Charm School (The Demon's Apprentice Book 4)

by Ben Reeder

  “Mr. Emerson, Dr. Corwin is here to-,” she said, but Emerson nodded and cut her off.

  “Corwin, I’m glad you finally made it,” he said as he pulled Dr. C. away.

  “Just have a seat over there,” the girl said as I started to follow, pointing to a carpeted area with a fireplace. Dark brown furniture contrasted with a pale green carpet with a pattern of small brown squares running through it. The chairs were smooth leather that offered just enough friction to keep me from sliding off if I held very still. I could hear the murmur of voices further down the hall, but the chairs weren’t in line of sight, which eliminated most eavesdropping spells. I set my backpack down on one side of the chair; Junkyard laid down on the other side and put his head on his front paws.

  “I’ll take this up with the headmaster if needs be, or would you prefer I contact the Council?” I heard a baritone voice from behind me.

  “I share your concerns, Dr. Endicotte,” another voice said, this one higher and speaking faster. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done about it. The boy is here at the order of Master Draeden himself.”

  “I don’t care who ordered it, I will not allow some demon worshipping little warlock anywhere near my sons without adequate protection. You obviously don’t care that you’re putting my sons in the company of a boy whose reputation includes a body count! It’s bad enough he’s even at the same school, but in the same building? That’s beyond the pale.” I heard steps on the carpet as the staffer and Endicott moved to stand right behind the chair I was sitting in. I felt Junkyard move beside the chair, and I put a hand out to touch his shoulder. He looked over at me, and I shook my head.

  “And of course, you know private security is not allowed on the campus for various reasons, Dr. Endicotte. But, I feel I can share this with you in the strictest confidence, in light of your family’s patronage over the years. The headmaster has arranged to have a contingent of Sentinels assigned to the Academy for the duration of Fortunato’s enrollment, though I doubt he’ll last long here. Your children will have the best security available as long as he’s here.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence, young man. Sentinels are soldiers, police officers at best. They don’t know the first thing about security or protecting people. Where is the housemaster? I demand to speak with him.” The sound of footsteps started moving away, and I risked a glance over my shoulder to see a man in a gray suit heading for the reception desk with a staffer in tow. I sat back in the seat, suddenly not caring if I fell on my ass or if anyone saw me. I was a bogey man to most of these people. All they knew or cared about was my past. It was like nothing I’d done over the past year mattered.

  “Come on,” Dr. C said from beside me. I turned and looked up at him. I hadn’t heard him come up, but it was going to take more than that to make me jump.

  “If I punched a parent, do you think that would be enough to get me expelled?” I asked as I got to my feet.

  “Probably just in time for our jail sentence to start,” he said. “Look, Chance, I know this is all strange, but it’s nowhere near as bad as some of the things you’ve faced. No one here is actively trying to kill you.” He led me to a stair case and started up the first flight.

  “I can punch vampires and demons,” I said as we climbed the steps. “I don’t know how to fight this kind of battle.”

  “You’ll learn,” he said. “Just… learn to fight it the right way.”

  “What’s the right way?”

  “Most of these kids are going to try to bring you down, somehow. Don’t try to do that to them.”

  “Right,” I said, not getting it at all. We kept going up until we ran out of stairs, and came out at the end of a hall. To our left was a big common room, with several couches set around a TV over a fireplace on either side of the room. A set of tables with hard backed chairs sat between the two groups of couches. We turned right and headed down the hallway. Red doors loomed on either side, each one buzzing with faint traces of magic. We reached the end, and Dr. C closed his eyes, put his hand up and held his palm toward the door on the left. After a moment, faint wards traced themselves out in golden light on the wood. Some were elegantly traced in spidery thin lines, while others were precise but blocky. Varying levels of skill had gone into creating each one, and each had been infused with different amounts of power. None of them pulsed with active power, though.

  “You could learn a lot from this door,” Dr. C said right before he rapped it with his knuckles. The door opened a few seconds later, and we were faced with a young man a little taller than Dr. C. His black hair swept down across his forehead, accenting a narrow face. He studied Dr. C, his hooded eyes scanning down then up before he moved his attention to me. His eyes widened for a moment, then his gaze dropped to Junkyard, and his expression darkened a little. He had a skintone almost the same as mine, with the distinctive eyelids of Asian ancestry. Just this side of masculine, his looks bordered on pretty.

  “I’m Dr. Corwin, and this is Chance,” Dr. C said. “Chance has been assigned as your roommate for the semester. May we come in?” The kid nodded and stepped back.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m Hoshi Nakamura.” His voice was a smooth contralto, hard to tell if it was a guy’s or a girl’s unless you already knew.

  “This is Junkyard,” I said as a hundred pounds of fur and slobber trotted in past me and sat down in front of Hoshi.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’m not really… exactly good with dogs.”

  “Of course,” Dr. C said. He rattled something off in Japanese, and Hoshi nodded before he responded in Japanese as well. I caught the word for mother in the sentence, but the rest was lost to me, even though, through the memories I shared with Dr. C, I had some access to the language.

  Hoshi turned to me and gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am kitsune, on my mother’s side. Her people don’t get on well with dogs.” Junkyard made a plaintive little noise in his throat that sounded like he was either expressing his dismay at being lumped in with all other dogs, or apologizing for the bad behavior of his species.

  “Junkyard’s pretty cool,” I said. “Hell, he’s the only animal that’ll hang out with me.”

  “Excuse me for a moment, boys,” Dr. C said and headed out the door.

  “So, you must be the second least popular dude here,” Hoshi said.

  “I was gonna say the same about you. So, what’s your story?”

  “Mom’s a Japanese trickster spirit. What about you?”

  “Used to work for a demon.”

  “So you’re the demon guy,” Hoshi said as the smile finally reached his eyes. He went over to the bed on the left side of the room and sat down. “Way some people are telling it, you sold him your soul for power, then shafted him on the deal somehow and got your soul back.”

  “That’s a new one. Mostly people just think I apprenticed myself to him. Someone thinks you’re going to try to seduce their son.”

  Hoshi’s laugh was a series of musical little sounds, almost like barks, and he rolled his eyes. “I get that one a lot. They think I can turn into a girl.”

  “Can you shapeshift? I know kitsune are supposed to have at least two forms.”

  “So, far, I can only turn into a fox at night. Other than that, what you see is what you get. What about you? Anything I need to look out for?”

  “Just bad dreams,” I said. “And sometimes I blow shit up. But I’m doing better about that. It’s been about six months since I did any serious property damage.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Hoshi said.

  Chapter 2

  ~ Many are the fond farewells that started with awkward greetings. ~ Myrddin Emris, mage, adviser and friend to Artur Pendragon

  “Remember,” Dr. Corwin said. “You’re never truly alone. Any time you need me, day or night, you call me. Or your Mom, or anyone. Just remember there are people you can reach out to.” He stood in the doorway and shuffled his feet, suddenly quiet. After fifteen minute
s of non-stop talking, it should have been a relief.

  “I will,” I said. “Probably more than you like.”

  “Well,” he said. I cracked a smile.

  “Yeah.” We stood there for a moment, then he reached out and gave me a quick hug. When he pulled away, he put his arms on my shoulders and gave me a quick nod, then turned and headed down the hallway.

  “Awkward much?” Hoshi asked. He was curled up on the bed, looking a lot like a fox as he looked over his class schedule.

  “All the damn time,” I said.

  “Must be nice,” he said. He stretched and rolled onto his stomach. “My folks took off as soon as they could. Barely a goodbye or a handshake.”

  “Yeah, it is pretty cool,” I said as I picked up my class schedule from the desk. “Considering the last time I said goodbye, there was a firefight. Time before that, I blew up a school.”

  “You blew up a school?” Hoshi rolled off the bed and came to his feet. “That’s so freaking cool!”

  “Yeah, demons don’t like it when you tell them to piss off.” I tried for casual, like I was that much of a bad ass. Hoshi grabbed his desk chair and pulled it up, but an insistent knock at the doorframe interrupted us. A tall, red-haired guy stood there, his brow furrowed and his lips pinched together. He wore the same uniform we did, but he had a pair of gold cords draped across his neck and dangling down over each shoulder. Junkyard stood and put himself in the middle of the room, conveniently between the possible intruder and us.

  “Come on, you two,” he said. “The housemaster wants to speak to the plebes before first assembly.” We followed him down the hallway, amid a group of whispering kids. Hoshi and I stood taller than most of them, and it looked like we were among the oldest. Another student with gold cords on her uniform was ushering a group of girls from the opposite hall. Two more groups joined us from the other side, and we were led down the stairs to the dining room on the first floor. At the far end, a man and a woman in uniforms similar to ours, but with a longer cut jackets and brass buttons on the coat. Both held a staff with an inch-thick brass band at the top and a narrower band about six inches below it. The man looked like he’d just stepped from an action film, with perfectly coiffed blond hair, a classic chiseled, square jaw and cheekbones high enough to give you a nosebleed, and a smile that made me wonder if we shouldn’t be in a hidden lair instead of a school lunchroom. I recognized him from earlier, the man who had grabbed Dr. C to talk about getting my room. The woman beside him was equally blonde and just as much a walking fashion doll as he was. Standing to their right were two older students with white cords draped down the front of their coats. The boy was dark haired to the girl’s blonde, and both had the same Stepford smiles and good looks as the two adults. The four with gold cords joined them after they got everyone in a chair. Once the last of the older students joined them, the man tapped his staff against the floor, and the soft buzz that had started to fill the room died.

  “Welcome to Jefferson House,” the man said. His smile got wider and he lifted his left hand. “The best house at the Franklin Academy. This will be your home while you are students at the Franklin Academy. Everything you do here reflects on your house. Your behavior, your academic performance, even your extra-curricular activities will be seen as an extension of this house’s honor and reputation. And make no mistake, Jefferson House has never failed to have one hundred percent enrollment in extracurriculars, nor have we failed to hold at least three cups for excellence every semester. You are now part of that tradition, and every member of your house is depending on you to carry on our legacy of excellence into the future.” He paused for a moment, and the woman next to him started clapping, which seemed to be a prompt for the rest of the hall. After a few seconds of clapping, the man held his hand up, and the hall quieted again.

  “Now, for introductions. I am Mr. Emerson, your housemaster, and this is Mrs. Emerson. To our right are Rebecca Saunderson and Stewart Hampton, the Head Girl and Head Boy for Jefferson House. The boys and girls on either side of us are your Hall Captains. Hall Captains, would you please introduce yourselves?” Each of the students in gold cords stepped forward and said their name.

  “Ethan Stanwicke,” ours said.

  “Your Hall Captains and the Head Boy and Girl speak with our authority, and are authorized to take disciplinary action including house merit and demerit points, house detention and other administrative or academic measures as they see fit. You will treat cord bearers from other houses with the same respect and deference as you would your own. They’ve earned their cords through academic excellence and moral integrity. Finally, your own grades and participation will dictate your standing within Jefferson House. House rankings will be updated weekly. Now, First Assembly starts in half an hour. If you have any questions, ask your Hall Captains. Dismissed.” There was a mass scraping of chair legs on linoleum as everyone got to their feet. Fortunately, Junkyard seemed to grant us a little more leeway, with the younger kids automatically moving to one side as we approached. Hoshi and I made it back to our room with time to spare.

  “Man, no pressure or anything,” Hoshi said as he fell back on his bed. “You’re just competing with everyone else at the school, all the time, every day for everything!”

  I sank to the floor and sat tailor-style. Junkyard came over and gave me a look that reflected what I felt, like he wanted nothing more than to go back to Boston and transit back home. I put my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close while I rubbed the fur along his side.

  “No kidding,” I said. “Still, could be worse.”

  “Not sure how it could get much worse than constant competition. This is like the Roman Colosseum only without all the bloodshed.”

  “The night my father sold me to a demon, it broke both my legs to make a point. Believe me, it could be worse.”

  “I stand…well, sit corrected,” Hoshi said as he sat up on the bed. “I guess it could be a lot worse. Dude, that must have sucked.”

  “More than a little. Demerits kind of lose their sting after that.”

  “You must be hella hard to scare.”

  “Not a good idea to find out,” I said. “I tend to punch first and apologize later.”

  “Gotcha. Important safety tip. So, awkward subject change, do we have any classes together?” I had to reach for the folder on my desk to get my schedule. I looked at the schedule for a moment and saw eight classes listed, way more than I took at home, but only four classes per day. There was no way that worked out right during a five-day week. Then at the bottom, I noticed two more, but they were redundant, and they only happened on Wednesday. When I looked back at the other two lists, I realized that the days were Monday and Thursday for the first one, and Tuesday and Friday for the second list.

  “So,” I said slowly, “I think I have American Mage History first period, Alchemy III second, lunch, then English and Conjuring III.”

  “So, we have History and English together in first block. What about second?”

  “Evocation II, Enchantment III, Magickal Defense AP and Botany and Herbalism II.”

  “Only Botany and Herbalism second block, but we have Botany lab together on Wednesday, I think. But dude, how did you rate advanced placement in Magickal Defense. I’m in a remedial class for that.” Hoshi planted his butt on his desk and crossed his legs, then folded himself over so that his elbows rested on the wood.

  “The hard way,” I said with a slow smile. “Lots and lots of practice.”

  “First Assembly is in fifteen minutes!” Ethan yelled down the hallway. I got to my feet and put my left hand on my pants pocket. The place where I expected to feel my TK rod was disappointingly flat. Across the room, Hoshi had unfolded himself and was pulling a wand from a duffel bag at the end of his bed. I pulled my new wand from the pocket on the side of my backpack and went to tuck it into the big pocket on the right side of my coat, only to find a second, slimmer pocket next to it that fit the wand like a glove, and still left the handl
e free to grab. We hit the hallway and followed the stream of other students down the stairs and across the commons toward Chadwicke Hall. Once we got inside, the older students led the way to the big hall on the ground floor, where five long tables had been set up running the length of the room. Another table ran perpendicular to the others, and it took up the entire width of the room. The other Jefferson House students took the table second from the left, with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. Each seat had a name card, and Hoshi and I found our names a few seats from the middle of the room, with one name between us. It didn’t take long for S. Lodge III to find that spot. Tall, dark haired and possessed of a jaw strong enough to break bricks, he assumed his place with all the dignity of an aircraft carrier. The two flunkies on either side of him, however, pulled up short, evidently not used to finding the spots beside the USS Lodge filled. They ended up on Hoshi’s right, further from the front of the table. To my left, the Head Boy and Head Girl took their place at the head of the table, then the Hall Captains, then several older students, followed by a couple my age.

  “How did you end up there?” Lodge demanded as he towered over me. I looked over my shoulder at him.

  “Same way you ended up there,” I said. “I read the little card that had my name on it.” His eyes went to the card, and the furrow between his brows deepened. He put his hands on the table and leaned down until his face was close to mine.

  “There’s no way trash like you rates a better seat at the main table than I do,” his voice bordered on a growl. “You don’t even deserve to set foot on this campus.”

  “Card says different,” I said. “You got a problem with how they set the table, talk to the guy who wrote the guest list.” That started a round of whispers, as everyone looked to Lodge, then to me. His hand fell on my shoulder and started to squeeze.

  “How about I talk to you someplace dark and quiet?” he hissed as his hand tightened like a vise.

  “Last guy who put a hand on me,” I said through clenched teeth, “ended up in a cast. Or maybe they didn’t tell you about the body count.”