The Awakening of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  “Sorry. Who are you?”

  He seemed offended by that too. “I am Mr. Peters. And you are in trouble. You overextended your time by two hours.”

  “Oh. I hadn't realized there was a queue.” There hadn't been any kind of a line when I'd entered. And dozens of the rooms had seemed available.

  “That's it. I'm charging you with a Level Two.” He pulled out a sunshine-yellow tablet.

  “What? Why?” I asked, alarmed. What would a Level Two make me do? Run to the bottom of the mountain and back?

  Dare straightened and looked at the other guy. “Take it easy. She didn't even raise an alert.” He pointed at the yellow tablet.

  I stared at him. His voice...

  “She magically attacked me! And you! She magically attacked you.”

  Dare looked suddenly bored. “Yes, so?”

  The eyes matched perfectly, and I would never forget that voice. Without a doubt, standing above me was the guy who had saved me. Healed me.

  “She...she can't do that! The handbook says overusing a reading room is chargeable. Offensable!”

  I didn't think that was a word, but I kept my lips zipped and cast a nervous glance around looking for Marsgrove.

  “With what is going on right now, you are worried about someone extending a reading room session?”

  “No, of course not.” Peters stood tall. “But this is how the big timers start out—as small timers. If we let them get their start doing petty crime, soon they will be moving on to bigger jobs.” He looked at me as if I was already contemplating a slide to armed assault.

  “You,” Alexander Dare said in his chiseled voice, pointing at me.

  “Yes?” My voice squeaked in response. If Peters could use the word offensable, I could describe a voice as chiseled, just like the rest of the guy standing over me.

  “Was that your first time in a reading room?”

  “Yes.” I nervously ran a hand over my hair. “Sorry?”

  He turned to Peters, brow raised, arms crossed. “You are going to charge a first term sixteen-year-old on a reading room violation that didn't even register?”

  Seventeen! Almost eighteen!! Vertically challenged!!!

  Peters gave me a disgruntled look, as if I had stolen money from his pocket and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “You saw the time was extended on the room and decided to intervene, Peters. Admirable. You helped a student in need.”

  Peters preened. “And I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Mr. Dare.”

  It was as if someone else actually saying his name out loud forced everything to overwhelmingly intersect, like the points on the grid. I opened my mouth, a heartfelt thank you on my tongue. Thank you for saving me, for letting me have that last moment, for—

  I closed my mouth with a snap, swallowing the words, but not the sentiment.

  He gave a short nod to Peters, a strange glance to me, then walked away.

  I found myself staring at his rear, unable to help myself. Because of the glimpse of him on the field, I could recognize him from this angle too. That strange pull strained as he gained more distance.

  I wanted—needed—to know what exactly had happened that night with my brother, but I couldn't very well follow him and say, “Hey, you know that ordinary girl you helped many weeks back? Surprise! Feral! Illegal! Thanks for your help that night, now please tell me everything. Oh, and don't enslave me, ok? Thanks!”

  “You are lucky to be all in one piece,” Peters said darkly, as soon as he was gone.

  “Oh? You like to assault people?” I rotated my right shoulder forward where I had been grabbed and yanked. Marsgrove hadn't shown up, I had just had a wonderfully awkward exchange with the guy I had been dreaming about for weeks, and I was starting to feel pluckier. “I feel lucky.”

  “You should. Mr. Dare had to pull you out.”

  It made sense that Dare had removed me, not Peters. His voice had caused me to pause in subconscious recognition. I rotated my shoulder again. Being tackled by a hot guy still hurt. He had snapped through my magic like I was a twig too. I remembered how he had looked on that hologram field. I was thankful I was still alive.

  “It will be ok,” a soothing voice said. I looked over to see a girl standing ten feet away, her appearance matching her soft voice, before my eyes slid to the right, away from her.

  A little of the ire went out of Peters, but he continued to stare at me, as if unaware that there was anyone else standing near. “The only reason I'm not charging you is because it wouldn't look good on my sheet. But next time, you'll get double.” He gave me a dark look, then strode off.

  “You can wear a zap timer—to wake you up next time—if you want,” the soft feminine voice said.

  I looked back at the girl. There was a dreamlike quality about her, conjuring visions of sand and veils. She smoothed a hand over her dark hair in a self-conscious way, and I realized she was the girl I had followed initially. I had watched her hands, her searches on the wall, and her path direction, all while thinking about being kidnapped at any moment by Marsgrove. I hadn't actually paid attention to her.

  Her dreamlike quality made my eyes slip past her again. I tried again, and once more my eyes drifted to her hands before I forced them up to her dark brown eyes for a full second. Aching emotion tightened the skin at the edges of her eyes. I fixed my gaze upon her eyes and concentrated hard. Intent, focus, knowledge, confidence. I could do two of those four and fake a third. I wanted to comfort her. My cuff pulsed, and a little thread of magic pushed past, escaping.

  She snapped into view—a doe-like work of Raphael with her blended sand beauty. Raphael, the old master, not the betrayer.

  “I remember hearing beeps. Alarms?”

  “Yes.” She smiled, hope in her expression. “A reading room is fueled by the user's magic, so it is quite usual for newer users to get entrapped. Two hours is a long time for most people, especially depending on how many books you engage.”

  That might be why I was feeling so tired. Had Peters said I had extended the time two hours? Did that mean I had been in there for four hours?

  I suddenly realized that the four card disks from my pockets were broken on the floor. I picked up the pieces. “Oh, no.”

  “The cards are recyclable.” She lifted a delicate shoulder. “Students can take them out of the library to use in personal readers, so they get lost and destroyed frequently. They won't work outside of campus wards, though. Were you using those four in the room?”

  “No, the sign said five, so I used five and put these in my pockets.” For once, I was glad to have followed a rule. Though...there were eight slots...and hell, what was that big one for? An Ultimate Tome of Magery?

  I pushed a hand against my forehead and the headache splitting it.

  “Would you like help?”

  “Yes.” I gave a short laugh. My therapists would be delighted at my final capitulation.

  A warm hand touched my forehead and the headache just...seeped out. I almost closed my eyes, so good did it feel. The hand touched my shoulder next and the pain seeped out as well.

  “Wow.” I looked at her. She pulled her hand back and swirled it gracefully, making two loops, then picked up one of the broken cards. I could see a light glow of orange transfer from her fingers to the card. The card shattered into a dozen pieces.

  Another sweep of her hand scooted the pieces into a pile, then the pile swirled up and into a trash bin.

  Handy.

  She must have noticed my envious glance, because she tilted her head, her loose dark hair flowing with the movement. “There are practice rooms in the ninth circle battle building. You can buy a guide at the bookstore and learn all sorts of things that way.”

  I blinked.

  She smiled. “Mages tend to be a 'try it first—read the instructions only in dire circumstances' people. But if you were that fascinated with a reading room, you might like the practice rooms located on the ninth circle. You must have a good
amount of natural magic to have repelled Alexander Dare even a little.”

  Ah. That was what that considering look had been then. Curses.

  “And using five cards in the room for four hours...” She shook her head. “I can't help there, unfortunately. You will probably sleep through your morning classes tomorrow.”

  As I was a vagrant currently, this was unlikely.

  She touched a spot below her ear and her expression fell. “I need to go.” She rose, but didn't move for a moment, reluctant. “Good evening to you.” She started to turn.

  “Wait, I'm Ren. Thank you.”

  “I'm Nephthys.” She smiled, hope in her expression again. “It was nice to meet you, Ren.”

  My name had just tumbled from my mouth, even though intelligence and preservation instincts said that I should keep everything about me bland, blank, and unmemorable.

  She walked gracefully down the hall, and I touched my shoulder and head, which were completely pain free.

  I spent another hour at the library, looking over my shoulder for Marsgrove and unsuccessfully trying to reach the fourth floor. A tug had started in my gut, though, and was spreading and starting to make me uncomfortable. The image of the dorm room kept popping into my mind's eye, as if the tug wanted to lead me there.

  I collected three dozen cards from the wall before I finally gave in to the tug. I approached the ground floor door with my arms full of cards, just in case I needed to drop them and sprint away. Ever since I had been falsely beeped leaving a library as a child, I had been cautious exiting them.

  I stepped through the door warily. Relief swept me as I gained a few paces of freedom. The tug loosened, as if it was pleased. But as I walked through the courtyard, a stomach cramp made me buckle over in pain. Bad Magi Mart food? Another cramp hit me, this one more debilitating. A girl in tight pink leggings and a painted-on tank jogged passed.

  Oh. Oh. I needed to run back to the dorm. It appeared magic had a keen and vicious memory. I really wondered what the Level Two Offense Peters had wanted to give me would have required.

  After a couple of stumbling steps, the cramps eased, but once I got a jog going, the cramps receded completely. I tried to stuff the cards into my bag, jog, retrieve my map, jog, and watch where I was going at the same time. It took me twice as long to jog back, but the new route took me past one of the campus bookstores. I reached Dorm Twenty-Five, slapped my hand upon the front door, just in case, then doubled back.

  The cramps were gone, but the dorm tug immediately showed its displeasure, which meant I had to be dealing with two magic enchantments.

  I jogged back to the bookstore, blinked in wonder at the flying books, and with Marsgrove's money, I purchased a card reader and a number of nifty blank auto-sorting notebooks from the peppy and helpful clerk.

  I returned to the dorm at a jaunty pace, eyes still sweeping for Marsgrove, then entered the building, ready for anything. But the door to room twenty-five was unlocked and Olivia was the only inhabitant. The tug abruptly settled. She gave me an unreadable look, before burying her head in her bound book again.

  I made a quick sweep behind the shower curtain—and as surreptitiously as possible, under the bed—before going back and locking the door to the room. “Uh, are you in for the night?” Should have asked that first.

  “Yes,” came the short reply.

  “Me too.”

  No response.

  “I purchased a ton of cookies from Magi Mart. They are beside the box. Feel free to have some.”

  Olivia's gaze drifted to the cookies, then abruptly turned back to her desk. “Thank you,” she said curtly, as if she was upset she had looked.

  I settled onto my comforter and looked out the window to the softly lit ground and shaded trees below. When I could no longer justify sitting on the bed with my jacket, shoes, and pack still on, I reluctantly shrugged them off, but kept everything close.

  I opened my new reader and read the instructions, which echoed the actions I had watched Delia undertake earlier. I shook my head and spread out my library cards. I had gotten a book on magical meditation. Far safer than attending any sessions Delia had suggested.

  I carefully slipped the first card into the slot. There was a tingle in my finger as it lifted from the edge of the card, and I swallowed as I felt the amazing pull of magic under the cuff. The magic reluctantly responded—which was almost a surprise after the torrent the reading room had allowed. I rotated my forearm, examining the cuff. I was going to have to put removing it at the top of my research list. Finding out what magic the reading rooms were made of—or called forth—became a mental bullet point underneath.

  The image of words appeared on the reader, then real pages flipped out from right to left, settling in the middle, then disappearing back into the screen, displaying page one like an e-reader. I touched the page and wished for a real book again. Blue light gathered and the frame of a book rose up. I rubbed a page between my fingers. It felt like real paper. I stuck my nose into the pages. It even smelled real. I gripped a chunk of pages and flopped them over.

  I touched the page and wished for a flat screen again. It complied. A real book one moment, flat like an e-reader the next. I called back the real book and imagined turning twenty pages. The pages turned, then settled again—twenty pages forward. I held my finger down and focused a search on the word death. It flipped five pages, and the word glowed blue. Thin lines of blue striped the rest of the book, indicating more search results, and one thick latter chunk of pages glowed with the color.

  Perfect.

  I looked over at Olivia buried in books with eight inch spines. Why didn't she have a reader? A reader was a poor substitute for a reading room, but far superior to both regular books and electronic, seeing as it combined the two aspects.

  I yawned, scrubbed a hand over my eyes, and fished through the cards to find Time Lines of Death. I quickly consumed the text, which was full of alarming opinion. No one had ever been successfully resurrected after four months. Mages were arrested and imprisoned if they were found practicing resurrections at thirteen minutes post death. Everything from heavy fines to imprisonment was given for eleven and twelve minute time frames.

  Seeing as my brother had been dead for nearly two months now, none of this was good news. But I had anticipated such roadblocks, and they were merely words on the page.

  “Ren, I need help.”

  “Help, help, help!”

  I curled up into a ball on my bed and pulled my journal with the massive to-do lists against my belly. I would do whatever it took.

  My eyes immediately started to close and I vainly tried to keep them open—what if Marsgrove showed up?—but exhaustion pulled me into the abyss where Christian hung in chains.

  Chapter Eleven: Pain...ting...

  I woke abruptly, hand reaching for Will's sketch. Olivia was in her chair, working, as if she'd never gone to sleep. Marsgrove wasn't standing over me. No handcuffs circled my wrists.

  I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. I had made it through the night unscathed. A little notch of hope peered out from my Pandora's Box of emotions.

  Breakfast consisted of unexploded Magi Mart food—burritos and muffins, since the faux-Cheerios hadn't survived the magical unpack. It all tasted...normal.

  My after breakfast activity consisted of sketching—each draft becoming easier to animate than the previous one. Hopefully, I could get these working, then I could move ahead and activate the snare I had planned for Marsgrove. I attempted to place paint on a sketched gopher that was prowling and sniffing a patch of sketched grass. The paint was from a store-bought tube from the First Layer, so I wasn't expecting much, but I needed to see if paint brought into the magic world became magical.

  So far, it had just stuck to the hindquarters of the gopher, who was vainly trying to lick the Phthalo Blue off.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Olivia didn't make any move to answer, so I walked over to the door. A girl with three ponytails s
tood on the other side holding a tablet and wearing a pressed uniform. Not good.

  “Florence Crown?”

  “Yes.”

  “Level One Offense. Illegal substance use.”

  I stared at her. “What?”

  “You triggered a Level One Offense.” She shook her head. “Drugs are bad for you and there are mages who can help. Now—”

  “What are you talking about? I'm not using drugs.” That was the last thing I needed in this world.

  She frowned at her tablet. “You are telling the truth. Hmm... What were you doing a minute ago?”

  “Drawing and painting. With...paint.” No. No way. “Paint purchased legally at a store!”

  The girl looked apologetic. “I bet someone put a hex on you. There are a few going around that mimic administration spells. Get yourself checked at the clinic. Unfortunately, the justice magic still needs to balance the infraction with a punishment, as it is insisting you are guilty. But I can make it painless this time, I think. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Er, I could run?”

  “Great! Run aimlessly for a half hour. You can have until the end of the day to do it.”

  Aimlessly?

  I nodded, but she continued looking at me expectantly. What was it the boy had made me say? “Er, I will run aimlessly for a half hour, by my magic I so do vow?”

  The magic wrapped around me, squeezing.

  “Great! And get checked out, ok?” She tossed over her shoulder, three ponytails swinging as she walked down the hall.

  But a clinic wasn't going to do me any good—some mischievous student hadn't put this spell on me, an official had. Marsgrove had put some sort of spell on me so I would get in trouble if I painted. I remembered his muttering, though I hadn't paid much attention at the time, absorbed with the visual world around me.

  He had made it so I couldn't even use store bought, non-magical paint?

  I closed the door. Maybe...maybe he had just cursed the stuff in my bag? Yes, that had to be it. I walked quickly to my bed and unearthed the campus map. I needed an art supply store. I was brimming with intent and the map zoomed to a building on the third circle.