by L. A. Banks
“Did you see the big red one?” he asked, breathing hard.
“That’d be Sophocles, Peggi’s Da,” Mr. Milton said with a wink. “Breathes fire. All warhorse, he is…a formidable creature and not to be tested in the air or on the ground, laddie. We clear?”
Val nodded and wiped his brow with his forearm, wings still outstretched. “I hear you, sir.”
“Good. It’s an honor for them to fly with a Valkyrie—even a half-Valkyrie. They really like you… and I hope you know it was an honor for you to fly with them.”
“Most definitely,” Val said, petting Peggi’s shoulder.
The mare went down on one knee and stared at Sarah, and then whinnied. Sarah ran to her, and Val laughed.
“She’s gonna let Sarah ride?”
“That she is,” Mr. Milton said with a smile. “The lassie earned her respect, didn’t rush her, had patience… so when the time was right in Peggi’s mind, she said okay. That is the way of the world. Respect, friendship, patience, trust.”
“I hear you,” Val said, his expression serious, as he watched Sarah climb up on Peggi’s back.
“Aye,” Mr. Milton said, as Val took off next to Sarah and Peggi. “That’s what they all say.”
Sarah pressed her face to Peggi’s neck and looked at Val. He smiled at her and then did a fancy spiraling nosedive that sent Peggi after him, making Sarah scream as her mount followed his twirling path.
Laughter rang out as wind buffeted their faces. Life was so worth living in this moment, she thought. After a while, just watching Val, looking at him, hurt. It was the kind of glorious pain that too much joy causes, that split-second in time when a person feels like every cell membrane inside them will burst and melt together.
Val reached out but didn’t get too close for fear of a collision, the tips of his fingers straining toward her like he wanted to touch her cheek and causing Peggi to whinny. His expression slowly changed from smiling to somber, his dark, intense eyes seeming haunted, and then he spun away as though unable to stand being in the air beside her any longer, to head back to the barnyard, where he landed hard before Peggi did.
“Quite a run there,” Mr. Milton said, tossing Val his shirt as he folded his wings. “Go take a shower. Mrs. Hogan isn’t home, and all the field hands are out. Go on now.” He smiled. “House is empty, towels are in the linen closet. You’re all sweaty. Can’t put your uniform back on and walk the halls of the Academy escortin’ a lady all dirty like that.”
“Thanks,” Val said without turning around, and took off running as Peggi landed behind him.
“Hey, where’re you going?” Sarah called out, laughing as Val took the house steps two at a time.
“Oh, he’s just a proud lad who’s embarrassed because he’s all sweaty—which he was,” Mr. Milton said, holding his nose and grinning playfully. “So I sent him to the showers…. How about me and you put away Miss Peggi here, and feed her some more of these apples you’ve got?”
Feeling much better after the break, Sarah didn’t even mind Titan Troy scowling at them the whole way back. In fact, she was so bubbly, felt so alive, that she chattered poor Val’s ear off the whole walk back to the cafeteria for lunch.
“Hey, you’re awfully quiet,” she said after a moment, stopping so he’d slow down.
When he kept going, she jogged and caught his arm, and finally got him to stop walking.
“You okay?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “You’re not gonna get all weird on me, are you?”
Val shrugged and shook his head. “No. Like…why would I get weird?”
“Because you and I have always been tight, friends… then, in the hall, it was more than friends…. And when we went riding it was really cool… but now, you haven’t said two words since.”
She stared at him, and he looked off down the hall. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
“I understand,” she said quietly, remembering that their problems hadn’t gone away, even though they’d enjoyed life at its most free for those few brief hours.
“No, you don’t.”
“Hey,” she said, pulling on his arm gently. “Don’t say that. I do. Really. I do.” She let out her breath hard. “Like, we both got away from it for a couple of hours, and nobody else got to do that… and we were laughing and having the best time… the best time I’ve ever had in my life, actually…but people are really sick… and Ayana’s gone.” She looked down and let her hand fall away from his arm. “But maybe that’s just me. You’ve got every right to feel—”
“It was the best time of your life?’ he said, his voice low and hoarse.
“In the air, just feeling free, soaring, tumbling, falling, laughing,” she said, opening her arms and spinning around in the empty hallway. “Flying beside you…” She closed her eyes and stopped spinning. “It was the best time of my life,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
His kiss grazed her mouth, making her eyes pop open in surprise. Val stepped away from her, gasping as though he couldn’t catch his breath.
“It was the best time of my life, too,” he said, staring at her for a moment before he turned his gaze down the hall. “That’s what I had on my mind, and I can’t shake it—but in there,” he said, pointing toward the caf, “I’ve gotta. You follow me?”
She nodded, only half understanding, still stunned by his impassioned outburst. He strode away from her quickly, as though he didn’t trust himself around her for one second more. She watched his retreat for a second, remembering how his back had looked naked under the sun, his magnificent wings spread, then closed her eyes. Her PIU sounded, and she read the message, still numb.
It took a few seconds and the ringing of the lunch bell for her to remember to breathe.
Professor Zachariah Raziel had called an emergency Shadows class. The PIU message said it would only be for a half hour, and the caf would stay open so his students could still eat. After that, classes were dismissed for the rest of the day, anyway. A half hour wasn’t going to kill her, but she was so not in the mood.
Somehow, seeing life at its fullest while out with Val, and knowing that the entire school was teetering on the precipice of tragedy took away all her enthusiasm for exploring any hidden Shadows talents she had.
She raced down the hall, then opened the door to the Crematorium. Student desks and chairs had been arranged around the room, and she was glad to see a bunch of kids she already knew, including Wil. Everyone there was wearing a pin like hers. She selected the seat next to Wil, and they shared a look. Aaron Wu was sitting next to Jim Wilkerson, a tall, gangly almond-hued kid with a big red afro and wicked acne. There were still two empty seats.
The students glanced at one another but kept their focus on Professor Razor. He looked like he’d been up all night; his t-shirt was filthy. He paced in front of the long metal table with a mug of black coffee in his hand, and the air smelled like he hadn’t bothered to go outside for a cigarette break. An ominous pile of ashes rested on the metal work table behind him, and all the students noticed it before returning their confused attention to Razor.
He took a long, slow swallow of coffee and gestured around the room with his mug. “I brought a few items from my old post: my scythe, an old Amanthra demon jaw bone—I fondly remember killing that sucker—the old angel breastplate from years gone by, a shield, the usual—oh, yeah, and my coffee mug just to keep me focused, and meanwhile, I want you all to know who will be in class with you.”
Professor Razor looked back at the pile of ash. “Don’t let that trouble you. It was going to be your first homework assignment,” he said, moving toward it to scoop some of the sooty substance into his palm. He allowed it to filter through his fingers as he spoke. “I wanted to see if you could use your skills to separate out what part per billion were human remains versus demon remains.” He let out a weary sigh as the last of the ash hit the table and then wiped his dirty palm on the back of his fatigues. “But I guess the point is moot until we get another Ollie in here. I swear
, I hate delay as much as I hate demons.”
The students shared worried glances that the professor didn’t miss.
“That empty seat was for Josh Abrams. That young man would have been a wicked Ollie—he could have told me that the mix on the table was three parts human, one part messenger demon—albeit only after he puked up breakfast, but Josh could have done it. That young man is also one of the best special languages masters in this school—he’s fluent in written Cuneiform. However, right now he’s on the run for using his superior skills for something stupid. Drugs.”
The huge Reaper folded his arms and looked at the stunned faces in the room. “Instead of using his extraordinary talent for something productive, he decided to use his nose to mix the right concentrations of Australian sea wasp venom with belladonna, which is Italian for beautiful woman, otherwise known as atropa belladonna or nightshade, hence the illegal’s other name, blue lady—the same drug the dead fliers were on. It’s unfortunately easy to make since night shade is common in the Americas near the Mexican border and on the East Coast. But, I digress.
“Mr. Abrams and his buddy Mr. Scheeler went one step further and taught this school a huge lesson in advanced chemistry—taking substances right out of our wall murals. What do you think you get when you take a sensation- and communication-carrier like pure quartz crystal, then infuse it with a minimal amount of venom that mildly shocks the heart and begins to paralyze or relax the central nervous system, and finally add trace elements of a poison that dilates pupils, blurs vision, increases your heart rate—literally makes your heart audible to others at a distance of several feet, that’s how freakin’ hard your heart is pounding—makes you aggressive, makes your skin hot, disorients you and gives you hallucinations?”
No one spoke. No one even breathed.
“You get a substance that can kill you while at the same time it opens your psyche to dark forces invasion, that’s what you get.” Professor Raziel walked across the room and kicked over Josh’s empty chair. “There is nothing I hate more than wasted human potential!
“What, you thought our investigation wasn’t going to turn up anything?” In an apparent fury, he whirled around and toppled the second empty desk. “That would have been Patty Gray’s desk—now that she was finally strong enough to place into my division,” he said, pacing away from it to lean against the metal table. “She is a Reverse Clav—a blinder,” he said, shaking his head. “And then she got mixed up with the two of them.”
Sarah could only stare at the man, still focused on the boys he’d mentioned. Ernie Scheeler and Josh Abrams, two Blends—guys who were the epitome of nerdy. They were the ones manufacturing drugs, not Stefan? And Patty, of all people, was helping them? Sarah felt like her world had tipped off its axis. Nothing was what it seemed to be, just like she’d been trying to tell her bone-headed brother. The only remaining question was what the heck had Melissa swiped from Stefan the night of the luau that had made him so mad? Or had he been as wrong to accuse her as they had been to accuse him of dealing drugs?
“Have you any idea how valuable a skill she has?” Professor Raziel railed as he looked around before taking a deep sip from his mug. “Of course you don’t,” he muttered. “Patty Gray could have blinded demons, Morrigan, you name it, all from the safety of a Guardian encampment out in the field. She was going to be a part of our field exercises in the woods before we moved up to the forbidden zone exercises. But instead she decided to help blind this administration to a drug ring so the guys could go into town and sell something that couldn’t be easily manufactured anywhere but this school!” He shook his head. “Stupid! Their little profit center may have put everyone’s life at risk by tipping off the Morrigan!”
Professor Raziel started pacing again, his hands clasped behind his back. “Now that poor girl is fighting for her life in ICU. What a waste.” He stopped and stared out at the room, then resumed his slow pacing. “And all for a code of student honor. Code of student honor? Where’s her honor now? Answer me that.” He let out a harsh breath and stared challengingly at the class, suddenly flinging his mug into the furnace with a crash. “I don’t know why I asked you to come here. Maybe after last night, flying high and low to no avail, I just needed to vent.” His shoulders slumped as he wiped his broad palms down his face, then looked straight at Aaron Wu and pointed.
“This boy here is not only one of the school’s best bio-chem students and a strong general Tactical, but Alan can throw his voice anywhere, can mimic any voice or sound with perfect pitch—and I would know. We in the angel legions know perfect pitch when we hear it. Show ‘em, Alan.”
“Uh…it’s Aaron, sir,” the boy said nervously.
“Okay, all right, my apologies. Aaron. Like I said, it’s been a long night.”
Aaron nodded and then flawlessly duplicated Professor Razor’s voice, throwing it from behind the students, making them turn just to double-check no one else was there.
Everyone murmured in awe.
“Whoa, man…that is craaazy,” Jim said, reaching across the aisle to slap Aaron five.
“I thought I’d be able to get an advanced Audio in my group this time, but it wasn’t meant to be,” said “Professor Razor” from behind them.
“Man, he sounds just like you,” Wil said, shaking his head. “Freaky.”
“That is a skill that could save all your lives one day,” the real Professor Razor replied. “But beware. It’s also something demons can do.”
All eyes immediately went to Aaron, who looked shocked.
“Vampires can throw their voices to make it sound like it’s your own dear momma calling you,” the professor said, walking around the room again. “But there’s always a slight warble, a slight distortion, in the copycat’s electronic voice signature. We’ll do blindfolded experiments in the field. If you’re right and it’s me, you get to advance. If you’re wrong and it’s Aaron, then you’ll earn a black armband and you’re dead.”
He stopped at Jim’s desk and looked down. “Jim is a Builder Tactical, not to be confused with a General Tactical, like Wil and Aaron.” “Look around the room, Jim, and build me a shield—fast.”
The professor stepped away from Jim’s side, but Jim only looked up at him, seeming confused. “Sir…uh…I can use anything? And, uh, wood or metal?”
Professor Razor simply stared at the wall clock. “You are being pursued by a demon black bolt charge. In twenty seconds you will fry. Make up your mind and act, boy!”
The empty desks exploded; metal from knives on the wall and the metal table sheered down into a reinforced disc. A plume of ashes from the metal table billowed up as though hit with a mortar round. Thunderous blue-white light flash-bleached the room, making students cup their palms over their eyes as they peeked through. Razor’s eyes simply became pure midnight. A handle made from a bent desk leg attached itself on one side of the huge shield, while spikes, chains and knife tips whirred around the edges.
Spent and sweating, Jim held his work up for the professor to inspect. The shield was still sparking as the professor grabbed it, biceps contracting as he lifted the heavy object.
“This is indeed a shield that would block an attack. Well done, young man, well done!” Professor Razor strutted around with it held in front of his chest. “Look at the edges, the blade work,” he said, nodding, and then dragged it along the wall leaving deep gashes. “Creative. This is not just a shield but also a weapon. We just have to work on your decision-making skills and show you how to adjust for different Guardian strengths,” he added, motioning for Sarah to come up to the front of the class, where he thrust the shield into her arms. “Here. Hold this.”
Sarah tried to hold it but went down to the floor alongside it with a massive thud.
“See my point, Jim? You’ve gotta make something with a weight and density to protect your team members, but that’s also something they can carry. We’ll work on that.” He turned to Wil. “Wil is a rescuer. A guy like Jim is necessary when you�
��re low on artillery, but when you need a guy to throw you a line and pull you out of a hot spot, Wil’s your man.”
Sarah watched her classmates sit up taller at having been recognized. A sense of quiet defeat filled her as she abandoned the shield on the floor and slunk back to her desk. What did she have but crazy little shadow thingies and weird double vision?
“But that one…” Professor Razor said, pointing at her and causing her to turn. “She’s the class leader.”
All eyes were on Sarah, but her questioning gaze was on the professor.
“She has night-vision, courtesy of her father. Dormant healer and righteous indignation in her, courtesy of her mother. Sarah can not only see where there have been traces of life in the shadows, Headmaster Stone tells me that she is beginning to be able to see actual shadow echoes. Paired with a flier, she can look down into the dark and discern where on the target of a search-and-recovery mission has been. And I suspect she probably has some other very interesting talents beginning to bloom. Time will tell.”
Sarah sat down slowly as the students in the room nodded at her, their eyes filled with a strange combination of skeptical acceptance and respect.
“Way cool, Sarah,” Wil murmured for her ears only.
“Thanks,” she replied in a shy voice.
“Myself, I’m a Reaper,” Professor Razor said proudly. “I see death echoes—the place where the departed dropped their soul, and my job is to drag it down to Hell where it belongs, if it’s going in that direction. We Reapers are always on the battlefield, just like Valkyries. The difference is, while our brethren fly to the light or rescue the injured, we go in the opposite direction, and if it’s still moving and breathing and shouldn’t be…” He smiled a sinister smile and shrugged. “We make sure it stops.”
“So don’t let that pretty face fool you, gentlemen.” Professor Razor pointedly glanced at Wil, folded his arms over his chest and then stared at Sarah. “She’s a Shadow Walker. She sees the pulse of life. Entire battalions of Reapers report to a trained Shadow Walker, as do their Collectors. That’s why I’ll be giving her practice leading this class when things get back to normal around here.”
