The Protection of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I'm going to join the chip to your cocoon. That way you can use a little bit of my magic whenever you nee—”

  “No.”

  I blinked. “But I think it will help. Bit by bit the magic will chew away at Raphael's leash.” Dare's cloth maneuver and the first hook detaching had made me think it possible.

  “We can do that here, bit by bit, in a controlled setting.” She gave me a look. “With Nephthys and William watching next time.”

  “But—”

  “No.” She looked weary all of a sudden. “I'm trying to be a better person, Ren. One step at a time, okay?”

  I blinked. “You are already a good person.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. “If everything is fine through the night, we can try it again tomorrow, okay?”

  I readily agreed and we returned to our room.

  Thoughts of the day wouldn't stop zooming around my head, so I stared at our (still) blank ceiling and babbled instead of trying—and failing—to go to sleep. Emrys was out to get me. The squad simulation had been a horror-fest. The Justice Squad loyalties were split between the Combat Squad and the Peacekeepers' Troop. Tensions were high.

  Olivia was generally willing to listen to my grumbles and mad stories, but she was still a little irritated about my inability to see Dare as a threat. Therefore, she issued displeased little noises every few sentences.

  I said nothing about the cloth or the dragon wing.

  “Working with the Troop is torture. What we need is an awesome fighting force of delinquents,” I said, already thinking of the wild and insane abilities and misdeeds that each club member could contribute.

  Olivia gave me a deadpan stare, then returned her gaze to her book.

  “No, seriously! Think of it! Who better knows the secret ways of campus? Who knows how to skirt regulations and rules?”

  Olivia paused in the act of turning a page, then slowly grabbed her pen and held it over her pad. It hovered there for a long moment, then hit the paper with a jolt as she jotted down her note. She crossed something out on one of her many other lists, cocked her head, then penciled over the top.

  “What are you writing?” I asked.

  “Number Fifty-two.”

  “What?” I was clueless as to what she was referring. “Fifty-two what?”

  “Nothing.” She had once more dismissed me entirely, turning her attention back to her book.

  I spent the rest of the time until I fell asleep riding high on my success with the leech and amusing myself with thoughts of an awesome imaginary fighting force. Together, the thoughts stopped me from freaking out completely about Emrys, Dare, and all of the watchful gazes waiting for me to screw up.

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Click Once for Luck

  I had taken to naming my most frequent followers—lizard, stripes, business girl, neon shoes, ribbons, rainbow eyes, tie-dye hair, and twig-man (who was both skinny and easily startled)—and in order to stay sane in the cafeteria, I drew animated cartoons of them being both inept and cunning. Keiren and Inessa, the two mages I knew by name, were often depicted as well. Delia found it all hilarious.

  Bellacia got her own comic strip. I called it Bellacia on Report. Just like in real life, she popped up on the page at the most unusual spots and at the most inopportune times to “chat” with the red-headed villain. Trying to catch me when I was most vulnerable and unprepared.

  In real life, I evaded the watchdog groups as much as possible, and excused myself from Bellacia when she popped into my path, but unfortunately I couldn't avoid her in class.

  Usually, that was true for Keiren too.

  However, Will's tireless efforts at working out how to get our group to assemble together paid off big dividends Thursday in Politics when Neph finally slid into the circle of our group. We also pulled in Asafa as our sixth. He had immediately opted into the plan when he had overheard us planning to corrupt the system to be in the same group.

  I had tried to help Will with the spells that he had attached to the class chairs, but Dare—running on some crazy pre-adrenaline high mere days before the competition—demanded most of my time. Olivia had finally put her foot down three nights before and told me to delegate.

  It had taken an agonizing few hours of being pulled in all directions before I'd asked Delia and Mike if they could help Will on the last few enchantments.

  They'd been delighted. I still didn't know how to feel about the whole delegating thing. Guilt, relief, wonder. It was a strange and somewhat heady mix.

  Will racked up a demerit in the class log for the spell, but it didn't matter, as whatever group was formed today would be the one assembled for the rest of term. As the group clicked audibly into place, Will gave Bellacia a smug smile.

  Every class period, the other assistants moved from group to group, never staying too long in any one—and never approaching ours. Bellacia, on the other hand, spent the majority of each class sitting smack in the midst of our group.

  “Ten minutes, assistants. Get names or log magic,” Harrow called.

  “Please list your names,” Bellacia said with a brittle smile, her finger hovering above her classroom tablet. “The room spell will automatically pull you together for projects and discussions for the rest of term. But do be aware that at times the professor likes to mix groups for specific tasks in order to encourage more spirited debate.”

  She looked to me, her gaze demanding, so I listed our names clockwise around the group, ending with, “Asafa Frey, and Nephthys Bau.”

  Sharp green eyes speared me. Then Bellacia gave a tinkling laugh, and a warm fairy spirit flowered in its auditory path. Her eyes, though... Her eyes were cold and calculating. Far more faerie than fairy. When I listened to her, all was well in the world. When I looked at her, I knew such was far, far, from the truth.

  “Power speaks to power, as always. But so too does danger. Such a group. What was that last name you mentioned? Point her out?”

  The table seemed to go still. Alarms blared in my head. Alarms I didn't understand.

  “Miss Crown?” Bellacia continued to smile companionably at me, her gaze coldly sliding over Neph, trying to fix in on her position.

  Last term, in the cafeteria I had gotten used to people not seeing Neph unless I called their attention to her, but we had formed such a tight table unit that I had somewhat forgotten. I had definitely been unaware that class authorities might be affected. This was the first time we had successfully gotten Neph into our group discussion.

  And Bellacia had just asked specifically about her—had recognized her name or the magic of whatever hid muses from normal view. Maybe muses were normally treated as a filled, but empty chair in a classroom. Maybe Bellacia was wondering how I knew Neph's name.

  Asafa, Delia, Will, and I were continuous troublemakers—and easily discovered as such if one asked the right person the right questions. There was an anti-gossip enchantment on the Justice Tablets, making punishments and offenses confidential, but names of repeat offenders were easily deduced by those possessing any measure of cunning.

  Mike was pretty normal. Neph, who never stuck a foot out of scholarly line, should be considered normal too.

  “Miss Crown.” Bellacia's voice was lilting again, demanding in its soft, compulsive way. “Point Nephthys Bau out.”

  Neph should be normal, but there had been all that weirdness back in the First Layer with Olivia calling her by her last name. And the thing with her uncle. And how the muse community shunned her.

  Delia bent her head suddenly toward Neph, and Will, Mike, and Asafa, pulled into a tight formation, chairs and magic leaning in to envelop Neph.

  “We should get started,” I said, pushing at the feel of Bellacia's voice in my ears. I worked at making her voice visible—seeing it as green sound waves undulating in the air—so that I could combat it. I was still highly susceptible to auditory suggestion, but I had been practicing daily anti-audio enchantments wit
h Draeger since the party. I might be new to this world and without the normal defenses people learned from birth, but I was determined and motivated.

  “Miss Crown.” Her eyes narrowed. “I insist, as a teaching assistant in this class, that you do as I ask.”

  The frequency of the green waves increased, spiking. The room's Justice Magic rang a peal and Professor Harrow's voice sounded from far away. “Miss Bailey? You just received a Level Two Offense, what—?”

  “Miss Crown,” Bellacia repeated forcefully, cutting through my ability to hear our professor. “Tell me now. Quickly.”

  All sound besides her voice ceased. Tell me, tell me, tell me... “No,” I gritted out, and my magic repeated the response, trying to push the power she was exerting on me back outward.

  She leaned forward, green eyes mere slits, her voice a poisonous spiral of sound. Peals were ringing somewhere far away. “Ren Crown, you will do as I say.”

  My mouth opened to do as she asked, but my mind screamed and suddenly my hand shoved into my bag.

  Click, click, click, click, click! My fingers spasmed around the clicker Constantine had given me. Click, click, click. Forget, forget, forget!!

  The insidious sounds that had wrapped around my mind shattered and I looked down to see Bellacia doubled over in pain. Click click, click, click, click, click! My reflexes were completely disconnected from my horror, my panic, and my judgment processing. Everything split apart in my mind due to her attempted mind control and my deep panic—and my fingers kept clicking without my conscious decision to do so as she howled and slid to the floor.

  She seized violently on the tiles.

  “Professor!” Mike yelled.

  A shot of magic hit my chest—magic full of Neph's reassuring touch—and my panic receded just enough that my fingers dropped the clicker. It gave a tinny thump as it hit something in the bottom of my bag. With nothing to grip, I realized I was shaking uncontrollably.

  Professor Harrow crouched next to Bellacia and his hands worked medical magic over her, connecting quickly to the first aid enchantments available in every classroom.

  I looked around, numbly shocked to find myself on my feet with the rest of the group, in a half circle surrounding Harrow and Bellacia.

  Bellacia's interest in Neph had gone past alarming and into the terrifying category for a second—she had been almost frenzied in her need to see Neph—and I felt no remorse for subverting that interest. But watching Bellacia receive what looked like magical chest compressions on the floor horrified me.

  Professor Harrow got Bellacia stabilized just as medical personnel swarmed in.

  I absolutely would have figured out another way to deal with her, if I had known what that clicker did. And that was on me. I did know Constantine.

  He hadn't answered the question about whether it would hurt her—a deliberate omission. He had restated that pressing the clicker would protect me.

  I knew better. I knew far better. I shouldn't have taken the clicker during my haze of desperation after the party. I had wanted an easy solution to one of my problems more than I had wanted to look too deeply into what that solution might entail. And Bellacia's interest in Neph and her mind control attempt had unsettled me so completely that my brain had reached for the first thing that said, “Protection.”

  Ten minutes after class was excused, my tally read:

  Protection of friends: +8

  Destruction of Constantine's devices: +1

  I used an entire batch of the paint Constantine and I had made and destroyed the device with it. Using his magic mixed with mine seemed appropriate.

  Also, remembering the conversation I had eavesdropped on between Bellacia and Camille, I ordered a jar of Bellacia's favorite skin cream twenty minutes later, still shaking. It cost me nearly half of my entire earnings—from the Art Expressionists booth, from trades, and from commissions—that I had collected over the past few months. I sent the jar of Tinctly's cream to Bellacia anonymously, then I headed to Dorm One.

  Constantine opened the door as I approached, then tsked as soon as he closed the door behind me. “You destroyed it. Darling, you really must stop getting rid of such useful devices.”

  “Constantine, it did horrible things to her.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  He flexed his arms and below the short sleeves of his black shirt I could see black lines spiraling around his veins. Justice Magic was a tricky thing, and made its own decisions about culpability on a case-by-case basis. Constantine had reaped the repercussions from the black magic backlash caused by the device.

  “Didn't know you had it in you, Crown.”

  I reached out a hand to his arm automatically, then retracted it just as quickly, curling my fingers into a fist. “I didn't know.”

  “Didn't you?” He sat in his preferred armchair.

  I took a deep breath before responding. Constantine taunted and tried to provoke anger when he was attempting to avoid a subject. “I would not do that to her or to you,” I said quietly, sitting across from him.

  “Let me tell you, Ren...” He gripped the seat of the chair, and the black lines swam around his arms. “She deserved every second of what she got. Do you know what she is planning to do to you? She has four mages watching you at all times and she has given her dear daddy your name. They are combing databases for your home address right now.” His gaze became heavy-lidded, and he leaned back. “Lucky for you, your address is protected from memory unless you have given it to a mage specifically.”

  I looked at him steadily. Constantine had my home address. I had given it to him.

  “The same protections that keep you hidden, Crown, will destroy you, if discovered.”

  Raphael had put the protections in place, and it would mean automatic imprisonment for me, if the Department discovered that I had a connection to him.

  I couldn't let myself think about the ramifications of such things, though. Marsgrove had my address and hadn't updated the school records with it. Maybe he couldn't.

  “It's a good thing I trust you,” I said.

  “Foolish of you.”

  I reached forward and touched his wrist, using the opportunity to send healing magic to him. “I know she hurt you, and you've gotten your revenge a thousandfold. Please don't make another one of those devices.”

  “If she threatens you, I'll do worse.”

  “No.”

  “No? But women love hearing such things.” He put his free hand over his heart and his gaze was piercing and seductive. “I will do anything for you.”

  “No you won't, and no.”

  He smiled and turned his wrist so that his fingers were reaching up toward mine. “Then what? You want me to turn over a new leaf? To be a good citizen? But being good provides so few possibilities for entertainment.”

  Sometimes Constantine reminded me of Raphael so much that it was painful. But whereas Raphael was tainted by madness, Constantine claimed bitterness as his closest companion.

  “I'm certain that you would be able to find quality entertainment no matter what your end goal.”

  “You flatter me.” He waved his free hand in the air. “Continue.”

  I sighed. “Don't make another. Please. We'll figure out some other way to deal with her. I don't seem to have any moral compunction about attaching Justice Magic to someone to make their own ill intentions backfire.” I grimaced. “But not something used for sport, okay?”

  “I'll dwell upon the decision.” His fingers curled around my forearm, then slid along the underside of my wrist to my palm. “It may take many nights.”

  “You can't help yourself, can you?” I gave him a reluctant smile.

  “I will keep trying until you succumb,” he said lightly.

  My fingers slipped from his. “You would hate that. You like the challenge.”

  The women who fell for Constantine's song never enjoyed it for long. It was as if he was always looking for someone to love him, then was disgusted when they did.<
br />
  “The chase is my favorite part of the dance. Unrivaled.”

  “I'm happy to help keep you entertained then.” Constantine needed friends, not lovers, and it was never more obvious to me than when I saw him visibly relax every time we were alone and working.

  “And about the other thing?” I prodded.

  He held his palm out. “I will waste no time this week on a replacement device for that woman.”

  I nodded. Anything further would be his choice. “You up for working on something suitably destructive, but aimed at me instead?”

  “The test went well with Price?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Yes. It was awesome. And bit by bit, it should continue to chip away at the leash.”

  He smiled, a slow, absolutely satisfied smile. “Good.”

  I eyed him for a moment. Whatever game he was playing, I was curious to see how it would unfold. Constantine was a planner to the nth degree, and very detail oriented, despite every effort he made to project otherwise outside of this space. And he was starting to make me feel like everything about his outward facade was a carefully created construction to hide what truly motivated him.

  “Come.” He rose and moved toward his work room. “I wish to speak to you about the stamp I gave you for your birthday.”

  “About how fantastic it is? I used it to hold three ward designs yesterday that I could enlarge at will.” I sat in the chair on the other side of the work table from him and pushed onto the back legs, balancing—I was spending too much time with Dare, obviously. He was always balancing on chairs and trees and precipices.

  The black ribbon in Constantine's hand lengthened and I could see magic glinting in the shimmer of the material.

  “Think larger, Crown—about how you can use it to defend yourself, if for...oh let's say the group you hilariously call the 'Junior Department' tried to...capture you.”

  He snapped the ribbon under the table and it lengthened to hit the back right leg of my chair. The leg disappeared and the chair tipped. I flailed unsuccessfully, then fell. My elbow hit the ground hard, but my head hit something soft.