The Awakening of Ren Crown

by Anne Zoelle

  I started the chant, focusing on the ink of Christian's slanted letters. Suddenly the ink swirled, fire lit, and I was bodily ejected from my bed and thrown into my desk.

  Whack.

  Swearing, I rubbed my shoulder and dragged myself back over to the bed. I blew out the overturned candles before they could ignite my bedspread. The picture of the smirking model wearing a skimpy Speedo had been obliterated. I shakily turned the charred fragment over. The joking text from Christian was gone. Only a single two-letter word in his handwriting remained.

  No.

  Christian was not at peace.

  Grief was sharp as I collected the ashes of the postcard he had jokingly sent to me months ago. I'd get new notes from him soon, though. I nodded sharply. Full steam ahead.

  Delving into my reader, I found I could access some of the main library collection through a centralized server. But the fourth floor library texts were only accessible by hand, and many of the second floor wall books were accessible only by card. It was as if students were being herded to the library if they required more information.

  I dove into the books available on the server. There were some crazy practices involved in bringing someone back from the dead. Rites and rituals involving ashes, pits of fire, goats, bells, circles, talismans, bloodshed, and earth. Some of the darker ones entailed copious amounts of blood, consumption of rotten food (to simulate the flesh), and eating flesh itself.

  I gagged, but dutifully transferred the knowledge from the reader to the notebook via the spell interface. It copied the words neatly in my handwriting.

  Speed reading over the items that weren't directly related to my goal, an advertisement at the edge of the page caught my eye.

  Black Magicks Unlimited. Loosen your stiff! Reanimate the dead! We do it all! Ten percent discount* on your first visit! *Ganymede Circus branch only.

  I stared at it. Could it be that easy? Had I overlooked the obvious due to all of the insane warnings in the texts? A shop that could bring Christian back—it was right there in their advertisement. I quickly noted the information. Ganymede Circus? I had no idea where that was.

  A quick search through the library server indicated information concerning Ganymede Circus was only available on the fourth floor. I wasn't meeting Will at the library for two more hours—an eternity. Time to figure out how to get up to the fourth floor on my own. I threw my notebook in my bag, shoved my feet in my shoes, and started jogging.

  Pausing only when I reached the third floor of the library, I examined the ascending staircases scattered around the floor and studied my hand drawn map. I had tried, then noted, a dozen different staircases. None of them had worked.

  I needed to watch someone else do it, but few people seemed inclined to go up. It made me a little nervous as to what was up there.

  Whereas the floor beneath the third level was glass and steel, allowing frequent glimpses of the second level, and even the first, the ceiling above the third level was thick and opaque.

  Staking out a comfy chair that had an unimpeded view of eight ascending staircases, I waited for the first candidate. I pulled out my notebook and began a design for my first storage space paper. Something simple for a first attempt, yet complicated enough to be useful. I shaded three-dimensional shadows around a single bookcase with three shelves. I chewed my pencil cap. I sketched a spinning carousel in the margin and wrote “future ideas” above it.

  The idea also made me think of my magic focus. The paint drop was great, but I needed to work the cornerstones together in order to perform the magic I would need. Maybe I could use a geometric construct? I'd ask Draeger in the morning. I planned to spend a serious eight to ten hours in the practice rooms tomorrow.

  Movement at staircase three caught my attention. Notebook and bag snatched up, I was out of my chair and padding closer as I watched Alexander Dare saunter up the stairs. Seriously? Was he everywhere? I felt like some kind of weird, unwitting stalker. He paused deliberately on the third stair with his hand on the rail, then continued up.

  Ok. That might make sense. Focus, concentration, knowledge, confidence. By the time I gained the third step, he had disappeared up into the mystery of the fourth floor. My eyes closed, and I concentrated on projecting my desire to get to the fourth floor. I needed to get up there. Christian needed me to.

  In my mind, I rotated a three dimensional box, like the one I had just drawn, with paint spreading around its sides. The image was not quite right, but magic slipped from under my cuff, soothing as it traveled along my fingers and into the handrail beneath. I opened my eyes and a bright light lit the top of the stairs. I hurried up, bypassing an umbrella stand that held a number of carved wooden walking sticks in its basin and helmets on its pegs, and entered pandemonium.

  Unlike the bookstore, where books marched in orderly fashion, here books were soaring and diving through the air in a hostile manner, book covers snapping. A mage battled a book that was trying to eat his papers.

  Before I could close my dropped jaw, a book swooped down, pages spread open like wings and clamped around my face. My relationship with my brother flip-flip-flipped in my mind exactly like the magically flipped pages of a book that was sucking out my mind.

  Sucking out my mind.

  I pried it off, and the word “twin” that it was in the process of writing took a sudden dive down the page like a pen that had been yanked away. I thrust the book far from me, freaked out, and it flew upward, circling above me, the words “Magical Family Relationship Collection” on its cover.

  Another book swooped in with great, paged wings spread and clamped its pages around my head, boxing my ears. The book sucked, then took off in hungry disgust. I saw the title “Dating Advice” written on its cover. Ok. Disturbing and embarrassing.

  I turned and snatched up one of the walking sticks and a helmet. There was something rectangular on the end of the stick, and as I brandished it, the aggressive book diving for me snapped its covers shut, propelling itself back through the air like a squid reacting to danger. I examined the bottom of the stick. An eraser was stuck to the end. I waved it menacingly at another book that looked poised to attack and shoved a helmet on my head with my other hand.

  The books circled like vultures, awaiting opportunity.

  In a table in the center of the main room, five students were sleeping with their heads on cushions, books greedily sucking out their souls. I watched horrified as helmeted mages walked by without sparing them a glance.

  “Save them, Ren!”

  “Suck out their souls too!”

  Ok. Christian was intact. Well, part of him was still intact. I took a shaky breath and poked carefully around my mind, relieved to discover I hadn't actually lost any memories or thoughts of my twin. So had the book only made a copy of something in my head? And that's what the other books were now doing to those students? I crept toward a student/book pair, bent down, and peered under the pages to see words speedily writing themselves on the mellowed paper.

  A passing mage gave me a weird look, and I hastily pulled back, then whacked a book that was diving toward the edge of my helmet—as if it planned to knock it off.

  Still freaky. Though, if I could get a book to drag a term paper out of my head in the future, that would be horrifyingly useful. I put osmosis on my mental research list.

  The books circling my head had alarming titles. Why Teenagers Look to the Dark, Straying from a Righteous Path, Dreams, Rare Mage Identification, Solving Problems in Unusual Ways, Lateral and Literal Thinking.

  Dreams looked at me hopefully, its pages rippling in a little hand clenched gesture, while maintaining a respectful distance.

  “Maybe...maybe later, ok?” I muttered, feeling ridiculous.

  It gave a little ripple of its pages and flew up to rest on a balcony above with a fleet of other books, watching and waiting. A black-and-white book perched there tilted toward me, its glittering but unreadable letters piercing me like eyes, as it regally wobbled next to Dre
ams, which sat straighter, then bowed its spine and rippled its pages.

  Ok. I was officially disturbed. I waved my eraser stick. “The rest of you, get lost,” I told the still-circling tomes, a few of which exuded a far more predatory vibe than Dreams' polite request.

  Straying from a Righteous Path looked outraged, its spine stiff as it sailed off. The rest followed Dreams' path, though, and clustered around the black-and-white book to form a little papered powwow.

  I secured the chin strap on my helmet more firmly. I could wonder about my sanity later—the whole experience of the magical was surreal, but felt too linear to be a dream.

  It didn't matter. This existence held hope and I was grabbing it with two desperate hands.

  Several dozen pedestals dotted the perimeter of the large one-room floor. On each pedestal a book was displayed, surrounded by either a glass case or a cage. Hanging from each was a ceremonial knife in a jeweled scabbard. A jet black cage drew my attention.

  As I walked closer, I noted the binding was made from the skin of something striped black and forest green. The title read The Twelve Black Steps. There was a tangible dark allure to it. A little like Mr. Verisetti. Another encased book to the right read Death Magic. What would one of those books do if it got a hold of me? Suck out my soul for real?

  “Don't do it!”

  “I...reluctantly concur.”

  Even Christian's mad alter ego was agreeing.

  “I love him,” an unhelmeted girl cried, reaching for a pedestal to my right. A book titled “Lovesick” attached to the back of her head.

  “No, stop.” The other girl—helmeted—manhandled her back from the pedestal, but didn't whack the book off her friend.

  They struggled in a pseudo-wrestling stance. “I love him, and I know he only needs a little push to love me back.”

  “You will get pegged by the Department for checking that out of its case,” the second girl hissed. “I'm not letting you.”

  “I need him.” The girl extended a hand toward the hanging knife, still locked chest-to-chest with her friend.

  “Getting Constantine Leandred to love you is not worth it. You'll be in the system forever. They check those mages first. They do an automatic check on you the moment you press your finger to the stone. No.” She pushed the other girl back two steps. “You are out of your mind anyway. Leandred is insanely vengeful. He'd turn you into a carrot, then feed you to a rabbit, if you didn't get the spell right, and he found out what you tried to do.”

  “I'd get it right!” Lovesick left the back of her head and was replaced with Delusions of Grandeur.

  I examined the knife. Could I use synthetic blood? Or did it have to be student blood? I thought about the Rosetta Stone episode that had given me the translation enchantment and enrolled me. Likely student blood.

  I reluctantly moved away from the pedestal. Marsgrove had made too many references to the people in the Department being worse than he. Will had been freaked out by them too. I'd try Ganymede first, then figure out a way around the blood restriction, if that didn't work.

  I wandered around, checking out the floor plan, which was similar to the libraries I was used to in the First Layer. The shelf inhabitants, however, were anything but normal.

  There were very few mages on the fourth floor—maybe three dozen in total—and silencing enchantments either didn't seem to be an option here or weren't enforced. Two students at a humongous oak table were arguing loudly.

  “I'm telling you, the Third Layer is going to sign the contingency tomorrow. They are backed into the corner on this one. No negotiating power.”

  “Don't say that.” There was a note of warning in the other boy's voice.

  “Oh, come on, they can't enter any of the major cities here without being noticed. There are too many patrols.”

  “All it takes is one of the Ten Most Wanted mages to make an appearance—”

  “Powerful, all ten, but in order to do the kind of grand scale damage needed—”

  I ducked a book titled The Joy of Flight that was randomly doing spirals and loops, and approached a sea of wooden drawers that housed a simple card catalog system. There was no wall or computer system in sight. The fourth floor was technologically backward from the three floors below it and yet a hundred times more overtly magical.

  There were helmets atop the cabinets with a sign that said to leave the catalog helmets in the catalog area. I could only imagine how easy a target someone looking through tiny drawers would be to a ravenous book. I rapped the top of my helmet—secure—then thumbed through the drawers in order to figure out the cataloging system and find what I was looking for.

  A floor map was posted above the cabinets, and I found the designation that coincided with the map stacks. Ducking out, I walked briskly through the maze of bookshelves and, upon seeing my goal, increased my speed.

  “Ack,” I gasped, as I crashed into something solid that emerged from the shelves on my right.

  Strong hands clasped me, preventing me from falling, but my necromancy research notebook clattered to the floor, pages splayed open.

  Ultramarine eyes filled my upward vision.

  “Steady there.”

  His hand reached down to retrieve my notebook, and I dove for it, knocking his hand to the side. I did a little somersault, whacking my helmet loudly on the parquet floor, and came up in a crouch with the open notebook pressed to my chest.

  Alexander Dare's amazing eyes filled with surprise, then a brow quirked under dark brown hair which was neither long nor short. “Should I even ask?”

  His voice was just as I remembered. Beautifully masculine, deep and edged. There was the slightest bit of humor there now. A book dove at him—Strategy and Tactics—and he flicked his fingers without looking, forcing it off its path and straight into a shelf. It crashed, shook its pages, and took off into the air again, then hid behind a shelf, peeking around as if plotting its next move against him. Unsurprisingly, Dare wasn't wearing a helmet.

  “No.” I pressed my necromancy notebook against my chest more firmly. My actions screamed guilty.

  He seemed to be waiting for me to say something more, but I could do nothing but stare at him. Visions of him utterly destroying people in the holograms with an easy flick of his fingers—just like the motion he had made with the book—looped through my head.

  And yet, this was the boy who had healed me. Who had expressed his sorrow that he couldn't heal Christian. Who had given me that last moment.

  My pulse pounded, my wrist itched fiercely under my cuff, and I was wearing a helmet.

  He looked at me oddly. “You are the girl who had the trouble in the reading room. The one who tried to stun me.”

  I just stared at him like some feral mute recently emerged from a jungle. Preservation instincts were overriding common sense. Luckily, they were also overriding the words that sprung to my lips—I bet you stun people stupid a lot.

  No. A thousand times no. I clenched my lips together, determined to keep them that way. I somewhat hoped a book would bean me in the face so I could just pass out and escape from my own awkwardness.

  He touched his cuff, frowning, then rotated his wrist, shaking his right hand out. I followed the motion. I wondered what design lay beneath his cuff. An image of the bird and snake hybrid shot forward in my mind.

  “Phoenix dragon,” I blurted.

  “What?” he asked sharply.

  I shook my head and clamped my lips together harder.

  “Are...you ok?”

  “No.” I was most decidedly not.

  “Should I call the librarian?” he asked slowly. “Or help you walk to the stairs?”

  I eked out another “No,” without saying anything more. It was close.

  He watched me intently for several more seconds, and I wondered if he was going to call the librarian—or the men with white coats—after all, but he finally raised a brow and walked away.

  My eyes followed him, body frozen until he turned the co
rner. I slumped against the wall. Wow. If there was a competition for worst communicator in history, I needed to enter.

  Unsurprisingly, an adult appeared a minute later to see if all was well. My savior had obviously sent the librarian to check on the unstable girl in the stacks. My capacity to be completely mortified swelled.

  After poorly reassuring the librarian that I was fine, I found the information I needed. The arch to Ganymede Circus was located on the twentieth circle, two up from the base of the mountain.

  The circus was listed as a “protected area.” Highly magical and extremely volatile.

  The city map showed the spoked streets of the circus converging into a center roundabout and gave me the location for the entrance arch that admitted mages from “academic institutions” as well as the location for Black Magicks Unlimited.

  I just needed to figure out how to get around Marsgrove's manipulation in order to access an off-campus arch.

  ~*~

  I met Will on the first floor, in the midst of the sea of packed tables. He was already seated. The inner light that had highlighted him earlier when I'd panicked in the cafeteria was still in place, making him easy to find. He drew his finger in a pattern on the table, and the voices around us dimmed.

  “Rune for silencing fields,” he said. “They are standard around most parts of campus; you just have to activate them.”

  I copied the shape into the general notebook I was keeping for everything not necromancy related and activated the sorting feature to move it into the “green” section, where I was keeping a task list of things to be researched. I included a note to get a book on runes as well.

  Will and I chatted about fun and bizarre things—like books that attacked and how the caged ones did require student blood and were dangerous to unlock—until I managed to bring the conversation around to Will's port and travel research.

  “So, if there is an arch that is blocked, how do you go about getting through it?” I asked casually. If I could avoid it, I didn't want to tell him that I was Marsgrove's prisoner and on campus illegally.