by Jill Archer
“I’m glad you declared,” he said.
Of course he was glad. He’d threatened to do it for me.
I hadn’t been this close to him with no one else around since the day of orientation. It was unnerving. Law school had left little time for personal grooming, but with Ari it only added to his attraction. His hair had grown longer since our first meeting. It was as thick as mine, but not nearly as straight or dark. He hadn’t shaved and his chin and cheeks were covered with dark stubble. In the glaring overhead light of Corpus Justica, his eyes appeared rimmed with black, intensely deep. I was afraid to stare into them for too long for fear he would know my thoughts. Despite last night and the unbelievable foolishness of it, I was still hopelessly attracted to him.
I shrugged and looked away. “I didn’t do it because of you.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s better that you did it for yourself.”
Ari wasn’t a large man, but he was tall and powerful looking. He dwarfed the small library chair he was sitting in. He looked down at the floor. It was an odd moment, almost as if he was bowing to me, but then he looked up and there was nothing submissive in his look. It was predatory and very determined. It was a look that sat comfortably on Ari Carmine’s face. I licked my lips and forced myself to be still. Every emotion I had, I wanted to hide from him. When would he go away? He was making me feel things that would be difficult to forget.
“Noon, you’re going to need someone to help you catch up.”
“Catch up? I’m doing fine,” I said huffily, leaning back and narrowing my eyes at him. He was the last person I felt like studying with.
“I don’t mean with your regular classes. I mean with Manipulation. Copeland’s right. The Council is going to be watching you very closely now. I want to help.”
“What’s with you, Ari?” I said, suddenly annoyed. “You think that the performance of every Maegester-in-Training somehow affects you? That somehow your future success as a Maegester becomes less likely if another fails?”
“No—”
I cut him off. “Whether I succeed or fail has nothing to do with you. Stop worrying about me. I’ll either be fine or I won’t,” I snapped, “but it won’t affect you.”
I was prepared to grab my books and leave, but before I could, Ari reached out and put his hands on my knees. The effect of contact was immediate. A blast of desire shot through me and I suddenly wanted Ari’s hands in more intimate places than just my kneecaps. I tried to brush his hands off, but he grabbed mine and leaned toward me.
“Your success or failure has everything to do with me,” he said softly. I scoffed and looked away, but he brought his hand up to my chin and gently turned my face back toward him. “I knew you had waning magic the first time I met you. And I knew we’d meet again, I just didn’t know how soon. I thought you were younger. That you would have more time to figure things out before you had to declare. But then when I realized you were a student here—at St. Luck’s—in my class and still pretending, I knew there was no more time. You had to declare.”
“I know, Ari,” I said, reaching up to remove his hand from my face. “Why are you rehashing the obvious? That’s all yesterday’s news, literally.”
He refused to move his hand and, in fact, reached up with his other so that my face was cupped between them. It was impossible to look away. It would have been a delightful precursor to some very pleasurable academic distractions if I didn’t feel so awkward and embarrassed around him.
“Noon, I would have declared for you, if you hadn’t,” he said, his breath tickling my lips, teasing them. It was so unfair. Why couldn’t we be two Hyrkes? Why hadn’t I been born a Mederi?
“I couldn’t let you be killed,” he continued, “and not because I know your father or because we could use your magic, and definitely not because your failure to declare would reflect badly on me.” He snorted. “You know full well the reason I don’t want you killed, but you refuse to accept it. You’re still trying to hide,” he murmured and I shivered beneath him. “But I won’t let you.”
He kissed me then and it was unimaginably different than any other time I’d been kissed. I surrendered completely. Despite the awkwardness I felt, this was what I had wanted. I felt like a weak, knobby kneed girl who’d just swooned in her lover’s arms, but Ari’s kiss made me feel deliciously feminine. His mouth came down on mine insistently, his lips soft but firm, his grip quickly moving from my chin to the back of my nape as he tilted my head back to gain greater access. His tongue darted across my lips, an unmistakable question.
Would I yield to him?
I did. What else could I do? I wanted him in the worst way. He assailed me both physically and magically. The skin beneath my demon mark burned, my whole being coursed with heat. Waning magic swirled around us and Ari stood up, pulling me to him.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” he said. His voice was gravelly and rough, rumbling deep within his chest. There was an unusual rawness to it. I would have rolled my eyes and made a joke about the bounds of his arrogance being so great that he was determined to have every conceivable sexual experience, even those that bordered on the exotic or bizarre. But there was something eerily serious about his gaze as he looked at me. A joke seemed inappropriate. I settled for an incredulous look.
“Noon, don’t you know how beautiful you are?”
Men had called me beautiful before. But they’d all been Hyrkes, unknowing of my true nature, of what I was really capable of. If they’d only known what was lurking beneath my pretty porcelain shell… My magic flared up, vicious and strong, all soft edges made sharp again, the last few minutes almost forgotten.
“Let me help you,” Ari said gruffly. “Let me teach you how to control your magic.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“You, I hope,” Ari said, meeting my magic with his own. He didn’t try to soften my edges; he just parried them with his own.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, you know,” he said, squeezing me to him. “You fascinate me.”
He followed up his declaration with another kiss, this one more scalding than the last, and then dropped me back into my seat, breathless and wanting.
When I left Corpus Justica that night, I saw Waldron Seknecus’ announcement up on the corkboard to the right of the main exit.
ST. LUCIFER’S LAW SCHOOL
ALERT
FOR IMMEDIATE POSTING
CORPUS JUSTICA
WARENNE ADMIN BUILDING
LEKAI AUDITORIUM
RICKARD BUILDING
DORMITORIES
MARDUK’S
* POSSIBLE ROGARE DEMON SIGHTING…
* POSSIBLE ROGARE DEMON ATTACK…
WITNESSES RECENTLY SAW WHAT APPEARED TO BE A ROGARE DEMON ATTACK AND ABDUCT A TRAVELING MEDERI WHO WAS PASSING THROUGH ST. LUCIFER’S CAMPUS BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 6:00 AND 7:00 P.M. IN AN AREA TO THE NORTH-NORTHWEST OF CORPUS JUSTICA.
STUDENTS ARE ADVISED TO USE EXTREME CAUTION WHEN WALKING ON CAMPUS AFTER DARK. IF POSSIBLE, TRAVEL IN GROUPS AND DON’T GO OUT ALONE.
I pulled my hood up over my head, pushed the huge iron doors of Corpus Justica open, and stepped out alone into the cold dark of night.
Chapter 8
I had agreed to let Ari help me learn to control my magic. It seemed the sane thing to do. Luck knew, I needed the help. The fact that Ari had declared he couldn’t stop thinking about me and I was madly over the moon about him was an added complication I could have done without. Despite how weak kneed our little romp in Corpus Justica had made me feel, the dalliance was unlikely to go anywhere good. The best I could hope for from Ari was what he had offered—help with my magic.
Infernus looked exactly like Megiddo. The rooms were the same; the only difference was that Maegesters didn’t have roommates. Ari met me downstairs and escorted me up. We met no one on the way. Because it was Saturday, the floor was deserted. That suited me fine. I’d have pushed off the day of meeting my fellow
Manipulation classmates as long as possible if I could have. As it was, Ari had insisted I spend the weekend with him in a crash course designed to get me up to speed for Monday. When I had mentioned my plans to conquer Oathbreaking remedies over the weekend, Ari had looked at me incredulously.
“Oathbreaking?” he said. “Forget about Oathbreaking for now, Noon. You need to put everything you have into Manipulation. You need to understand, starting now, that Manipulation is everything. You’re going to be a Maegester, not a Barrister. You could ace every single other class here at St. Luck’s, but if you can’t pass Manipulation…” He let the silence speak for itself and then continued. “You still need to pass all your other classes, so you can’t completely ignore them. But they’re the background. Manipulation is the forefront. Maegesters have Manipulation class every day. In one week, you may be asked to represent a real demon.” He paused, appearing to choose his next words carefully.
“Have you ever met a demon, Noon?”
I shook my head, not wanting Ari to see I was actually starting to get scared. I did want to do well. I prided myself on being strong. But I was so ill equipped for the task in front of me.
Ari sighed. “It’ll be hard for you.”
“You have though,” I said. “Obviously, since you worked for my father as a demon executioner.”
I’d meant for my words to sound casual, matter-of-fact, but the tone of my voice betrayed what I thought of demon executioners. A main reason (okay, the top reason) I didn’t want to be a Maegester was that Maegesters were all about death and destruction. Maegesters killed things. And I hated killing. I wanted to heal, grow, and create, not destroy.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said. “The fact that I worked for your father.”
I shrugged.
“We weren’t close,” he said. “I told you we never discussed you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was one of at least a dozen others.”
“That makes it right? The fact that others did it too?” The words slipped out before I could think better of it. Ari stared at me for a long time, his face completely expressionless.
“Why did you do it, Ari? Why did you do it before you had to do it?”
Finally, he blew his breath out. “Because I could. Because I needed the money. And because I don’t think it’s wrong to execute rogare demons. Rogare demons are the worst Halja has to offer. They’re lawbreakers, criminals, and unsanctioned sinners. They’re torturers and murderers. They deserve what they get, Noon.”
“Have you ever met a demon you didn’t kill?”
He glanced over at me, his expression a combination of curious and wary. I think he was wondering if my question was serious or not. It was.
“Yes. Quite a few times. Last summer I actually stayed with the Cliodna, the Patron Demon of Waves and Waterbirds.” His mouth quirked a bit and I remembered the three adjectives always used to describe Cliodna: lusty, busty, and bold. But those adjectives were said by Hyrkes, people who’d likely never seen a real demon before, people who likely would never meet a demon, and so could afford to be flippant with their descriptions—provided the descriptions were flattering.
“Why Cliodna?” Beyond the obvious, I thought, but didn’t say.
“I was tracking a rogare demon near her main devotion site. I needed a place to stay. She’s one of the demons my adoptive family adores so she offered me sanctuary for the night.”
I remembered that he’d been adopted. Raised by a Hyrke family in Bradbury. But then Ari’s ability to easily hang with Hyrkes was what had made our first meeting so comfortable. I sighed. There was a lot I didn’t know about Ari, but did it matter? My greatest risk was that his predilection for peculiarities like me would grow cold before I’d learned what I could from him.
“Do you really want to talk about Cliodna?” he asked, smiling at me.
I shook my head.
“All right,” he said, motioning for me to sit. I sat in his desk chair, thinking it wise, after our encounter in the library, to avoid the bed. “Let’s start with some basics.”
I was more layered than usual today. I had on my usual turtleneck sweater over a buttoned tunic with a sleeveless cotton shell under that. My hair was tied back in a casual knot and my only makeup was petroleum jelly on my lips. The last thing I wanted was for Ari to think I would get gussied up for a study date with him. I tried to assume a look that was all business but it likely came across as a scowl. Ari started pacing the room, playing the part of an instructor.
“You know most people with waning magic can sense one another, right?”
I nodded. My parents had at least told me that.
“Well, that feeling is different for each magic user. It’s called a signature.”
“So does each signature have different characteristics that tell you something about the… uh… signer?”
“Actually, yes. You can tell a lot about another magic user by their signature. People with strong magic have strong signatures—they’re better senders. They’re also better receivers, so they can more easily pick up on a weak signature.”
“What does my signature feel like?”
Ari smiled and looked at me. “It’s intense.”
“Intense. What does that mean?”
“Let’s just say Peter’s spell didn’t have a chance of cloaking your signature from me.”
“Does that mean I’m a strong sender?”
“Yes, but I’m also a strong receiver. Only the strongest magic users can sense a signature cloaked by a well-cast spell.”
“So Peter’s spell was well cast?” I said, trying not to get too hopeful.
“Noon, I know what you’re thinking,” he said, sighing. “But you don’t need a spell to help you. Nothing is wrong with you.”
I made some noncommittal noise and tried to figure out where to look. I didn’t want to look at Ari. His stare was unnerving. But I didn’t want it to look like I couldn’t meet his eyes either. I settled for a quick glance and then looked out the window. A heavy mix of icy sleet and wet snow rained down. Every now and then, a splatter hit the window and fell, leaving a slurry, blurry trail. There was really nothing to see out there so I turned my attention back to Ari.
“Can Maegesters cloak themselves?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t call it cloaking. It has nothing to do with a spell. But, yes, you can learn to control the wattage of your signature. Although you’d never be able to hide yours from me.” He laughed, a short barking sound that made me think it had been involuntary. He resumed pacing. He reminded me of a caged beast, which did nothing to ease the anxiety I was starting to feel.
“Why not?” I said sharply. It suddenly dawned on me that my days of fading into the woodwork were over.
“Like I said, I’m a strong receiver,” he said, but I sensed there was more to it than that.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?”
He shrugged. “A signature is personal going out, but it’s also personal coming in. How it feels depends on the subjective interpretation of the receiver.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He struggled for a moment, apparently trying to find the words to explain. Finally, he pointed. My gaze followed. “Look at that book on my desk. What color is it?”
“Green. Dark green.”
“And pretty much everybody would say that, right?”
I nodded.
“It’s not red or blue. It isn’t light green and I don’t think you’d get many people arguing with you about that.”
“Okay…”
“Well, Maegester signatures aren’t like colors. You may say my signature looks—or feels—dark green to you, but not every Maegester will agree. In fact, most won’t. Everyone will have their own interpretation of how my signature feels to them. And it’s not because we’re simply using different words to describe the same thing. Maegesters from the same family often experience tranquility in the presence of their kin’s signatures. And their des
criptions of each other’s signatures are remarkably similar.”
I considered this new information. Tranquility was never something I’d experienced in the presence of my father.
“So what does my signature feel like to you?” I finally said.
Ari stopped pacing and sat on the bed, across from me. It reminded me of how our library encounter had started. I fidgeted.
“Noon,” Ari said simply, patting the spot on the bed beside him. His meaning was clear. Instead of blushing, this time I blanched. If I’d thought I’d just be able to use Ari for his knowledge and somehow keep my feelings separate, I’d been unbelievably stupid.
“Your signature, as you call it, feels like lots of things,” he said. His voice had lost that dry professorial quality. It was now full of emotion. “But right now there’s one feeling in particular that’s dominant.”
“What’s that?” I said, swallowing hard.
“Arousal.”
I had to stop this. I didn’t want to be Ari’s new fetish. I realized then that I felt too deeply about him to be anything but cruelly hurt when the inevitable rejection came. It was better not to let anything get started than to suffer that eventuality.
I cleared my throat. “Ari, I came here to learn. What happened yesterday was a mistake.”
