The Protection of Ren Crown Read online

  Mages in flowing garments—muses—started forming circles around the flagpoles that edged the grass center of Top Circle where all of us were standing. Will didn't look concerned by the action, but I was getting more freaked out.

  Sudden pain burst full blown in the back of my neck, and an immediate urge to get back to the dorm made me bend over, hands on my knees. It was an abrupt and overwhelming desire induced by magic, and forcefully urging me back down the mountain.

  “Ren?” Will whispered.

  “S'okay. M'fine,” I slurred. I straightened just enough to see Neph gliding toward us, past the cages and severe Department mages. She was sporting a soft, beautiful smile, but there was urgency underneath her calm facade.

  As soon as her arms enveloped me, most of the tension between my shoulder blades seeped out, but the urge to return to the dorm continued to press against my mind.

  “I need both of you to return to the dorms,” Neph whispered in my ear. “I can free you from the magic completely, but my influence will fade on Will the farther away he gets and he will try to return. You need to make him keep his forward progress.”

  “Okay,” I whispered back in quick agreement. Everything in me was screaming to return to the dorm. My feet were just unable to move me that way.

  I saw Helen Price join a few Department officials who were speaking together in front of the Administration Building, and quickly nodded against Neph's shoulder.

  Magic washed through me at every point that touched Neph. I took a startled breath as the enchantment keeping me on the grassy field cracked. Before I even realized we were in motion, Neph was lightly pushing fingers against my back, guiding us through a thin path that magically opened in the crowd. Neph's magical influence caused people to shift one step forward or back, clearing our way.

  The muses who were gathered around the flagpoles nearest to us glared at Neph. She steered us past them, down to the edge of Top Circle and one of the many staircases.

  “I can't go to the dorms yet, but you must return with Ren, Will.” Neph's soft voice was soothing, but again there was a sense of urgency beneath it.

  “We should stay,” Will said, hearts in his eyes. “We can watch you work.”

  I shifted, anxiety pulling again, and I circled Will's wrist with my fingers. “We should go back. Neph wants us to.”

  “But—”

  Neph's smile stretched, straining. “I need to drift the magic with the rest of the community. Most of the officials will be gone by dinner, if everything goes as planned. We'll meet then.”

  I paused my urge to retreat and examined Neph. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes. We are expected to form a working enclave around the Joining Rods—the flagpoles—in order to filter out fear and increase obedience, since nearly everyone is gathered together.”

  That was...very unnerving, but Will was nodding as if it was normal. “You don't need anything?”

  Neph smiled. “No. I'll explain what I am able to, later. Where's Olivia, Ren?”

  “In our room.”

  “Good.” Neph touched Will's wrist. “Will, you'll get Ren back to the dorms, right?”

  “Of course, Neph.” Will looked a little vacant, but he was nodding.

  “I know you will. Stay safe. I'll see you both soon.”

  She turned and headed to the nearest group of muses—who were still scowling at us.

  “She never lets me watch her group practices,” Will said forlornly.

  I nodded, then frowned at the chilly looks Neph received as she drew closer to the group. I pushed Will into motion. “I know. I always have to wait outside.”

  “That's because they would eat you alive. Neph can protect you everywhere except inside one of their warded group sp—”

  Bzzzz! Will's tracking device buzzed. I edged away from it automatically and increased our pace down the steps. Will touched his glasses, then pressed a finger beneath his ear, his expression showing surprise. “Mike is on campus and headed to our room, but his frequency is off. Strange.”

  The urge to check on my own roommate pressed forcefully.

  Will looked distracted, like he did when he was working on a particularly difficult problem. As we reached the Third Circle, he finally said, “There's something...wrong. I'm supposed to be on Top Circle, aren't I? Ugh.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Now I see the spell. I hate Administration Magic.”

  I did too. And I didn't like the feel of the wards holding me in—making me itch to unlock them.

  We hurried down steps, slopes, fields, and more steps to the Fifth Circle and Dorm Twenty-five as quickly as our feet would take us. I wasn't going to be able to walk for a week after this, but I didn't care.

  As we reached the currently empty mountain level known informally as Dormitory Circle, Will frowned. “The spell is getting weaker. Whatever they are doing is almost over.”

  “Good. I need to talk to Olivia,” I said, my feet moving faster. “You find Mike, then we'll meet at dinner later?”

  “Yes.” He frowned again. “Make sure you stay inside until then.”

  “Can do.” I nodded briskly. “You're okay?”

  He nodded. “Yes. The spell just ended. I'll check back with you after I talk to Mike.” He pivoted and began the trek to the Magiaduct entrance five down from ours.

  I entered the building and sprinted up the hauntingly empty stairwell to the second floor. As I opened the door to our room, relief swept me. Olivia was sitting at her desk.

  I closed the door, panting, and tried to move past my crushing relief.

  But the itch quickly overtook me again. There was something off in the room. Like too much freshly crushed peppermint in too small a space. All of my warding work had made me increasingly sensitive.

  And Olivia was sitting stiffly—too stiffly—at her desk.

  I touched the wall, connecting to the wards that were infused by our combined magic. The wards that were directly connected to her brightened—and showed the physical damage on her aura.

  It was as if blows had rained down on her magic. I instantly reached out to touch her skin, to soothe the welts that couldn't be seen without magic, but she shoved her chair back, removing herself from my reach. “Don't touch me.”

  I curled my fingers in. “Your magic—”

  “Is my concern.”

  Olivia looked as detached and cold as she had when I'd first moved in, with none of the ruthless humor and protectiveness she had started to display in the past month.

  Unease made my stomach clench. “That was your mom, right?”

  “Are you asking if I sold you out?”

  “What? No!” But I knew why she was saying it. Helen Price had promised the public on national feed last term that anyone displaying abnormal tendencies would be harshly dealt with. And she was the mother of my roommate, who knew every one of my dirty secrets. “No.”

  Olivia's gaze was cold. She said nothing.

  But her debate tactics worked in the reverse as well. “Don't be stupid,” I said, echoing her favorite saying. “If that had been your plan, you wouldn't have ordered me to leave.”

  “I could have sold you out afterward.” Her voice was very clinical.

  I took an automatic step toward her. “What did she do to you?”

  There was a struggle on her face for a brief moment, before the cold won out. “Nothing.” She turned and briskly rearranged her desk.

  I let my bag drop on my Guernica comforter for the second time that day. Looking at the Picasso image depicted on my bedspread, horror and guilt re-established themselves quickly in my thoughts. “A town called Cadmiat was—”

  “I'm well aware of the news. I'm not the one without a frequency.”

  I bit my lip. Maybe I'd wait to bombard her with everything I had discovered. “Campus is...weird. Neph said things would be better by dinner. She made us leave Top Circle before the muses did something with the flagpoles.”

  Olivia's shoulders tightened, but s
he didn't comment. Being back in our warded room, my magic started to relax and stretch out in relief, connecting to the magic around me. The damage to Olivia was apparent in the sluggish way the wards weren't recharging her. It was as if someone had put a knot in the one that promoted medical rejuvenation and health. I poked the ward, trying to figure out how to unblock it.

  Olivia jumped out of her chair and started throwing things into one of her favorite designer bags.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. I nearly dropped the magical probe in my alarm. “Where are you going? Don't go out there.”

  She didn't answer, and I pulled further along the thread of magic that was off, concentrating on it. Right there. A brown spot in the green. I sent a ribbon of turquoise down the thread.

  “Stop!”

  Startled, I did.

  She lifted her bag and started for the door.

  I scrambled and grabbed my bag, slinging it around my shoulder even though I really didn't want to go back outside.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Coming with you.”

  “No.”

  “I'm not letting you go out there on your own. There is something wrong with you, and weird, horrible things are happening.”

  “There's nothing wrong with me,” she hissed.

  I concentrated, using the knowledge I had gained through hard study and nightmares. “Okay, okay. But—” My words cut themselves off.

  Olivia's aura fully burst into view. The welts were angry, deep, and salted, as someone might do if they wanted to increase pain and slow healing. Fury boiled deep within me, overtaking all other emotion.

  “What did she do to you?” I tried to keep my voice even. I took an aggressive step toward the door. I knew exactly where to find Helen Price.

  Olivia threw herself in front of the door, blocking my way. “You aren't leaving.”

  With Olivia standing in front of the clear door wards, I could see the wound fully—the horrible bruising and jagged tears. It was similar to the damage sustained by Constantine during the attack in the First Layer.

  I rested my hand against the wall and set my magic free, anger sharpening everything. I could see the flow of magic filtering through the clear lines on the wall and into the air, connecting to the wards in the room. More importantly, to the blocked spring green one that promoted healing.

  Olivia shuddered, and I could see one of the welts looked slightly better, like the magic was healing. She took a hostile step toward me. “Leave it.”

  “Let me help. Or let me go after her.”

  “No.”

  I pulsed another clot of magic to the spring green ward.

  Her retaliation was fierce. The air in front of me exploded with color. My shields blocked most of it, so she slammed her hand against the wall and shot a sickly ochre along the same pathway to which I was still connected, splitting the spring green and shooting straight into my hand.

  I lurched back, then lunged toward the bathroom, dropping my bag and making it just before I threw up everything in my stomach.

  “A stomach virus?” I spit into the toilet again, saliva coming fast as my stomach roiled. “Really, Liv?”

  Instead of healing, she had done the exact opposite. She stood in the doorway and her expression was nearly unreadable—not because it was blank, but because there were too many emotions there. I focused on the part I could clearly relate to—the stricken part.

  My coolly controlled roommate was wild-eyed and horrified underneath her anger and pain.

  “They let roommates poison each other?” Shaking my head made me throw up again. “Seems like a really bad idea.”

  The upside was that all I could now concentrate on was how physically terrible I felt, putting the psychological effects of the previous few hours on temporary hiatus.

  “Don't you want to know what happened to all of the roommates before you? Don't you wonder what happened to them?” Olivia's voice was almost hysterical.

  “Yes.” I fumbled for an enhanced Kleenex from the rarely used box and wiped my mouth. If I attempted one of the magical functions on the toilet at present, I was going to give myself a swirly, at best—flush myself through to the processing plant, at worst. “But it doesn't matter in the end.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn't matter?” Her voice had gotten low and dangerous.

  Nausea rolled again. I put my forehead on my arm, willing the wave away. “I'm not going to leave you.”

  “I'll make you leave.”

  Based on her tone of voice, she was willing to give it a try. I wanted to ask why, but that was not a question to ask a cornered creature. There were a thousand things I could say in response, things that could get me anything from a second bout of stomach flu to missing limbs to a wholly uncertain outcome.

  I closed my eyes on another wave of sickness. “I'd rather stay. Here. With you.”

  “No, you wouldn't. No one does.”

  “Yes.” I held down the remaining contents of my stomach through force of will alone. Throwing up at this moment in the conversation would send the wrong message entirely. “I would.”

  “I'm not going to sacrifice myself for anyone!” Her voice was high and hysterical again. Alarmingly desperate.

  I didn't understand what she was referring to, specifically. But that wasn't important. I flushed the toilet and stared at the water as it swirled into the vortex that would head to the processing complex in the Midlands. It finally cleared to crystal again. “Good. I don't want that,” I whispered.

  The bathroom door slammed.

  Forty minutes later, I felt well enough to crawl across the floor and slowly pull myself up into bed. Olivia was nowhere to be seen. Her usually meticulous desk looked as if a tornado had touched down.

  Going after her was out of the equation now—if the building caught fire, about all I was going to be able to do was close my eyes and enjoy the heat.

  And if Olivia went straight to her mom, like she had expected me to assume she would, I was going to be dealt with sooner, rather than later. I was too sick to care, and my accessory-to-murder guilt said I would deserve it.

  I shakily sent Will and Neph notes on my “status,” saying I had caught a minor flu bug and was going to sleep. When Neph wrote that campus was stabilized and that she wanted to come heal me, I lied and said Olivia was taking care of me. I didn't want to deal with the fallout from admitting that Olivia had actually poisoned me instead.

  I shut my eyes and willed my stomach to still and the world to be different when I woke.

  No. I jerked, causing my stomach to roil again. I would make the world different. And I would take back my magic.

  Determination and hope, even grim hope: those traits had gotten me through the painful and horrific experiments I had done last term to revive Christian, and they'd serve me again.

  Olivia strode back into our room four hours later. She said nothing. Didn't look in my direction. Just readied for bed, placed two additional wards on the door, and turned off the lights.

  Loneliness and despair flashed through the room magic, connecting us for a moment, then there was nothing, as she shut me out.

  Olivia had opened up about many things during break, but her home life had not been one of them. Observing her in my own home had only shown me glimpses of what her life was not.

  After I was sure she was asleep, I put a lid on my nausea and redirected the room wards designed to refresh my core and heal me, toward Olivia instead.

  ~*~

  Unprotected and drained, as I fell to dreaming, Raphael's golden eyes and sly grin appeared.

  Chapter Eight: Feral Enhancements

  I woke violently the next afternoon, to harsh sunlight piercing the window above my bed.

  Olivia was at her desk and I felt along the thin thread that still clung to her. Her magic was at full strength, her wounds were pink and healing, and she was better emotionally. Less despair, more coolness. She was determined about something.


  I backed my protection and refreshing magics out of Olivia's streams and hooked them back into mine. A bit of vigor returned, enough to let me push myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

  A ghastly image of crazed reddish brown hair and dark circles stared back at me from the mirror. Bloodshot eyes mimicked jagged dream memories. I had tried—tried so hard—to fight Raphael. To find the stolen box and rip apart his dream facade.

  “You'll never find it searching that way, butterfly.”

  He'd parried my attacks easily—pinning me to the wall of the dream—amused.

  “Determined to block me? That won't do. You will force me to come in person to collect all you owe.”

  I owed him nothing else. He had collected his Second Level Magic in the lost haze of the world beyond my dream two nights ago. Yet, unease slithered down my spine like the serpent Raphael reflected. Deals with devils never truly ended.

  He had smiled—smiled—over my anger and questions about Cadmiat, and told me that power was a gift.

  I had summoned up enough fury to eject him finally. Finally. But clinging to the edges of the dreamscape, seconds before he had been blown through, he had gotten in one final taunt. “Choices, butterfly. What will you choose this time? Or rather...whom?”

  I splashed my face with water, rubbing my eyelids more aggressively than necessary. I had been too sick to leave last night, and had slept right through the morning. If madness still reigned outside, I was going to risk it for some fresh air.

  I was determined that today was the first day of the end of Raphael Verisetti's hold over me.

  I dressed manually, still not convinced that my clothes would stay put if I dressed magically. The last thing I wanted was to run around campus naked.

  “Good morning,” I finally said to my roommate.

  If being a “Carrera marble statue” was the most desired state of being, Olivia was in museum-quality shape. I felt like the sticky, gummed floor at the pedestal's base.

  “You added protection streams to my side of the room,” she said in her professional, clipped voice, without looking up.