by Jill Archer
“You’re Ivy Jaynes, right?” Ari said as they shook hands.
“Yes,” Ivy said, clearly surprised that he might know who she was.
“Your family’s Alliance has given me safe passage along the Lethe many times,” he said warmly, grasping her hand with two of his. His touch and the tone of his voice had its effect and Ivy smiled back openly at him.
“And Fitz?” Ari said, offering his hand to the right. “Is that short for something?”
“Fitzgerald,” Fitz said slowly, pumping Ari’s hand. Fitz had the look of an alpha dog under attack. He wasn’t growling but his ruff was up and his tail was wagging a whole lot less furiously than before. “We were just leaving,” he said, standing up.
Ivy looked like she wanted to stay but I leapt up as if on springs. Ari was quicker than me though and grabbed my cloak off the back of my chair before I could. He opened it for me to step into. I paused, not wanting to meet his eye, and then turned so that he could drape the heavy cloak over me. He did, softly laying it across my shoulders and running his hands down my arms as he did so. I shivered and repressed a longing to fall back into his arms. Was I crazy? He was a demon executioner who’d come here to train as a Maegester. He had waning magic. Apparently, a lot of it. But even worse, so did I.
Even if I could get used to the fact that he’d killed demons to pay for his tuition, he’d never get used to the fact that my magic was as deadly as his.
I broke free, mumbled good-byes to all, and launched myself toward the door. On the way I had to pass Ari’s table where Beauty and her pretty friend waited for his return. I stared. Beauty stared. Mederies were not usually vengeful creatures but she didn’t look happy. Somehow I didn’t think it was the burn marks. More’s the pity for both of us. She only reminded me of everything I wasn’t. Everything I could have been. If I’d been born as I should have. I stomped out in the direction of Megiddo. Time to dig my trenches deeper and settle in.
Chapter 5
Every waning magic user had a demon mark. I was no exception. The marks were usually dark spots of pigmentation just above the left breast—right above the heart. Mine was light but it was there. When I was nine, I’d tried to cut it off. It had been a disastrous, bloody mess. But the mark had grown back, a shade darker, with no scarring. It was the waning magic in me, I knew, and I hadn’t tried to remove it since. What I did do, however, was cover it up. Even in the summer. My entire wardrobe was primarily designed for one purpose—to cover my demon mark. In the winter it was easy. I wore a lot of high-necked sweaters. In the summer, I wore a lot of high-necked, sleeveless shirts. On the rare occasions when I had to dress up, my frocks were startlingly conservative. Or they bared skin somewhere other than my décolletage. Even that morning, heading to student orientation, I was wearing one of the twenty turtleneck sweaters my mother had shipped ahead for me.
My clothes were always serviceable, as Mrs. Aster would put it, and today it was more of the same. My sweater was a sharp, almost shiny gray and my canvas pants were very dark and very new, not at all faded or fraying. It was freezing so I had on a black hooded snow vest lined with ermine and a different pair of snow boots. The ones from yesterday hadn’t dried out completely yet. And they reminded me painfully of Ari, who I had sworn to put out of my mind. Funny how people you’d waved off as irrelevant before suddenly became irresistible.
The sidewalks were covered with a thin coat of brittle ice. Ivy and I crunched along, our breath coming out of our mouths in puffs of white as we discussed the start of the semester. Fitz had been assigned to a room in Abaddon and he was saving seats for us in Lekai Auditorium where the new student orientation would take place. I raised my hood against the wind and shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. A light snow fell. Every now and then a flake would touch my face and melt, a tiny pinprick of ice exploding on the warm surface of my skin.
Off the sidewalks, the snowfall was deeper, at least a foot, which gave the benches a rounded, blanketed look. Timothy’s Square, the courtyard in between St. Lucifer’s and the Joshua School where the cabdriver had dropped me yesterday, looked stunningly bright with all that white. I was glad to see the gray cement of Victory Street, one of the main thoroughfares dividing the campus. Mechanized cabriolets in every shape and size rushed by, some with beeps or honks, all with the slushy sound of rubber tires carving through wet snow.
Ivy and I stood clear of the splash while we waited for an opening to cross. During our wait five more students joined us. Students from every direction were converging on Lekai Auditorium, which was now directly in front of us. A steady stream of dark jackets, heavy cloaks, bright scarves, hats, and hoods moved into Lekai. When the traffic cleared enough for us to cross Victory Street, we joined them and pushed our way inside Lekai Auditorium.
The lobby was unbelievably crowded. It was like the Warenne Building’s lounge yesterday, but with infinitely more people. Some people looked like they’d arrived at dawn, while others still had their cloaks and hats on. The outer doors kept opening and closing as students endlessly circulated, searching for their friends, their seat, the bathroom, nonexistent coffee, or just an end to their anxiety.
It was going to be a long morning.
The crowd had an odd scent. One I wasn’t used to. Many of the students were wearing perfume or cologne, which was unpleasant but familiar. Some even smelled of nicotine. But I froze when I realized the unfamiliar smell was pine.
“What’s the matter?” said Ivy, tugging me along by my sleeve. She sensed my hesitation and looked back at me, perplexed. “Let’s go!” she said. “Orientation starts in a few minutes. If we don’t find Fitz, we’ll have to sit apart, or worse—stand for an hour.”
I nodded and scanned the room, desperately searching for the offending green. If I spotted it first, maybe I could avoid killing it and giving myself away. The din was tapering off as more and more people found their seats. Through a gap in the crowd, I spotted a Yule tree. What in Luck’s name would a Yule tree be doing at a school for Maegesters? It could not be real. I started to move toward the auditorium entrance farthest away from it, but Ivy grabbed my hand and started dragging me toward it, shouting, “There’s Fitz!”
I was just about to yank my arm free when I got close enough to see it was a fake. The annoying pine smell must be artificial too. I was so angry that I almost set the damn thing on fire, but I caught myself just in time. Peter’s spell hummed at the edge of my fingertips. Would it have stopped me? Could it have? I doubted it. Peter had been clear that the more time spent around things that tested it—Maegesters, plants, demons—the more its magic would fray. His final advice: “Just stay away from them. All of them.” As if avoiding Maegesters at a school for Maegesters would even be possible.
Still, I was determined to try.
We followed Fitz down the left aisle of the auditorium. The space was large enough to seat about three hundred people. Now that everyone was filing in, I estimated that the place would be packed. That meant about one hundred students in each section and a two-thirds chance that Ari would be in one of the other two. Luck, be with me. I ignored the impulse to start scanning the room for him. It was disconcerting to know that there were others with waning magic here as well. Fitz led us toward the front, weaving in and out of the students who were still standing.
“Ari’s saving our seats,” Fitz called back to us. “You know, Noon, you were right. I mean I wouldn’t necessarily call him nice, but he’s more personable than any member of the Host I’ve ever met… well, I mean except for you, although you’re not really Host… It must be the Bradbury thing for Ari. That’s a good Hyrke neighborhood. Lots of nice people there…” I had to tune out Fitz’s monologue and concentrate on wiping the shell-shocked look off my face. The skittering feeling starting up my arms told me we were almost there. The feeling wasn’t so bad this time, more of an itch than an electric jolt. I wasn’t sure if repeated exposure to Ari was wearing down Peter’s cloaking spell or if I was learning to control
my magic. I desperately hoped the latter.
Ari had positioned himself on the aisle. Fitz and Ivy filed into the seats he’d saved leaving one empty seat between Ivy and Ari. I squeezed by Ari, only too aware of how close he was, and slipped into my seat. He chuckled.
“What? No ‘Hello’ this morning, Noon?”
I mumbled salutations. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. The itching feeling ratcheted up a notch and became very, very hard to ignore.
“No full disclosure. I think that was your policy for the trip over here. You can’t be upset that I didn’t tell you about St. Lucifer’s. You weren’t exactly forthcoming yourself.”
I opened my mouth to respond and then immediately shut it. What could I say that was appropriate? I couldn’t figure him out. His interest in me if he were a Hyrke would be understandable. I knew from other guys that I was considered attractive. But other members of the Host had never wanted anything to do with me. What was he doing here? Not here at St. Luck’s, but here, sitting beside me? Then a sneaky, insidious thought formed and I couldn’t shake it. I looked up and our gazes locked.
He knew.
Before I could say anything more, the dean of student affairs, Donald Shivel, took the stage and asked everyone to quiet down. The hush was almost total. Shivel launched into orientation immediately with nary a clearing of the throat, a warm-up anecdote, or even a personal introduction. We all knew him anyway, by reputation at least. Shivel was a Hyrke but he was well respected by both the Host and Hyrke communities for his work at St. Lucifer’s. It was said he was fair but tough, zealously guarding the school’s reputation or aggressively recruiting potential star students as circumstances required. Always the last warning on everyone’s lips about Shivel was that he took academic violations very seriously.
“The law school has two tracks,” Shivel began. “One for future Barristers and one for future Maegesters. Everyone takes the same core classes together—Evil Deeds, Promises and Oathbreaking, Sin and Sanction, and Council Procedure, but the fifth class will differ depending on which track you’re on. Barristers-in-Training will take Legal Analysis and Application and the Maegesters-in-Training will take Manipulation.” Shivel paused and peered out at the crowd. I wondered if he was looking for the future Maegesters. I kept staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Ari.
“The classes are similar in a way,” Shivel continued. “Each is a hands-on clinic class that will allow you to directly interact with a real client while you are learning the methods of representation, as opposed to the substantive law that you will be taught in the other classes. Hyrke students taking A and A will work in either the Council Procedure clinic or the Sin and Sanction clinic. You will be assigned to one or the other; it will not be an elective choice.”
There were several groans. No one wanted to be stuck in a clinic they weren’t interested in.
“Maegesters-in-Training may be assigned a demon client.”
This time there were murmurs, a lot of them. Demons were by no means rare. Halja was full of demons. But Hyrkes almost never directly interacted with them. The fact that some might actually see a demon—perhaps for the first time ever—was one of the reasons St. Lucifer’s was such a prestigious Hyrke law school. In the Hyrke community, the perception was that St. Luck graduates were ready for anything.
My parents had been careful throughout our childhood not to expose Night or me to any of the usual Host education lest our uncanny switched-at-birth magic be discovered. So demon interaction had been strictly taboo. None of my father’s clients had ever come to our house (as if Aurelia would have wanted demons visiting) and we’d never accompanied my father to the Office of the Executive in New Babylon. Demons remained as much a mystery to me as to Hyrkes. Conveniently, I didn’t have to fake my fear of them either. Sure, I had waning magic, but I had no idea how to use it, which meant I had no idea how to control a demon. And demons were nasty creatures, individually given to spiteful pettiness at best and horrifying, stomach turning atrocities at worst.
I realized I hadn’t been paying attention when I noticed Ari staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I risked a glance at him. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Shivel continued to lecture us on the dangers facing us at St. Lucifer’s.
“Host students with magic should understand that the euphemism ‘sink or swim’ does not mean ‘pass or fail’ at St. Lucifer’s. It means ‘live or die.’”
All the twittering died down and the audience became deathly still.
“The regulare demons that seek Maegester representation respect Halja’s laws, but they are still demons. They are likely to be… upset… about whatever matter has driven them to seek representation in the first place. The demons who seek Maegester representation may not be rogares, but they are likely to be unstable. Maegesters-in-Training will be expected to control them… for everyone’s sake.”
Shivel smiled. “That having been said, our Admissions Committee is very good at what it does. St. Lucifer’s hasn’t had an on campus incident in years.” There were a few chuckles over Shivel’s self-congratulations but mostly, it seemed, the students were relieved. “This year, we have five Maegesters entering St. Lucifer’s and each and every one of them has been thoroughly vetted. Their raw power is substantial, their prior demon experience impressive, and their discipline and control evident. Hyrke students, be assured, you are safe at St. Luck’s.”
I bit my lip and felt the accusation in Ari’s stare. I suppose he thought I should declare so I could learn how to control the unstable-teetering-on-the-brink-of-madness demons that sought representation here. Um, no thanks.
The rest of orientation passed in a blur. After the talk, students filed out, most talking in hushed tones. I took my leave of Ari, Ivy, and Fitz, complaining of a headache, which was actually true. Fitz and Ivy were headed to the bookstore and I told them I was going back to Megiddo to lie down. Less than five minutes after I returned to my room, there was a knock on the door. Before I could even open it, Ari strode into the room.
“You could have waited until I opened the door, you know.”
“Would you have?”
I stood in the middle of my room, staring defiantly at him. He stared back.
“You know I’ve done a lot of jobs for your father,” he said.
I glared. I really didn’t want to know how many demons he’d killed.
“He never mentions you,” he continued.
Wow. Ari really knew what to say to a girl. But then it wasn’t exactly like he was trying to woo me. He had his wounded Beauty to look after. What could he possibly want with someone whose magic was as deadly as his?
“Now I think I know why.”
With each sentence, he’d taken a step closer to me. And I’d taken a step back, maintaining the distance between us. But with this last statement, Ari moved more quickly than I did and he caught me before I could step back again. His hands gripped my shoulders as he looked down at me. I turned my head.
Despite the fact that he was a demon executioner, he’d saved my life. He’d also been fun to talk to yesterday (albeit, we’d both been pretending to be people we weren’t). And, there was no denying, especially not now, when what we were doing was so dangerously close to embracing, that I found him physically attractive. Unfortunately, inordinately so.
I didn’t want to lie to him. In fact, I would rather have told him the truth. Ari was the first person I’d ever met who made me want to share my secret.
But I couldn’t. It would jeopardize the plan Peter and I had come up with. And even though I’d only known him for a day or two, I didn’t want to see the look on his face when I finally admitted what he already knew. That I was far from being a harmless human Hyrke. That I was further still from having the fruitful, abundant, overflowing waxing magic of one of his preferred Mederies.
I tried to shake him off.
“What are you doing here, Noon?”
I sputtered for a moment, incredulous. First, what right di
d he have to barge into my room and ask intrusive questions? Second, wasn’t it obvious?
“I’m a student here, just like you.”
Ari shook his head. “Not here at St. Luck’s, here at Megiddo. Why aren’t you over at Infernus with the rest of us?”
“The rest of… ? Ari, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But instead of sounding angry, I sounded scared.
I sounded like a liar.
“Tell the truth, Noon,” he said. His voice had a strange intensity to it. He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face. He looked… angry? Anxious? I tried to pull away, but his grip was tight. He wasn’t hurting me, but he wasn’t letting go either. I remembered how strong he’d been when he was pulling me into the ferry after my disastrous jump. I knew if he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t. I stopped struggling. I didn’t want to fight.
“Ari, please go,” I said, but he only shifted his position. Taking both of my hands in his, he pulled me close.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Nouiomo Onyx.”
I was trapped, in more ways than one. What did he want from me? Why did he care what I did? Ari stared at the spot just above my left breast, right above my heart where my demon mark was. He hesitated, as if weighing a decision to a question only he knew, and then slowly he placed his palm over my mark. Even through my sweater I felt the effect of his touch there. It felt like a brand. I cried out. Ari’s eyes widened in disbelief. He took one look at my face. (I have no idea what he saw. Fear? Anger? Uncertainty?) His jaw hardened with resolve. He lowered his face to mine.
What was he doing? He couldn’t possibly be thinking of kissing me. And kissing him was the last thing I should be doing.
My demon mark burned beneath his hand and my magic flared, rushing over me as a searing wave and then crashing against the confines of Peter’s spell. The jilted force of it would have knocked me flat if Ari hadn’t been holding me. He pulled back and grunted, tightening his grip. This time it did hurt.
