The Awakening of Ren Crown (60 page)

He threw another powerful wave of magic at it and his sword turned back into a staff and I saw him do a maneuver I had witnessed in the Midlands. Twirling twice, he struck the ground with the end of the staff and one knee. Blue lightning spread from the strike, shooting along the ground toward his foe. The earth didn't shake, it fully shifted, and the monster exploded into particles as fine as sand, spraying in every direction.

Destroyed. My pencil paused and grief filled me as I watched the destruction. My hand dropped.

The energy around Dare dimmed completely, as if his shields were no longer powered. He was watching the explosion, still kneeling, and his mouth was pulled tight. He was watching the explosion with...resignation. My hand lifted and I quickly finished the strokes.

The mist of sand swirled, spiraling out and around in loose beige curls then gradually pulling back in a slow motion rewind. The sucking sound of my inhaled breath was a thousand times magnified. The regenerated monster bellowed a horrific battle cry and thundered toward Dare in rage, lifting its mighty arm to whack the last obstacle, who was now unshielded. Ugly green tendrils whipped around it, spiked and deadly.

Mages whose injuries were too severe didn't survive magical death.

Everything in me focused on the boy rising from his bent knee, holding his staff for one last strike. The boy who had saved me. The boy who had given me, an ordinary girl, his precious First Layer container magic. The boy who had given that girl one last cherished moment with her twin.

The patterned drapes in my mind swirled and ported me straight through the Academy magic to the exact space where Alexander Dare stood. The energy pushed him back two steps. I held out the two bone splinters, as he stared at me in complete disbelief, his sword raised to deflect the blow that would not now hit him.

“Throw them into his eyes.”

I felt Dare's hand touch mine, then something exploded at the back of my head—
Christian, I'm so sorry
—and the world went dark.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Moving Forward

The world opened to white.

“Welcome back again, Miss Crown.”

“Why are you calling me miss, Christian?” I muttered.

“Hmmm...are you feeling like Jell-O?”

What? I turned my head to see Dr. Greyskull passing his scanner over me.

I shut my eyes. “I'm alive?”

“Barely. Mr. Dare carried you to me promptly, but...your damage was high. It was close.”

“What about...” I had to clear my throat twice. “Everyone else?”

Greyskull was silent for a moment. “We got to everyone in time. A student sent an emergency call to the Department, bypassing all protocol. They sent fifteen full medical teams. It was just enough.” He shook his head. “I'm happy everyone was saved. But they will do a full investigation now, and that is never pretty.”

I briefly wondered who might have a bat phone to the Department. But I was glad. Glad that everyone was alive. That I hadn't killed anyone.

I'd hand myself over to the Department for that.

“Talk says your quick thinking enabled Mr. Dare to defeat the beast.”

“My thinking was the farthest thing from quick.” I had to be the slowest person on this mountain.

“Well, I'll bet you get a thousand hours shaved off of service for this.”

“I don't want my hours shaved,” I said hollowly. I needed to serve for the rest of my academic existence.

“That is good work ethic. But they likely will do it anyway for your part in enabling the beast to be destroyed.”

So Dare had killed it. It hadn't really been my brother. It had been a failed experiment. A creation by a poorer Victor Frankenstein. The unraveled emotions the beast had displayed had been a reflection of my own anger and grief.

I desperately wanted to convince myself that I hadn't created something alive, even if completely by accident, only to allow it to be slaughtered. Or that I hadn’t formed a true piece of Christian, then handed over the necessary tools of his destruction—
knowing
. I curled onto my side.

“Miss Crown?”

Christian was silent. Not in my head. Gone.

“I think I'm in shock, doctor. If Skeletor comes, it's ok to let him have me, ok?”

“Miss Crown? Miss Crown!”

~*~

I trudged slowly back to Dormitory Circle in the dark, walking through the path of destruction in penance. It was eerily quiet on campus. Greyskull said the traveling ban had been lifted in the wake of the attack and many mages had ported home in order to relax and recuperate with family over the weekend.

It was also eerily silent in my head.

Stupidly, I felt more rested than I had in weeks. Probably fourteen weeks, to be exact. Greyskull had done something to fix me. He had thought the magic drain and exhaustion were due to a combination of fighting the beast and my resulting wounds, so he had fixed both.

More stupidly, an insidious voice inside of me was wondering what spell he had used to restore me and fix my need for sleep.

I had mentally castigated Marsgrove for being overconfident and exhausted, but I hadn't paid attention to my own state of health and judgment. Desperation was an emotion incapable of producing self-awareness until after the damage was done, I decided. But after, it was great at showing what an idiot a person was. Joy.

I walked into my room, unsure of what to expect.

Will, Neph, and Olivia looked up as one.

I couldn't look at their faces. They knew. They knew that I was a monster. Of course they did. And they could piece together the rest, if they hadn't already. The creation paint, the data disks I had never erased, the margin notes in my papers. Nothing was explicitly written, but it was all there—all the random tidbits of information. The processes and experiments. The successes and failures. The concepts and connections that had formed. The sum of which indicated the type of dangerous mage I might be.

I had placed a dozen different cloaking spells on my research box. I had taken every one of them off when I'd dumped the contents out.

“The Department was called,” I said softly. The ruse was over. I put my now-painted pencil down carefully. “They'll come for me eventually. You should disavow me now.”

I took my courage in hand and met their eyes.

Neph's eyes were steady. “You are my friend,” she said simply.

Will looked surprised, as if he hadn't realized that such a declaration was necessary. “Mine too. Of course mine too.”

Olivia's gaze was even. “I will keep this secret.”

Emotion so profound rushed through me that I sagged against my desk. Maybe they didn't know everything then, but they weren't turning their backs on me yet.

“Er.” Will rubbed the back of his neck. “So, let's figure out how to remedy this. We've been going through your notes. Discussing theories. I just got to your notes on Ganymede Circus and the Midlands and have a thought. Ren, my Layer project last year—”

I straightened, pushing the suffocating cocktail of emotion to the side to deal with—and make amends for—later, and let crisp logic connect Will's words to others running through my head.

Twisted magic.

“Of course. And with a third—”

“—and a foam block—”

“—mixed with evening enchantments—”

“—and a granite base—”

“—and Mbozi's four person containment spell.”

“—I think it will work.”

We smiled brightly at each other, and I felt a bit of hyper energy weave around my bones. Though sometimes our magic threads felt oddly similar, Will and I were neutrally aligned magic-wise—neither sympathetic nor antipathetic. But our
minds
were frequently directly in line.

“What are you two discussing without us?” Olivia demanded.

“You get used to it,” Nephthys said sympathetically to Olivia.

“I know a mass containment spell we can utilize, and Will did a Layer project last year on smoothing the wrinkles that gather to promote shifts. He was able to smooth the space around him for fifty feet.”

Olivia looked at him. “My Mother was on the judging committee for that project.”

Will looked horrified. “I'm sorry.”

Olivia's facial expression didn't change, but there was something very strangely satisfied to it. “It was the highlight of my Spring.”

“Well, there were obvious kinks,” Will said, cheeks red. I hoped he wasn't picturing Olivia's mom naked. “And I stopped working on the technology as an alpha project when I saw that it was a dead end for at least a few years—until the press died down.”

“That means he only works on it every third weekend,” I said. Will didn't give up on much.

Will continued to blush. “Well, yes.”

“You should continue it,” Olivia said. “The Department took your results and they are working on modifications.”

Will stared blankly at her. “What?”

“You didn't think they flunked the project and buried it, did you?”

“Yes.”

“You should never show the Department your best game, William. They steal everything that has merit.” She smiled coldly. “My Mother is a high ranking official there.”

I suddenly couldn't breathe. Olivia knew...no, it would be ok. And if it wasn't, I deserved whatever punishment was demanded.

I needed to make provisions for the people in my life, though—the people around me. So they wouldn't be taken down with me. I let a portion of my mind work on the details as I listened to Olivia.

“She absolutely loathes you. If you didn't know.” Olivia's nails clicked against her desk, her voice unconcerned. “No one vaporizes Helen Price's clothes and lives to tell the tale. She will try to hire you and make your life hell. She is an excellent game maker and spinner. You have merit and she hates you, there is nothing she likes more than that combination.”

Olivia's cold smile after that statement prompted a subject change.

I quickly spread out Mbozi's class notes and outlined the four person containment spell, then we decided to move to Will's room in Dorm Twenty to go over his project. Mike had been called home immediately by his overprotective magical parents, so we wouldn't be disturbed.

Upon entering, my eyes went to the sword on Will's wall and something in the back of my head vibrated.
Christian?
I sent the inquiry out more than a little desperately. But no response was returned. Just a faint buzz of...something. Something I couldn't place.

After a few hours, we had a decent plan in place that worked to all our strengths. Will's ingenuity, Nephthys's grace and balance, Olivia's iron will, and my...craziness. Being feral..and possibly
other
...actually figured beautifully into the resolution. Of course, being feral with freaky abilities had also contributed to the problem. So it was really just a matter of using my abilities to fix the problem I'd caused.

“I should go alone.” My shoulders were tight. “Tonight. I don't want any of you hurt, and it doesn't matter what happens to me.”

Olivia gave me a frosty look. “I will think you stupid if you continue that train of thought.
We
are going tomorrow night. Not tonight. It is foolish to go when all the medical support is exhausted and unable to help, should we require care. You can sleep on your guilt tonight, if you feel like being masochistic.” She shrugged. “Though I see no reason you should feel guilt. There were some good, sound tests recorded in your notebook. And useless, weak mages shouldn't be here if they can't cut it defensively. Whether you cull the herd or others do, is unimportant.”

Nephthys's face was blank. Smoothly blank. Will was trying to keep his face blank too, but wasn't succeeding as well.

“Er, Ren,” he said. “I agree that tomorrow makes far more sense. You aren't going to conduct any necromancy experiments or binding spells tonight. Since those are what cause the problems, we should have a period of rest, and it is better to get this right the first time.”

The last was too true. “Ok.”

“And we are all going. Together. So don't make me tie you to a chair.”

~*~

Campus looked worse in the morning. The bright rising sunlight showed the damage to the buildings, trees, and the mountainside itself—some structures had been totally demolished while large chunks were missing from others. Dark brown stains marked the grass and path.

The cheerful morning bird songs seemed deliberately offensive.

Students in outrageously green outfits were speaking in low tones about how to regrow and regenerate the flora by the end of the weekend. Students in crisp white shirts and khakis were looking at blueprints and plat maps.

But the disturbing mages were the older men and women in black who held devices over the areas, taking readings and making notes. I avoided all contact with them, choosing to use an accessible arch that took me in the opposite direction I needed to travel—down a level instead of up—but it took me all the way to the other side of the mountain, away from the crime scene.

I walked up from there to join the emergency strategic meeting of battle and justice mages. When I walked in, a few people were already clumped together discussing strategies.

“We must find the problem's origin and deal with it swiftly,” Camille Straught said. My lips pulled into a tight line unwillingly. “You are adamant, Isaiah, that it is a magical focus, but I, for one, am not so sure.”