by John Corwin
A boy in front shot his hand up ahead of several other classmates and answered when Zagg nodded. "He was a bad man who didn't want Ezzek to make a united council of Arcanes."
Zagg's staff bloomed into light. "That's right!"
The next thing I knew, Zagg was playing both sides of an epic battle between Moore and Garibaldi, harmless lights zapping back and forth while students watched in rapt attention. Before I knew it, class was over, and Zagg left us hanging on the outcome of the fight. I wasn't the only one saying, "Aww," when he told us we'd find out what happened next tomorrow.
After the students filed out, I told Zagg that Michael was looking into Kayla's case.
Relief swept into his eyes, and he gripped my hand with both of his, shaking it vigorously. "Thank you so much."
"He isn't promising a happy outcome," I warned him.
"I know. I know." He released my hand. "But it's better than her rotting away in prison with no hope at all." Zagg dropped onto a stool and wiped sweat from his forehead. Apparently, his teaching method took quite a bit of energy. "Sometimes, hope is all we have, you know?"
His little truth hit close to home. I nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes it is."
Lunch came next, according to my schedule. I left the classroom and followed the path the university app gave me to the cafeteria. The delicious odor of roasted chicken drifted into my nose, and I dared dream the food here might be better than the slop served at my former high school.
The cafeteria looked more like a grand dining hall with rows of wooden tables lining the room and giant candelabras hanging overhead. Students of all ages occupied the tables, though I noticed the age groups didn't seem to mingle. I looked around the room and failed to find a serving line staffed by uncaring lunchroom ladies. I glanced at a nearby table and noticed everyone had a plate with fresh veggies and a juicy chicken leg. My mouth watered.
As I cast about the room for the elusive lunch line, I spotted Ivy sitting alone at one of the tables. In fact, even the tables near her were empty. I noticed other students looking at her, some of them with what looked like fear.
"Ivy?"
"Justin!" she said, eyes lighting up.
"I didn't know we had lunch at the same time."
She gave me a conspiratorial grin. "They don't usually let me eat lunch in here."
"Who, your grandparents?"
"Bigmomma makes my lunches, but today I sneaked in here." She sighed. "I don't like being alone."
I took a seat. A golem appeared a moment later, a covered plate in hand. The creator had painted a face and clothes onto the server, giving it an almost surreal appearance, as though it had leapt from the pages of a fairy tale and ended up with a rather mundane job in a school cafeteria. With a flourish, it set the plate on the table, uncovered it, and departed.
"It's good," Ivy said, picking at her food.
I resisted the urge to pepper her with questions about the Conroys, Daelissa, or the impending end of the world, and opted to keep things away from business. If I can become her friend, maybe I can win her trust. Although that wasn't my only motivation. "Don't you have friends you could sit with?" I asked, digging into the roasted chicken.
Her eyes looked sad. "I don't make a lot of friends. I think they're jealous of how strong I am."
I could see that. "Have you tried talking to anyone?"
She took a carving knife and jabbed it into the chicken, as if killing it. "I tried. But they call me names." Her eyes went hard and cold. "It makes me really angry when they do that." She stared intently at the chicken, lips pursed, eyebrows pinched.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Ivy jerked as if woken from a dream. "Yeah." She took a bite of the chicken, but it didn't look like she was enjoying it.
I spotted a flash of bright silver hair and saw Morgana sitting alone at a table. "I'll be right back," I said, and walked over to the other girl. She looked up at me, eyes worried, her face set in something resembling resignation. "Would you like to join me and my sister for lunch?" I asked, nodding my head toward Ivy.
"Really?" she asked, her face masked with disbelief. "That's your sister?"
I smiled. "Yes, really."
"And you want me to sit with you?"
"I sure do."
She bit her lower lip. Nodded. "Okay."
I helped her with her tray, and we joined Ivy. I introduced them to each other.
"Hello, Ivy," Morgana said. "You have a pretty dress."
Ivy stared at the young girl for a long moment, her eyes flicking back and forth between me and her. A smile quirked her lip. "What happened to your hair?"
Morgana looked down at her plate. "It—it's always been like that."
Ivy chewed on a piece of chicken. "Looks weird."
"Ivy!" I said. "That's not nice."
"Well, it does," she said, wrinkling her forehead.
"I think her hair is pretty," I said. "It's unique. Do you see anyone else with silver hair in here?"
Ivy scanned the room. "No, but that doesn't mean—"
"You said you don't like it when people call you names. Telling someone their hair is weird is not nice." I looked and saw a big tear rolling down Morgana's cheek as she stared disconsolately at her food. I felt absolutely horrible. This had been a mistake. I'd thought Ivy was somewhat normal, but instead, she was just cruel.
"I'm sorry," Ivy said, surprising me and reaching her hand across to touch Morgana's. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
Morgana wiped away tears. "It's okay. The others do it all the time."
Ivy's face went hard. "They do it to me, too."
"They do? But you're Ivy Conroy." A look of reverence overcame Morgana's face. "You're the smartest girl here."
My sister's face brightened. "You really think so?"
Morgana nodded. "I wish I was strong like you."
Ivy looked at Morgana's shimmering locks of silver hair. "Justin, you're right. Her hair is very pretty."
A wave of relief spread through me at Ivy's shift from cruel to nice. Maybe she just didn't know any better. Miraculously, we managed to carry on a somewhat normal conversation about hair colors for several minutes before a bell clanged in the distance.
Ivy's face fell. "Well, I guess lunch is over."
"Will you be here tomorrow?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Maybe. Sometimes I can't sneak away." She pushed away from the table and stood, leaned over and gave me a hug. "I'm glad we got to see each other," she whispered.
"Me too," I said. Before I could rise and give her a proper hug, she vanished into the crowd.
"I wish I was like your sister," Morgana said.
A part of me realized she already was. Neither of them seemed to have any friends, and they both seemed too sad to be so young. "Why do you sit alone?" I asked.
She nibbled on a cookie as a sea of students flowed past, leaving for the exits, some laughing, others carrying on serious conversations, and most of them regarding Morgana with strange looks. I wondered if it was because of her hair, or if there might be more.
But the young girl never answered my question.
When I looked past the silver hair, I noticed dark circles under her eyes and the pale cast of her skin. Whatever problems she had were probably affecting her sleep. I decided not to pry. Sometimes there were things I just couldn't fix no matter how much I wanted to. I had to hope my sister wasn't one of those things.
After lunch, I had two more classes. The first was Reading and Writing Cyrinthian with Miss Quinn, a prim and proper older woman who seemed the exact opposite of Belinda. Magical Safety came next, taught by Mr. Rivers, a grumpy old man with a huge, bald head and wide, horn-rimmed glasses. If anything, it reminded me of shop class. The day's lesson consisted of holding a wand by the correct end and how to stop, drop, and roll should someone catch on fire when holding the business end of the wand toward their body when they cast a spell. I nearly fell asleep.
In both classes, Morgana and I sat in our usual spots
in the back corner of the room. I took notice of other students as they kept wary eyes on the girl, and curiosity urged me to ask her more questions. But after class, she vanished into the crowd. Before I could track her down, a stick figure golem with round, articulated joints and a basketball-shaped head walked up to me and handed me a folded bit of parchment with a wax seal on it. A stamp beneath the seal said, "University Mail System". I broke the seal and opened the letter to find a brief note in neatly penned ink.
Your dear aunt requests the pleasure of your company at the fountain in the rear gardens at two thirty.
Vallaena had arrived.
Chapter 24
I followed a route recommended by the handy-dandy university app to the rear gardens. It took me through winding halls, past a huge gymnasium where students played what looked like basketball on flying carpets, and out the east side of the castle where a stone path led toward one of the exquisitely manicured gardens I'd noticed from the bluff where the shuttles landed.
Flowers of all colors and sizes bloomed from shrubs grown to resemble giant mushrooms, candy canes, and more, like a scene straight from Candy Land. As I walked across a rubbery licorice bridge and gazed at the bubbling brook of chocolate beneath, I wondered if it would actually be safe to eat anything here. If so, I imagined an obesity epidemic rampaging through school.
A wide, stone path between the garden and the castle complex led to the huge stadium I'd seen earlier. In the distance, I heard rumbling, like the low thunder of an earthquake. Checking the time, I saw I still had fifteen minutes to meet Vallaena, so I detoured toward the stadium. The walkway, lined by flags imprinted with the names of champions from years prior, bordered the stadium. A portcullis guarded an entrance designed to admit giants at the front of the structure. The metal grate hung several feet off the ground, so I walked beneath it just as the ground shook beneath my feet. I followed a cavernous tunnel toward a grassy field.
My jaw dropped the moment I emerged. Two gargantuan creatures lumbered up and down the field, each one something out of my wildest nerd fantasies. One of the three-story creatures looked cobbled together from stone. The other looked like animated earth, comprised of mud, twigs, and other natural debris. Even though their forms bore a humanoid resemblance, they had no faces. Two Arcanes whooped from the sidelines, high-fiving each other as the golems raced up and down the field, churning up earth with their massive feet.
The mud golem made another turn, and ran back toward the Arcanes, every lumbering step sending a shockwave through the earth. It suddenly froze in mid-stride, one of its thick legs crumbling. The creature slammed against the ground, sending mud and bits of debris flying everywhere. The shrapnel bounced harmlessly off a shield around the inner perimeter of the track.
"No!" shouted the two men.
One of them waved a staff toward the stone golem, and it stopped in place, towering over everything like a humanoid mountain. If these were the kinds of golems they used for the Grand Melee, there was no way in the world I wanted to miss it.
I could have stared at the spectacle all day, but duty called. I jogged back to the candy gardens and found Vallaena sitting on a stone bench. Behind her, the statue of a female arcane held aloft a staff fountaining red liquid. My aunt wore a dark blue dress, knee-length, with matching flats. The plain ensemble did nothing to detract from her classic beauty, her straight narrow nose, full lips, the graceful curves of her body. In fact, the demure look only seemed to highlight just how hot she was.
Gross, dude, she's your aunt!
I felt a flush creep up my neck.
"Hello, Justinius," Vallaena said, smiling sweetly as a gentle breeze picked at her blonde locks.
Resolving to be as nice as possible despite the lack of trust I felt toward this woman, I put on a smile of my own. "Hello, Vallaena." I sat next to her. "What's up?"
Her blue eyes looked me up and down. "You've grown since I last saw you."
"Puberty," I said.
She shook her head. "No, it's something more than that." She peered into my eyes with uncomfortable intensity. "You are no longer the confused boy I first met, but a young man. A leader. Your father would be proud."
I stiffened at the mention of my dad and looked away.
"Though I see you aren't yet ready to accept some realities." Vallaena touched the top of my hand. "Duty weighs heavily on your father, Justinius. Do not hate him for the choices he must make."
"Call me Justin," I said, trying not to acknowledge her statement or allow it to make me feel guilty. "What do I need to learn first?"
"Protocol. It is extremely important to Daemos." She stood, brushing a lock of blonde hair from her face as a breeze ruffled it. "Once I feel you are adequately versed, you will learn summoning."
"Like hellhounds and demons?" I asked, still sitting on the bench.
She nodded. "Yes, but it goes deeper." She held out a hand. "Take my hand."
I regarded the fair skin of her hand with suspicion before taking it, wondering if Daemos protocol meant I had to kiss her knuckles or something. A surprised yelp escaped my throat when she yanked me to my feet like I weighed nothing. It was easy to underestimate someone's strength when they looked like Vallaena.
An amused smile crossed her face.
I suppressed a snarky comment.
Still holding my hand, she led me through the gardens, past pools of bubbling fudge, chocolate-brown bunny rabbits nibbling on green licorice grass, and all sorts of candy-themed plants, trees, and animals. I touched a flower on one of the trees. It felt like normal vegetation.
"None of this is candy," Vallaena said, as if reading my thoughts. "The animals are real, though they wear illusions to make them appear edible."
"They're still edible," I said.
She laughed. "True, though the gardeners would likely be very unhappy with you."
We passed out of the garden, took the walkway past the stadium, and cut across the wide green field between the school and the dark forest where my new best buddy, the tragon, lived.
"Why are we coming out here?" I asked, gazing at her with narrowed eyes.
"I know you don't trust me," Vallaena said. "Please believe I only have your best interests at heart."
"More like your best interests," I said.
"What is good for you is good for all our people," she said. "I am here to teach you, nothing more."
I stopped and said, "Before we get into all that protocol stuff, I want you to tell me more about manifesting."
She raised an eyebrow. "Manifesting is related to summoning and banishment."
My forehead scrunched. "Huh?"
"We summon a part of ourselves when we manifest, and banish it again to return to normal," Vallaena replied.
Her explanation made sense. It certainly felt as if I were summoning a demon when I manifested, though lately the vampling curse made it feel like the demon was banishing me instead. "I've been having issues," I said, after a moment's hesitation. Despite my misgivings, I knew she was the only one who could probably help me in this area. I told her about my issues, the curse, and how I'd nearly lost control during the battle with Zagg.
Her eyes went wide at the mention of the vampling curse, and for the first time, worry clouded her face. She put a hand to her chin as she thought. "This is not good." She paced for a moment. "We do not possess immunity to Seraphim curses."
My stomach went cold. "Is there a cure?"
Vallaena stopped, gave me a look which bordered on sorrow. "I am unsure."
I waved off the subject. "It doesn't matter." Meghan's potion gave me time, and I had to hope I could unlock my Seraphim side and heal myself. "I need to know how to control the manifestation, especially with the curse trying to take over."
She gave me a sad look. "I can explain part of your problems. Spontaneous manifestation is a problem young Daemos males face during puberty. Females can control the urge, but males cannot help themselves."
I groaned. "Gee, that sounds familiar.
"
"Indeed." A smile flashed across her face. "The vampling curse may be a trigger, but even without it, your hormonal urges would also trigger manifestation, especially under stressful situations."
"The curse is definitely stressing me out." I ran a hand through my hair. "What can I do to stop it?"
"I can teach you how to properly summon your demon form."
"I'm listening," I said.
Vallaena continued. "We are not morphs—not in the way lycans and other shifters are."
"Or like Flarks?"
Alarm showed in her eyes. "There are Flarks in the game now?"
Apocalyptic problems were hardly a game, but I didn't feel like bringing that up with her. "There's one. Do you know about them?"
Her upper lip curled with distaste. "In my studies, I learned Flarks are creatures from the Seraphim world. They are the devoted servants of the angels."
I remembered what Mr. Bigglesworth had said. If I knew anything about Flarks, then I'd know why he was helping Daelissa. "Devoted servants," I said. "Their loyalty lies foremost to the angels."
"Naturally," Vallaena said with a shrug.
In other words, Bigglesworth was only helping the Conroys because Daelissa wanted him to. Maybe he felt loyalty toward Ivy because she was part angel. Maybe he regarded her as an abomination. With Daelissa holding his reins, he was a danger to my sister. As for the Conroys—they weren't even relatives, just power-hungry Arcanes who'd kidnapped my sister and had now imprisoned my mother. Bigglesworth could eat them, for all I cared.
"You are not telling me something," Vallaena said.
I quirked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? There's a lot I'm not telling you."
A nod. "Very well. Perhaps I will earn your trust. I am here to help, after all."
"Great, you can start by helping me control my spontaneous manifestation issue first." I sighed. "It's really embarrassing."
She smiled. "I understand." Her eyes scanned me up and down. "I think you should strip before we begin." She slid the strap of her dress off one shoulder, and reached for the other.
