The Protection of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

“Why haven't you shut off the calming spell to our room?” I asked.

  She turned her full attention my way. “Why are you asking?”

  “Well, it's a little weird, right? Having that pump through? We didn't have a calming spell last term and we did fine.” Mostly fine.

  “You are addicted to the cafeteria. What kind of magic do you think always blasts through there?”

  “But the cafeteria recharges us and balances magic levels, right?” I chewed a fingernail, then went searching through the heaping pile of books, paper, art supplies, and random hair bands on my desk, looking for one of my specialty pen tops to chomp on.

  “And we only spend an hour at a time there, tops.” I motioned in the vague direction of the cafeteria, then around our room, as I sat down. “We are in here a lot more than an hour or two every day. The spell has been on all day. It will even be on while we sleep.”

  The thought of it made me itchy. I scratched my neck.

  “You've required the extra calm,” she said. “Everyone has.”

  I shuddered at the remembrance of what campus had been like before the crowd-calming magic had kicked into place.

  Grief and Grieving made a big deal out of dealing and accepting, rather than denial, though. “True. But I'm ready to go cold turkey now.”

  Her shrewd gaze narrowed on me. “Calmness provides rationality and limits unreasonable behavior.” Her gaze was far too pointed for me to escape her meaning. “I'm willing to go along with the herd for a few days.”

  “Camille Straught and her lot are always going on about how control cuffs regulate ferals because they can't regulate themselves. And yet you’re telling me they are sucking down calming spells?”

  The edges of Olivia's mouth turned up into a smile. “You are calling the Second Layer Magicists hypocrites?”

  “Yes.”

  “People create the truths they desire.”

  “Constantine and his roommate shut off the spells in their rooms.”

  “Of course they did.” Her gaze pinned me completely. “Why were you there?”

  “Getting help.”

  “From Leandred?” she asked in a tone that indicated the only way he could help someone was through death or dismemberment.

  “Yes.”

  Constantine was my friend, but I was his business partner. I didn't delude myself on that score. But that didn't mean the score couldn't change. It had taken a lot for me to change that same mismatched status with Olivia. A lot of patient, galling moments where I had just steadfastly refused to budge from my friendship course.

  Her fingers tightened, then loosened on her chair, as she tried vainly to maintain her calm. “He leeched you not quite two weeks ago.”

  “I know,” I said. The excitement in my voice had to be overly obvious, because she recoiled from me.

  I scooted forward. “The experience made me aware that Raphael has some sort of permanent leash on me. And knowing that problem means I can fix it.”

  Olivia's eyes narrowed, and I could see her quick brain working. “Verisetti said something last term about you 'tugging' him.”

  “Yes, he said I tugged his thread.” I looked down at my hand. “I am connected to him,” I whispered, feeling nauseous. My magic vibrated discordantly with the feeling.

  “Of course you are.” Olivia's voice was brisk. “Breathe.”

  “No, you don't understand. Not just a connection. Cadmiat. He used my magic. Ganymede Circus. Jauvine. All of them. I felt him draw on my magic and I could do nothing.”

  “I thought he was just using your captured Awakening magic.” Her gaze turned inward. “Verisetti having a leash on you... I should have seen that.”

  “It freezes me each time. Makes me useless. My magic killed all those people,” I whispered.

  “Don't be foolish.” Her voice was hard. “And this is exactly why we still have a calming spell. Suck in more of it before you completely hyperventilate.”

  I steadied myself and shook my head. “We need to get rid of the calming spell.” Every time I said it, I felt more and more certain. And now that I knew Olivia was keeping the spell going for my benefit, the belief was absolute.

  “Liv, I know you, of all people, don't want a spell dictating how you feel.”

  The edges of her mouth tightened. “Perhaps it's better than the alternative.”

  Oh. Oh, Olivia. Anger at Helen Price overwhelmed me and I struggled to suppress the feeling.

  I closed my eyes and touched the wall, sending comforting pulses through the room. This time, Olivia's threads tentatively reached out in return, and I embraced them.

  It was stunning to realize that Olivia had just confided a weakness, even if it was a momentary one.

  “Let's return to Leandred's part in all of this,” she said briskly, piecing back together her powerful facade. “And the thoroughly stupid things you are already planning to do with him.”

  If I didn't embrace the subject change, I was going to say something unforgivable about her mother, so I grabbed my storage paper and retrieved the books. “Constantine gave me these. We're going to start working on constructing different types of leeches and a leash too.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “We don't need to complete them. I just need to understand the characteristics of each design, and what the different parasitic magics feels like at a core level. So that I can identify which leech and leash are attached to me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Her reaction was anticipated. I looked down at my fingers and let the bright colors that continuously flashed around them slip into view. “Raphael came to me. In the dream I had in the First Layer. Don't you think that was...weird?”

  “Weird? Your connection with him is downright disturbing, Ren.”

  “Well, yes. But he visited because he needed something. It wasn't to help me.” I shook my head slowly. “Sometimes Raphael celebrates chaos for its own sake, but this time? No. He needed a Second Level magic, or the excuse of claiming it from me. He needed to lay that magic on me. Either to get me back into the Second Layer or for something else. Maybe for multiple reasons.”

  Olivia folded her arms and tipped her head, nodding. “Okay. What other reasons?”

  I frowned. “He yelled at me for letting Constantine leech me. But how did he know? Those men couldn't have told him. Not in the state he confirmed that they were in.”

  Olivia frowned back. “He felt Leandred use the leech through you?”

  “What if...what if using Constantine's leech corrupted some of the power from Raphael's? And he needed to fix it? The Second Level magic he got from me? It was a cleaning spell—one that people use to fix things already in place—like circuits that have been disturbed and need to be reformed. A spell made from my magic.”

  She nodded slowly. “Powerful magics sometimes clash and consume. A small disturbance could have made the magic unstable for him to use.”

  The theory would be easy enough to test if the button leech wasn't hidden deep in my parent's house.

  “So if we build another leech...?” I asked in a leading voice.

  “Verisetti would have shored up the links. Made it so that the same break couldn't occur twice,” she said.

  “So if we build a better, more specific leech...?”

  “No.”

  “There seems to be some sort of limit on what Raphael can do—some recharge timer—or else he would just be leeching me left and right. I don't know how long I have, but I won't be used without my permission again,” I said harshly. “I won't be.” My words came out as a vow.

  “I understand, Ren,” Olivia said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. “But Leandred is not the answer. He wants to use you. He is using you.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said tiredly. I was well aware of Constantine's faults. And that no one trusted me to see them. But Constantine made choices, just like the rest of us.

  Olivia looked at me as if I'd grown two heads.

  Justice Toad beeped.<
br />
  “We are not finished with this conversation, Ren,” she said in a tone that clearly indicated she would deal with my idiotic notions after community service was completed. She rose and promptly readied to leave.

  I looked longingly at the refrigerator and thought of the burritos nestled inside. It was eleven a.m., and I always started to get hungry before noon. But we had chosen to do service today when we both had time—and for Olivia, that meant now. I placed my new books in the secured spot under my bed, then grabbed a few energy bars and my tablet.

  “Where to first?” Olivia asked as she passed a hand over JT's screen to register that she was also on duty.

  “Looks like the Performing Arts Center,” I said as I locked the door behind us.

  There were thousands of places—and clubs—on campus I had yet to explore. What would be happening at the Performing Arts Center? I pictured a chorus line gone wrong. Or two members of a modern dance trio offing their third.

  “They are rehearsing Mardyk and the Eight Dragonslayers currently,” Olivia said. “So someone in the cast probably exploded over how poorly their fellow actors practiced during break, then 'exploded' something for real. Lots of pyromagics are used in the production. Mardyk is a cross-layer legendary character. Whoever plays the role always has access to way too much dragon fire. They leech it from willing dragons, then use it for displays. Or for items like your lightning core.”

  I blinked. “Really?

  She nodded. “Contract magic with willing dragons. A little like Leandred's toy; you gave him permission to use your magic for the period that it rested against your skin.” Her lips tightened. “William informed me that I need to bring you up to speed on contract magic in general, and library contracts specifically. We'll do that Tuesday night.” She made a note on her pad.

  Our winter schedules were filling up quickly and completely. I wondered what normal students did. Partying and playing video games and happily imbibing serenity spells, no doubt.

  Best to shift such wistful thoughts. “How did you know what was being rehearsed?”

  Olivia pointed at her head as we walked. “Frequency app. Campus schedule scroll. I loaded it for this week, figuring it would be useful while on duty with you.”

  Very useful, as frequencies often were. But the idea of seeing the media's pushed images in my head was still too unsettling. “How many apps can you load?”

  “Depends on how many connections each requires. Ten on average. I substituted this one for my Historical Figures and Strategies app.” She grimaced. “I'm looking forward to swapping back.”

  I quizzed her on historical figures and strategies all the way to the Performing Arts Center to see if she could recall them without her app giving her the knowledge automatically. As expected, she did pretty well.

  At the Performing Arts Center, someone had indeed used dragon fire to scorch everything in sight. I noticed that the offender had a starred note on his justice file labeled “pyromaniac.” And yet, they had still given him dragon fire to play with. Sometimes this school rocked so hard.

  Once things were sorted out and punishments dispensed, we were on to our next call. It was proving to be a busy day on the circuit.

  Doing community service with Olivia was awesome though. I fielded the social aspects of the calls, while she took copious notes—mental and physical. She always had an intriguing perspective to add, and her concise, all-encompassing reports were far better than my rambling ones. We talked about the infractions and the ways they could be legally defended or prevented.

  She lit up—animated and happy—when talking about such things, and no matter how many hours I'd have to make up due to sharing service with her, I held not a shred of doubt that I'd made the right choice.

  ~*~

  After accompanying Olivia back to our room, dismantling the calming spell, then scarfing down a burrito, I trudged to the joint Justice Squad and Combat Squad meeting.

  I was determined to hide out in the back of the room. I was tired, my stomach now hurt, I had books to read—so, so many books—a billion hours of service to fulfill, a roommate still to convince, a terrorist to get rid of, and a world to fix.

  This whole guarding campus thing the squads were about to discuss had lost its appeal at about the same time I had kicked the calming spell to the curb twenty minutes ago. Me protect campus? I was like the flame at the edge of a dry forest—a forest whose inhabitants were going to learn, sooner or later, of the danger simmering at their door.

  And speaking of dangers... Dare was sitting in the very back row of the room, absently rolling teal magic, ringed with sapphire, in his palm. I immediately averted my gaze and took the farthest empty seat from him. The position, unfortunately, put me a few chairs over from Camille Straught's laser gaze, but at this point she was the lesser of two evils.

  The head of the Combat Squad, Selmarie Senthuss, a smartly dressed girl who looked a decade—not four years—older than I did, started addressing what would be happening during the term. I doodled anxiously in my notebook as she talked, connecting talking points together with magic.

  I rubbed my neck, magic prickling. I could feel people watching me. To relax, I set a sketched gopher running along the magic connecting the points on my paper.

  ~ We would each be assigned a mentor on the Combat Squad.

  ~ We would each be assigned a partner from the Peacekeepers' Troop when they arrived.

  ~ We were required to do an elephant-sized amount of reading and practicing.

  My gopher sat on the last point and crossed his stubby arms in protest. My previous euphoria on using my magic to help instead of hurt campus was now completely buried in bureaucratic drivel and pedantic homework. Homework and time I couldn't afford.

  “That is it for today.” Isaiah's voice prompted my gaze upward. He was staring at me in slight reproach. I gave him a weak smile and closed my notebook. “Assignments were just sent via frequency, so everyone should have the complete pairings list. See me if you have concerns.”

  Peters shot me a look full of venom. Two others did the same—a far change from the dismissive looks they had given me when I entered the room. I fiddled nervously with my pencil, not understanding what had changed between then and now. I had only been doodling! Not setting anything on fire.

  Since I didn't have a frequency, I was going to have to ask Isaiah for my assignment. I waited in my seat as everyone filed out. A group of mages that included Peters engaged in a furiously whispered argument with Isaiah, then shot me looks ranging from unfriendly to downright hostile. It took fifteen excruciating minutes, before Isaiah and I were the only two left in the room.

  Isaiah looked at me and sighed.

  Not good.

  “Ren.”

  “I was listening, I promise.” I held up my notebook. “I took copious notes. I think better when my pencil is moving.” I chose not to add that it also helped me stay awake. “I'm sorry that it looked like I wasn't paying attention.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that. You are a reliable member of the squad. I'm sure you will be a reliable member for the next four years.” He couldn't stop a sly tilt to his mouth, as he liked to tease me about how I was sure to “earn” service for the rest of my tenure here.

  If past behavior was any indicator, I probably would.

  “Oh.” Then what had those looks been about? “Everything okay with Olivia temporarily helping me out? The punishment was accepted. And no magic forced her here tonight.”

  “Actually, the provost loves that one student convinced another to help. He's already talking about rotating regular students through the squad on a five-hour-a-term basis.”

  My jaw dropped, aghast.

  Isaiah laughed, and the tension dropped from him completely for a moment, making his dark, good-looking features stand out. He was like Will, he got even better looking the more one got to know him. “Kidding. Kidding. But this isn't about that. It's about the assignment.”

  “You de
cided against assigning me?” I asked hopefully. I released tension from my shoulders that I hadn't realized I had been holding. “I can see why people would be envious I got out of it, but I think campus as a whole will be relieved.”

  “You misunderstand me. You have been assigned, but there has been an...uproar...over your assignment.”

  I looked at him, blankly. “I'm a community service worker. I don't belong here as it is.”

  He smiled. “Time to change that tune, Ren. You are going to be in a key position on the roster. Your combat mentor already requested extra hours from you—ones in addition to your current load—straight off. You are supposed to meet immediately.” He looked at his screen and frowned. “Well, five minutes ago now.”

  I pictured Camille Straught working me over, then pummeling me into feral submission three hours a day. “Great,” I said, resigned. “Where do I need to be late to?”

  Isaiah tapped his screen, not looking at me. “There is a bit of a...competition each year when it comes to who gets assigned to whom. I've already had five complaints about your assignment.”

  I could see Peters and a few of the other guys killing each other to get pummeled by Camille Straught.

  “Just switch me out then.” I'd be thrilled to get happy-go-lucky Johnson, who was always getting tricks played on him at their cafeteria table, and always bore them in good humor.

  Isaiah shook his head. “No can do. You were asked for specifically, and your combat mage gets what he wants.”

  My palm went clammy around the shoulder strap of my bag as another option became painfully obvious. “Who is my mentor, Isaiah?” I asked, my voice going high.

  He sighed. “Alexander Dare.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Training

  My feet wouldn't move any faster than a forced slog as I approached the Ninth Circle of the mountain—they knew there was a guillotine at the end of the journey.

  Dressed all in black, with a shirt that hinted at all the perfection beneath, Dare's arms were crossed as I walked the unbearable distance across the grass between the last arch and his position. His blue eyes were flat and unreadable. “You're late.”