Charm School (The Demon's Apprentice Book 4)

by Ben Reeder

  I woke up in the dark, covered in sweat and scrambling to get away from…something. Something pressed against my back, and all I knew for certain was that I was awake, and not beside my own bed. My arms were covering my face, my feet were cold and I could feel the cool trails of tears on my cheeks. My arms came down by fractions of an inch, and I scanned the room for whatever I was afraid of. In the dim light from my clock, I could see my side of the room. A quick glance to my left revealed Hoshi’s desk, easy to tell from mine, even in the dark, because of the clutter. Somehow, I had crossed the room on my hands, ass and feet and ended up against his bed. Movement on my bed registered, and I saw Junkyard raise his head.

  “I’m okay, buddy,” I said. Junkyard gave me a quizzical head tilt, probably not believing a word I said. Assuming he understood anything I was saying, which I did. The continued silence nagged at me until I realized I hadn’t heard anything out of my roommate.

  “Hoshi?” I whispered. I reached behind me with my right arm and patted the bed, but only found rumpled sheets. I turned around to see the expanse of white linen, unmarred by my roommate’s presence. Focusing on the moment seemed to calm the static in my head, and I found myself able to think a little more clearly as my pulse slowed to a steady pounding in my head. The sheets came free of my legs with a couple of kicks, and I gathered them up before I went back to my side of the room. Some part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had just happened, and my roommate was missing. I slipped out of my sweat pants and grabbed my jeans, all the while wishing I could listen to the part of my brain that was trying to convince itself that it I was reacting to the dream, and that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why my roommate wasn’t in his bed in the middle of the night. After I’d had a case of night terrors. My brain paused to do a little math. The first time in the three weeks I’d been at the Franklin Academy.

  I heard the click of the door opening as a memory. By the time I knew what I was reacting to, my body was already moving, and I had my hawthorn wand up and pointed, ready to go all Han Solo in Cloud City on whatever came through the door. When nothing immediately presented itself for summary blasting, I lowered the wand. With my hand out of the way, I saw the large, silver fox standing in the doorway, looking at me with wary eyes. Irrational fear, meet reasonable explanation.

  “Sorry,” I said to Hoshi. “I’m a little jumpy.” He padded to his bed and hopped up on it, then turned around a couple of times before he curled up and looked at me over his paws. Taking comfort that, for once, there actually was a reasonable explanation for everything that didn’t seem to include danger to life and limb, I grabbed my sheets and laid back down on the floor to get a couple more hours of sleep before my alarm went off. Junkyard jumped down and curled up beside me, ready to keep the worst of the dreams at bay. I reached for my cellphone and hoped Shade answered.

  “Hey, baby,” she murmured, her face lit up by the screen. “Bad dream?” She peered at me with puffy eyes, and smiled gently. Even in the middle of the night, with no make up or anything, she was beautiful.

  “Yeah,” I said. “But seeing your face chases it all away.”

  “I wish you were here, in my arms,” she said. “You’d never have bad dreams again.”

  “We’d never sleep.”

  “I know,” she said with a wicked grin. From his bed, Hoshi fox let out a low groan.

  “That’s enough out of you, fuzzball,” I said before I turned my attention back to the call.

  A group of instructors and two Sentinels were waiting at the front of Jefferson House when the cross country club finished our first timed run. Stanwicke and a senior named Rothwin were the only two ahead of me, which meant I had a good chance of running with the A team at the first meet next month. It was a little unsettling how much I liked that idea. Maybe that was why I didn’t get the screaming heebie-jeebies when I saw the wall of adults waiting on the steps of the dorm hall.

  “Chance Fortunato,” one of the Sentinels said in a booming voice as he leveled his paramiir staff at me. “Step clear of the group and face the yard. You are bound by order of the Council to stand down.” The rest of the club scattered like I’d dropped a live grenade. Being on the wrong end of a paramiir staff was a lot like that, so I couldn’t really blame them. I turned around and backed toward the Sentinels with my arms straight out and my hands splayed, palms facing away from them.

  Minutes later, I was standing in the Headmaster’s office in a pair of spellbinder cuffs, surrounded by Sentinels and teachers. The Sentinels all looked pretty much the same, but the faculty was looking pretty ragged. Professor Kenneson was missing his tie and vest, and one of his cuffs was undone, and Professor Talbot was in his shirtsleeves and vest, with his tie hanging loose and his top button undone. Only Buchanan looked like he hadn’t dressed in a hurry, and even he hadn’t bothered with his tie. Caldecott, on the other hand, hadn’t missed a thing, in spite of the dark circles under his eyes.

  “So what did I do?” I asked.

  “Do you always assume you’re going to be accused of a crime when you speak to someone in authority, Mr. Fortunato?” Professor Kenneson asked.

  I held up my hands and rattled the cuffs. “Unless these are normal attire for visiting the headmaster’s office, there’s only one reason I’m wearing these. Something bad happened and no one else has confessed.” That brought a round of gasps and a couple of laughs.

  Kenneson glared at me. “This is no laughing matter, Mr. Fortunato.”

  “The kid’s right, Tom,” Mr. Buchanan said. “Spellbinders pretty much mean an accusation’s already been made.”

  “Mr. Fortunato,” Caldecott said as he leaned forward in is chair. “Can you account for your whereabouts between lunch yesterday and the time you were taken into custody this morning?”

  “That’s a pretty long stretch,” I said. “And you know where I was from yesterday morning until about three yesterday afternoon. It isn’t like there aren’t dozens of witnesses. But no one has told me why I’m standing here in cuffs.”

  “A student has been attacked, Mr. Fortunato,” Kenneson said. “Something I think you are very much aware of, since of all the people here at the academy, only you have the knowledge and background to have ripped the soul from a person’s body. And of all the students here, only you have the motive to have attacked Sterling Lodge.”

  “I’ve danced to this tune before,” I said. “Broad time frame to fill in, getting rousted at oh-dark-thirty, being the only possible suspect. You’ve got nothin’ on me or anyone else. You’re fishing. Because as much as you’d like to think I can just take a soul by force, that just ain’t happening.”

  Caldecott shook his head and gestured to the Sentinels. “Keep him under guard in the detention room.”

  It was noon before I saw anyone but a stone faced Sentinel, and even they got to change shifts in the middle. The detention room was a plain brown brick place with no decorations, no windows and unadorned lighting. One desk faced two plain wood tables, and that was pretty much it. Not even a cheesy motivational poster. Probably the single most boring room in six states, and I was stuck in it for half the day. I meditated for hours. And if meditation looked a lot like napping, my technique was obviously very advanced, and I was very relaxed.

  When the door finally opened, Caldecott himself stepped inside.

  “Mr. Fortunato,” he said. “While we haven’t eliminated you completely as the person who attacked Mr. Lodge, it is beginning to look as if your protestations of innocence are sincere. There are a few questions we would like to ask you, informally. Would you consent to being questioned?”

  “Sure,” I said. “The other option probably means I end up getting knocked out cold and brought before the Council, and I’ve had enough of that shit.”

  He drew up and looked down his nose at me for a moment. “Well, then. Follow me, if you would.” I got up and followed him out of the room. We ended up in an empty classroom with two Sentinels, Mr, Bu
chanan, Professor Kenneson and Professor Talbot. Somewhere along the way, Talbot had found his jacket but lost his tie, and Kenneson had secured the wayward cuff. My backpack was on a table in the middle of the room, its contents neatly arranged beside it. Another table was set up beside it, and Caldecott led me to the chair on the near side to the door, and pointed to it. I took a seat to face Caldecott and Buchanan.

  “You were the last person to see Mr. Lodge before he was attacked,” Buchanan said. “And you have no witnesses who can verify your whereabouts between the end of your Alchemy class and when you arrived at Jefferson House cafeteria. Tell us what happened.”

  “He was waiting for me outside the classroom, like he had been for the past week. There were a few people still in the hall, so I figured I’d get a shot in on him. So I went up to him and told him that if he was going to stalk me, at least overdo it with the gifts or something. Write me some bad poetry, tell me how we’re meant to be together or something so I can play my part right. He got a little huffy about that, and he said I’d never graduate from Franklin. That was when Professor Talbot came out of his classroom and called him over. He told me to get going, so I did.”

  Buchanan looked over at Talbot, who was nodding. “Yes, that’s right. I addressed Mr. Lodge’s disappointing behavior. Our conversation was brief, and it was witnessed by two other students. No, three, though Huntington was so absorbed in something on his phone that he seemed hardly cognizant of what was going on. After that, Sterling left in something of a hurry. At the time, I presumed he was eager to catch up to Mr. Fortunato.”

  “And what about last night, between three and five A.M.?”

  “My roommate came back from his own night time rambling, and I called my girlfriend. But you probably already know that, if you talked to him and checked my phone records.” That got a round of wide eyed looks, and one of the Sentinels left the room in a hurry. “Which thing was a surprise to you guys?”

  “The phone,” Buchanan said. “Divination is usually all we need to determine the truth of a matter, but the usual methods are bearing little fruit at the moment.”

  “I know how that goes,” I said, recalling my attempt to find the Maxilla.

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Kenneson said, adding an eye roll for extra snark.

  “I had to find a sword that didn’t want just anyone finding it,” I said. I leaned forward and pointed at him. “When divination didn’t work, I had to use the evidence we found on my dead mentor’s boots and clothes to figure out where he’d been so I could find out where he hid the sword. Turns out, it wasn’t exactly on Earth, but in this little dimensional pocket. So, yeah, I know how to find shit when it doesn’t want to be found!”

  “Of course!” Talbot said. “Forensic evidence! If Mr. Fortunato was at the site where the spell had been cast, there will be certain energies still attached to him. For that matter, there may still be particulate matter from the casting of the circle itself attached to clothing or skin.”

  “Are you determined to make excuses for this warlock?” Kenneson demanded. “He’s guilty, I know it and you know it. All that remains is to prove it.”

  “If you know the boy is guilty,” Buchanan said slowly, “then perhaps you should recuse yourself from this panel.”

  “I’ll do no such thing! I’m here to see justice done, even if the two of you are not. All you have to do is look at his aura to see the evil that flows in his veins. Perhaps it’s you who needs to recuse himself.”

  “I sat on the committee that approved this boy’s familiar,” Buchanan said. “And I was at his trial. I’ve seen his aura, Wayne. It has healed considerably since then. If he was responsible for tonight’s attack, I’m sure it would have left its mark on him, but I see no deeper taint upon him.”

  “Which could be avoided if he had a proxy do the actual casting of the spell,” Talbot said calmly as he leaned back in his chair. “However, he has raised a valid option, one I think we would be well served to explore. Mere heartfelt certainty of someone’s guilt, Wayne, is not enough to convict. If you’re right, then one would think that the opportunity to prove it would be more than welcome. Headmaster Caldecott, I hereby suggest that we subject the boy to alchemical testing for components and energies from the circle’s casting.”

  Caldecott looked down at the table for a moment, then up at me. “Very well. Mr. Fortunato, will you willingly submit to these tests?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Will this also satisfy the Sentinels to the boy’s innocence or guilt?” he asked the Sentinel at the door.

  “Yes, sir,” the Sentinel said.

  “Headmaster,” Kenneson said, his voice rising almost to a whine, “the conflict of interest here is obvious. We can’t use the very test the perpetrator himself suggested-”

  “Fortunato didn’t suggest it,” the Sentinel said. “Talbot did. And even if the kid did suggest it, it would still be a valid test because it’s potentially self-incriminating.”

  “And I suppose you want to administer the test yourself,” Kenneson said to Talbot.

  “None of us three can,” Talbot said, barely moving from his slightly reclined position. He scribbled something on his notepad, then tore it off and held it out to Caldecott. “We would contaminate the test because we’ve all been to the circle. There are other teachers who can administer it. Please give this to Mr. Whitcomb.”

  Caldecott glanced down at the note, then handed it to the Sentinel, who turned and left the room. “Understand, Mr. Fortunato, that this test only determines whether or not you were at the circle tonight. It does not prove your innocence. There are still gaps in your alibi, which leaves enough uncertainty that you are still a suspect.”

  I shrugged. Even if I had an airtight alibi, Talbot had also mentioned the idea of using a proxy, introducing plenty of doubt no matter what I did. A few minutes later, the other Sentinel came in with my phone in hand. His face was red as he set the phone down in front of the headmaster.

  “The call log matches Fortunato’s claim, sir,” the Sentinel said. “I verified that the number was to a live phone, and even spoke to the young lady to confirm that she talked to Fortunato.”

  “Did you get any details to verify with Fortunato?”

  “I did, sir,” the Sentinel said, his face getting a deeper shade of crimson. “The young lady was very…forthcoming.”

  “I see,” Caldecott said. “Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Fortunato?”

  “We’re two horny teenagers who haven’t seen each other for a week and a half,” I said. “What do you think we talked about? Baseball? No, we talked about sex. A lot.” Now Caldecott was turning a little darker. “You want more? Because we’re both pretty frustrated. There was a really good description of her-”

  “I’m sure that will be plenty,” he cut me off. I raised an eyebrow at him and flashed a smile.

  Whitcomb came in a few minutes later with a spray bottle in one long hand, and Talbot’s list crumpled in the other. “Who needs to be tested?” he asked. I raised my hand but that just got me a dubious look until Caldecott and Kenneson gestured my direction. “If you’ll stand over here, please.”

  “This isn’t going to ruin my sweats, is it?” I asked as I got up.

  “It’s just silver nitrate suspended in a solution with a simple divination cast into it. It shouldn’t stain.” With that, he started spritzing me from shoulders to feet.

  “What’s supposed to happen?” I asked. “Aside from nothing.”

  “If you had been exposed to any of the elements of the circle, they would be glowing,” Talbot said as he got to his feet.

  “Assuming this mixture even works,” Kenneson said. Talbot came to stand beside me and gave Whitcomb a nod as he gestured toward himself. Whitcomb sprayed him like he had me, and almost immediately, small spots began to glow below the knees of his pants and around his hands and up to the elbows of his jacket sleeves. Kenneson came over and grabbed the bottle to spray himself down, and began to
glow from the knees down, as well as his hands and cuffs of his jacket sleeves.

  “All right,” Caldecott said. “So we can rule out Mr., Fortunato for being at the circle tonight.”

  “This does not exonerate him,” Kenneson added quickly.

  “But it goes a long way toward it,” Buchanan said.

  “You’re excused young man,” Caldecott said. “Classes have been called off for today and tomorrow. Return to your hall.” I went to the table and started putting things back in my backpack.

  “I’ll escort the boy back to his hall,” Buchanan said, and the other three left the room. After a moment, he went to the door and locked it, then came back to the table and laid the tin with my emergency gear in it down.

  “Why didn’t you mention it?” I asked as I picked it up and slid it back into the hiding place under the titanium plates.

  “Because I have one, too,” he said as he reached behind his back and pulled a round metal box into view. The top of his was engraved with a complex ward, unactivated but ready. He uttered a command word, and it shimmered from sight, then he tucked it back away. “It was the food that made me think to look for it.” I looked over at the packages of peanut butter, crackers and honey lying next to the plastic spoon and condiment packet I’d snagged.

  “You have an MRE tucked in there somewhere?” I asked, pointing to his cargo pockets.

  “Usually just a granola bar and jerky,” he said with a laugh as he patted his left pocket. “I keep the MREs in my car. But that’s the point, Chance. I started doing this kind of thing because I never knew when I’d end up following someone across six states or staking out a coven for twelve hours before relief could get to me. Twenty six years of being a Sentinel made me think about being prepared all the time. You’re only sixteen. You shouldn’t be worried about that. Is this Corwin’s teaching?”

  “No,” I said, grabbing the packets and stuffing them into the bag. “I was doing this before I met him. I never knew when Dulka would remember to feed me. Or when he would decide I needed to go hungry for a few days to remind me who was in charge. I never knew when or if one of Dulka’s rivals would try to nab me and either hold me for ransom or try to pry my master’s secrets out of me…or just want to have some fun before he let me go. So, yeah, I’m always prepped. And armed with my TK rod, if I can swing it.”