The Rise of Ren Crown (43 page)

Constantine raised a brow. “It isn't on the list of opened buildings.”

“Right.” I looked at him expectantly.

He looked back, amused, still crouched in front of me. “You think we will just break in?”

“Yes?”

“With all of your followers and trackers and shadows trailing you?”

“Yes?”

“That one sounded even less convincing, darling.”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I need to make a number of things, and I need paint, Con. You know I do.”

He pulled a lock of my hair between his fingers. “It would almost be easier getting into the Midlands, at this point.”

“No.” I shook my head in emphasis and he let the curl go. “I need to keep everything there safe. I will definitely be followed. Vault access doesn't put me off the campus grid. And I could even do a switcheroo with Neph for a bit.”

“You realize she's a Bau, correct?”

“Con?”

He blew out a breath. “You exhaust me.”

“No, I don't.”

I caught his smile before he grew serious again.

“I'll see what I can do.”

~*~

I left Constantine to figure things out and headed over to see Professor Mbozi. Mbozi sighed upon seeing me, then questioned me brutally about the domes and what I had done. It wasn't often that I was on the interrogation side of a Professor Mbozi/Ren Crown discussion.

Enthused, I told him everything I could—without disclosing secrets—and asked him for help filling in the blanks in my knowledge. Which he did.

He touched lightly on
other
subjects, mentioning that he had a class on rare magic fields that would be coming up in the fall, and also that he
might
have a few hours to spare on special projects in the spring.

Seeing as I had been hunting him down over the past two terms like a raggedy lion with a favorite gazelle, I was ecstatic.

I left his office with a smile and the magical blueprints for a portable chaos field. One that was “ideologically possible, but untested, Miss Crown.”

I was pretty sure he was just as excited to hear about what I did with the field as I was, even though his facial expression had been long-suffering, world-weary, and like he was headed off for a stiff drink as soon as I disappeared from view. It was a lot like the way Professor Stevens looked at Constantine.

On a hunch, I tried to locate Professor Stevens too. I'd been itching to talk to her since it had become obvious that she was friends with Raphael. Her conversation with Helen Price a few weeks ago made complete sense, within that context. And, given that context, I could deduce that she wasn't a fan of Olivia's mother. That she might help me, was a possibility.

But she wasn't in her lab. Nor anywhere else that I looked.

It was possible she was trekking around campus with the majority of the teaching staff, who, unsurprisingly, were out and about on campus in large numbers, helping any student who crossed their path—and getting in the way of the Legion interrogating the populace, more often than not.

Rumor had it that in-person staff meetings were not being held for the time being, and that they were spreading resources all over the top levels of campus so that all of the staff could not be trapped in one place again.

Softer rumor had it that this was not just in case of terrorists attacking again, but also if the Legion decided to show their might.

It was becoming just as usual to see a professor briskly walking a tracked path through one of the levels, talking via frequency or hologram, than it was to see students doing the same.

But none of the faces who crossed my path were Lucille Stevens.

Tarei followed me on my failed quest, a shadow in the mist, and I tried to ignore him. Tried to ignore when he blinked at me with a gaze that was not his own.

I made sure to stick to the most well-traveled paths.

~*~

The dorms weren't much of a relief, but at least here, there was a sanctity Tarei couldn't yet breach.

The common rooms were packed with people watching the All-Layer Combat Competition. Even packed, though, there weren't as many students watching the competition in the common areas as there had been before the attack. Some people were too traumatized to watch more fighting, others were too traumatized to be in the same place that they were when the domes were erected.

But there were plenty who were still glued to their sets and feeds. Some looked desperate for some sort of victory—as if having our school win would give them some balm or security they couldn't otherwise find.

The transmission was tracking Lox at the moment, and he was doing a fine job in whacking his opponent. Well-enough that some of the people watching were switching their short attention spans elsewhere.

Strangely, even the perfectly respectable students at school—the ones who were
never
in trouble—were casting disturbed looks at the vents.

“Can't turn them off completely still,” someone hissed. “System override.”

It was a sobering reminder that while normally the Administration “let” us get away with some things, when they wanted to affect something specifically, we couldn't stop them.

And when they were being pushed by outside forces, anything was possible.

I sent a query through the gem Will had given me and was immediately hit with information culled from multiple open frequencies. The calming spells were the new hot topic around campus—slotting into a place of popularity after grief and trauma DIY fixes, gossip about the Origin Mage, and chitchatting on the combat competition.

The delinquents hearing my query, on the other hand, mentally chimed in that they were doing “mad business” in neutralizing spells, especially Lifen, who had served a stint on the Neutralizer Squad, and Loudon, who had some overlapping expertise with his dismantling skills.

My steps slowed as the live competition feed switched competitors. Axer was front and center of the magical projection on the dorm's wall. I released the armband and gem communications with an absent, “thanks.”

He knocked an opponent down, but it wasn't as effortless as he usually made it look.

He was also protecting his midsection more than he had before Kaine had ripped him apart, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. The announcers were speculating that he had taken the injury in the “Bloody Tuesday Attack.”

It hadn't stopped any of his opponents from trying to maim him there further.

Even tired, he was deadly, but these were the best fighters across the layers—and they were
far
better rested and at top form. As he climbed the heats, the matches became more grueling to watch.

A Third Layer mage got in a good swing.

“Damn thirdies. Shouldn't let them compete,” someone grumbled.

“Especially
now
,” someone agreed.

“
They
didn't do it,” a far more reasonable person pointed out.

“But they
are
fighting for their layer. They condone the actions of their own terrorists.”

“That's
not
true. Not everyone—”

“Yeah? You think Lorenzo isn't in league with the terrorists?”

Leonach Lorenzo was the leader of the Rebuilding Faction in the Third Layer. Their government was made up of about a dozen different factions, and currently the Rebuilding Faction headed them all.

Lorenzo had disassociated himself from the terrorists, but I had to admit, after seeing his visage a few times...he didn't seem
too
displeased.

But if he was involved, he was very good at covering his tracks. He was squeaky clean, and not even Bellacia's father could pin anything on him.

The Second Layer seemed to hate him for that even more.

The feed announcer made his presence known. “Due to the tragic events at Excelsine University, all competitors are a little off today. The Excelsine combat mages returned to campus to help secure it, and so did a good portion of the other combat mages at the competition—helping out their fellow young mages in need. As a result, there is a far more community-based feeling at today's events. But it should be noted, that the Excelsine competitors who answered the call, and stayed on campus for the night, are suffering.”

Community-based feeling or not—and I could see how that worked, with the competing mages being the first ones to clasp their competitor back upright after a loss, manly bro-hug and all—no one was going easy on their opponents.

“In other news, Alexander Dare was retested for his ability as a Bridge Mage this morning before the competition restarted. He scored a fifteen on the ability test, not enough to register on the Bridge scale. However, it has been noted that fifteen is five points higher than his baseline, and people are talking about whether—”

I walked away.

I didn't want to see Axer lose. And I didn't want to hear about the people wanting to persecute him.

Chapter Thirty-two: Two Devils and a Bag of Popcorn

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a flurry of magic gathering, checking in on the members of the group and their “assignments,” mandatory justice rotations, peeks at the combat competition feeds, and check-in hours in Bellacia's room.

By the end of it, I was exhausted.

Constantine caught me as I was heading back to Bellacia’s room for the night. He opened the door to their room before I even got close to approaching. He closed it and fell into step with me as I made my way the remaining five doors down the hall.

“I have to go beard the dragon for the night. Talk tomorrow,” I said tiredly.

“Of course, darling.”

The smile on his face should have concerned me more. With each step, his anticipation seemed to increase.

At Bellacia's door, however, his anticipation turned to anger.

“What is this?” Constantine sliced his hand through a spell on the door. Sparks shot to both sides as it fizzled.

“Another message?” I asked, not all that interested.

The door had experienced far too many messages and jinxes—all targeted at me—for me to care what this one said. I unlocked the door and opened it. Bellacia stood in the middle of the room, weirdly waiting.

Constantine's gaze narrowed on me. “
Another
message? Why haven't you been implementing the standard room spells? I don't care how temporary the roommate assignment is.” He looked at Bellacia, gaze malicious. “You still get to implement protections.”

I'd never needed them before, so I didn't know the spells. And, “I was, and am, too tired to care,” I admitted.

“You can't let people put things like that on your space, Ren.”

It was rare that he called me by name. I wondered at his tone, and at what the message he had destroyed had said. There had been threats, thank you notes, slurs, and worshipful prose, along with a plethora of condolences to Bellacia for getting stuck with the devil's spawn. I might as well have posted an advertisement saying “Post your note about the
possible
Origin Mage in your midst right here!”

There had been some notes about Constantine too, since his stunt in the cafeteria. I wondered if that was it.

Olivia and I had barely had five notes pinned to our door in all the months I'd been at Excelsine. Mages had too many other ways to communicate, and so unless someone was overtly advertising a message—a declaration of love, celebratory news, death threats—then mages used other communication channels.

“It's fine,” I said. It was easier to ignore the notes than the stares, and far preferable.

“It's a sign of weakness, and says that you aren't adequately protected,” he said grimly. “That bitch knows this.”

“Oh my, no, I'd
never
,” Bellacia said, leaning one hip against the arm of a sofa. She looked smug and superior and so very
darkly
pleased. “Come, Ren, shut the door so the boy can return to his room. We have so many things to discuss before we sleep.”

What she really meant was—I have so many awful things to make you witness or to taunt you with tonight. Yay!

“No, what she means is that she loves to hear herself talk,” he said cuttingly, reading my mind.

Bellacia shot a vicious glance toward the room's threshold, as if waiting for him to try and cross it. Constantine hadn't yet, and I was starting to think that was because there was some terrible magic that Bellacia had placed there.

“What were you trying with that little stunt in the cafeteria, Connie?” She tutted, lifting her gaze back to meet his. “People are saying the
wildest
things.”

“Are they? I wouldn't know. It's your domain to care what people say. However, Ren seems distressed by your little rumor mill, and we can't have that.”

Eyes going wide, I motioned with my hand to him.
Not helping
.
Do
not
try and help.

Her smile grew. I had never seen it so dark. “Is that so? Axer was a surprise, I'll admit.
You,
I expected,” she said with a certain amount of relish, as if she was about to deliver a payback she had long planned.

“Did you?” Constantine's voice turned almost pleasant. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. “And did you expect this?”

He gently pushed me to the right of where I
had
been holding open the door and walked inside the suite, then flipped the door closed.

“Wha—how did—get
out,
” she hissed, jerking to stand straight. I could feel the temperature in the room drop, and the pressure from her Sirenic magic increase.

“No,” he said languidly, and sauntered further into the room, as if he owned it. I could see magic rippling over him, Bellacia's magic, pulled violently from the
walls
, trying to
eject
him. I could see the smirk he couldn't hide behind a studied nonchalance as he continued walking, unhindered.

Bellacia looked angrier than I had ever seen her. “
Get out of my room
.”

The scarab around my neck
burned
, and I hissed, pulling the cord away from my skin.

She blasted magic from her palms at Constantine, but it slipped over him, like oil slicking over water.

Both horror and fury combined on her face.