The Rise of Ren Crown (17 page)

I had shied away from thinking about it all day, in case I was questioned. But I knew they were in Okai, or on its front step.

“If Kaine gets the papers, along with whatever else you have in that building, they will have the proof they need and they
will
take you. No edict will stop them, only war.”

“The scarf—”

“Isn't what I'm worried about at the moment,” he said angrily.

I crossed my arms. “It's only a matter of time before they grab me. Even I know that. Maybe I make it to graduation. Maybe not. What I can do in the interim is what matters. And if I can secure the futures of everyone I love, then I will, first and foremost.”

“And you should rely on those people to do the same.” His expression was heavily charged, and for a long moment, I couldn't look away.

My tablet buzzed, reminding me of the time. I leaned forward and fished it out of my duffel bag, glad to have something to do other than feel the way my insides had knotted up. “I'll talk to the others, then come back here after. I'm leaving my things here.” I grabbed my portfolio bag from the interior of the duffel bag and stuffed Justice Toad inside, then slung it crosswise over my body.

“Leave your things, but stay away from Dorm One. I won't be here.” He looked resolute about something. “Contact me the usual way. I have things I need to get elsewhere.”

He rose, as if the plan was already decided. “I'll come for you during the memorial.”

I looked at him critically. “Yeah, that sounds like a terrible plan.”

“You should be pretty used to that, no?”

I made a rude gesture over my shoulder as I left to the sound of his amusement.

Chapter Twelve: A Delinquency of Plans

Navigating the top track of the Magiaduct was more horrifying now with twilight casting its shadows. It seemed like more than half of the school's population were arrayed along the four mile track, many igniting balls of swirling light in the darkening eventide.

With reassignments settled and the dorm meetings completed, people were setting up for the memorial service, or joining the lamentations in progress.

The edges of the walking track were crowded with bodies, spilling over into the track lanes that were only supposed to be used for forward momentum in either direction. The spell that allowed people to “flash” around campus on the well-worn tracks was still available, but I had never learned to use it, since Olivia was certain that I would run right through the fabric of reality instead and end up in the Bermuda Triangle, Mount Olympus, or hell.

Groups huddled, and magic lifted into the sky, only to swirl around in the magical magnetic field that surrounded the Magiaduct—siphoning from the students and re-energizing the inhabitants inside the dormitories and the grounds outside the Magiaduct.

Other mages milled about, lost and absent, unwilling to be enclosed in their rooms below.

But even though bodies were spilling onto the track, causing walkers to skirt them, it appeared as if the crowds sucked in their body parts as I passed—a rolling mass of flesh that never touched me.

They grew silent, and stared, as I passed, lights in hand. Creating a solitary, lit runway for me to traverse.

Patrick and Asafa's dorm was over a mile from Dorm One—and Top Track was the fastest way to get from one dormitory section to another without the use of arches. It gave me plenty of time to experience the horror of my new found fame.

I tried to focus on the magic that was lifting and pulling back into the stones of the Magiaduct, and not on the solemn faces I passed, lit by their memory lanterns/illuminations.

The students were still powering the mountain, as the university had been designed. Though, even from here, in the darkening night, I could see something was wrong with the Midlands, which took all of the backlashes and corrupted magic and recycled it back into useable energy. The constant fog was darker, almost crackling with black lightning, like something wasn't working quite right inside.

Raphael's doing most likely.

Someone brushed against me, making me blink. I was being given wide berth for the most part, as if there was an invisible, cautionary force field around me, so someone reaching out to touch me was new and weird.

Another hand, then another.

The path undulated as many pulled back as I passed, while others reached out.

Justice Toad beeped against my chest, where I had it gripped tightly like a shield. I looked at the screen to see a note from Patrick scrolling across.

God and leper, that's what you are now, Crown.

Patrick—who had to be watching my approach via someone's feed in the crowd—sounded entirely too amused. I gripped Justice Toad against my chest again and increased my speed.

Gazes followed me. Broadcasting my path to others—who knew how many others—as I strode past.

My breath grew shorter and quicker.

A moment later, I felt Neph's magic approaching, sweeping into me. My shoulders sagged automatically with relief. And I set my pace to her stride as she came alongside me, joining my gauntlet.

Neph touched my elbow, and warmth seeped in. I bumped against her, sending the equivalent back. Cycling and recycling.

The vigils that had already begun—the vigils for students still in magically-induced healing states or for the departed souls of those less fortunate... I tried not to stare as I walked, though I let some of my precious, recaptured magic seep out to join and strengthen theirs in solidarity.

I could feel two of my roses in the crowd, recharged with new magic.

Conversations ebbed and flowed as we walked. One particular argument caught my ear. A number of students were discussing the Fourth Layer. Whatever I had done during the battle with the dome's magic had directly affected something there. Blown something up.

“...ability to shift. The entire system's down!
One person
. And the
beast
. Chaos and anarchy...”

Fewer people were brushing against me now that Neph was alongside, the majority of people drawing back with the contracting crowds as we moved forth.

More than a few followed us on our path. I couldn't stop myself from looking over my shoulder. Seeing those blank and focused gazes staring at me as they followed.

Creepy.

Getting to Patrick and Asafa's dorm was more of a relief than I was willing to express.

Without knocking, I entered Patrick and Asafa's room, as they always encouraged when meetings were prearranged.

Everyone inside turned at our entrance and there was an immediate feeling of relief in the room—like a concurrently exhaled breath. It felt simultaneously like someone had squeezed my heart and given me more room to breathe.

“Sorry we are late,” I said in a rush of too quick breath. “I got caught with—”

“Wait.”

Patrick pulled on a green glove, snapping it against his wrist as he let go. He reached out, as if he was about to put me under the knife, then turned me, causing the room to spin in view.

He plucked something from the back of my shirt. As I turned on my heel, he held up a small yellow spell. “Let's get rid of this first, shall we?”

He blindly outstretched his covered hand to where Asafa was holding a clear bag, Patrick's gaze already searching over the rest of me. Patrick dropped the spell inside without pausing to look Asafa's way.

“Fifteen markers, twelve trackers and four listeners.” He plucked each in turn and deposited them in the bag.

Asafa walked over to their wall of instruments and devices and dropped the bag inside of one. There were other bags inside as well. Asafa sealed the device and nodded to Patrick.

“Need to be double checking yourself at all times, Crown. Markers, especially, are inoffensive as far as shields or Justice Magic is concerned. Anyone can stick one on you, and experience no ill side effect.”

Like the people brushing against me on Top Track.

He waved away my attempt at a question.

“Markers just flag you. People don't have to know your face—markers light you up like a Partridge Tree on Partridge Day. We'll get you all set up with a strip device.”

“Great.” I'd basically been a walking flare for the past fifteen minutes.

“But you only passed like twenty percent of the school's population,” he said cheerfully. “So, there are plenty who won't know to run screaming yet until they match you up from the live feed and all of the million frequency exchanges that have already shared your face, your dorm number, and your class schedule.”

I pulled a shaky hand through my hair, tucking the loose front strands behind my ears. “Great.”

“Buck up. Normal is boring.”

“I am a live bomb everyone steps softly around. A little boring would be good.”

“Welcome to rare magehood.” Patrick clapped me on the back, not bothering to lower his voice. “The club where only the best are welcome.”

I stared at him.

“Not me. I'm merely a troublemaker, my lady.” He winked, and handed me a piece of spelled paper. “But we are all-inclusive in our troublemaking sets.”

Neph touched my elbow and Patrick's gaze followed the motion for a moment before snapping back into action.

“Read that. Agree. Chop, chop. Things to do, people to fleece, rules to bend.”

I wasn't sure that I believed Patrick's words on not being rare.

I looked at the paper. It was a standard meeting secrecy oath. Olivia had made me read standard secrecy clauses in harsh, exacting detail, so it was easy enough to scan the paper for traps. There was a scanning frequency for such things, but Olivia was a stickler for knowledge over laziness and ease. I pinched the paper between my fingers, murmuring my assent, and it disappeared in a puff of gray smoke.

A puff of smoke bloomed from Neph's fingers as well, and Patrick herded us inward.

I looked at the rest of the room, at the team members from Plan Fifty-two, and my heart clenched again, fierce relief washed through me at seeing them alive, if bruised, slashed, and battle-weary.

Delia and Lifen were seated on the couch knitting something that looked like liquid silk. In front of the couch, Mike and Will were sitting at a long table with Dagfinn and Kita. Papers were spread out around them. Members of Delta and Epsilon, including the two from my dorm, solemnly gazed back.

We all took a moment. Gazes connecting. Plan Fifty-two had succeeded. We had made it. We'd survived. Against the odds, we'd survived.

And we'd get Olivia
back
.

Neph touched my wrist. I nodded and moved forward.

A round table formed from the long one—pushing and pulling its surface and slowly widening outward, giving everyone a chance to rearrange as it did. Delia and Lifen's couch grew upward and rounded, merging into the arrangement of chairs, all around the edges of the round table. Another small, half-rounded sofa appeared between Will's chair and the other rounded sofa, and Neph and I sat together in it. Like a lot of shared spaces in the magical world, our loveseat enabled a small feedback loop of magic to recirculate between Neph and me.

When everyone was settled in, Mike asked, “Where is Yapsley?” Yapsley had been part of Epsilon.

“He's not coming.” An odd series of expressions crossed Lifen's face before she continued. “Said he wouldn't work with an Origin Mage.”

Heat stole over me. I nodded mechanically to show my understanding.

I had a feeling that Yapsley's words hadn't
quite
gone like that. Yapsley wasn't one to use polite phrasing or tone. There had probably been a lot more general unpleasantness in that statement.

“It's okay,” I said.

“It's not.” Mike's mouth tightened. “It's not okay. And you passed that test.”

“Mike—”

“No—”

“We don't want or need people involved in this who aren't willing to work with all of us,” Asafa said, shutting the argument down. “We all took an oath upon entering this room, and we will all abide by it.
This
is our group.”

He waited for everyone to nod before continuing, “Good. First, updates. Tilsia is in stable condition and recovering in medical. Loudon and Derkins got to her at nine minutes and thirty seconds.”

My heart squeezed. God. Thirty more seconds...

Tilsia had been taken out by Raphael. My mind could connect the points in reverse, Monday morning quarterbacking the events. Raphael, under the guise of Emrys, had been doing something inside the Midlands—and Tilsia had been just outside of them before her last transmission.

I touched my bag and the unused papers I had inside. I'd visit Tilsia in Medical later.

“Tasky, Givens, Peoples, Derkins, Dagfinn, Lifen, Yapsley, Adrabi—” Patrick's voice continued listing people until it seemed as if he had mentioned everyone in the group. “Every one of those mentioned added another life or eight to their totals. Bau managed to revive
one hundred and seventy-three
people on the battlefield, many of them connected to one of us in one way or another. You're getting an honorary club statue, Bau.”

Neph's gaze dropped to her lap, but her cheeks turned rosy.

“Second. As the media is already verifying, Price was...taken...from campus. We will be discussing the matter in more depth. All of the people sitting here have expressed interest in taking part in that discussion, and have signed oaths in that regard.”

Glances were exchanged around the room.

“I know many of us lost friends today.” Patrick looked around the table. “And we will grieve, and we will court vengeance for them. The latter, is contingent on our abilities to remain free.”

He met the gaze of everyone in the room—a maneuver that took several tense seconds. “Not everyone desires vengeance. But for those of us who do, our goals align with those who do not in our need to make sure the Department does not imprison half of this campus after their review. We know who will be targeted first.”

The Delinquents' Club, by pure definition, was comprised of delinquents, but in order to attend Excelsine, you had to be a top tier mage, and the top tier of delinquents, at the top tier university were
brilliant
mages. Mages who would be a feast for a government organization that could chain and use them.