Charm School (The Demon's Apprentice Book 4)

by Ben Reeder

  “Excellent,” Mr. Endicott said as we passed the table. “I have a meeting at three, I can’t be held up with paperwork…” The rest was lost in the low buzz as we headed for a line of kids at the back of the hall. Each of them wore the Franklin school uniform, and all of them had an animal either next to them, on them or in their arms. I slowed down, but the stampede of panicked animals never happened. A few started to act agitated, but at a gesture from their owners, they calmed. I turned and gave Dr. C a confused look, but his glare only seemed to focus down to a laser-like intensity.

  “Wait here,” the staffer said and then headed toward the front of the line. I looked back over my shoulder toward the table we’d passed. A woman was handing the over a thick file to the man behind the desk, who nodded at her before she went toward the back of the room. I could see several more runners moving between the tables, pulling files from a long table at the back of the room. I turned my attention back to the line of kids and animals. Winthrop Gage had also mentioned a collar when he’d first seen Junkyard, but we’d fought a demon not long after that, and that little detail just sort of faded into the background. And these kids either had very strong bonds with their familiars, or animals that were familiar material just weren’t phased by all the demonic crap that had stuck to my aura while I was working for Dulka.

  “That is just…wrong,” Dr. C said through gritted teeth. “Those animals aren’t familiars.” I looked down the line. One girl held a koala, while another had a spider monkey clinging to her shoulder. Two other boys had huge hawks, and a third had a colorful parrot on his shoulder. There were a few exotic cats, all well bred and groomed, and a couple of owls. All bore some sort of jeweled collar or band around their neck or leg.

  “What do you mean, sir?” I asked. “They certainly act like it.” He tapped the center of his forehead, then raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. It took a second before I got what he wanted me to do. “Oh, right!” I said, and blinked a couple of times to let my eyes unfocus and my Aura Sight open.

  Bright blues and purples covered most of their auras, with curious gaps in places. The animals, on the other hand, had light green aura covering their natural one, with dark red streaks extending from the collar through the overlaid shell. Each of the kids had a small red and green blotch on their aura, centered on a ring or a bracelet. I looked down at Junkyard, with his bright gold aura, and the streaks of black and red around his heart. A similar patch of gold ran through my aura near my heart chakra, the little bits of ourselves that we had shared when we bonded.

  I blinked and shook my head. “There’s no bond between them,” I said.

  “The collar suppresses the animal’s will, and the master device lets the owner control them like a puppet.” He was almost trembling with anger now, and I could understand why. Dr. Corwin might have been a bad ass wizard, and he sure as hell didn’t cut me any slack with my lessons, but as strict and sometimes just flat scary as he was, he had a huge soft spot for anything with fur or feathers. As hard as he pushed me, he spoiled Junkyard twice as much. Seeing this must have pissed him off to no end. Dr. C was usually pretty mellow, but right now, he was almost as angry as I’d ever seen him.

  “Dr. C,” I said softly. “In the words of your generation, be cool, man.” One side of his mouth dipped down as he turned toward me and pulled his head back. “What?” I said off his look.

  “Hearing you be the voice of reason is a little…odd,” he said.

  “I’m the one who knows when fighting is a bad idea, and losing your shit right now…kinda at the top of the whole bad idea list.”

  “This is definitely not the time, or the arena,” he said after a moment. By then, the officious little prick who had pulled us from the enrollment line was dragging another, older man toward us. Most of his hair was gone, leaving gray tufts above his ears that matched his faded eyebrows. His face was round and pink, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth that looked like he spent most of his time smiling.

  “Really, Mr. Preston,” he was protesting as the younger man pulled him forward. “I don’t see the need for…oh.” He stopped as he saw Junkyard.

  “Yes, sir,” Mr. Preston said with a quick nod. “We can’t have this animal wandering loose.

  “You look familiar,” the older man said as his eyes fell of Dr. C.

  “I was a student here back in eighty-one, Professor Abernathy,” Dr. C said as he offered a hand to the older gentleman. “I’m Trevor Corwyn.”

  “Ah, Wizard Corwyn, yes, I recall you,” Abernathy said with a smile. “You did a semester to qualify for Sentinel training. Chomsky’s last apprentice. I was saddened to hear of his passing last year; terrible loss. The boy is your student, then?”

  “Yes, sir, and the animal in question is his familiar. A real familiar, not some…” he stopped for a moment, then waved his hand toward the line of students. “Not like those.”

  “An old fashioned bond, eh? Haven’t seen anything like that in a while,” Abernathy said. “Well, the test should be easy enough to see to.”

  “But, Professor, the animal’s registration and paperwork,” Preston sputtered. “We can’t let just any animal in here. It has to be from a certified breeder and…and…”

  “I told you it had been a while,” Abernathy said to Dr. C. He turned and ushered us up the steps to the curtained off stage area, with Preston following behind. Behind the curtain, several men and women in longer coats sat behind a single table. An empty seat waited on the right side, and Abernathy wasted no time in taking it. Still he wasn’t fast enough to shut Preston up.

  “Professor Abernathy, these traditions have been in place for over thirty years,” he said.

  “Yes, I know,” Abernathy said. “And I’ve been here for sixty-three years. By your logic, I’m a tradition, and an older one at that. Young man, what’s your name?”

  “Chance Fortunato, sir,” I said. “And this is Junkyard.” Junkyard took a step forward and promptly sat.

  “Junkyard?” the woman to Abernathy’s left asked, her pen poised over a form.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s where we first met.”

  “And this is where you shared the bond gaze?” Abernathy asked. I nodded. “Very well then, let’s put him through his paces.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” a woman who looked like she was in the early twenties asked. “

  “The same way we do all the others. First, we verify the bond.”

  “How do we do that without documentation?” the younger woman asked. Abernathy sighed and shook his head, adding in an eyeroll to up the difficulty.

  “Have none of you been here more than thirty years?” he asked. Heads shook up and down the table. “Look at the boy’s aura and then at the dog’s. There will be some overlay around the heart. There, do you see it?” Half a dozen pairs of eyes went to me, and I could see the shock and revulsion on their faces as they each got a look at my aura, then glanced over at Junkyard.

  “Nadia,” the older man said when one woman let out disgusted sound deep in her throat. “Are you capable of conducting yourself impartially at this time, or is your objectivity compromised?” The question had the cadence of a formal request, but his tone made it sound a lot sharper to me, as if the question itself was a reprimand.

  “I’m okay,” the woman said after a moment.

  “Then we’re agreed that a bond exists?” Six quiet acknowledgements answered him. “Mr. Fortunato, please direct your familiar from one side of the room to the other, then back to your starting point.”

  I looked down at Junkyard, and he looked up at me. His tail hit my ankle as it wagged. “Over there, buddy,” I said. He trotted to the place I was pointing, then turned and looked back at me. “Other side now,” I said, and pointed to the other side of the room. He crossed the room, turned around and sat, giving me a tongue lolling look. “Back over here.” Seconds later, he was next to me again, and I found myself facing row of frowning faces.

  “The fam
iliar failed to complete the task properly,” one of the men said.

  “Failed?” Abernathy laughed, “Or exceeded your expectations?”

  “There is only pass or fail,” the man said. “He did not do what was instructed. The task was to cross the room and return to his owner. The fault lies with the owner, but that changes nothing.”

  “He did cross the room,” Nadia said. “And he did return to his owner. Most students do it as a straight line and back because that’s all they can manage, Harris. Is your objectivity compromised? No? Then the dog passed.” Shrugs and head nods answered.

  “Very well then, next test,” Abernathy said with a slight smile. “Step forward. Stop. Now, keep the animal in place.” Nadia, Harris and two others stood up and came around the table toward me, stopping only a couple of feet away from us. I looked down at Junkyard and gave him a little nod and smiled, and his tail thumped again.

  “So far so good,” I muttered. As if they’d been waiting for me to relax, all four of them closed in around me, almost but not quite touching us. Junkyard leaned into my leg and went very still. After a few seconds, all four stepped back, then took another quick step to one side so that they ended up moving one place to the right. A moment later, they did it again, then did it all in reverse before backing away.

  “He handles crowding well enough,” Harris said, each word sounding a little reluctant. “But I still have my concerns about an uncollared animal roaming about.”

  “Nonsense, Harris,” Abernathy said. “Familiars roamed these halls uncollared for centuries without incident. It wasn’t until these collars were invented that we even felt the need to test them to make sure they’d be safe. It used to be that you couldn’t go a week without seeing a familiar running or flying back and forth to fetch a forgotten wand or homework or some such. Now they’re about as useful as those little dogs rich cowan women carry around in their purses.”

  “Then maybe we should make this animal prove it can do that before we let it roam around. At least that way, when it pees in one of the halls, we can justify it!” Harris said, his tone heating as he spoke.

  “That is uncalled for!” Abernathy said. As he addressed Harris, I knelt beside Junkyard and whispered in his ear.

  “I think it’s entirely called for,” Harris said. “We have to prove to some of the most influential families in America that they’re children are safe from any foreseeable threat while they’re getting the finest education on two continents. I’m not going to let some stupid animal walk unsupervised on this campus.” He leaned toward Abernathy as he spoke, and didn’t see Junkyard raise up on the table and paw his pen toward him. His eyes went wide, though, when he saw Junkyard’s big furry head pop up in front of Abernathy with his silver pen in his mouth and drop it onto the desk in front of him.

  “What’s this?” Abernathy asked as he reached for the pen.

  “It’s a pen, you use it to write with,” I said. “But that’s not important right now.” Beside me, Dr. C choked on a laugh. “It’s his. Junkyard can go get something and take it somewhere, as long as he’s seen it before and been to where he’s going. He’s still working on doorknobs, though.” Abernathy covered his mouth as his smile widened. He looked at the pen in his hand, then held it back out to Junkyard.

  “Would you return this to its owner?” he said. Junkyard leaned forward and gently took the pen in his teeth, then dropped down and trotted back to Harris. This time Harris watched as he put his front paws on the table and leaned forward, his tongue and jaw working the saliva covered pen out of his mouth.

  “He’s drooled all over it,” Harris said, picking it up with his handkerchief.

  “I don’t think he liked being called a stupid animal,” I said. A couple of giggles made it past tight expressions.

  “I believe we are satisfied,” Abernathy said. “Any objections?”

  “We’re satisfied for now,” Harris said. The frown on his face convinced me that he wasn’t happy about it, though.

  “You may return to your enrollment.”

  We turned and headed back through the curtain to the main enrollment area. By now, it looked like everyone who had been at the tables was gone, and a whole new group of kids were being enrolled. Preston was waiting for us, looking like someone had just asked him to smell something nasty. As soon as we came into view, he turned and headed back across the room.

  This time, I could see the stares as we walked through what felt like hostile territory. Some of the looks we got were disdainful, some hostile, and a few were just curious and aloof. None of the eyes on us seemed friendly. The whispers started as we passed.

  “That’s the demon boy; don’t talk to him and make sure you burn all ...”

  “Don’t look him in the eye, son. That goes for all of them, especially those African girls…”

  “…if that little fox boy doesn’t try to seduce you, he’ll try to steal your soul…”

  “… know my Reginald earned his place here. I can’t believe they expect him to mingle with trash like …”

  “I can’t believe you dropped an Airplane reference on them,” Dr. C said as we made our way to the edge of the crowd.

  “It seemed like the thing to do,” I said. “You inflicted it on me, I figured I should pay it forward.”

  “Inflicted? It was only one night.”

  “Yeah, but you made me watch both of them.”

  “Okay, so the sequel wasn’t as good as the original but that’s because-”

  “It was made in 1980?” I said as we left the hall through a side door. There was a cart with bottles of water and soda next to the door, and I grabbed a soda as we passed by. The trip back felt a little shorter than the first time, probably because Preston was walking as fast as he could without breaking into an actual run. When we came back into Strathorne Hall, another man hustled up to us and pulled our guide a couple of feet away.

  “I thought I gave you specific instructions to get rid of that thing,” he whispered a little too loudly.

  “It’s the boy’s familiar,” Preston almost whispered back.

  “No scholarship student can afford the collar!”

  “Abernathy pushed it through,” Preston sighed. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”

  The other man made a disgusted sound. “This complicates things immensely. We’ll have to give him a different room, and he’ll be…well, you know.” Preston nodded. “There’s nothing for it. I’ll get his paperwork started. Contact someone over at Chadwicke and have them send the proper form over.” Preston headed to another door and the other man pasted a smile on his face and walked back toward us.

  “So sorry for the inconvenience,” he said as he put his hand out. “I’m Fenton Lowell.”

  “Dr. Trevor Corwin. Is there a problem, Mr. Lowell?”

  “A minor disruption, nothing to be concerned about. You see, since scholarship students usually don’t bring familiars, we have never needed to request a room equipped to accommodate one. It’s just a matter of requesting the proper form and having you fill it out.” The words flowed smoothly, but the smile he gave us never seemed to reach his eyes as he ushered us toward the tables. A tired looking young woman greeted us as we approached.

  “Tabitha will get you started on the enrollment forms,” Lowell said. “Then we can get your housing, meal plan and text book forms filled out.”

  “These were already filled out for the students over in Chadwicke Hall,” Dr. C said as we gathered the forms. The woman looked to Lowell.

  “I’m sure you must be mistaken, sir,” she said.

  “No, I’m pretty sure I saw it clearly.”

  “Most of the enrollment paperwork is already filled out,” Lowell said as his eyes flicked to the left. “Some families simply take the initiative to pre-fill the forms we’re taking care of today.” There was a faint note of disdain in his voice, but it was hard to pin down. “It is an option offered to the children of previous alumni. Shall we get started?” I shrugged
and Dr. C gave him a skeptical glance before he nodded.

  For half an hour, we filled out form after form. I only got the point behind a few, like the one that gave the school permission to give medical treatment. Junkyard laid down beside me as I went to work on my share of the forms. Even after handling demonic contracts for Dulka, the maze of forms was baffling. Twice, the girl on the other side of the table handed me something back and pointed to a place I needed to initial.

  Finally, my fingers feeling like they were seconds from cramping, I handed the last form to the weary looking man at the final station. He slid it into the folder with my name on it without looking up and handed it over his shoulder to Preston.

  “If you’ll follow me,” he said as he led us out a different door. “You been assigned to Jefferson Hall, and your luggage is being moved there now.” We came out on the lawn behind the school buildings, and he pointed us toward one of the halls at the corner opposite and gave Dr. Corwin my folder. Junkyard trotted along beside me, his tongue lolling out and his tail bobbing as he went.

  Dr. C led me through the main door and to the reception desk that sat in the middle of the hall. When he laid my folder down in front of her, the corners of her smile wavered a little, and she looked to him, then to me.

  “Dr. Corwin,” she said with a steady voice. “Welcome to Jefferson Hall. We were just notified that Mr. Fortunato will be joining us.”

  “Thank you, do you have his room assignment?”

  “Not yet,” she said, drawing the two words out. “We’re having to do some rearranging to work out the best placement for everyone.” She glanced to one side, and I followed her gaze to see a tall, blond haired man standing in a semi-circle of people further down the hallway. She brought her hand up when he looked her way and nodded toward Dr. C. He nodded and held up his hands for a moment, then broke free of the group and came our way with a purpose.