The Rise of Ren Crown (8 page)

I stood under the hot spray of the shower. I had chosen the First Layer kind of shower, complete with nearly scalding water. The bathroom was fully equipped with the magical kind of “showers” too—ones where you could just be whooshed clean, others where you would get doused or coated with anything you wanted—skin and sun protection, a layer of magical protection, a rehydrating charm, a light spray of a thousand different skin and hair colors, makeup charms.

None of those would allow me to see the blood swirling down the drain and feel the blistering heat against my scalp and shoulders. Maybe I was far too rooted in the First Layer, but there was something soothing and calming in watching the swirl of the drain carry away some of the day—the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. The pain and heartache.

I stepped out and allowed the bathroom’s instant drying charms to keep me warm and slightly on edge. Slinking around with wet, bedraggled hair seemed the opposite of what I needed.

Exiting the bathroom brought the reality of the situation back into view. Olivia wasn't normally very loud, but the steady turn of pages—of one piece of paper sliding against another—or the even hum of magic as she extracted information or performed a deft maneuver, were deafeningly absent.

I touched the open tome on her desk.

Knock, knock.

Startled, I threw out both arms and the tiniest bit of recovered magic followed painfully. The book I'd been touching smacked one wall with a heavy thud, while Olivia's crystal inkwell was propelled against the wall above her bed. It shattered into glistening, inky shards. Black ink ran down the wall and onto her bedspread like fresh, splattered blood.

It was far too reminiscent of my bedroom walls at home in the First Layer after I'd tried repeatedly to resurrect my brother.

My hands shook, and I flexed my fingers like an arthritic with gnarled and twisted joints.

“Ren?”

At hearing the voice in the hall, relief and a new panic swallowed the alarm.

I quickly fumbled with the door, unlocking it, surprised that I had even thought to lock it. My first term need to break and enter the room repeatedly had left me with a habit of leaving it unlocked.

As I whipped the door open, I blurted, “I had a key, so I locked it.”

Olivia had given me the key so that we could be true roommates.

Dare stared at me for a long moment, and if I didn't know better, I'd think there was a look of sharp relief on his face. He took a step forward.

I shoved him back a step. Relief at seeing him mixed with alarm. “No,” I said. “You are in danger. You cannot be around me anymore.”

Nearly a foot taller, and far broader, he could have easily stopped the action. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at me, as I tried to push him back another step.

I growled and pushed harder, completely forgetting in that moment to try magic.

“Ren.” My name sounded like a sigh.

“
No
.” God, wasn't that just it too? The obviousness of my feral position. Not even remembering to try magic, even if it likely would have ended in agonizing pain and failure.

I could see people slowing down in the hall, decelerating to a snail's pace in order to observe the exchange.

“Why are you risking this?” I whispered, pleading.

His gaze was piercing, his position immovable. “Some things are worth risk.”

My shoulders sagged and my hand fell from his chest as I leaned into the doorjamb. “I'm not okay.”

He nodded slowly. “I know. May I come in?” He stayed where he stood, allowing me the choice.

“Yes,” I said in defeat, stepping back and awkwardly shuffling to the side so that I could close the door behind him. And lock it. That seemed important. Olivia always liked the door to be locked.

Dare's gaze took in every facet of our room as he walked over to my side. I felt conflicting urges to cover up my disorderliness and to show him some of the items in the storage paper affixed under my bed.

He'd never been in our room.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

He'd been so cagey about meeting in
his
room—caginess that I hadn't realized was due to the fact that Constantine Leandred was his roommate—that I'd never invited him to mine.

“You aren't in the directory, but it's not hard to find you. Many people are aware.”

People who were likely watching me even more fiercely now. Stavros and Kaine's people, maybe. Definitely Bellacia's. And Raphael's.

“My roommate—”

“Helen Price's daughter. I know.”

“Olivia,” I stressed quietly.

He tipped his head. “Olivia.” He examined me. “When I looked into everything about you months ago, I'll admit to being surprised at your roommate choice.”

“Choice” was an interesting word. More likely it was “fate.”

I waved a hand around in a vaguely uncommunicative motion. “Mine makes more sense than yours.”

“Neither Leandred nor I would have
chosen
the other. You, on the other hand, had a choice.”

I blinked. “Not really. It was a rather happy accident. She would have tossed me out otherwise. We just happened to be highly sympathetic.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “I forget how new you are sometimes.”

He looked down at my desk. Notes that I had taken on his fighting style and tactics in the practice rooms were scattered on the top.

I hastily ran over and pushed everything into a pile. “Why aren't you at the Visiting Center?”

His gaze raked me. “I'm exactly where I need to be. Julian and Nick are taking care of family matters.”

“Don't you have to get ready to go back to the competition?”

“Not if I'm not returning.”

I fumbled the papers. “
What?
”

He lifted the sheets from my unresponsive hands. “I actually anticipated that you'd be gone already, and that I'd have to chase you down somewhere outside of campus tonight.”

That would explain his relief at seeing me, then.

He looked down at the pages in his hand. “You think I could be tricked with a three-strike projection?” he said, reading the top page of the stack—all notes on
him
. “I'm offended.”

I grabbed the papers out of his hands and stuffed them into a pile in the corner, then put a book on top. I crossed my arms and tried to stop the heat that was broiling my face from within. “What do you mean, chase me down? And what do you mean not returning? You can't miss your competition.”

“Why not?”

I stared at him. “Because the tournament is...important?” It had been the most talked about thing for months
.
It was the event of the year, the one that earned all of the accolades. The one that had earned Dare the lofty reputation he had.

“It's a competition. A game. A sport.”

I stared at him.

“You didn't think I was just going to let you break through the perimeter ward and wave good-bye, did you?” He looked unimpressed with me.

I processed his remark for a few long moments, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He looked distinctly amused. “Okay?”

“Having you along will be quite helpful, when I flee,” I said. I didn't have the first clue about what I would find when I located Olivia, other than that Raphael would be waiting for me.

Dare smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling in genuine amusement. It was a smile I had gotten used to seeing, but it always made my heart rate increase.

I smiled tentatively back.

“Tell me about Emrys—or more accurately Raphael Verisetti.”

And just like that, my stomach dropped to stone.

“How...? You know?” I asked woodenly. Raphael hadn't been wearing his own face in the golem. The golem had worn the face of the real Emrys Norr—though I had no idea where the real Emrys was—then when Constantine had broken through some of the spells, it had worn the face of my brother.

Dare gave me an unimpressed stare in answer.

“Did you know before today?” I asked, feeling drained again.

His eyes narrowed with an edge of cold anger. “I would never let Verisetti remain on campus.”

I wiped a shaky hand across my face, unable to look at that expression; still I held firm in response. “Yeah? I have a bad habit of being the last to know around here. Aren't you going to ask me if
I
knew before today?”

“I know that you did not.”

I looked back at him. None of the anger remained on his face. Instead, there was a sort of casually dissecting regard.

“You show your emotions freely,” he said. “No one could have faked that level of distress. And, you don't have it in you to kick in with a terrorist. Not even with your bad taste in 'business partners',” he said, referencing the conversation we’d had the night I'd found out Alexander and Constantine were roommates.

“Besides, I heard a small part of your conversation while I was trying to dismantle the dome he erected,” Dare said.

Exasperation swept through me, which was a relief in the wake of all the other coiling emotions.

I collapsed on my bed, drawing my feet beneath me.

“You could have led with that statement, you know.” From my bed I had a clear view of the emptiness on the other side of the room. Instead of dwelling on it, I focused on Dare.

“Raphael was present when I Awakened. He tricked me. Took advantage of my grief. Over...” I ran a hand over the photo near my pillow—the edges of the photo soft and distressed. “Over my brother.” My twin who Dare had seen dead on a street in the First Layer.

“Raphael's been haunting me ever since,” I finished.

Dare drew my desk chair forward, and sat with his arms on his thighs, leaning toward me.

“Verisetti was with you when you Awakened?” Dare's gaze was piercing. “What did he make you create?”

“How did you...? Marsgrove asked me the same thing.”

“Awakening magic is stolen more often than most people think.” He kept his gaze steady on mine. My brother had been murdered for exactly that reason.

It had been less than a week since I'd found out that Dare knew I was the girl he had saved in the First Layer the night my brother died. It felt like far longer. This past day felt like a year's worth of time alone.

“It explains the weirdness between the two of you. You and Emrys,” Dare said, staring at the protection enchantments disguised as art that I had drawn directly on the wall—enchantments I had learned in the Library of Alexandria. “There was something strange between you two from the beginning.”

“I...I made a golem.” I flinched. “When I was trying to bring my brother back to life. I made lots of things. But the golem—I spent a lot of time on it. Made it out of professional-grade blob matter.” Which I had gotten from Constantine—that part was going to remain secret.

“And I made it with my brother in mind. Raphael stole it from the Midlands during the—” I gripped my fingers together—“the whole bone monster incident. Then he came here—” I indicated my room “—and taunted a bit. Froze Olivia. Told me about the true potential of the picture I made during my Awakening. Other stuff,” I finished lamely.

“What picture?” Dare leaned forward, intent.

“One that I could have resurrected my brother with.” By sacrificing Will.

“Where is it?” His gaze drilled into me.

“In the First Layer. Marsgrove came to collect us when I nearly blew up my parents' house again.” I winced. “And I left it there, hidden.”

Dare narrowed his eyes. “Where is your house?”

I stared at him for a long moment. “I'm not telling you.”

I trusted Dare with my life, but I thought on Constantine's words—that due to Raphael's magic, my house was protected against detection unless I specifically gave up the address. With my parents' lives at stake—I wanted as few magical people to know their location as possible.

He smiled. “Good.”

Whether he was being truthful or not, I felt relief. I would do a lot for Alexander Dare.

Currently, only six mages knew the address. Of those, one of them, unfortunately, was Marsgrove, and another was a psychopath. But Olivia and I had spent most of winter break shoring up the base wards Raphael had put around my house to act
against
Raphael instead.

Olivia, Will, Neph, and Constantine completed the knowledge set.

“Your shield set. Verisetti did it, didn't he?”

“He saturated me in his magic,” I said bitterly. “Before I Awakened. The shield set that Marsgrove gave me was created, at its base, by Raphael.” Like everything else that I had in this world seemed to be.

Dare's gaze lifted to the top of my head. “It's untainted magic. Created long ago—maybe here at Excelsine. Marsgrove and Verisetti were best friends and roommates.”

My heart stuttered over this new information. “I...noticed they seemed to know each other well.”

“My uncle attended at the same time they did, though he was a few years behind. Verisetti had a brilliant group of friends, many of whom are still affiliated with Excelsine.” He watched me carefully, waiting for me to figure out the connections.

Stevens.
My professor, my mentor. It wasn't a shock—I had guessed she might know Raphael—but I still felt the confirmation like a blow.

Dare’s gaze switched back to my hair. “One of Verisetti's gifts is in protection magic.”

“Ironic,” I said bitterly.

“Protection magic can be switched to destruction as easily as healing magic can be used for killing. The skill is the same—the intent and application are what matter.”

“He's good at destruction.”

“Verisetti skirted the edge of being labeled a rare when studying here. Combined with his artistic gifts, he was tested for Origin talent. He barely failed and it is very little wonder that he can wield your magic. Julian said Verisetti was getting called back in to be tested as a Protection Prodigy when he disappeared.”

Unease slid through me. “The Department took him. Stavros. They experimented on him.”

Dare's gaze sharpened. “Verisetti told you that?”

That wasn't a part of the conversation Dare had overheard then.

“I think Raphael wants me to kill Prestige Stavros,” I said numbly.

Lightning fast, Dare leaned forward and grabbed my wrist. His gaze unfocused. Talking to someone via frequency. “Don't tell anyone that. Don't tell
anyone
that, do you understand?”