The Awakening of Ren Crown (46 page)

When I looked up Constantine's eyes were narrowed. It gave him a decidedly more dangerous look, his languid posture turning predatory. “You are Stevens's new student.” He said it as if it was the crime I had committed. “The other day in her personal lab—that was you. I saw you. How did you get service?”

I saw you, too, being a pain and a thief, I wanted to say.

“I accidentally blew up the lab we had been working in.” I admitted, trying to make it sound as dull and non-newsworthy as I could. Stupid truth spells that were attached to the tablet made lying difficult and painful. I remembered Peters getting zapped, and what that had felt like on my end—so I had made sure to read up on it in the manual. You could make fibbing jokes only as long as you made it clear you were kidding. Who thought it was a good idea to send investigators out on criminal jobs and stop them from lying? “There. Now tit for tat, Mr. Tut-tut. What do you want to do about your punishment.”

But Constantine’s posture and magic now mirrored what his eyes had hinted from the beginning—a sharp and deadly focus threaded through his external insouciance. “You're feral. Newly magicked.” The black ribbon jumped in agitation.

And he was decidedly Old Magic. Everything about him screamed wealth, privilege, and youthful waste.

“I can feel how feral you are. Yet Stevens took you on.”

“I'm a transfer student.” Curses looped in my brain. Feel it? He had to be lying or guessing. I had looked it up and normal mages couldn't just tell someone was new. “Now, pony up your punishment, or I'll choose for you.”

A nice stint gathering firesnake skins was just what the doctor was prescribing. And maybe I'd hide behind a tree, at the ready to grab his first one.

“One of the art complexes exploded and an unbelievable rumor said that a chunk of the art vault landed in the Third Layer.” His smile pulled wide, but his caramel-colored eyes were dark. “A rumor everyone completely dismisses, of course. As that would be...disturbing.”

All of my danger alarms started ringing. Christian was suddenly yelling obscenities in my head along with his alter ego.

“So many rumors,” Constantine said, pulling a finger along the edge of the door, eyes never leaving contact with mine. “I wonder how many apply to you?”

“Mmhmm.” I feigned nonchalance. “And you are about to pull firesnake duty.” The tablet dinged in my hand. Yes! The punishment would be accepted.
I needed to get out of here.

“I will thoroughly clean the chemistry lab and prep all level one potions three times next week, by my magic I so do vow,” he said, voice languid, but with an underlying intensity that had been missing before.

The tablet dinged and the magic wound around us, testing, then seeped back down. The tablet vibrated then lay silent.

I wouldn't get my firesnake retribution, but whatever, I was out of here. Two more calls, then I would go work off some nervous energy with Draeger.

“There hasn't been a newly feral student at the Academy in years.”

“That's nice.” I checked my pockets, as I backed away.

“And one with artistic aspirations who attracts the notice of someone like Stevens...you've been contacted already, I'm sure.”

I looked at him suspiciously—more suspiciously—and stopped patting my pockets. “What?”

Contacted? Like Raphael Verisetti and whatever terrorist organization he worked for? How would this guy know?

Constantine Leandred smiled dangerously, as if I had answered affirmatively. “Watch your back, new meat. I'll be seeing you again.” He shut the door.

I gripped the tablet in my hands.
Miss Angelie's School for Girls
was sounding better all the time.

~*~

I knocked on the door of my next call and scrolled the tablet a little more thoroughly this time, castigating myself as I did. Should have done this with Constantine Leandred. I was such an idiot. I needed to be more far more paranoid.

I scrolled. Level Two Offense. Enchantment on Unknowing Student. Serial offender. Tracking device implemented and alarmed.

The door opened to a familiar face framed by black bangs and an outfit Erté would have designed.

“You.” I narrowed my eyes on the girl from the Student Center. I needed to be far more paranoid, indeed. I looked down at my tablet, then back at her. I noticed the green band glowing on her wrist near her cuff. Alarmed, eh? Now that I had an idea of what was going on in this screwed up system...

“You were doing community service. They decided to make you man the Student Center for
community service
?” I really questioned some of the officials at this school. “And you got a Justice Tablet to do it?”

Delia Peoples smirked. “Hey, the tablet karma worked, didn't it? It read you and said you needed a map and that you needed to work on meditating. I just fulfilled those needs. In my own way.” Her smirk grew.

“Great. Thanks a lot, Goat Turd.”

She tsked, shaking her head and sending the ends of her black bob flying. “Temper, temper.”

I narrowed my eyes, then smiled brightly. Her smile dropped to suspicion. “So, should I look through the list of punishments, before I ask a few pointed questions?”

I looked down, but could feel her shifting in front of me.

“Let's see. Level Two. Old recommended punishments include...oooh, waxing the entire entrance hall with a two-by-two piece of cloth and one toe. Kind of like mapping the hall, and that would give you a wonderfully long time for meditation and reflection. Or...popping camel zits. Wow. Who knew they even had them? I wonder where they are located? But that sounds too mundane for you. Hmmm...”

“I get it.” Her voice was tight, with an edge of defeat that pleased me, given the circumstances.

I tapped my finger against the tablet, mind working quickly. “Name?” I didn't look at the tablet.

“Delia Peoples.”

“What enchantment did you put into place that made your alarm bracelet ring tonight?” I worded the question very carefully.

Delia's eyes narrowed, then focused on my messed up hair. “That hair of yours looks like you've been doing some naughty things yourself. It was far too much fun playing a game with you, though. They rarely let me play around here.” She lifted her wrist, shaking her bracelet.

I nodded pleasantly. “Please answer the question, or I will have to up your Offense Level.”

“It was a suggestion enchantment.”

Ok, that sounded like it could be really creepy, actually. I narrowed my eyes. “Who was your victim?”

“I—”

“Scratch that question.” The magic complied. Reading that manual had been worth every minute of non-toad-turning time. “Who was the recipient of the enchantment that made your alarm bracelet ring tonight?”

Her teeth visually gritted together at the verbal modification. “Anastasia Kaparov.”

I nodded, more disturbed. “I'll get someone to take care of the enchantment right away.” I sent the designation into the tablet so that it would go on the Neutralizer Squad's list. They would reverse the spell and effects.

“What was the suggestion you attached to the enchantment that made your alarm bracelet ring tonight?” I asked, carefully structuring the words again.

“To take an exam for me.”

The tablet didn't zap her. I felt my shoulders relax. Thank God. But I still put it on my list of things to research. I wondered about the strength of the anti-dust protection.

Maybe I could ask Stevens what normal people did to protect themselves. The chemical stuff, at least, was totally within her jurisdiction.

I had to take solace in the fact that the campus had this type of monitoring, though it had been through Delia's bracelet. That meant she had likely slipped some suggestions through before and gotten away with it. It also indicated that she had been reasonably certain that she would slip
this
one through too.

“Was that the only suggestion attached?”

“Yes,” she said in such a disgusted manner, that I had a feeling she was not a huge fan of this Anastasia person.

That helped me make my choice. Though I would word it to leave the option up to the victim. “Do you agree—should she ask you—to do all of Anastasia Kaparov's laundry, errands, and cleaning for three days to the best of your abilities?” I had learned from the manual that the magic would make it so. Delia couldn't put reds in with whites, if she knew better.

She was watching me, her eyes narrowed. She didn't answer for a moment, but finally said, “By my magic I so do vow.”

I smiled and tapped the tablet. “Great. I now consider us even.” The tablet didn't zap me. “Do you now consider us even?”

Her expression shuttered for a moment, but then she got a considering look on her face. “I do.” The tablet didn't zap her. “You are an interesting addition to the club.”

I nodded. “So I've been told. I'm off to another call. It was...interesting...meeting you again, Miss Peoples. I hope I can look forward to the next meeting.”

She cocked her head. “Perhaps.”

Well, good enough for no zap. I saluted and turned.

~*~

Service took up a lot of my time. So I divided my hours into blocks—working with Stevens, attending classes, working with Draeger, attempting to secure Christian's soul in fifteen thousand different ways, figuring out how to hide how magic punished me each time, answering calls, and working out all of the ins and out of this new world. Not in that order.

I guarded my cafeteria time zealously, and always met the others there, even though there were times I nearly fell asleep in my potatoes. And days when I bled through the bandages under my clothes.

I didn't know why I was having such trouble securing and binding my brother's soul. But I was losing a little confidence in my planning and execution abilities because of it. The rituals and enchantments should have worked. At least
some
of them should have worked. I wasn't used to failure.

Each day that Marsgrove didn't return was a gift. I wouldn't be able to get away with my deception twice. I developed some tactical art magic with Draeger—trying out snares and other art creations to formulate practical defensive and offensive uses—and kept my news feed running silently at all times.

Community service kept me on my toes. Not everyone opened their door willingly. Handing down punishments was a quirky business—some of the malcontents tried to be quicker than the tablet magic. I had ended up glued to the wall, thrown through a window, and blinded.

But I always got the perp in the end. Thank you, paintball. And my tablet always felt that an attack on us earned the perp double punishment, so it really sucked to be them.

After a punishment got logged, there was no need to do anything else. Magic was a funny and vicious mediator, I knew firsthand.

The karmic magic did its trick, and if it felt the punishment was satisfied according to the terms set down by the spell's creator, it rested without issue. The problem really was that last part—according to the spell's creator. Many of the repeat offenders had realized how to work the system to their advantage, while still serving their punishments, and the officials seemed happy and absent, using the service students for projects when it was convenient.

I leaned against the jamb of room one hundred sixty-nine in Dorm One. “Another Level Three, Leandred. You want lab duty again?”

Constantine folded into the high-backed leather chair he favored. Today he looked like a weary medieval baron who had just surveyed his crumbling estates; projecting a jaded disdain with the world. Sometimes he was Loki—wearing a playful façade that wanted to cause mass mischief. Occasionally, he mixed the two. Luckily, he hadn't tried the seducer persona on me since the first few minutes of the initial call.

I'd been terrified to return on the second call, but he had been all languid insouciance—only showing the predatory nature that had been in evidence during the first call when I could see him in my peripheral vision.

I never forgot it, though. The evidence of it always simmered behind his eyes.

But after responding to five calls to him, I was used to his routine.

“If I must, Crown.” He repeated the necessary words to bind him to his punishment.

I shook my head and let the magic wrap, then tucked my tablet back in my bag, moving my latest box sketch and reader to the side. The latest ritual text was waiting on my reader and I was eager to read it as soon as I got a free moment.

The absent thought that maybe the Ritual of the Troll Bells would work where the others had failed sifted through the forefront of my mind. As I was securing my bag back on my shoulder, I caught sight of something on one of Constantine's shelves in his huge and richly appointed room. My feet took me forward automatically.

“Are those
troll bells
?” I asked in disbelief.

“No.” But he was smirking and playing with the black ribbon he always had nearby.

“Where did you get them?”

He lifted a negligent shoulder. “I can't recall. And they aren't for sale.” His eyes moved to my bag. “However...for the right trade...”

I blinked. “I'm pretty sure they won't let me give you Justice Toad.”

He looked unimpressed with the name I had given my tablet. “You have something else in there. A drawing. I saw it when you opened your bag.”

I looked down to see my most recent box sketch. I hadn't put anything in the box yet. The drawing looked flat and uninteresting—what would prompt him to ask? “You want a sketch of a box?”

He leaned back in his chair, winding the ribbon around his finger and watching me. “How much does the space hold?”

I touched the edge of the paper, fingers feeling the flat threads. “How did you know...?” I shook my head at his knowledge and his raised brow. “It holds two pounds, but no more than eighteen inches in each direction.”

His eyes never left mine. “I want it.”

“Why?”

“Do you want the bells?”

I did. They were horribly hard to get a hold of, even by catalog—I had been trying to find some for weeks. I lifted the sketch and examined it. I could make another. Why did I feel reluctant to give it to him? Because it contained a drop of precious paint?