a circle, until there were two of them standing there, with no way to tell them apart. I’d been wearing a school uniform. We all dressed alike. If it hadn’t had to switch from instructor’s clothing, I probably would’ve still been dressed, and there wouldn’t been any way at all to tell us apart.

  It blended into the students perfectly, ducking and weaving through the students gathered around, reaching out and touching them one after another, its hair and face changing, sliding, helping it blend even more.

  The instructors cursed and took off af
ter the doppelgänger.

  And that’s when my psychic powers decided to kick in.

  At least this time I knew I was sending out a blast.

  Probably anyone with any psychic ability within a hundred-mile radius heard me. That’s what Mr. Meriwether, the new psychics instructor, told me later. He laughed as he said it, but it was humiliating to me. Later, anyway. Right at that moment, I didn’t care, as long as someone caught the doppelgänger.

  But they didn’t. It kept everyone running all that day, and a giant manhunt—or doppelgänger hunt, anyway—went on that day and the next.

  I led Ms. Gayle down to find Mr. Jamison in the well house basement before I joined in the hunt.

  He’d been locked away down there long enough to be suffering from exposure.

  But he lived.

  Which is more than was true of Davis Carruthers.

  And for the first time since I’d gotten to the Hunters’ Academy, I knew what it felt like to really fail.

  Not like failing to be able to control magic in class or failing to be able to send psychic message exactly what I wanted to.

  But real failure.

  The kind that might mean people around me died horrible deaths.

  I joined the hunt for the doppelgänger all that night. Souji stayed next to me, and we crisscrossed all the campus lands for as long as we could stand it, until even Ms. Gayle told me she understood why I wanted to continue searching, but she simply could not allow it.

  I quit searching.

  But it felt like letting Davis Carruthers die all over again.

  “IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, you know,” Souji Reo said to me the next day. “Even Laxmi and I stopped the search. The doppelgänger is no longer on campus.”

  “Yeah, but you and Laxmi,” I said, “didn’t have him take your shape.”

  He gave me a half grin, and suddenly I saw exactly how he looked like his brother when they were in their human forms. Like my partner, Reo was drop-dead gorgeous. I had to fight down a little flutter in my stomach when he smiled at me.