by Anne Zoelle
She tapped her chin. “Yeah, okay, I can see that. Never thought about working with him on anything before. He interested?”
I tapped him mentally, then gave a nod. “He said that if he could insert a spell to make something self-destruct, he was in.”
She gave a light laugh. “Give me your notes and two hours to work up a skeletal prototype, Crown. I'll contact him.”
~*~
I took three more calls, then dropped by Dagfinn's. Trick was there, like an imp keeping track of his mischief. I wasn't surprised to see him. He, Saf, and Dagfinn were close, and anything I told one likely was as good as shared with the other two.
Dagfinn had read between the lines of my note like the paranoid communication mage he was, and, with a flourish, handed me something as soon as I stepped in his door.
“And you can communicate between the layers with this?” I asked, examining the slim manufactured rock with its many streaked veins.
“Absolutely. And I've made a few modifications. They'll do whatever we want them to do.”
“You aren't going to get in trouble with the SEC or FAA, or whatever it is here?”
His eyes unfocused for a moment, then he brightened. “Ah. FACE—Frequency and Communication Exchange—and no.” His smile turned sly. “They've been after Mage X for years, and haven't caught him yet.”
I stared at him.
Well, that solved my problem of thinking I was dragging everyone along with me into being enemies of the state. They all already were.
“I'm extremely thankful that you ended up on our team in this,” I said finally.
Dagfinn winked. He looked more relaxed than I had seen him. He was usually paranoid and twitchy. “You cleaned up just about every loose end I had on campus Tuesday. Before the Department could get their claws in me. Excelsine policy doesn't allow students to be subjected to government scrutiny except in the case of extreme violation or expulsion. I was a lot looser on campus than I am in the outside world, and that was about to abruptly bite me in the canker. FACE and the Department would have connected all the dots.”
He spread his hands. “Whatever you need, Crown, as I said before.”
~*~
Delia was next, and I got right down to business.
“Have you ever made a battle cloak?”
“Yes.”
I blinked. I had been expecting a negative response. “Oh, great.”
She looked amused. “There's a class on cloaks in the stitching sciences department.”
“Oh. I feel...slightly dumb for not anticipating that.”
She laughed. “No one pays attention to our classes.” Her eyes looked sly. “They should, though. They should pay far more attention to the stitches in what they wear.”
Delia's frequency of small offenses was legendary.
“What about shadow cloaks?”
Her gaze sharpened and she drew an extra privacy rune in the floor with her foot. “The ones the praetorians wear?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “They are illegal to make or wear. They work like Kaine's Shadow Magic, but also separately from it. Listen.” She held up a hand. “Seeking information about those is not something either of us need. But I can make you something else. Something that for you will work better.”
She touched my neck, and a ghostly image of magic followed her fingers' path as she pulled her arm back.
She touched a roll of thread and I could see her magic reaching out and touching each string, sifting along and communing with each tiny thread. It was a little like how I approached paint and color. But there was a taste to the magic that spoke of texture over hue as Delia touched and stroked everything, whispering small enchantments as she worked.
Snipped threads littered the floor. I picked up one and touched it, feeling for the threads of magic.
This type of magic was the difference between a competent battle cloak and something truly extraordinary.
There was a change in the atmosphere of her workspace, and I looked up.
She lifted two fingers, pinched together, and held them out to me.
I stared blankly at her fingers. “You can make air?”
She laughed and shook her fingers. A ripple of material shifted in the air. I moved forward toward it. “Camouflage?”
“Works best outside.” She leaned forward. “And works best with a mage who can feel the magic around her as well as the air. Or a mage who has access to someone who can imbue those qualities.”
“Mike?”
“Weather mage, Origin Mage, fiber mage.” She winked. “It's a quality combo, Crown.”
A smile started slowly but moved quickly on my lips. “Fantastic.”
My smile quickly slipped. “Wait. When did you start this?” There's no way she had just whipped this out today.
“Tuesday. Mike too.”
Panic gripped me.
She chewed her lip. “We've known this was how things would go. I know that Price and I don't get along. But she sacrificed herself for you.” Her head tilted, looking off to the west. “Never thought I'd see sacrifice in a Price.”
“Delia, I don't want you involv—”
She looked back to me, heavily kohled eyelids half-lowered over brown eyes. “Too bad. Loyalty vibe. Told you, Crown. Count me in on whatever happens. Oh, and don’t delude yourself that you are keeping this a secret from Will and Neph.”
My shoulders slumped—I wanted to keep them all safe—but my internal joy couldn't dim at having them know, of not keeping secrets.
Thirty minutes later, with a sporty weather mage at our side, we were spinning threads between us.
Chapter Thirty-one: Deals of Discussion
When I finally returned to the guys' room, Constantine was leaning against the full length window in their living room, staring out. He turned and his sharp eyes swept over every inch of me.
“You've been quite busy this morning,” he said. He was holding himself very still, and I would have said he was amused if I couldn't feel the deep anger resonating across our connection.
“Long night.”
“When are you leaving?”
I hesitated, then continued rifling through my things. After being confronted by Delia, it wasn't like I had thought I would sneak by Constantine, but I didn't relish this conversation.
Any thoughts on giving him crap about what the rumor mill had cooked up had faded far below my real concerns.
“He gave me three days.”
“Ren.”
My shoulders dropped, along with the shirt in my hands. I stared at it. “I'm seeking help. Asking for it. But I have to go alone.”
On stealthy cat feet, he dropped down in front of me. He smiled when I looked up. It was less pleasant than the ones he usually favored me with.
“Do you think that's going to happen?” he asked, voice pleasant.
I gripped my shirt. “Raphael sucked me into a dream state last night. He said that he would release Olivia—let us both go—if I came for her. He doesn't lie. But I'm positive the no-kill agreement would not include you.”
Before winter term, Raphael might have toyed with Constantine before delivering the blow, but after finding out that Constantine had leeched me, Constantine had been living under a prompt death sentence in Raphael's mind.
He'd dealt Constantine such a blow, even in the limited golem skin Raphael had worn. Constantine would have died on Tuesday if it hadn't been for the healing spells both Axer and I had placed on him. Mine had been super shady too. I still wasn't completely sure what the paint had done to him.
“He'll kill you,” I said softly. “When it was a rescue mission, an infiltration, it was different.” I rubbed my eyes. “Or maybe it wasn't different, and I just wasn't thinking clearly. Nothing about Tuesday was clear. There is no element of surprise now, though, and that's infinitely worse for you.”
“You think he wasn't always expecting you?”
I stayed silent. Raphael had been expecting me from th
e moment that Olivia stepped in front of the spell meant for me.
Constantine lifted my chin. “I'm going to kill him. And you are going to get your friend back. That's all that matters in this.”
I pressed my lips together. “Telling me you are going to commit murder is not the best way to go about things.”
“It has been months since I've sold myself to you as anything other than what I am.”
“Kaine is there. Somewhere. He attacked when Raphael cast me out.”
“And we will deal with him too.” He released my chin.
I stared at the shirt, rubbing it between my fingers.
“You weren't even going to tell Alexander, were you?” he mused.
I peered up at Constantine. He was smiling.
“Probably. Maybe. I have a few days. I need to plan. He'll try to talk me out of it. And...he's busy.”
Constantine seemed to find something darkly amusing, but he didn't explain.
“Why do you think Verisetti wants you there in person?” he asked instead.
“Probably to strap a bomb to me or worse. Maybe just to get me arrested when I leave campus, so I'll be sucked into the Department. I don't know.” I rubbed my eyes again. “But he vowed. He will let Olivia go, if I make it there.”
“You look worse.”
“It's been a rough few nights.”
He looked me over. “Tonight will be better.”
“Sure.” I could be optimistic. “Where were you last night?”
“Medical.”
“Do you have to stay there every night?” Maybe I could get Greyskull to admit me on a temporary order, and I could keep Constantine company and get away from Bellacia.
“No. Just last night. Tonight will be far better, as I said.” He smiled slowly.
“If you say so. But, listen, since I have you now, I need to get into the vault.”
Constantine raised a brow. “It isn't on the list of opened buildings.”
“Right.” I looked at him expectantly.
He looked back, amused, still crouched in front of me. “You think we will just break in?”
“Yes?”
“With all of your followers and trackers and shadows trailing you?”
“Yes?”
“That one sounded even less convincing, darling.”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I need to make a number of things, and I need paint, Con. You know I do.”
He pulled a lock of my hair between his fingers. “It would almost be easier getting into the Midlands, at this point.”
“No.” I shook my head in emphasis and he let the curl go. “I need to keep everything there safe. I will definitely be followed. Vault access doesn't put me off the campus grid. And I could even do a switcheroo with Neph for a bit.”
“You realize she's a Bau, correct?”
“Con?”
He blew out a breath. “You exhaust me.”
“No, I don't.”
I caught his smile before he grew serious again.
“I'll see what I can do.”
~*~
I left Constantine to figure things out and headed over to see Professor Mbozi. Mbozi sighed upon seeing me, then questioned me brutally about the domes and what I had done. It wasn't often that I was on the interrogation side of a Professor Mbozi/Ren Crown discussion.
Enthused, I told him everything I could—without disclosing secrets—and asked him for help filling in the blanks in my knowledge. Which he did.
He touched lightly on other subjects, mentioning that he had a class on rare magic fields that would be coming up in the fall, and also that he might have a few hours to spare on special projects in the spring.
Seeing as I had been hunting him down over the past two terms like a raggedy lion with a favorite gazelle, I was ecstatic.
I left his office with a smile and the magical blueprints for a portable chaos field. One that was “ideologically possible, but untested, Miss Crown.”
I was pretty sure he was just as excited to hear about what I did with the field as I was, even though his facial expression had been long-suffering, world-weary, and like he was headed off for a stiff drink as soon as I disappeared from view. It was a lot like the way Professor Stevens looked at Constantine.
On a hunch, I tried to locate Professor Stevens too. I'd been itching to talk to her since it had become obvious that she was friends with Raphael. Her conversation with Helen Price a few weeks ago made complete sense, within that context. And, given that context, I could deduce that she wasn't a fan of Olivia's mother. That she might help me, was a possibility.
But she wasn't in her lab. Nor anywhere else that I looked.
It was possible she was trekking around campus with the majority of the teaching staff, who, unsurprisingly, were out and about on campus in large numbers, helping any student who crossed their path—and getting in the way of the Legion interrogating the populace, more often than not.
Rumor had it that in-person staff meetings were not being held for the time being, and that they were spreading resources all over the top levels of campus so that all of the staff could not be trapped in one place again.
Softer rumor had it that this was not just in case of terrorists attacking again, but also if the Legion decided to show their might.
It was becoming just as usual to see a professor briskly walking a tracked path through one of the levels, talking via frequency or hologram, than it was to see students doing the same.
But none of the faces who crossed my path were Lucille Stevens.
Tarei followed me on my failed quest, a shadow in the mist, and I tried to ignore him. Tried to ignore when he blinked at me with a gaze that was not his own.
I made sure to stick to the most well-traveled paths.
~*~
The dorms weren't much of a relief, but at least here, there was a sanctity Tarei couldn't yet breach.
The common rooms were packed with people watching the All-Layer Combat Competition. Even packed, though, there weren't as many students watching the competition in the common areas as there had been before the attack. Some people were too traumatized to watch more fighting, others were too traumatized to be in the same place that they were when the domes were erected.
But there were plenty who were still glued to their sets and feeds. Some looked desperate for some sort of victory—as if having our school win would give them some balm or security they couldn't otherwise find.
The transmission was tracking Lox at the moment, and he was doing a fine job in whacking his opponent. Well-enough that some of the people watching were switching their short attention spans elsewhere.
Strangely, even the perfectly respectable students at school—the ones who were never in trouble—were casting disturbed looks at the vents.
“Can't turn them off completely still,” someone hissed. “System override.”
It was a sobering reminder that while normally the Administration “let” us get away with some things, when they wanted to affect something specifically, we couldn't stop them.
And when they were being pushed by outside forces, anything was possible.
I sent a query through the gem Will had given me and was immediately hit with information culled from multiple open frequencies. The calming spells were the new hot topic around campus—slotting into a place of popularity after grief and trauma DIY fixes, gossip about the Origin Mage, and chitchatting on the combat competition.
The delinquents hearing my query, on the other hand, mentally chimed in that they were doing “mad business” in neutralizing spells, especially Lifen, who had served a stint on the Neutralizer Squad, and Loudon, who had some overlapping expertise with his dismantling skills.
My steps slowed as the live competition feed switched competitors. Axer was front and center of the magical projection on the dorm's wall. I released the armband and gem communications with an absent, “thanks.”
He knocked an opponent down, but it wasn't as effortless as he usu
ally made it look.
He was also protecting his midsection more than he had before Kaine had ripped him apart, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. The announcers were speculating that he had taken the injury in the “Bloody Tuesday Attack.”
It hadn't stopped any of his opponents from trying to maim him there further.
Even tired, he was deadly, but these were the best fighters across the layers—and they were far better rested and at top form. As he climbed the heats, the matches became more grueling to watch.
A Third Layer mage got in a good swing.
“Damn thirdies. Shouldn't let them compete,” someone grumbled.
“Especially now,” someone agreed.
“They didn't do it,” a far more reasonable person pointed out.
“But they are fighting for their layer. They condone the actions of their own terrorists.”
“That's not true. Not everyone—”
“Yeah? You think Lorenzo isn't in league with the terrorists?”
Leonach Lorenzo was the leader of the Rebuilding Faction in the Third Layer. Their government was made up of about a dozen different factions, and currently the Rebuilding Faction headed them all.
Lorenzo had disassociated himself from the terrorists, but I had to admit, after seeing his visage a few times...he didn't seem too displeased.
But if he was involved, he was very good at covering his tracks. He was squeaky clean, and not even Bellacia's father could pin anything on him.
The Second Layer seemed to hate him for that even more.
The feed announcer made his presence known. “Due to the tragic events at Excelsine University, all competitors are a little off today. The Excelsine combat mages returned to campus to help secure it, and so did a good portion of the other combat mages at the competition—helping out their fellow young mages in need. As a result, there is a far more community-based feeling at today's events. But it should be noted, that the Excelsine competitors who answered the call, and stayed on campus for the night, are suffering.”
Community-based feeling or not—and I could see how that worked, with the competing mages being the first ones to clasp their competitor back upright after a loss, manly bro-hug and all—no one was going easy on their opponents.
