College Arcane

A novel from the Demon Accords

By

John Conroe

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 John Conroe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The Demon Accords:

God Touched

Demon Driven

Brutal Asset

Duel Nature

Fallen Stars

Executable

Forced Ascent

College Arcane

Cover art by Ryan Bibby.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Carpet adhesive.  Carpet adhesive and pleather.  Those were the smells I would always associate with the first day of college.  Well, not college really, because that didn’t start till Monday and this was only Saturday.

Still, it was move-in day and the first day of being away from home and the first day of whatever this was.  X-Men academy or Hogwarts, or maybe just the school for the freaky and furry kids.

Caeco was sitting next to me, absolutely still, reclining in the plush pleather cinema seats of the classroom, re-reading the material we had received along with our ID cards and room keys.  Not sure why she bothered, as I’m certain she’d memorized the whole damn thing the first time she read it.  Having nano-sized computers in your bloodstream is useful that way.

The room was brand new, as were the dorms, the student lounges, and every other room and hall in the place.  The building itself wasn’t new, just completely redone and redesigned.  The shell was an old industrial building on Pine Street in Burlington, a remnant from the city’s youth.  There were numerous old factory and warehouse buildings along Pine, now converted to artists studios, architectural salvage and recycling stores and, of course, restaurants.  In Vermont, everyone is a foodie, and new restaurants pop up all the time.

The building stood a bit apart, surrounded by what might have once been storage yards but were now newly paved parking lots.  Beast, my trusty ‘72 Toyota Land Cruiser, was safely parked between the gleaming white lines of a secluded spot, well away from the other students’ cars.

It was so bizarre—just a few weeks ago, I’d been in high school, a place my friends, Rory and Jonah were still stuck in, and here I was about to begin college.

Despite the smell of adhesive, which was strongest in the carpeted tiers of seats, the room wasn’t classroom typical.  The brick walls and overhead steel beams had been left exposed and the floor of the room, at the teacher’s level, was concrete that had been polished to a gleaming shine.  The effect was much warmer, more of an artsy marketing firm vibe, like everything here was balanced to enhance the creative juices.  The halls and even our dorm rooms were similar.

Aunt Ashling, her partner Darci, Levi, and Caeco’s mom had all left after helping unload our stuff in the freezing January cold and then taking us to warm up for lunch downtown at the wood-fired pizza place. Since coming back, we had barely enough time to meet our respective roommates before all four of us headed to the largest of the three classrooms in the building, following the instructions of the staff.  It was time for a mandatory welcome meeting with the program director, Gina Velasquez. Caeco and I had met her once before.  She was just a weary, distraught mom then, excited and relieved beyond measure to get her daughter back.  But that’s a whole other story.

Caeco’s an on-time kind of girl, no doubt the result of her military programming, so that meant all four of us were almost the first into the meeting room.  With all seating options open, we had mutually decided on the middle of the three sections, third row from the top, with nobody above us.  From there, we watched the others file in.

It looked like about forty of us, in a room that would seat a hundred to a hundred and twenty with ease.

Caeco was on her third time through the brochures, policies, and other propaganda, so I occupied myself studying my classmates.

My new roommate, Mack, was sitting one row below me with his sister, Jetta, who was Caeco’s roommate.  They seemed really close, which made sense as Mack had told me they were orphans.  He was nineteen, a lean five-ten or so, with a surprisingly deep voice and messy brown hair.  His sister was two years younger, sporting bottle bright red hair and brown eyes.  Standing about five-six in leggings and a Lycra performance top, she looked athletic—and serious. Cute though.  My initial opinion was that she might be a good fit as Caeco’s roomate.  In fact, even her bracelets were those paracord survival things that you see being sold in outdoor stores and surplus catalogs. Her belongings were minimalist and she appeared to favor practical over flashy.  Much like her brother. Mack hadn’t brought much stuff, either.  All of their personal gear had fit in their older compact Chevy pickup truck.  But everything was clean, well cared for, and functional.

Caeco and I had each brought a dorm-style fridge and small microwave, gifts from Levi.  When I extended fridge rights to Mack, he had seemed both surprised and cautiously pleased.

Mack was a freshman like Caeco and me, but Jetta would be finishing out her high school degree here while taking college courses too.  I never heard of that before, but what the hell… anything to get out of high school.

Most of the kids in the room seemed to be just kids—human, that is. I know that because I scanned them with my Sight and their auras were the solid blue of normal humans.  They sat in pairs or quads, looking around at their peers with expressions of curiosity.  But a couple groups stood out to my Sight.

Sitting several rows below us was a small group of weres.  At least I was pretty certain they were weres. Chris Gordon had told me that weres had an aura of blue flecked with green, which matched theirs exactly.  Six males, spread out over twice that many seats, lounging.  Talking and joking among themselves, they were studying the other students, particularly the females.  One kid was a giant, maybe six-five or so and built like a wall.  He was the loudest, having draped himself over three seats, demanding that people notice him.  I already didn’t like him.  Much of his attention was centered on the four girls one section over, but that was understandable, as mine was too.

Attractive yes, but it was more the fact that they were all witches that had me studying them, their auras flecked with black.  A pair of tall, curvy identical blonde twins who had a Nordic look going on, a girl of obvious Native American ancestry, and another dark-haired girl I hadn’t been able to get a good look at all sat in one row.

Above them sat a very pretty Asian girl and a small brunette who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school yet.  Those two had normal auras.

Sitting even further above them was another young brunette, but this one had a white aura.  The only aura I had seen like it before belonged to Tanya Demidova and her two vampire teammates, so I was pretty certain this girl was a vampire.  She was strangely isolated; the three seats next to her and the row above and below her were all empty.  Maybe some deep-seated instinct warned the other kids not to get too close to a dangerous predator.  She suddenly swiveled around and locked eyes with me.  I jerked my gaze down toward Caeco’s reading material as if I, too, found it fascinating.  Smooth, O’Carroll, smooth.

“Stop creeping on the other kids, Declan,” Caeco said in a quiet voice, not looking up.  “Especially the vampires and werewolves.”

Below us, a brown-haired boy in the wolf pack snapped his head around to look up at us and I could just about feel the vampire still watching.  The boy started to turn back around, but noticed Mack and Jetta giving them a shy wave before facing forward.

“You know they probably have hearing as good as yours,” I said in a whisper.

“Maybe,” she allowed, finally looking up at me and smiling.

Five adults filed into the room, led by a pretty woman with very dark hair and deep brown eyes.  She was in her thirties and wore a genuine smile and a blue aura.  She looked much different than the scared mom I had met several months before.  Her name was Gina and she was the director of this school for monsters and maniacs.

One of the two men following her had the green and blue aura of a were, giving possible explanation to the deep scar that trailed from his lower right jawline, down his neck, and under his blue golf shirt. He was muscular and fit, also looking to be thirty or so, with a decidedly military air about him.

The woman behind him was a witch, and possibly forty years old.  She was tan, with dark hair and dark eyes.

The other male was even tanner than the witch, with flashing white teeth and a bald head.  Maybe fifty to fifty-five.  The last person was a woman, the oldest yet, with unabashedly grey hair, but thin and healthy looking.

All four sat in in the very front row of the room facing Gina.

“Good evening everyone and welcome.  I’m Gina Velsaquiz, the Director of this little experiment, and I sincerely hope you are feeling at least a little excited about our futures together.

“For most of you, this is your first time away from home and that’s an unsettling thing, so please, please let us know if there is anything we can do to help you acclimate.”

She smiled through the whole thing, looking honestly happy to be there.  Her right hand tapped the big white board next to her and words appeared, stacked vertically.

Anomalous

Recondite

Combatives

Academy

Noble

Echelon

“Oracle, one of the two sponsors of this program, is inordinately fond of acronyms. So we have this little beauty.”

She tapped the board again and the first letters of each word self-highlighted, the rest of the words dissolving away and the letters swirling about to form ARCANE.

“Welcome to College Arcane, an educational experiment funded jointly by the Occult Research Alternative Combat League, also known as ORACLE, and the Demidova Corporation.  Our purpose is to provide you, the children of the supernatural world, with a unique blend of college education and training specific to your own unique natures.

“Some of you were born into families with long histories of exposure to the paranormal.  Some were born to normal families that had no idea how to handle your special gifts.  And some were just exposed, early and often, to the darker side of life.  Whichever path you come from, the hidden world has left its stamp on you, perhaps making it harder to fit into normal society, to find your place.  That’s our mission: to help you fit into this world.

“We’re also going to develop your skills, help you achieve the most you can get from your gifts while learning to control them.  So although I’m sure you’ve all read your welcome packets as well as the information we mailed to you last month, let me layout the structure of our program.

“You will all pursue the educational direction of your choice, attending either the University of Vermont or Champlain College or, in some cases, both.  Most of you are starting as freshmen in the spring semester.  Several of you are technically still in high school, but you will be finishing your traditional education here, taking college courses and receiving a diploma from your hometown school while advancing toward a college degree.

“I won’t lie.  College is hard work and to make matters a bit more difficult, you will also be taking a few classes here.  Three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, all of you will be taking Supernatural Survival, taught by Mr. Jenks.”

The tough-looking werewolf stood up and waved at the group before sitting back down.

“This class will be taught in the morning, before your regular classes begin up the hill on the campuses.  Specifically, six a.m.  You will meet in our gym facility.”

There was a collective groan, although we all should have known this from the packets.

“Your survival class is a combination of personal self-defense, situational awareness training, modern survival skills, and a honing of any particular personal abilities that you have.

“Additionally, following the same Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule, you will each have an evening class that has already been selected for you.  The majority of you will take Explorations of Power with Miss Berg.”  The tan witch stood up and smiled, giving a little wave and even nodding toward the four witch girls.

“Those of you with more volatile natures,” she said, smiling at the weres below us, as well as at a boy and girl sitting to our left who looked like a brother and sister. “—will be taking Control, also taught by Mr. Jenks.

“Control will teach those of you with physical gifts not only how to manage your tempers, but to better use your strength and speed. If you Shift, it will teach you to gain the third form, the midway mode.”

The were boys looked excited at that, but the brother and sister combo seemed unimpressed.

“Explorations is a carefully constructed curriculum designed to help you build control and skill with your gifts of the mind while exposing you to other facets of the supernatural world.  Some of you have gifts that we term psychic for lack of a better classification, with maybe one or two specific abilities.  We will hone those.  Some are more broadly endowed with abilities.  Witches, as it were. We will explore the spectrum of your Craft and share various approaches.”

She looked at the four teenaged witches as she said this.  One of the blondes smiled broadly and tossed her hair.  Her twin blinked like she’d been daydreaming and the native girl looked… blank.  The one on the far end leaned forward and I finally got a good look at her.

Black hair, light-colored eyes that I knew for a fact were green.  Ryanne, one of the Sisters Eeire.  An unsettled feeling of anxiety flooded me, mixed with a thrill of excitement.  I tried to squash the thrill part but damn, she was pretty. Immediately, I felt guilty, looking away from her.  I had thought about her occasionally over the last several months, but I honestly never expected her to be here.  She had told me she would be attending this program, but what did that mean for me?  Ryanne and her three sister witches knew I wasn’t just a regular warlock with weak powers, not since I had squared off with them in a back alley not far from where I was now sitting. But I wasn’t ready for everyone to know just how different I was. College was supposed to be a chance to start over, wasn’t it?

“A few of you fall outside either of these categories and so you will audit both classes to broaden your understanding of the other world you’ve found yourselves a part of.

“Tuesday and Thursday evenings, the entire group of you will spend some time with me.  We’ll be discussing the recent events in Washington and across the planet and what it means for each of you.  The supernatural races have been exposed, permanently, to the normal world.  Demons have gotten the greatest exposure, but weres and vampires are out as well.  Witches and psychics won’t be far behind.  How will governments and societies respond?  How should you conduct yourselves?  Who do you tell, and when do you hide your abilities?  We will analyze all of these topics and more, using both oral and written techniques.”

There was a smaller collective groan at that.

“In just a bit, we’ll adjourn to the dining room for dinner.  I think you’ll be pleased at the quality, variety, and quantity of food that we have here for you.  I’m quite confident it exceeds anything that any of the colleges provide.  The dining area is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with snacks available at any hour for those with accelerated metabolisms.  Your ID cards also work at either college in any of their eateries for those times when you are stuck on campus between classes.

“Speaking of classes, in the next few days, please introduce yourselves to Malcolm Tessitori, our in-house counselor and liaison to the colleges.  He is the one who will help guide your college careers and facilitate your schedules and classes. “

The bald guy stood up and waved.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, the day before classes start.  You can spend it as you wish, but I would suggest finding your classrooms on campus and picking up your books.  They are all bought and paid for, but you will need to visit the college bookstore and show your ID to get them.

“Next to last, let me introduce our on-site medical specialist, Dr. Rosewell.  She is a gifted general practitioner with years of experience at Oracle.  Please, please see her if any of you experience any change in health.

“Finally, I’m going to turn the floor over to one of our sponsors for a few words on behavior.”

Beside me, Caeco suddenly stiffened, as if startled, then almost instantly relaxed.  Her reaction and my instant awareness of it were the only reasons I didn’t crap my pants when an iron hand clutched my shoulder.  Almost as fast as Caeco, I knew who it was, maybe by the aura of power or the steely feel of the hand.  The real issue was that I was dead certain that absolutely no one had been behind us when we sat down.

“That’s my cue.  Sorry for the scare, but I wanted to get a covert look at the group. Kind of hard to do these days. I’ll chat with you two after,” said a soft voice, one I recognized immediately.  That’s when the most famous man on the planet stood up from the empty seat behind us and started down the stairs to the floor below.

Chapter 2

Chris Gordon stepped lightly down the rows, reaching the bottom before the rest of the kids fully understood who was among them.  Wearing jeans, running shoes, and a loose-fitting green long-sleeve t-shirt, he nonetheless commanded attention.

He hugged Gina, then turned and looked at the audience, who were either stunned or excited or both.  He seemed edgy, not nervous or anxious, but there was something there, an undercurrent.  He smiled as he looked around the room.

“Hi, I’m Chris Gordon and I represent one half of the partnership that is responsible for this opportunity,” he said, as if no one in the room had seen a television screen, newspaper, or magazine cover in the last few months.  “I’ll go ahead and apologize upfront.  I believe I’ve met many of you before but I’ve had a little accident. It seems that my brain met a bullet a while ago and I haven’t gotten all my memories back yet.  They’re coming slowly, but please don’t be offended if I don’t remember you.

“With that out of the way, let me welcome you to college or, as Oracle likes to call it, College Arcane.”

A hand shot up and Chris looked at its owner, a brown-haired girl with glasses and a super excited look on her face.

“Ah, yea?” he asked.

“What do the words mean?  The ones that make up ARCANE?” she asked.

“Good question. I had to ask to find out for myself.  Oracle loves this acronym shit… hmm, excuse my language... oh what the hell, you’re all in college now, right?”  The kids all laughed.

“Anyway, anomalous means rare or aberrant. Recondite has several meanings: hidden from sight, not well understood, obscure.  Combatives… well, to be frank, we’re hoping to teach you how to protect yourselves and others.  Lastly, Oracle ranks talents and abilities among the trained and untrained.  The highest untrained ranking is Noble echelon—sort of a guess at your potential.  There, clear as mud, right?”

“What are the trained rankings?” the same girl asked.

“Gina?” Chris turned.

“Paladin, Knight, and Champion echelons.  We will go over this as we progress throughout the year,” she said.

“So there you have it… you’re in an academy.  For what?  To learn to survive and thrive as representatives of the supernatural realm.  Why would we do this?  That part is simple.  At the end of your education, you will be prime candidates for recruitment by Oracle as operatives, should you chose that route, or recruitment by the Demidova Corp.  Personally I’m more than a bit biased for the corporate path.  But if you prefer the government path, you have Oracle.  You are also completely free to pick neither of those choices, but to forge your own path.”

“Would you recommend Oracle even after what they did to you?” Jetta blurted out, loud enough for everyone to hear.  The room froze, all noise stopping instantly. I’m not sure anyone was even breathing as the room waited for his response.

Chris stood still for a second, his jaw muscle jumping a bit.  Then he turned to look at his questioner and I swear to God his purple eyes flashed lighter for a second.  Ah, now I understood the undercurrent… he was pissed… deeply, thoroughly pissed and I was pretty sure I could guess the direction of his anger.

“You’re Jetta?” he asked.  She nodded.  I couldn’t see her face but her shoulders and neck betrayed her sudden tension.

“Well, I not sure that I’m the one to give Oracle a rousing endorsement, but if you’re determined to go government, there are much worse choices.  See, Oracle answers to the President and at the end of the day, they were just following orders.  And while I will not be telling you exactly what happened, I will tell you that it will never happen again,” he said. The teachers in the front row were frozen and the Oracle agents near the doors had turned to stone.

“But there are good people in that organization, some of whom I owe big time,” he said, turning and looking at the witch girls.  Or rather at the pair sitting above the witch girls.  The young-looking brunette blushed and squirmed just a little bit.  I studied her for a moment before looking back at Chris, only to meet his eyes straight on.  He gave me the tiniest of nods before continuing. Bewildered, I nonetheless was aware that several people in the audience might have caught that little exchange.

“Your teachers come from Oracle as well and represent a tremendous amount of experience,” he said with a smile, his eyes still hard. “Experience that you all need.”

The anger was still there, just buried, simmering. “So, to sum it up, you may get a job offer from our company or the government or both or neither.  Our real goal is to see that you all have the skills to stay alive and prosper.  Our world, the one that till recently has been confined to the shadows, is a very dangerous place.  Exposure has not changed that, but it has changed some of the dangers.  We want you to be prepared and we want you to find your way.  Now, you all are under an obligation to follow the rules of conduct here.  You all have power to some degree or another. Some small, others great.  And with great power comes…  Anyone?”

“Great responsibility,” about six different kids all said more or less simultaneously.

“Nope, that’s Stan Lee.  The word I was going for was temptation.  Temptation to use your advantages against those without advantages.  Now, this isn’t like using a talent for singing to win a contest or allowing a naturally high IQ to achieve the highest grades.  I’m talking about using your strength or telekinetic power or telepathy or ability to shift into a veritable killing machine to intimidate or bully your peers.

“Don’t.  Period.  When we find you doing it, we’ll send you home, no second chance, no matter who you are.

“There’s also a second reason. Not to steal Mr. Jenks’s thunder, but let me kick off your survival lessons with one of my own observations.  The supernatural world is a violent and dangerous place.  It is also a murky, mysterious place where things aren’t always what you think. Assuming you are superior to someone else and using your abilities against one of your peers might result in them kicking your ass.  It’s one thing to be physically imposing like… what’s your name?” Chris asked the giant werewolf boy.

“Delwood,” he said, tying to be cool about it but just looking smug.

“Right. So Delwood is an imposing guy.  What you might not know is that he is also a werewolf.  That makes him strong and tough with a second form about the size of a black bear.  You might be thinking he is the most dangerous student among you.  But you would be very, very wrong.  There are at least a couple students here who are vastly more dangerous… and you probably won’t be able to point them out for a least a few weeks, if even then.  There are also those among you who have yet to fully develop their abilities.  So no bullying, no use of magic against each other unless supervised, and no violence.”

Delwood the werewolf looked seriously displeased. In fact, he started looking around the room like he was going to find whomever Chris was talking about and take back the title of most dangerous right then and there.

“Sorry, Delwood. I didn’t mean to pick on you.  But my warning is valid. Let’s say one of the twins over there,” Chris said, waving at the blonde Viking witches, “—got ahold of a strand of your hair.  She could cast a spell on it and pretty much make you her bitch.  Not that she would, I’m just making a point. As time goes on, you will all learn more about your classmates.  I guarantee you will be surprised.”

I glanced at the twins and the one I had begun to think of as a bit stuck up was blushing furiously and looking embarrassed and her sister first went wide-eyed, then glanced at her sibling with an I told you so look.

“So I might suggest you work with each other and not against one another.  Look at it this way.  As Gina said, the supernatural cat is out of the bag. Which is my fault, by the way. The world knows you exist. And people, no matter what race or species they are, tend to be intolerant at the best of times.  You’ll do better together rather than separately.  The connections you make here might just change your life… or save it.

“That’s it.  So now we can eat.  Right Gina?” he asked.  She nodded and flashed a quick smile, but her eyes studied him even as she was standing up. Before she could speak, Chris turned back to us.

“One last thing.  Your welcome packet has a contact number in it for the Demidova Corp.  If you need me, really need me, call that number, give your name, and ask for me.  You will be patched through to myself, Tanya, or one of our team.  But that’s for serious problems and emergencies because Gina and her staff more than have things under control.”

“I think we can manage,” Gina said dryly but still smiling.  “All right, if you will all file in an orderly fashion out this side door and down the hall to the first left.  Dinner tonight is a buffet style and I think there is something for everyone.”

The other teachers stood and moved to the bottom of the steps, covering all the sections and herding the students toward the doors that Gina and Chris had already walked through.

Mack and Jetta stood up, shared a glance, then both looked our way.  “So, he was sitting behind us for how long?” Mack asked.  There was no question who he was speaking about.

“Not sure, maybe the whole time.  He has lots of… skills,” I said.

“You know him, don’t you?” Jetta asked.

“Yes, and it appears so do you,” Caeco replied.

“True.  He intervened and saved our lives just before he got shot.  But that’s a long story,” Mack said, following his sister toward the stairway.  “How about you?”

I looked at Caeco and read agreement in her eyes.  “You know that whole thing with the missile silo in New Hampshire?”  I asked.  They both nodded.  “We were there.  With his goddaughter.  But it’s a bit of a story too,” I said.

“Wow, understatement much?  Maybe later we can trade stories,” Jetta offered.  I nodded, then looked toward the end of the row where our stairway was.  The vampire girl was still sitting and making no bones about staring at us curiously.  I gave her a nod, but she just tilted her head slightly, then looked down at her phone and started texting or something.  Odd or snobby or maybe just normal by vampire standards.  I was mildly curious, but my brief interactions with the vampires of Tanya’s group had taught me serious respect for the species’ abilities.  Keeping our distance would be a really, really good idea.

She was still sitting there when we filed out the door and into the hall.  Sitting and texting.  Wasn’t she coming to dinner?  Oh wait, if she did, then who would be her dinner?

Chapter 3

The dining room shared the brick-wall-and-open-overhead-décor style of the classroom, but the concrete floor was colored to look like granite.  That made it seem a bit dressier, as did the various pieces of art hung on the walls.  The air smelled of delicious foods and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Eight round tables were spaced about the room, draped with white tablecloths and each set for eight places.  Three long buffet tables were set with stainless steel chafing dishes lined up, each with a card identifying its contents.  At the end of two of the tables were carving stations; one chef cutting roast beef, the other slicing a turkey and a ham.  Chris was already at the roast beef station, two overloaded plates in his hands, chatting with the chef.  There were a few other smaller tables with other things on the sides of the dining room.

We were among the last to arrive but there was obviously lots of food.  One buffet table was nothing but salad and cooked vegetables.  Jetta headed to the line of girls already there, while Mack, Caeco, and I gravitated to the table with the turkey and ham.

Gina had been right.  There was something for everyone. There was even a taco table set up with all the fixings and another table of nothing but desserts. I loaded a plate with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn before accepting a big slice each of turkey and ham.  Caeco had already secured a table and I headed her way.

A few moments later, Mack showed up, followed by his sister, who had a really serious salad mounded onto her plate.  We still had four places open but nobody else sat down.  That is until Chris came over, leading the two girls who’d been sitting behind the witches.

“Declan, Caeco, meet Ariel and her roommate, Ashley.  And this is Jetta and her brother, Mack,” he said, smiling.

My radar was up.  First the look and the nod in the classroom and now a direct introduction.  He had an agenda.

“Ariel is precognitive and Ashley has a very special form of telepathy.  Mack and Jetta are extremely capable hunters.  And Declan and Caeco are the reason my goddaughter is still alive.  The six of you should get to know one another,”

he said, giving me a clap on the back.  “And Declan, can I see you after dinner?  There’s a certain something I’d like you to take a look at for me,” he said.

“Ah, sure Chris.  Where will I find you?” I asked, already having a pretty good idea what he wanted me to look at.

“Gina’s apartment is at the other end of this floor.  Just knock on the door marked Director.”

He smiled and nodded at everyone, then proceeded back to the teachers’ table, veering past the taco station and grabbing a pair of tacos.

Almost everyone in the room had seen that little exchange, most of them staring at us curiously.  At the witch table, one of the Viking girls looked like she smelled something foul while her sister seemed puzzled.  Ryanne was staring as well, but when my eyes found hers, she just smiled and winked, then went back to eating.  Beside her, the fourth witch looked our way for a moment, mildly curious maybe, before going back to her own food.

At our table, we all looked awkwardly at each other. Ashley, who was really quite pretty, pointed her fork at Caeco and me.

“You two saved his goddaughter?  For real?” she asked, incredulous.

“We were in the missile silo with her.  The people who held her were using her as bait to bring Chris in.  It worked a little too well for them,” I said.

“Why were you there?” Jetta asked.

“We were going to be experiments,” I said.

“But what are you?  You’re not weres,” she said with certainty.

“How do you know?” Caeco asked.

“Cause I know weres.  You aren’t them,” she said.

“Well, I’m a witch—or warlock, if you prefer,” I said, letting Caeco choose her own answer.

“And I was already one of their experiments,” she answered.  Her tone was even, but knowing her, I could sense the bitterness that the others couldn’t.

“Caeco’s unique.  You’ll see as time goes one,” I said after glancing at her.

“Warlocks are pretty rare, right?” Ariel asked, her voice very soft.  I got the impression she wasn’t the outgoing type.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I answered.

“Ya know, we might want to have this conversation away from so many ears, especially the canine ones,” Mack said, glancing at the table of weres.  The brother and sister were pair had joined the other six weres, and the sister was watching our table.  Watching and sniffing.  Weird.

The topic switched to where we were all from.  Ashley was from upstate New York originally, although she said she’d been away for a bit, not really saying where away was.

Mack and Jetta were from Tennessee, and Ariel was from Oregon.  Caeco said she was from New Mexico, which resulted in an instant question from Ashley about stores in Albuquerque.

“I never got to that city very much,” my deadly friend deflected, then headed back into the buffet for seconds.

“Damn, she’s got an appetite,” Jetta noted.

“Yeah, her metabolism is pretty jacked,” I said, then headed to the dessert table myself.

The next safe topic was college majors.  Mine was an easy choice for me… computer science.  Caeco was unsure but thought she might settle for biology.  Ashley wanted to study folklore and history.  When Mack asked her about the employment odds for that major, she just said that employment wasn’t ever going to be an issue.  Jetta and Ariel were both still in high school, so they didn’t need to worry about majors for another year, even though their classes would be at the University.  Mack wanted to study business.  Apparently, his family had owned its own horse ranch before their parents died.  He said he always liked helping his dad and maybe he’d own his own business some day.

“So you guys are hunters?” Ashley asked.

Jetta and Mack exchanged a glance before Jetta spoke.  “Why don’t we head back to our rooms? We could hang out in one and get to know each other.  This seems kind of too public,” she said.

“We could use our room,” Ashley suggested, Ariel nodding agreement.

“Okay, let’s go,” Mack said.

“I’ll catch up.  I gotta see what Chris needs,” I said.

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll be interested to hear about that ourselves,” Ashley said, grabbing her plate, utensils, and glass and heading to the dish dropoff.  The others followed her, but as Caeco started to grab her own dishes, I touched her hand.

“”You’re coming with me, right?” I asked.

“Chris didn’t invite me,” she said.

“Ah, but it was implied,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head.

“But, see, I do and I’ve still got more experience with this whole social scene stuff than you.”

“But I’m a much faster learner and a better observer,” she said with a smirk.

I opened my mouth for a witty retort, but I had nothing.  After a second, I just nodded.

“Yeah, true, but you’re gonna have to trust me.  We’re kinda of a package deal, and he knows it.  After all, he and Tanya are, too.”

She shrugged and nodded, so I grabbed my dishware and we headed to the dropoff.

We had covered about half the distance when Caeco suddenly reached over and gave me a casual shove on the shoulder.  Friendly like, but with more power than a joking shove would have.  I should have stumbled sideways or even fallen, but I sorta sidestepped, almost like I had anticipated it.  Which I kind of had, although she hadn’t said anything or made any other gestures.

Anyway, she shoved, I stepped, and a big body blundered through the sudden space between us.  Delwood.  He would have run right into me and, seeing how he had about eighty pounds on me, the results would have been, at best, embarrassing and, at the worst, painful.

Instead, he sorta stumbled a half-step before his werewolf coordination kicked in and he smoothed out.

“You all right there?” Caeco asked, pretending to be concerned.

“Yeah,” he said, a flicker of surprise sliding away. “Didn’t see you there,” he went on, now smirking, still moving forward with his own dishes in hand.  A big blob of red jello with whipped cream was untouched and uppermost on his plate.  I glanced down at my own tannish t-shirt and realized I would have been wearing that blob about the middle of my back.

We followed him to the dropoff, which had a conveyor belt to take dishes away, Caeco deliberately moving a pace closer to him.  From the sudden tension that formed across his massive back, I surmised he was feeling vulnerable.

When he turned after dropping his dishes on the belt, Caeco was holding her own plate in one hand and her steak knife in her right.  His eyes flickered down to the gleaming stainless steel blade and then back up to us.  We were both smiling, but hers looked fierce and mine didn’t feel all that friendly.  He frowned then strode away, back to his table, which was right next to the witch girl table.  Both tables were watching us and I noticed several additions to the witch table, a couple of brunette girls, auras flecked with black.  Ryanne looked concerned, but the rest just looked like they were watching bugs or something.

“Come on,” I said, quietly.  Caeco nodded once, glancing back like she was committing faces to memory. Which was silly because she would have done that at first sight.

“This whole social order thing happens kind of fast huh?” she asked as we walked out the door.

“It started happening as soon as we and the others entered the building.  Now it looks like the lines are being drawn. I don’t think Chris’s attention helped us in any way.”

“Ya think?”

Chapter 4

The door marked Director was easy to find.  As we approached it, it opened and a tall, thin platinum blonde stepped out, spotting us instantly but turning back to the open doorway.  Her skin was dark and her hair almost white.

“You have my word that she will be safe.  We’ve already taken steps,” Gina said to the mystery woman.  They were a study in contrasts.  Gina with her dark hair and curvy physique, the other woman hard and lean, with hair so light it was basically white, wearing all black and sporting some really fancy forearm bracelets that were shaped kind of reptilian.

Caeco has that same look or almost that same look, I thought, even though they were different sizes and shapes.  Tall and lean versus compact and muscular, but both tough and ready for a fight.

Gina looked our way and smiled, pushing the door opened wider.  The blonde glanced our way once more before turning and slipping away down the hall.  That’s how it looked.  Like she just sorta slipped away.  Silent and graceful.  A couple of steps and then she turned the corner, disappearing from view.  I was left wondering how anyone could have eyes that big and that sharply slanted and such a weird shade of light, light gray.  They reminded me of something—something that I couldn’t quite remember.

“Caeco, Declan.  Come in, come in,” she said, hugging first Caeco and then myself.

Behind her, the apartment opened up: more brick walls, barnwood floors, lots of green plants.  And a giant wolf, with a little girl necklace.  Toni Velasquez disentangled herself from the massive wolf that was now famous across the globe and studied us for a moment.

“Hey Toni, heard any good Chuck Norris jokes lately?” I asked.

She thought about it while Gina closed the door behind us.

“People call 911, 911 calls Chuck Norris,” she finally said.

“Not bad, not bad.  Did you know Chuck Norris uses Tabasco as eyedrops?”

She snorted, then came running over to give me hug.  Caeco got the next one, while the wolf watched us with unblinking eyes.  Chris came around the corner, Toni’s father, Roy, just behind him.

Gina led us into the living room, making a hand gesture at the big black leather sofa.  Roy shook my hand and Caeco’s as we sat down.  Toni squirmed in between us while the grownups all found seats.

“So… what’s up?” I asked.

“A couple of things, Declan.  A couple of favors to ask, if I can?” Chris asked.

I nodded and he went on.  “I’d like you to look at the necklace, see if it’s okay, running properly or whatever it is that it does.  That sort of thing.  I also wanted you two to keep an eye on some folks for us.”

“Ariel and Ashley?” I guessed.

“Yeah.  Ariel is the reason that my team and I aren’t locked away in a cell under the Pentagon.”

“She took that picture, didn’t she? The one of you in chains.” It was Caeco’s turn to guess.

“Yes, yes she did.  And gave it to the media.”

“She seems pretty shy,” I noted.

“She is.  She’s also a pretty gifted precog, but her gifts won’t help against any of the more predatory kids.  Its one of the things we’re worried about.  Normal schools develop a pecking order.  In a school where a good portion of the kids are deadly, well, let’s just say we don’t want any blood shed.”

“What about the other girl… Ashley?” Caeco asked.

“Ashley has a unique form of telepathy that doesn’t work on humans,” Gina said.  “Not all of the portals lead to Hell.  Some lead to other worlds.  On one of those worlds, Ashley’s abilities allow communication between the two dominant species.  Without her, they are one mistake away from war.  With her, they can trade and coexist.  If it were up to them, she would be wrapped in bubbles and guarded at all times.  But her father was able to negotiate a deal, one that allows her to come home to Earth on occasion and, in this case, study among her own kind.”

“But they’re worried about her safety here at the witch and werewolf boarding school,” I guessed.

“Exactly.  All of our staff and all of the Oracle agents on site are watching out for her, but Chris thought you two might be able to help a bit.”

Chris snorted at her words.  “Gina, these two are already more capable than most of Oracle, and they’re only going to get more skilled.”

“I’m not downplaying their abilities, Chris, I’m just telling them it isn’t their job.  They have enough on their plates,” she said to him before turning back our way. “We just want you to be aware so you can keep an eye out.  That’s all.”

“Okay, no prob. They seem nice.  Now let’s take a look at this necklace,” I said, turning to Toni, who was wedged between Caeco and me.  I reached over and gently lifted the silver chain with the big black teardrop from around her neck.  Chris, Gina, and Roy all sucked in quick breaths.

“What?” I asked, startled.

“It’s just that no one but Chris has been able to take the necklace off her.  It… resists.”

I studied it with my Sight for a second.  My vision twisted so hard, I almost puked up my dinner.  “Well, I did have a part in making it.  Aunt Ash used my energy for her spell, so maybe it recognizes me.”

“Is that possible?” Roy asked.

“Magical objects can develop a kind of personality.  Depends on the power and the sophistication of the spells that created it.  With this thing, who knows?”

“What do you mean?” Gina asked.

“It was created from what I understand is an actual tear of God, infused with a portion of the aura of an… an…” I sputtered out and Caeco filled in.

“Angel,” she said.

“Yeah, and the spell that created it came from an ancient grimoire that definitely has a personality and awareness,” I said, again opening my Sight and trying to look it over.  It was like trying to read a spinning book through a blurry looking glass.

“Has it done its job at all?” I asked.

“Four times, with tremendous effectiveness,” Chris said.

“Lethal effectiveness?” I asked, trying for casual.

“Twice, and twice with less than lethal responses,” he said.

“Really?  Well that’s a good sign.  Can I see your necklace too, Chris?”

He pulled it off, over his head, and handed it to me.  Toni’s necklace was in my left and his in my right.

They looked identical, yet Toni’s twisted my vision much harder than Chris’s and it seemed to weigh more, as well.  They were both easily the most powerful artifacts I’d ever handled.

I tried my Sight again and was able to hold the view a bit longer before I had to look away.

“It’s humming away.  Actually, they both are, but Toni’s feels different.”

“The purple man comes out of it,” Toni said from her nest between Caeco and me.

“The purple man?” I asked her.

“Yeah, he looks like a purple Mr. Chris and he protects me.  Pushed the agent men right out the door, then he sliced all their stuff in half.”

“Really?  Government agent men?” I asked, lifting my eyes to Gina and Roy for confirmation.

“Secret Service.  Said they had orders to place her in protective custody.  Damnedest thing I ever saw. They just got pressed right out the door, fell down the front steps, and piled up in the street.  They came back a few minutes later in force, only the necklace chopped all their gear—guns, radios, vests, battering rams, even their SWAT truck—right in half,” Roy said.

“Selective response to a threat.  I don’t know you all that well, Chris, but that sounds a little like something you might do,” I said.

He nodded.  “If I could figure out how to do it.  It’s within the realm of my abilities, but I’d have to experiment quite a bit to do all that in one aura blast,” he said.

“So not only does it copy your style, it does it in a very sophisticated manner,” I mused.  “I don’t see anything wrong with it.  It weighs a bit more than your necklace, Chris, but that’s not surprising, as it’s imbued with a portion of your aura and a good deal of power that Aunt Ash put into it.  I think it’s okay.”  Then I handed Chris’s back to him and carefully draped the other over Toni’s neck.

The three adults looked at me, then each other, before they all cautiously relaxed.

“Okay, great,” Chris said, standing up.  The rest of us followed suit, leaving Toni on the couch with a slight frown.

“Thank you for checking it out, Declan,” Gina said, looking relieved.  Roy nodded and shook my hand again.

“No problem.  In fact, since I’ll be living just upstairs, I’ll take a glance at it from time to time and make sure it’s up to specs,” I volunteered.

“That would be great,” Chris said.  Gina nodded before glancing at the clock on the cable box by the television.

“Oh, it’s bedtime for one of us,” she said, looking at Toni.

“Only if ‘Sos comes with me,” the girl in question said, crossing her arms.

At the sound of his name, the big wolf came up off the ground and shoved between Caeco and me to snuffle her into a giggling fit.

“That’s fine, dear.  Why don’t you say goodnight to Declan and Caeco and Mr. Chris,” Gina said.

We accepted hugs and cheek kisses, then Chris plucked her off the ground and put her on Awasos’s back and she rode the beast down the hall, presumably toward her bedroom.

Roy thanked us both, then followed his steed-riding daughter out of the room.

“Thank you, and I want you both to promise to come to me with any problems or concerns as this whole academy thing unfolds, okay?” Gina asked.  We agreed and after another round of hugs, she went to oversee the bedtime preparations.

Chris waited till she was out of the room and down the hall before turning back to us.

“Listen, a couple of other things,” he said.  “First, I meant what I said about you kids not being obligated to come work with Tanya and me or the feds.  But I’ll tell you right now, you two already have a standing offer from us for almost any kind of job you could want.  I’m really, really serious about that.  We could use you both on the team.  And even if you don’t want to sign up, I already have a paying mini-job for you.  It’s a small assignment that you can do while going to school.”

I looked at Caeco, then back to him.  “Chris, you’re already paying our way through college.  What do you need?  We’ll handle it.”

He looked at us both a little intensely, then nodded.  Turning to a travel bag on the floor, he pulled out a silvery-looking collar-like thing.

“This isn’t an exact copy, but I’m told it operates the same way.  See, when we got grabbed by Oracle, they fitted collars like these on us, only they were all explosive, shielded with depleted uranium and linked to each other and the control computer.

I know I could have gotten out of mine, but I’m also pretty sure that would have set the others off and I would have lost everyone,” he said, looking bleak.

“Wow, that absolutely sucks,” I said.

“A no-win scenario,” Caeco agreed.  “Losing your team that way would have been horrible.”

“It would have been apocalyptic,” he said, eyes flashing violet. “So, my request is for you two whiz kids to come up with multiple options to defeat this kind of thing.  Think you can do it?”

Still pondering his use of apocalyptic and its ramifications, I took the collar from him and could immediately feel it humming.  Caeco touched it and I felt a little zing of electricity that told me she was reading it with her nanites.

“This is most definitely within our skill set, Chris,” she told him.

“Yeah, if you can leave it with us, we should be able to find some different ways to counter it,” I said, ideas already running through my head.

“Great.  I can’t tell you how important this is to me,” he said.

“Or the world,” Caeco muttered under her breath.  He heard her but let it pass without comment.

“Now the last thing is this:  The book is gone.  Darkest Sorrow.  It disappeared from where we hid it and we don’t know who took it.”

“Where did you store it?” I asked.

“The bottom of the East River, in an armored box that was chained to the river bottom and booby trapped to explode if tampered with.”

“Salt water in the East River?” I asked.

“Yes, we thought it would mask the book’s presence.”

“It should have.  Was the armored box opened?”

“It was just gone, explosives and all.”

“Then it may have been the book itself that did it,” I said.

“Huh?  How could a book move itself and a chained metal and plastic box?”

“How could a necklace slice a SWAT truck in half?  Chris, that book has power and the damned thing feels like it’s self-aware or something.  It wanted me to go to it and pick it up when you had it our place.  It was like a pressure or something.  Who knows what it could do.”

“Would you know if it got near you?” he asked.

“I would definitely feel it.  But I’m not sure that would even be necessary,” I said.  He raised both eyebrows and waited.  “I think if I could feel it, then it would be able to feel me and, well, I think it would call out to me.”

“Because it wants you to use it?”

“Because it wants the most powerful witch or warlock it could find to use it.  If it’s in the hands of a more powerful witch than me, maybe not.”

Caeco snorted.  “Like that’s gonna happen, Mr. Modesty.”

“Anyway, it’s not likely to appear in Burlington, but if it does, I’ll call you first,” I said.

“Okay.  I’ll be checking in periodically to see how this thing is going,” he said, waving at the building around us.  “And you two think you can come up with options for those things?” he asked, pointing at the collar in Caeco’s hand.

“I’m certain of that,” I said, which I was.  Between her nanites and my Craft, we’d crack it.

“Good.  I lost my first family because I was helpless.  I almost lost my second family because I couldn’t find a way to bypass that technology.  I will not be helpless again,” he said through clenched teeth.  I think if it had been darker, his eyes might have actually glowed.  Pissed?  Whole new definition of the word pissed.

He said goodnight and we headed back to our rooms.  The apartment door closed behind us and we entered the stairwell.

“We’ll have to work hard to get as good an offer as possible from Oracle,” Caeco mused.

“Huh?  Earth to Caeco, we don’t want to work for Oracle.  We want to work for the real good guys, right?”

“Of course, but Chris as much as implied that Demidova Corp would beat any other offer.  We just want to make sure they have a little competition,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wow, you are devious,” I said admiringly.

“I was built to be devious, as well as brilliant, deadly, and attractive,” she said, smirking.

“And oh, so modest,” I said.

“Bah, what is this modesty you speak of? It serves no purpose,” she said, attempting some foreign accent.

“That was horrible, but almost funny.  Be careful… you might actually develop a sense of humor,” I warned.

“You decroatded piece of crap.  I have all kinds of humor,” she said, punching my shoulder and then bounding up four stairs in one leap.

“Napoleon Dynamite?  You’re quoting Napoleon Dynamite?  Who are you?” I asked, chasing after her but falling behind despite my longer legs.

Chapter 5

We dropped off the collar in Caeco’s room, which was three rooms down the hall from mine.  Aunt Ash and Dr. Jensen had both raised eyebrows when we discovered how close our rooms were, but oddly, neither said a word.

We agreed that she should have first chance to inspect the collar and see what she could read off it before I did the same.  I had a few ideas, as I’m sure she did.

“I wonder where the others are?” I asked.

She locked her door with one hand while the other pushed her highlighted brown hair away from her ear to listen.  After a second, she pointed further down the long hallway and we began to walk.

“We don’t have to hang out with them, you know?  They’re gonna ask a lot of questions,” I said.

“If I learned anything from my short high school experience, it’s that making friends is important.  Also, a social hierarchy is already forming as we speak and we need to have our own place in it, with allies.”

“Wow, again, who are you and what have you done with the independent combat operator that I first met?” I asked.

“Silly warlock, the history of warfare and conflict has always favored those with allies.  This I have known since my first war game. Plus we promised Chris,” she said, stopping in front of a door with the names Ashley and Ariel on it.

Ashley opened it at my knock.  “About time.  We were wondering what was keeping you,” she said, gesturing us into the room.

It was immediately clear whose side was whose.  One half was decorated in soft pastels with an inordinate number of stuffed animals—at least for a college dorm.  Posters depicting polar bears and fair trade expos were artistically displayed on the bare walls.  It seemed very Ariel.

The other side favored primary colors, mostly blues and greens, with pictures of both the men’s and women’s Olympic soccer teams and an eye-catching poster of a beautifully forged folded-steel bowie knife crossed over a one-piece metal tomahawk under the title Bear Mountain Blades. Ashley’s space.

“Whoa, nice craftsmanship,” Caeco said, drawn instantly to the poster.

“Ashley’s dad makes them,” Jetta said from her position in the big puffy pink beanbag chair at the end of Ariel’s bed.  Mack was sitting next to her cross-legged on the floor with a MacBook open on his lap, and Ariel was lying back across her bed.

“Does he take commissions?” Caeco asked Ashley, not taking her eyes off the poster.

“I’m first… when I can get the money together,” Jetta said.

“He hasn’t made anything in a while, but I think he’s gonna crank up the forge again, at least while I’m at college.  My home is only a couple of hours from here,” Ashley said.  “We can ask him tomorrow.  He’s staying overnight at the Marriott downtown and he was going to take Ariel and I up the hill tomorrow to get our books and find our classrooms.”

“He does beautiful work,” Caeco said, maybe a touch awestruck.  Jetta jumped up and joined her in examining the poster.

“Look—is that silver folded in or nickel, do you think?” Jetta asked Caeco.

“Hard to tell,” Caeco answered, leaning close.  Yup, these two were gonna get along fine.

“So you’re hunters?” I asked Mack, which caused Jetta to spin around.

“So you’re a warlock?” she fired back before her brother could answer.

“Perhaps we can all have a seat and maybe explain our backgrounds,” Mack said, more to his volatile sister than to me.  Ashley and Ariel were nodding, watching Jetta warily.

“Sure,” I said, dropping down next to Mack, sitting cross-legged.

“All four of you… no all five of you have met Chris Gordon before,” Ashley said, making it a statement.  “And he just met with the two of you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.  He’s staying with Gina Velasquez.  Her daughter is his goddaughter,” I said.

“The one he bombed New Hampshire over?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah,” I said.  They all waited for me to go on. I glanced at Caeco and got a small nod to go ahead, but her narrowed eyes told me to be judicious.

“So the people that kidnapped Toni had also taken the two of us into custody,” I began.

“Why?” Jetta interjected.

“Because Caeco’s mom used to work for them and because I was helping her try to stay away from them,” I said, thinking it was way, way too early for the full story.

“So you were what?  Running from them?” Ashley directed at Caeco, who just looked at her with a level expression.

“Yes,” Caeco finally answered, leaving Ashley looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Annywaay,” I said, gathering everyone’s attention, “They brought Toni in and put her in a cell between Caeco and I.  Then Chris and Tanya and Awasos, which is the big bear-wolf—” They all nodded, having seen the television and not been under rocks lately “—arrived and things went crazy.  They sent an agent in to hold Toni hostage and we… stopped her,” I finished with a shrug.

“You two stopped an AIR agent?” Ariel asked, eyes wide.  “Just the two of you?”

“Yeah, what, you don’t believe me?  I’ll call Chris if you want?” I asked, annoyed at her disbelief.

“No, no, no, that’s fine.  It’s just I’ve seen AIR agents before and I doubt they would send a weak one to guard an important hostage, that’s all,” Ariel said quickly.

“That’s right, you’ve worked for Oracle before, haven’t you?” Caeco asked

“She puts the oracle in Oracle,” Ashley interjected.

“Right, precognition.  How’s that work out?” I asked.

“I’m pretty good at certain events, like portal openings and demon outbreaks.  Not so good at winning the lottery or anything,” she said shyly.

“Wait, I’m still stuck on the two of you beating a trained assassin,” Jetta commented.

“I thought warlocks were pushovers?”

Another glance at Caeco, catching her minute headshake.  “That’s the stereotype,” I agreed.  “But any witch has some skills, and Caeco’s kung fu is very strong.”

Jetta’s head snapped around to Caeco.  “You know kung fu?”

My deadly girl shrugged and nodded, but I wanted the focus off me.  “—and jiu-jitsu, karate, escrima, penjat-silat, aikido, muay tai, and wing chun,” I offered, earning myself a glare from Caeco.

“No way?  Will you teach me?” Jetta asked, breathless.  Both Ariel and Ashley leaned forward, almost simultaneously saying, “Me too.”

“I thought you were hunters?” Caeco asked Jetta and Mack, confused by all the martial arts enthusiasm.

“We are, but we’ve never had any formal fight training,” Mack answered.

“If we have free time, I guess we could do some classes,” she said, then whipped her head around to me, “but you’re teaching the Krav Maga portions.”

To the others, she explained.  “Mr. Beanpole here has been instructing Krav Maga for several years now.”

“What’s Krav Maga?” Ariel asked.

“Israeli army self-defense,” Ashley said, then went on at our questioning expressions, “What?  My dad has studied a lot of martial arts too and shown me some.  But I want to learn more.”

“We can start tomorrow, after everyone gets their books and schedules figured out,” Caeco said. “But understand, I believe Mr. Jenks will be teaching us some skills as well.”

Amid the excitement, I realized we had forgotten a topic.

“So just what do you two hunt?” I asked Jetta and Mack.

They exchanged a glance of their own before Mack turned back to the group.

“A couple of years ago, our parents went to the far edge of our property where we had a little cabin, for a weekend.  They would do little getaways like that because our horse farm kept them fully occupied and we could radio them if there was a problem. Jetta and I were both old enough to handle the horses and our uncle was close by if we needed him.

“They didn’t come back on Monday, so we called Uncle Pete and we all rode out to the cabin.  It was torn to shreds, they were torn to shreds, and Uncle Pete knew what had done it.”

“Werewolves?” Arial guessed.

“Yeah, apparently they have lived in the Tennessee Mountains for generations and he was aware that a pack had occasionally traveled through our territory.  But they never bothered humans and never really came near our property before.  This group was different.  All the tracks were big, so it was just the males.  We helped him track them down.  This pack was fucked up, like a bad biker gang or something.  They were all criminals, treated their women like shit, and liked to hunt humans.  Uncle Pete said that wasn’t how the other weres he had known of had been.  So we hunted them, one by one. Pete helped us with the first couple but then he had a heart attack and passed on.  So we went on by ourselves. Wiped out almost the whole pack. Forced them to run south to North Carolina and join another pack. But the cops and FBI got involved and then the Alpha of the pack we were hunting caught us and was going to kill us in front of the new pack at some kind of dinner party.  That brother–sister wolf team that’s here was there, as well as that boy Matt who was sitting down below us today.  And the pale girl who I think is named Katrina.  But anyway, Chris intervened.  Beat the piss out of a fully Changed werewolf without breaking a sweat.  Then the FBI showed up to arrest us, but the other Alpha, of the North Carolina pack, sent his attorney with us and there wasn’t any evidence and so we went free.  Chris got shot that same night, but the supermodel werewolf that was in DC with him reminded him about us and here we are.”

“Stacia, you mean Stacia Reynolds?” I asked.

Mack nodded with a gleam in his eyes and a wistful smile.  “Yeah, how could I forget her name?”

“Dude, really,” I agreed, which earned me a raised eyebrow from Caeco.  “Oh please.  Like you didn’t already admit that you thought Chris was hot?  We’ve covered this already,” I said.

“I will grant you that both Tanya and Stacia are attractive, but you don’t have to be quite so enthused about it,” Caeco said.

“Did I ever embarrass you in front of them?  Drool or anything?” I asked.

“No.  No you didn’t,” she admitted. “But only because your brain had basically shut down.”

“Wait. You know her and Tanya too?” Mack asked.

“We’ve met,” Caeco said, just a touch stiffly.  I was nodding at him with a big smile from my secure position behind her.  A sharp elbow came back and smacked my stomach.

“Oof.  Yeah, just in passing” I said.  “Most of his team came along to finish the rescue of Toni.  Not much for them to do, though.  Chris and Tanya kind of obliterated the place.”

“Wow, you got to see them work up close and personal?  Against AIR operatives?”

“We saw the aftermath.  They went through that place so fast, there wasn’t time to see them do much—other than Chris tearing apart our jail cells like toilet paper.”

“Shit, that must have been unreal,” Mack said.

“Extremely unreal.  I’ve fought AIR combatants most of my life, and they were never pushovers,” Caeco said.

“What?  Your whole life? Bullshit. Now you’re making stuff up,” Jetta said.

Caeco had said more than I think she’d intended to, but now that Jetta was calling her out, I could just about tell the moment she decided to share more.

“I was raised in an AIR lab.  Trained to fight from birth.  My opponents were almost always AIR agents.  Singles, then pairs, and finally entire Gladus teams.  Of course, I usually had weapons and time to plan.”

“Why?  Why would they train some little kid like that?” Ashley asked.

“Because they built me to fight and they wanted me trained properly,” Caeco said.

“They built you?” Jetta asked.

“I’m a test tube baby,” Caeco said.

“Genetic engineering?” Ariel questioned.

Caeco just nodded, leaving everyone silent while they thought about that.

“So no wonder you could beat up that agent in Toni’s cell,” Mack said admiringly.

“Miseri was tough.  I had a lot of help,” Caeco said with a glance my way.

“So you’re like the Bruce Lee of warlocks?” Jetta asked me.

“Not so much, but I can punch throats with the best of them,” I said.

“So what did Chris want you to look at?” Ariel asked.

“My aunt did some work for him.  He asked me to look the spells over and make sure they were all okay.”

“Work?” Ashley asked.

“Basically a very complex set of wards to protect Toni and her family,” I said.

“And you’re a good enough warlock to do that?” Ariel asked.

“Yes, I helped Aunt Ash make them in the first place so other than her, I’m the best one to check it out.”

“So what happens if a student plays a prank on her or something?” Jetta asked.

“That’s a remarkably bad idea,” Caeco said.

“But what if it’s another witch and they circumvent the spell or whatever?” Jetta pressed.

“That would be really bad for them, like possibly lethally bad,” I said, trying to think of what the dopplegheist necklace might do. “I don’t think the wards would let that happen, unless maybe my aunt did it.”

“Or you.  The spells recognized you, right?” Caeco said.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m getting the impression that you’re not an ordinary warlock,” Ariel said.

Caeco snorted but let me answer.  “That’s… true,” I said, not wanting to continue. “But enough about me. What’s everyone’s schedule look like?”

It didn’t fool anyone, but they all allowed my blunt attempt to change topics, and we all discussed our classes.  Most were attending UVM, but Ashley had courses on the Champlain College campus, which was almost adjacent to UVM.  The discussion changed to picking up books and meeting for lunch at the Davis Student Center the next day.

“Hey, what’s up with the blonde twins and their little pack of groupies?” Ashley asked.  “Personally, I think they’re going to be trouble.”

“The real trouble is that giant meathead wolf kid… Delwood.  He already think’s he’s king shit,” Mack said.

“Well, Chris said he isn’t.  Who do you think he was talking about?” Jetta asked.

“Time will tell.  But I have some ideas,” Ashley said, “that I’m not ready to share,” she finished with a cryptic grin.  I was looking at a little decorative twig house that was on the top of the built-in bookshelf on Ashley’s desk.  The tone she used made me turn to get a look at her, but she wasn’t making eye contact with anyone, just looking down at her hands as she spoke.  There was an awkward silence so I took it upon myself to give her a hand.

“Ashley?  What’s this thing?  It looks like a fairy house,” I said, more to change topics than anything else.  Her head whipped up and her eyes widened.  “Don’t touch that!” she said.

I snatched my fingers away before they could make contact and raised both eyebrows at her.

“It’s… delicate,” she finished, a little lamely.

I looked at it with my Sight and while I still couldn’t see into the dark interior, it fairly glowed with magic. And movement… something was inside it, something that might be alive. Not saying a word, I sat back down next to Mack and studied the little house from a distance while the girls turned to fashion topics.

After a bit, we all headed back to our own rooms, agreeing that the next day, after get our books, we would find our classrooms, possibly have lunch, explore downtown, and maybe begin some Caeco-fu lessons.

Chapter 6

As a first year computer science major, I had Website design, Calculus (yuck, more calc), Introduction to Programming, English 1 (expressive writing), and a TAP class, which if I understood it was a writing intensive seminar. Great. My TAP class was listed as Awakenings taught at an ‘alternative venue’ by a G. Velasquez on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Caeco had all different courses except the same TAP class, which was obviously the ARCANE class that Gina taught.

Mack and Jetta hitched a ride in the mighty Beast up the hill and we went to the bookstore in the Davis center and picked up our books.  Jetta, still technically a high school student, was only taking three classes on the campus: an English course, a math course that seemed like it might be a combination of Trig and pre-calc, and a first-year American history class.  She had to go to a local high school three days a week for a biology class and lab.  Between the thought of exposure to high school and the cold of northern Vermont in January, she looked pretty down.

“Hey, you only have to go for a couple hours on three days. The rest of the time, you get to hang with us,” I said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. She glanced up at my reflection, then huddled back down into her brand-new Eddie Bauer jacket and looked out the window.

“Awesome.  Stuck at the Arctic Circle with werewolves and witches.  If my ass doesn’t freeze off, someone will either bite it off or blast it with a spell,” she muttered.

“No one’s blasting my roomie with a spell,” Caeco said, looking concerned. After a moment, she seemed to reach a decision.  She put her hand to the back of her neck and pulled off the necklace I’d made her.  “Here, put this on.  It’ll protect you from spells, right Declan?”

“Err, quite a few,” I said, looking at her sidelong.  That necklace was the first gift anyone had ever given her.

Jetta put up both hands.  “I can’t take that,” she said.  “Declan made it for you.”

A little flash of relief crossed Caeco’s face but changed to determination.  I intervened, even as I realized that Caeco must have told Jetta about the necklace before.

“I’ll make each of them their own,” I said hurriedly.

“Will they even help much.  I mean, no offense, but aren’t those girl witches lots more powerful?” Mack asked.

“Ha.  Don’t believe the stereotype, Mack.  Declan’s magic will stop all of them combined,” Caeco said.

I wasn’t so sure about that.  I mean, I knew what my Aunt Ash said and all, but come on… she was my aunt and more than a little biased.  I hadn’t ever gone up against any other real witches before.  Squared off with some, yeah, but we never got to throwing power around.

“Warlocks are supposed to be weak,” Jetta said.

“Supposed to is different from what actually is.  When you’re the product of five centuries of selective breeding and your mother was arguably the strongest witch ever produced by Ireland, well, things are different,” Caeco said.

I shot her a look, but she ignored me.  The siblings didn’t, though.

“Keeping that secret, Declan?  Smart.  We won’t tell,” Jetta said, leaning back in her seat and actually coming out of her huddle a bit.

“I’ll make you guys some amulets… maybe a couple for Ashley and Ariel too,” I said, making eye contact with both of them in the rearview.

“They seem nice, but I don’t think they’re used to tough situations.”

“We might be surprised,” I said, thinking that one of them had freed Chris and the other was basically a diplomatic envoy to an entire planet.

We parked the Beast and lugged our books into the main entrance of ARCANE, waving our ID cards over the locks and nodding to the Oracle guards, who nodded back.

“I’m going to grab a Gatorade from the vending machines. Anyone want one?”

“No thanks. Too much sugar,” Caeco replied.  Mack and Jetta just shook their heads and headed up the stairs.

“’Kay, see you in a minute or two,” I said as Caeco followed them.

Heading toward the alcove in the hall where the vending machines lived, I suddenly heard a little voice.

“Declan,” Toni called from down by her family’s apartment.  She started for me, but just as she crossed the entrance to the dining room, a pack of boys came thundering out, led by a six-five behemoth.  My first thought was that she would be flattened or at least bumped around.  Then my Sight swam and twisted as I felt the moment the necklace activated.  It was like the buzz of a million bees, all compressed into a microsecond burst of sound.  The pack of werewolves were split forcibly apart like a river flowing around a rock, several of them stumbling.

“What the fuck,” Delwood said, coming to a halt and spinning back toward the little girl.  I was already halfway there, having dropped my books and moved into a sprint.

“What are you? A pint-sized witch?  Throwing your magic around might get you into trouble, and you’re barely a couple of bites,” he growled at her.  The other boys surrounded her, most still trying to figure out what had happened.

I slid between two of them and put an arm around Toni.  “Not her fault, Delwood.  If you guys had been more careful, it wouldn’t have happened.  But everything’s okay, so let me just get her back to where she belongs,” I said.

“Fuck that.  She’s the one who needs to watch what’s she’s doing,” Delwood said, focusing his sudden anger on me.

“She’s like nine, dude.  Lighten up.” There went my mouth, all on its own.

“Then it’s past time she learned how things work,” Delwood said, putting one massive hand on my chest.  Krav seemed unsuited to the task of dealing with a giant, superhumanly strong individual who probably couldn’t feel much pain and would heal almost instantly.  I pulled power, enough to put him down.

The hall lights all flickered and went out and the entire alcove of vending machines went dark.

Just at that moment, heels clicked on the concrete floor and the blonde twins and Ryanne came around the corner from the entrance, all carrying shopping bags, coming to a sudden stop at the tense gathering in the dark.  Ignoring them, I concentrated on the menace in my face.

“Actually, dude, that’s a good idea.  This is Toni Velasquez.  Her mother is Gina, ARCANE’s Director and her godfather is Chris Gordon.  The last time anyone hassled her, he dropped an asteroid on them.  So by all means, big guy, show us what happens when the big bad wolf goes after little purple hoody here,” I said, still holding onto the power.  I had no idea what would happen if a freaking werewolf tried anything with Toni.  But my guess was that the necklace would leave nothing but wolf paste. That would be bad for everyone.

“I donnae think thet anywon will be goin’ after the wee girl, Declan. Am I right there, Delwood?” Ryanne asked him, a frown on her face.

“Nah, are you crazy?  She’s just a kid,” he said with a sneer, giving me a nasty look before turning away and leading his pack down the hall.  The last wolf to leave was the kid that had waved to Jetta and Mack, and he looked highly disturbed by the events.  He paused, giving me a nod before following the others.

“Always protecting the lasses, huh Declan?” Ryanne asked me, one pretty eyebrow arched.

I let the power I was holding flow down through my legs and into the concrete.  The lights flickered back on, one florescent tube at a time.

“Actually, I think I was protecting him,” I said, studying Toni and her dangerous necklace.

“That’s why ye were draining the bejesus out of the lecky, jest to give the boyo a pat on his back is it?” Ryanne asked.

One of the twins was looking at the lights coming on, bewildered, and the other was staring at Toni.

“Holy shit, look at that necklace,” she said, reaching for it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warned, but it was too late.  Her hand got almost six inches away and a fat spark jumped the gap.  She yanked her hand back fast and shook it out.

“Fuck.  What the hell was that?” she said.

“Toni?  Declan?  Everything alright out here?” Gina Velasquez suddenly asked from the door of her apartment.

“Yeah, Gina.  Toni was meeting some of the students,” I said, meeting Gina’s eyes directly.

“Oh.  Toni, why don’t you come in now,” she said, after a glance at the witches and nodding hello.

“Okay, Mama.  See you, Declan,” she said, then skipped back to her mother, the two of them disappearing into the apartment.

“What the hell was that?  With the necklace?” the blonde who had gotten shocked asked.

“She’s Chris Gordon’s goddaughter.  The necklace is strongly warded to protect her,” I said.

“Oh.  That has to be the most powerful Artifact I’ve ever seen. Don’t you think, Brit?” the blonde said, looking at her sister for confirmation.

“Oh, where me manners.  Declan O’Carroll, this is Erika and Britta Boklund.  Britta is me roomie.  Declan’s the only male witch at the school,” Ryanne said.

“Did you do that with the electricity?” Britta asked me, not bothering to say hello.  “Or did the necklace?”

“I suspect that be Declan.  Eh, ye mucker?” Ryanne asked me with a smile.

“Yeah, well, what do you expect?  That Delwood’s a freaking monster,” I said.

“Yes, isn’t he just a magnificent beast?” the aggressive twin, Erika asked, smiling and looking down the hall in the direction he’d gone.  Her sister was frowning at me.

“You blacked out most of the building,” she commented.

“Well, it’s back up now, so no harm done, right?  Anyway, nice to meet you.  Maybe I’ll see you all later,” I mumbled, turning to look for my dropped books.

“We’re in a school of less than fifty kids.  Of course you’ll see us, genius,” Erika snarked.  Her sister was still studying me, and Ryanne was grinning.

“Right then, see ya, D,” Ryanne said, as all three turned and headed toward the dining room, shopping bags in tow.

“Did he really black out the whole building by himself?” I heard Britta ask as they disappeared.

I collected my books and stood up, stopping when I spotted Caeco watching me from the stairwell.

“Making new friends?” she asked, curious.

“I don’t know if the twins are really friend material,” I replied.

“What about the Irish witch?”

“I met her once at the restaurant.  Couple of months ago.  Passing through with her sisters,” I said, carefully, watching her.

“Uh huh.  And now she’s here.  Funny that.  And what about Delwood?  I passed him and his minions in the stairwell.  He was cursing about, and I quote ‘a faggot witch boy.’  Is it imperative that you always make enemies with the biggest bully?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” I said, shrugging.

“Well, if that’s your thing, then I want my axe.  Let me have the keys to Beast.  Please,” she added, holding out her hand.

“You think it’s a good idea bringing it in?” I hesitated.

“Oh please. Did you read the rules?  It said no firearms or explosives.  Nothing about axes or knives.  Have you seen what our roommates are packing?”

Jetta and Mack each had a duffle bag under their beds that were stuffed with machetes, knives, throwing stars, and even a spear, at least in Mack’s case.

“They’re re-plating all their blades with silver and they offered to plate any of our stuff too.  So let me get my axe, please,” she said.

“Okay, here ya go,” I said, handing her the keys.  She took them with one hand while her other hand grabbed my shirt and yanked me down to her level.  Smiling, she planted a kiss on my lips, then looked me in the eye.

“When the lights went out, I knew it was you.”

“Well, Levi is always saying bring enough gun.  So I did, sort of,” I answered.

“Werewolves are incredibly tough.  Next time, black out the city,” she said, giving me one more quick kiss before heading out the door.  She was wearing black leggings and a heavy green sweatshirt and her lithe stride trapped my eyes.

“And I know you’re looking at my butt,” she said without turning around as she pushed the glass door open.  The guard looked amused at her comment, glancing my way with raised eyebrows.  I grinned back at him and shrugged, then headed upstairs.

Chapter 7

Six in the morning is a really stupid time of day for a class.  Any class.  It’s a horrible time of the day, made worse by the fact that in order to get there on time, you actually have to get up at like five-thirty.

About forty of us sat around the floor of the gym, waiting for our instructor, who walked in precisely at six o’clock.  Wearing pressed khaki tactical pants, black combat boots, and a sprayed-on black t-shirt, he looked ridiculously alert and competent… and dangerous.

“Ah, my little lambs.  On your feet.  Now,” he said, never raising his voice yet somehow sounding completely badass.

“This is our first day, so you get an easy one.  The only easy class we’ll hold.  Wednesday, I expect you all in workout clothes, not street clothes, as we’ll begin to learn some combat skills after a light warm up that I learned in BUD/S.  But today, since you showed up dressed in everyday clothes, we’ll conduct a little exercise.  Everybody drop a squat on the floor.”

Having just climbed to our feet, we all basically collapsed back to the hard concrete.

“The difference between mankind in all his forms and the rest of the animal kingdom is our big brains.  It’s what sets us apart from the predators of the prehistoric world.  Somewhere along the way, some of us became more predatory than others.  So tell me, lamblings, what’s gonna keep a big bad supernatural predator from munching down on you succulent little morsels?” he asked, thoroughly creeping me out.  Lamblings?

“I’d like to see the predator that would try and chew on me,” Delwood said right on cue.

“Well boy, I can think of a half dozen off the top of my head that are either bigger than you or outnumber you.”

Oddly enough, Ashley was nodding but stopped when she saw me looking her way.  She gave me a little shrug and turned back to watch Mr. Jenks.  He in turn made eye contact with both of us, our little exchange fully noted.

“Miss Moore here has seen just such creatures, have you not?” he asked her.

“Yes sir,” she said.

“And how would Mr. Singer here stack up?” Jenks asked, pointing at Delwood.

“Ah, about a mouthful sir,” she replied, looking first at Jenks, then Delwood, and finally the concrete floor in front of her.

“A mouthful, she says.  And she’s right.  The biggest individual in this academy and he’s no more than a mouthful.  So what protects us? What keeps us alive?”

“Our ability to talk or negotiate?” Ashley asked.

“In your specific case and where you have been, that works.  But how would the rest of us fare?” he asked her.

She glanced around, her gaze on Caeco last, before coming back to him.  “Some would be okay, I think.”

“And why do you think that?”

“I don’t know… maybe because they seem really prepared, really capable,” she said.

“Ahh.  Prepared.  Anyone know what the Latin word parabellum means?” he asked.

“To prepare for war,” Caeco said.

“Exactly, Miss Jensen.  To prepare for war.  That, little lamblings, is what will separate you from the meat.  Now, the whole purpose of this class is to prepare you, essentially, for war, with the hopes that you never need it.  That will mean learning new skills, exercising those soft bodies, and most of all, preparing your brains.  You need to be aware of your surroundings at all times, watching for dangers and thinking what your responses will be to those dangers.  But let me ask you this… do you walk around naked?”

The class all looked confused, finally muttering out a disjointed series of no’s.

“Right.  You go out with shoes on your feet,” he said, holding up one combat boot, then using it to nudge Erika’s high-heeled gold glittery wedge.  He frowned at the shoe and then at her.

“You go out with clothes,” he said, tugging his khakis before looking at another girl’s wispy skirt.

“So, what you have on you is another form of preparation for the big, bad world.  Turn out your pockets.  Go ahead.  Make a pile in front of you and let’s see what you’ve selected to help you make your way through the world today.”

We looked around at each other before slowly starting to pull stuff from our pockets.

I had a piece of chalk, a Sharpie, my cell phone, the keys to the Beast, my wallet, some cash ($7), my school ID, and a pocket knife.  Some kids had just their school IDs and their phones.  Most of the girls had some kind of lip-gloss or lipstick.

Very quickly we were done… most of us.  The sound of clinking objects caught my attention and I turned to look at Caeco, Mack, and Jetta.  The piles in front of them were huge and growing by the moment.

Pocket knives, disposable lighters, mini tools, several brands of tactical pens—you know, the kind that will write upside down in the bottom of a swimming pool and can punch through the top of a can—small containers, ziplock baggies, razor blades, small first aid kits, at least one tube of super glue, little flashlights, a roll of quarters, and the list went on.

Jenks was parked in front of the three, looking through their piles and nodding to himself or frowning at this or that item.  When Jetta reached up under her shirt to her bra and pulled out a little knife, he took note, which would have been creepy except his eyes were glued to the knife.  Immediately, he held out his hand to see it, then held it up to the class.

“Very nice, Miss Sutton.  Class, this little beauty is called a Hideaway Knife.  That’s its brand name.  Designed by an engineer who discovered she didn’t like being unarmed…ever.  See the loop where the handle should be?  Unless I miss my guess, it’s been custom fitted to Miss Sutton’s first two fingers.”

He gestured at her to raise her arm and then fit the knife over her fingers, leaving her with a steel loop over her middle and index fingers, with a two-inch bladed triangular razor edge jutting out from the looped handle.

“Miss Sutton wasn’t born with claws—so she bought some.  And they can’t get knocked out of her hand; she can handle things while wearing them and they can be hidden virtually anywhere—and she’s plated them in silver,” he said, eyeing the blade closely.

His hand touched the paracord bracelet on her wrist and he jerked back as if burned.  Looking at his fingers then her bracelet, he nodded.

“Tell us what you have here, Miss Sutton,” he said, looking pleased, as if being burned by a student was a good thing.

“Well, these are paracord, so I can use them for all kinds of things in an emergency.  The one on my right hand has a survival kit woven into it.  You know: fishhook, line, wire, can-opener, fire flint, and even a little handcuff key.  And I’ve modified both of them,” Jetta said.

“Yes, you have.  What have you added?”

“Well, I wove an additional wire into them, made of silver, and I threaded a number of different-sized silver beads onto it.”

“What good are they?” he asked.

“The beads and wire make a pretty good protection from getting my wrists grabbed, by any… well… by any weres,” she said, flashing a defiant expression.

“Weres or vampires, eh Miss Westing?” he said, turning to the pale vampire chick who was lurking, er, sitting in the corner of the room, a noticeable gap between her and her neighbors.  She gave him a cool nod.

“Smart. But what else can you do with them?” he pressed Jetta.

“The various sizes fit inside the hollow points of most common pistol ammo.  If I come into possession of a handgun, it’ll likely have hollow points in it and I can make them effective for werewolves, er, all weres and I guess vampires, too.  I can glue them to the top of a shotgun slug or open the case of a buckshot round and put them inside.”

“And how would you come into possession of such a weapon?” he asked.

“Honestly, Mack can just go buy them here in Vermont. This is America. Guns are all over the place.  Hell, half of the houses in this state probably have at least one gun in them.”

“Clever girl.  Now then, what’s this?” he asked, darting with faster-than-human speed to pick out a ziplock baggie of powdered grey material from Mack’s pile.

“Homemade Tannerite, sir,” Mack said.  “It’s still separated, so it’s not activated.”

“Tannerite… anyone know what it is?” he asked.

“A commercial binary explosive formed from ammonium nitrate and powdered aluminum.  It’s set off by a high-energy kinetic event, such as a rifle round impacting it,” Caceo said.

“Yes, of course you would know that, Miss Jensen.  So you have a legal explosive, but how will you set it off?” he asked, pocketing the baggie.

“If I have access to a rifle, then it’s easy. If not, then each baggie has a .223 round in it, which I can use to improvise a firing mechanism.  It’s a little tricky, but I’ve done it before.  I’m a pretty fair machinist.”

“I hope you are paying attention, class.  Parabellum—to prepare for war,” he said, wandering over in front of Caeco’s pile.  Hers had a more professional look to it.

At least six knives—two of them ceramic—in flat kydex sheaths, a collapsible steel baton, a set of lock picks, a coiled wire garrote with t-shaped handles, plastic triangular darts, a small black micro flashlight—probably for signaling, as she came with excellent night vision—an expensive butane lighter that I knew burned really hot because she’d shown it to me, a disposable cell phone, a small wad of twenties and fifties, Kevlar cord, gloves, and a vial of e-liquid for an electronic cigarette.

“Smoke much, Miss Jensen?” he asked, holding up the vial of liquid nicotine.

“No sir, but it’s a high concentration of nicotine and poisonous to most humans.  Not sure of its effect on weres or vampires.”

“I don’t think it would do much if anything to a vampire, but it would make me lightheaded for a bit.  Maybe enough to disorient me.  It could possibly kill an adult human if you got the whole thing into them.  Nasty, Miss Jensen, nasty,” he said.

He looked around the room, visibly coming to some decision.  “This is as good a time as any.  After discussing it with Mrs. Velasquez, we are agreed that this class will benefit from having Miss Jensen assist me in teaching you.  In case you haven’t caught on, she has a wealth of training and experience that will benefit all of you.  So effective immediately, Miss Jensen is my Teaching Assistant.”

“I Challenge,” Delwood immediately roared.  “I should be assisting and I’ll prove it in combat.”

Chapter 8

“This isn’t a pack, Mr. Singer, and there are no Challenges here,” Jenks said, looking angry for the first time.

“I’ll fight him,” Caeco said calmly.  “If it will settle his concerns about his status, then fine.”

I expected Jenks to shut her down but instead, he studied her carefully.  Then he nodded.

“Okay.  So be it.  But everyone in this class needs to know that this is a one-time exception to shut Singer up.  You all will be doing plenty of fighting… so much that none of you will want to Challenge for anything.  Now clear the floor,” he said.

My shocked classmates climbed to their feet, tired expressions changing to either fear or excitement.

“Rules: strictly hand-to-hand.  No Changing, Singer, or by God you’ll regret the day you were born.  No kill strikes or major crippling moves.  First incapacitated or first to tap out,” he said as he cleared the floor, making all the kids back up to the walls.

Delwood was stretching and flexing, looking more apelike than wolfen.  My girl was standing relaxed, watching him with narrowed eyes.  She glanced my way and let a small grin slip across her mouth before compressing her lips.  She was absolutely enjoying the hell out of this.

I knew she was good—really, really good.  She regularly beat the stuffing out of both Levi and I at the same time, never really breaking a sweat, but I was still concerned.

“Alright, let’s get this train wreck over with. Begin,” he said, backing away.

Caeco never hesitated.  Before his lips formed the n in begin, she was moving arrow straight at Delwood, who was caught off guard.

It made sense, as the big lummox had probably intimidated the hell out of anyone he had ever fought, leaving time and initiative on his side.  Caeco gave him neither.  She blurred straight at him, fist cocked to punch his face.  His guard started to come up, disbelief all over his face.  At the last instant, she crouched low and punched straight to his groin, then roundhouse kicked the side of his right knee.  He blocked the punch but lurched from the kick, but to give him credit, he didn’t fall.  It didn’t matter as he was still off balance and when she stepped into him, pulled down on his right arm, slipped her own right under his left armpit, and swiveled one hip into his pelvis, the physics were all on her side.

Up and over her hip, big feet to the sky, landing on his neck and shoulder.  Stunned, he still managed to start to roll his legs over somersault fashion.  She helped him along with a snap kick to his exposed groin and when he finished his roll, he leaned forward, clutching his bruised guy parts.  She took his back and started to lock in a rear naked choke, but again he surprised me.  He leaned forward fast, reaching up and pulling her forward.  She simply went with it, rolling over his head and bounding up before he could react, turning and wrapping her right arm under his neck, his head under her armpit and her bladed hand pressed against his throat in a guillotine choke.  This time he stood, lifting her entire weight straight off the ground, removing her leverage.

Like a gymnast on a pommel horse, she let go with her arm and spun around his neck, wrapping her legs around his throat and letting her body weight fall down his back, which along with his own upward standing motion was enough to pull him over backward.  They both crashed to the ground, but whereas Delwood’s head bounced off the concrete, Caeco executed a classic breakfall and avoided most of the impact.  She tightened her legs into a triangle choke and this time, his struggles lasted only a few moments before he slumped into unconsciousness.

“Break,” Jenks said.

Caeco unlocked her legs and back rolled to a standing position.  On the floor, Delwood lay unmoving for a few moments, but then his eyes fluttered open and he started to flop a bit as he tried to sit up.

“And that, class, is why Miss Jensen will be my assistant,” Jenks said.

“Yeah but how good is she with witchcraft?” Erika asked, her fingers twisting and her lips twitching out a spell.

I reacted from a reflex my aunt had pounded into me as a child.  Everything slowed as my Sight perceived her spell flaring across the room, headed directly for Caeco.

My own fingers flexed, just a bit, and her spell was slapped from its path, instead slamming into Delwood, whose eyes rolled back up in his head as his support arm slipped out from under him.  His head bounced off the concrete again.

“That’s strike one, Miss Boklund.  The next strike, you will be expelled from this school,” Jenks said, glaring at her.  “Nobody, but nobody, throws spells or power around this room without my express permission—got it?  And it’s a two strike limit.”

Erika had a slightly horrified expression on her face, which I felt was due mainly to her missing Caeco and not so much that Delwood had taken the sleep spell center of mass. Her sister looked at her disgustedly and the Native American witch, who Ashley said was named Tami Keoni, looked thoughtfully from Caeco to Delwood.  A moment later, Tami turned her eyes, catching me watching her before I could look away.  She nodded once then looked back at Delwood, who was being examined by Mr. Jenks. “Undo it—now,” was all he said to Erika.

The rest of the day was anticlimactic.  It turned out that college courses were different and yet not so different from high school.  I had Programming and Calc, both before lunch, and then the rest of the afternoon was free.  Except for homework, which both teachers had assigned in spades.  It seems that in college, you don’t have class everyday, but you do a butt load more homework.  Caeco had two bio classes in the morning and their respective labs in the afternoon, so I didn’t see her till dinner.

Our table was the same crew, with two additions.  A big, burly black kid who was some kind of were, named Justin Williams, and his roommate, a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy named T.J. Alverez.  The two boys had approached the table, plates and drinks in hand, and T. J. had asked if they could sit there, watching Caeco for her reaction. No one objected and so they sat: T.J. next to Mack, who was next to me, and Justin beside him, which put him next to Ashley.  We introduced ourselves and what we were, supernatural wise.

T.J. seemed to be a talker and his roommate stayed mostly quiet.

“Justin here is a werebear and I’m a technetic,” T.J. said.

“What’s a technetic?” Ashley asked.

T.J. looked her way then looked again, as if he just now realized how pretty she was.

“Ah, it’s what Oracle calls me, or people like me, who have an unnatural aptitude for technology,” he explained.

“That’s not a power,” Jetta stated.  “So you’re good with tools and stuff, big deal.”

“Well when you rewire your mom’s garage door opener to open any garage door opener and you happen to be all of four years old, then it might in fact be a bit different than a rerun of MacGyver,” he said.

“How does a four year old wire anything?” I asked.

“That’s just it.  Nobody knows.  But I did and I still do.  I can fix anything or improve any design.  It just comes to me.  Oracle says it’s basically a form of psychic ability, to understand electronics and stuff at an almost cellular level.”

“Actually, I can relate.  I’m pretty good with computers, myself,” I said.

“Building them?  That’s what I do.  Programming is another story.  Not my best skill.”

“Programming is the part I’m good at.  You build them and I’ll write the code,” I said.  He nodded around a mouthful of food.

“What about you, Justin?  What’s your story?” Ashley asked.

He froze, his fork full of potatoes au gratin almost to his open mouth.  Eyes glancing rapidly around the table, he finally lowered his hand, closed his mouth, and shrugged.

“Not much ta tell ya all, not really,” he said in a slow drawl.  His Southern accent was much deeper than Jetta or Mack’s, and his voice was really deep.  He was still eyeing his fork full of potatoes, obviously preferring eating to talking.

“Ozarks?” Mack questioned.

“Ah ye-ah,” he said with a slow nod.

“My sister and I are from the Tennessee side of the mountains,” Mack said.

“Oh.  Too many of the wolfen up thata way,” he said, finally shoving the potatoes into his mouth.

“A big pack in North Carolina, too,” Jetta said, “Near Ashville.”

He nodded agreement, still chewing and after swallowing, he spoke. “Ye-ah.  But they left us alone and we left them all alone.  Them up north weren’t that way.  Mean,” he said.

“They were mean.  Now they’re gone,” Jetta said, her voice taking on a cold tone.

He paused his fork again, staring straight at the table for a second before slowly looking her way.  “Heard sum’thin about that,” he said.  “Hunters.”

His voiced dropped to a whisper at the last word, his fear of hunters seemingly greater than that of werewolves.

“Do you live in a pack?  Like the wolves?” Ashley asked, clearly trying to change the topic.

He didn’t make direct eye contact but shook his head.  “Jest my family.  My ma and pa and Leonard, my little brother.”

“Grizzlies?” I asked.

He smiled for the first time, an ironic little twist of his lips.  “Black bears,” he said, eyes darting around to see our responses.

“Makes sense.  Locals would know the difference.  Even grizzly tracks are different.  A family of were black bears would blend right in,” Caeco commented, oblivious to the irony or any awkward overtones.

“True, Awasos’s tracks are majorly different from the bears we have here in Vermont,” I said.

“You’ve seen his tracks?” Justin asked, eyes wide and food forgotten.

“Tracks?  Had the whole damned bear right in my face.  Almost shat myself too,” I said.

“What’s he like?” Justin asked, awestruck.

“Immense would be the best word, at least in bear form.  Don’t get me wrong—he’s still big in wolf form, but it’s the difference between a chair and small car.”

Justin put his fork down and locked his whole attention on me.  “Truth?”

I glanced at Caeco, then back his way.  “Ah, yeah.  Actually he was here Saturday night—with Chris, but I think they left.”

“Here?” he said, looking around, awestruck.

“Justin is a major fan, in case you couldn’t tell,” T.J. said.  “Got a poster of him and lots of Youtube videos on his iPad.”

Justin was starting to look embarrassed, his gaze now on his plate.

“Well, he’ll be back.  Want to meet him?” I asked.

He looked up and locked eyes with me.  “Yeah I would,” he drawled, watching me to see if I was sincere.

“Chris will be back and I think ‘Sos will likely be with him, if only to check on Toni, Gina’s daughter.  He’s what you might call protective of her.”

Caeco laughed outright at that.  “Sorry, but Declan is understating it by a really large margin.  She rides him around like a horse.”

“Seriously?” Ariel asked.  I nodded before turning my attention to T.J.

“So, you any good with WiFi and Bluetooth gear?” I asked.  “Like net-worked stuff… Internet of things kind of shit?”

“Only in my sleep and blindfolded,” he boasted, his eyes cutting toward Ashley.

“We may have to call on your expertise on a little job we’re working on for Chris,” I said, snagging a cream sauce covered scallop and popping it in my mouth.

“He really likes you guys, doesn’t he?” Jetta asked, maybe a bit envious.

I shrugged, still chewing, but Caeco piped up.  “He does.  I think he really relates to Declan.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“Well, he does.  You have a lot of similarities… a lot in common, as they say,” she explained.

“What do they have in common?” Ashley asked.  “Declan’s a warlock and Chris is… well, he’s an Angel.”

“Trust me.  I was trained in the psychology of soldiers and leaders and the two of them have similar backgrounds, similar situations, and many of the same personality traits.  I think Chris sees Declan as a younger version of himself.”

“What’s he think of you?” Mack asked.

“Me?  Oh, he thinks I kick ass,” she said nonchalantly, giving everyone a wink.

“Okay, Miss Modest, let’s finish up.  We all have another class in an hour,” I said.

“We have Exploiting Power or whatever it is. How about you guys?” Ashley asked, after pointing at Ariel and herself.

“Control,” Justin rumbled.

“We’re supposed to start with Control, then go to Explorations on Wednesday night,” Mack said, glancing at his sister.

“Control,” Caeco said.

“Explorations,” I said.

“Me too,” T.J. said.

“Alright.  Let’s see what the second half of Hogwart’s has to offer,” I said, picking up my plate and glass.  The others all followed.

Chapter 9

The first thing I found out in witch class was that Miss Berg’s first name was Karen.  The second was that she was very much a sexist.

We got into class and found seats on the second row up.  Ariel sat next to Ashley, who would have been next to me, but for T.J. jumping into the spot first.  So I sat next to T.J.

The witch girls chose to sit right next to us.  Actually I think Ryanne made the decision, but the others didn’t protest.  the whole pack, which now numbered eight, arrived in a cluster of chattering estrogen and magic, fairly brimming with energy.

Ryanne spotted me and immediately headed my way, claiming the seat next to mine.  The others followed her lead, packing into the second and third rows, still talking a mile a minute.

The first time I’d seen Ryanne, she’d worn shorts for her highly energetic band performance at Kate’s Pub on Church Street.  The last two days, she’d been wearing jeans.  Today she was dressed in the college girl uniform of sweater and tights, as was most of her fellow witches—actually, as most of the girls in the class were.

“Heya D, it’s bloody lethal out there.  How do you Yanks put up with it?” she asked with shiver and a smile.

I couldn’t help but smile back at her.  “You get used to it,” I said with a shrug.

“No mate, you get used to it.  Meself, I’ll be happy to get back to me wet green Isle.”

“Well, by the time the semester’s over, it’ll be warmer here than in Ireland,” I said.

“Don’t seem hardly poosible, what with all the fecking white shite out there,” she said.

“Welcome, everyone. Welcome to Explorations of Power. This year, we will do just that, exploring the uses, dangers, and limits of your individual talents.  Along the way, I think we’ll also learn a great deal about each other,” the teacher said loudly, smiling broadly and making eye contact with everyone while she waited for the various side conversations to die.

“First, a little background on me.  I was born into a well-established circle in Ohio.  Like my mother, I am an earth witch, with an affinity for Mother Earth and everything that grows across her.  There are lots of earth witches in the nation’s breadbasket, as our talents have helped produced the food that feeds the country, although no one knows it.

“I lost my circle twenty-one years ago to an accident.  I met Nathan Stewart not long afterward, and Oracle became my employer and home.  As a result, I’ve seen and experienced things that I never would have had my life remained unchanged.  So despite Mr. Gordon’s reservations, I can unequivocally stand here and tell you that Oracle would be a fantastic place for any of you to work, but only if you enjoy travel, prestige, excellent pay, and benefits.

“Okay, enough of the paid advertising.  Let’s run through our roll call and get to know one another.  As I call your name, tell us your ability, or if you’re a witch, your affinity.”

I quickly learned that most of the kids, the ones that appeared to be strictly human, were psychic in some way or another.  Several telepaths, including Ashley.  One other precognitive besides Ariel: a small blond boy named Ray.  Some telekinetic and a pyrokinetic; two remote viewers, which Miss Berg said was a form of clairvoyance, as was T.J.’s techinetic  ability.  I learned that Ryanne’s last name was Flynn and she was a water witch.  Britta was also a water witch and her sister was air.  Tami, whose last name was Keoni, was a fire witch, and so was the Goth girl, Zuzanna.  The dark girl with the bright hazel eyes was Jael and she was air, while her pale little roommate was Michelle, an earth witch.  Zuzanna’s stocky roommate was Paige, whose abilities lay in the realm of water.

The fun began when we got to my name.

“Ah, here we are, our token male witch, Declan O’Carroll,” Miss Berg said, looking up at me.  Before I could answer, she went on. “Males—or warlocks, as they’re sometimes known—only show up about one in every hundred or so witches.  We originally thought the gene for witchcraft was on the X chromosome, but plenty of males carry the gene without expressing it.  We’ve since found out that there is a partner gene on the Y chromosome that must be present for a warlock to be able to practice the Craft.  Females with one witch chromosome can be witches but they are never nearly as powerful a witch born with two.  Of course, the Y chromosome version is weak and that’s why we believe males are so much less powerful than females.”

She smiled a smug little smile as she said it, which started to make me a little annoyed.

“What’s your affinity, Declan?  If you have one?” she asked, stylus poised over her tablet.

“Fire and earth,” I said, keeping my voice as even as possible.  Take that, bitch.

“Which is it, dear?”

“Ah, both.  I have a dual affinity,” I said, not adding that I actually have a third, because that was universally thought impossible.

“Declan, you’ve already impressed us just by being a warlock.  This isn’t a competition, dear, so before anyone is embarrassed, let’s just answer honestly, okay?”

I held my right palm up and pulled heat from the pool of warm air up in the steel rafters.  I compressed it smaller and smaller till it ignited in a ball of self-contained fire, about the size of a grapefruit.  Beside me, I felt T.J. pull away from the heat, while on my other side, Ryanne leaned in, fascinated.

“Right, fire it is. Impressive, dear,” Berg said.

In the far corner, a daylily bloomed in a pot of dirt. I pulled a lump of dirt out of the pot, across the room, and into my left hand.  She looked up at the sudden motion, eyes narrowing as she spotted the pile of slightly damp earth in my hand.

Trying something quite a bit trickier, I formed the pile into the shape of a little man, maybe three inches tall, just the semblance of a humanoid figure.  Then I walked it across my palm to my other palm.  Focusing my concentration for the hard part, I carefully forced one tiny arm to make a salute in Miss Berg’s direction.

For a moment, her mouth hung open, just a few seconds really, but enough to give me a perverse sense of satisfaction.  Then her eyes narrowed again and she waved one hand.  My little dirt man crumbled into a pile of potting soil, even as much of the class awwed in disappointment.

“Mr. O’Carroll, you have made your point, but I don’t like grandstanding in my classroom.  Attention whores will not be tolerated, do you hear me?”

“Ma’am, did you just call me a whore?” I asked, temper flaring uncontrollably.

“I identified a class of individuals that most of the warlocks I have known invariably fall into.  If the shoe fits, Mr. O’Carroll, if the shoe fits.  Now, enough. Let’s finish the roll call,” she said, before calling another kid’s name that I didn’t hear because I was trying to strangle my anger.  A warm hand touched my right forearm as Ryanne leaned in close.

“Don’t flip out, laddie. She’ll learn soon enough.  And sooch a surprise it’ll be,” she whispered, distracting me with her perfume, her warmth, and her understanding of what I was.

I glanced sideways at her.  One eyebrow was arched into a perfect smirk.  “What?  I watched you stand off with me sisters, holding more power than the lot of us and you didn’t think I would realize?  Not to mention ya blacked out the whole building yesterday.  Britta’s been having a bird over it, she has,” she whispered.  “Jest bide yer time.  The old bitch will like to shite herself.”

Just that fast, my overwhelming anger turned to amusement at the mental picture she’d just painted.  In fact, I almost laughed out loud, but kept it to a quiet chuckle.  Miss Berg noticed and glared but finished out the rest of her roll call without comment.

“In this class, we will explore what is known about your abilities, what is not known, and what is suspected.  We’ll cover some history, learn how these powers have been put to use in different cultures around the world, and we’ll do a great deal of actual practice in developing your full potential.  That will be important, class, for many reasons, not the least of which will be that Mr. Jenks will be expecting you to be able to use your gifts under stress in your survival class.

“Now, for the rest of this session, I’d like you all to group up by ability or in my witches’ cases, affinity.  Many of you are self-taught; others maybe have some training.  You can all learn something from one another. Now go ahead and group up,” she said.

The witches were almost even in affinities, except for myself.  I could have worked with either Tami and Zuzanna or the little Earth witch, Michelle.  I chose Michelle as it only seemed logical.

She looked at me a touch hesitantly.  I was still clutching a fistful of soil and I gestured with it.  “Let me go put this back,” I said, pointing at the potted plant.

“That was really cool.  Could you teach me to do that?” she asked.

“You never made dirt people?” I asked.

She shook her head.  “My mom had me at a commune near Seattle.  She mostly used her abilities to help grow the food we ate.  That’s how I learned, on plants.”

“Oh, right.  Makes sense.  My mom showed me this when I was like six or something.  I kept up with it for years, making the courses harder and my dirt dudes more complex.”

We were at the corner of the classroom farthest from the door.  The lily was a big one and the pot it lived in had plenty of dirt for us to work with, so I just sat on the polished concrete and made a pile of my dirt in front of me.

Michelle dropped down cross-legged and after a moment, she reached into the pot and helped herself to some potting soil.  I noticed that the rest of the class had spread out around the room as well.  The witchcraft contingent seemed to have this half of the room while the psychic kids were on the side nearest the entrance.

Tami and Zuzanna were nearest to us, sitting on the open concrete, passing spheres of fire back and forth, while ten feet further away, the telekinetic kids were taking turns lifting and moving pens.

“So, first thing is to form it into a shape.  I think two legs are easier to move than four, so you might want to stick with a person shape,” I explained, pressing with my will until the soil assembled itself into the same little dirt man I had made before.

“Wait, did you say animals?” Michelle asked, eyebrows up.

“Yeah, at one point, I made a dragon and had it breathe fire on my little dirt warrior.  Kind of made up my own little war game.”

“But in three-D.  Beats video games all to hell,” she said.  Her pile of soil struggled for a moment, fell back down a bit, but then shifted up into a person shape.

“Yeah that’s it,” I said, but she was frowning.  A second later, her person took on a decidedly feminine figure, complete with little dirt curves in all the right places.

“Golem Barbie?” I asked.

“Of course.  Why settle for a dumb old dirt guy when I can make a lovely young loam princess,” she said, laughing.  “Now what?”

“Now the hard part.  Actually, it’s probably perfect that you made yours a girl because you have to sort of push yourself into it.  Kind of project your mind into the form of it,” I said, concentrating to do just that.  Following my Earth connection through my body and the concrete under me to the little man, I pushed myself into it until it shook.  The next part was the hardest because at this point it was natural to want to see it move, but I had to remain focused on feeling it move.  I said as much to Michelle as my dude started to take his first steps toward her figure.  He walked over and bowed to the frozen brown female form who was shaking but not moving.

“Close your eyes,” I said.

She looked at me, frustrated.  “How will I see if she’s moving?”

“That’s the point.  You have to feel it, not see it.  Here, close your eyes.  Now touch your nose with a finger.  Okay, remember that feeling of how it is to move without seeing.  Now, keeping your eyes shut, follow the bridge you made to Princess Paydirt there.”

She snickered but kept her eyes shut.  A little furrow appeared between her eyes as she focused and her right arm twitched like she was going to touch her nose again.  Instead, the dirt girl’s arm shook.  A second later, the slender little brown arm swung around and smacked into the formless face.

“You did it,” I said.

Her eyes popped open and she looked down to see what she had done.

“I did.  I did move her,” she said, bouncing a little in excitement, before shutting her eyes and trying again.  This time, the little figure took a step, and then a second.

She slipped one eye open as it took a third, then opened both wide as the little feminoid marched right at my figure.  It occurred to me that she might not stop, so I swung my guy out of her way just in time to avoid being marched right over.

“Okay, that’s just damn cool,” a voice said and I turned to find Zuzanna and Tami now much closer and obviously fascinated with our creations.

“Um, but fire people are cool, too,” I said.  Their attention snapped from the dirt couple to me.

“Say what?” Zuzanna asked.  She had a slight accent, just a trace of something I couldn’t place.

“Fire people.  Same thing as these, only you form them from fire.  Actually, burning gases, but it’s the same thing.”

“Show us,” Tami said, intent.

“Well, we don’t have a campfire to work with.  It works best with burning wood.”

“I’ve got a candle here,” Tami said, pulling a big white candle from her bookbag.

“I guess I can show you what I mean, but it’s harder with a smaller flame,” I said, igniting the three wicks on the pillar candle with a thought.

“Okay, look close ‘cause he’s gonna be tiny,” I said.  The flames were a bit bigger than expected and the three wicks were clustered fairly close together, so I tried something different.  A tiny little flapping fiery creature formed about two inches over the flames, its form kind of like a primitive pterodactyl, flying in a circle limited by the candle’s three flames.

“Holy shit, that’s wicked cool,” Michelle said.  Her dirt girl collapsed into a pile on the floor but she ignored it, instead watching the little flaming bundle of flapping gas as it swooped around the candle top.  “Is that how you made the dragon?”

“No. I made him out of clay, over a wood and wire frame, but I put a charcoal briquette inside it.  Used one of those ones with the lighter fluid already soaked into it.  It took a lot of trial and error, but eventually I could move him and kindle the briquette at the same time.  But it wasn’t any fun to run both him and my warrior at the same time.  Couldn’t surprise myself,” I said, concentrating on having the little flyer fly straight up, then loop over backward.  Meanwhile, my dirt dude was approaching the thick candle.

“So what did you do?  With the dragon?” T.J. asked.  I looked over and found more than half the class was clustered around us, watching avidly.

Dirt dude got to the candle, but it was too tall to jump.  I concentrated on his little fists and feet, hardening them till he could jab them into the white wax and climb.

“Well, I took it apart and rebuilt it.  My family uses runes, so I layered his frame and body in different runes.”

“To do what?” Britta asked from behind my shoulder.

“To program him.  Again, it took a lot of experimentation, but my mom had just… died and I needed something to focus on.  Took about a year to get it right.  Then I infused him with some power and set him loose in the course I had built.  It was inside a circle, so that became his invisible fence.  But he was free to hide and hunt his prey.”

“Prey?” another kid asked.

“Yeah, I spelled him… programed as it were, to hunt any double D’s that entered his domain.  He ignored everything else, like our cat or the mice our cat refused to catch, but put a little soil warrior in there and he’d wake up and start hunting.  By this time, my obstacle course was inside an old barn on our property and took up most of a twelve foot diameter circle,” I glanced back at Britta. She was giving me a weird look.  “What?”

“Double D’s?” she asked arching one eyebrow and crossing her arms over her impressive chest, which made me flush as I realized her confusion.

“Ah, yeah.  Awkward.  Double D’s was what I called dirt dudes.  I was only eight, so I didn’t realize it could be taken a different way.”

“The other kids in your aunt’s circle must have loved it,” Paige commented.

“We never had a circle.  My mom and my aunt were betrayed by their circle in Ireland.  We never joined another,” I said, making the pterodactyl fly at double D, who had reached the top of the candle and stood, arms raised, like he had conquered Everest.

“You’re from Ireland, Mr. O’Carroll?” Miss Berg asked from the left side of the circle.  By now, it looked as if the entire class was watching the little drama on the candle.

“My mom and aunt are... were. I was born here.  Anyway, that’s it.  Just a kid’s game.  Kind of dorky.  I even called it Wytchwar, with a Y instead of an I.  Always wanted another couple of kids to play it or against or something,” I said, standing up.  The candle snuffed out at my thought, the flyer flapping valiantly for a second before running out of gases.  Double D did a back flip off the candle into my hand, gave the crowd a little salute, and then collapsed back into a pile of dirt.

The faces around me looked disappointed at his disappearance.

“Well, I must say, they taught you an excellent way to build your skills.  You handle your Craft well, especially for a warlock,” Miss Berg said. “ And this exercise uses very little power, so again, it must have been perfect for a fledgling warlock.”

I looked at her in disbelief but she was still looking down at the candle, lost in thought.  I glanced over at Ryanne, who rolled her eyes at the teacher before flashing a broad smile.  I wondered what Miss Berg would have thought of the seven-foot-tall dirt dude I made at age ten.  It weighed in at close to five hundred pounds and could carry multiple times its weight in logs.  Aunt Ash pitched a fit when she found me using it like a garden tractor to help with my firewood chores.  Little power, my ass.

“We should play Wytchwar here.  As a group.  You know, have competitions and shit,” T.J. said.

“That would be so cool,” another kid agreed.

“But we’re not all witches and there’s only, like, two earth witches?” Ashley protested.

“But there’s so much more to do than just drive the dirt people or fire people or what have you.  Declan basically made a robot dragon out of dirt and wire.  He could make more.  I could make all kinds of electronic robots.  Then there need to be people to build and change the course, people to plan tactics or pass information.  Remote flyers could look for traps for their teams to avoid, the telepaths could referee the game to make sure there isn’t any cheating.  Like that,” T.J. answered, getting more excited.

Other kids joined in, the idea flaring around the room like a fire.  Miss Berg cleared her throat.

“That’s an excellent idea, T.J.  I will ask Director Velasquez if we can use some of the empty space in this building for a game field.  But before we can have a game, we have to define it, its rules, and have an order of play.  So, your homework has just changed.  You will each submit to me by, say, six PM tomorrow, an email with your ideas for the game. Make them as detailed as possible and like T.J. suggested, describe as many roles as possible.  I will then attempt to put them together into some semblance of order for our next class on Wednesday so we can finalize the game structure.  Your other assignment is to practice any new skill you picked up from your classmates tonight.  That’s it.  Class dismissed,” Miss Berg said, turning and heading for her notes on the speakers podium.

I stood for a moment, a bit bewildered at what had just happened.  Then I felt a shove on the shoulder, just a light one.

“Way ta go, ya bogger.  Now we gotta play sports,” Ryanne said with a mock glare. The other witches and much of the class were still around us.

“I, ah, don’t know what just happened,” I said.

“I’m just codding ya on.  It’ll be the craic,” Ryanne said, laughing at me.

“I don’t know, Ryanne, maybe for the earth and fire types, but how about the air and water witches?” Britta asked, arms still crossed.  “No double D’s for us,” she said archly.

“Not how I see it,” T.J. said, eyeing her chest with a grin.  She rolled her eyes at him, but her twin answered first.

“Damned right,” Erika said, hands on hips and shoulders back.

“Again, I was eight.  But you’re witches.  You’re only limited by your imaginations,” I said.

“What are you babbling about?” Erika asked.

“You’re an air witch.  Show me a dust devil,” I said, holding out my handful of dirt.

Her eyes lit up with understanding, then she focused down on my hand.  I closed my eyes just in time as I felt wind twist up around my hand, exploding the dirt in to a swirling column after pelting my face and chest with bits and pieces.  When I chanced to open them, I found a little tornado of soil spinning on my hand. Erika wore a triumphant smile as she kept the air spinning in place.

“Think what havoc a couple of those could do to a dirt person,” I said

before turning to her sister.  “Can you make a rolling ball of water?” I asked.

She looked back at me eyebrows raised in disbelief.  “Don’t be absurd,” she said, plucking some kid’s water bottle from his hand and pouring a dollop into her palm.

Not a drop spilled. Instead, it globbed up into a sphere the size of a golf ball.

“Roll it through the dirt, but keep the dirt on the outside like batter on fried chicken,” I suggested.

The ball shot from her hand to my palm, rolling through the dust storm and getting coated with soil.  I set it down on the floor and she immediately got the idea, rolling the ball over two kids’ feet and across the concrete before bringing it to a complete stop, then bringing it back.  I scooped it up with my left hand, the mini-nado still in my right.  A moment’s thought pulled all the heat from the water, leaving a perfect sphere of dirt-covered ice.

“This thing would hit like a wrecking ball,” I said.  “The dirt protects it a bit from fire attacks and insulates it so it’ll last longer.”  I set it into the peace lily’s pot to melt.

“My aunt is an air witch.  Sometimes, if she had a few minutes, she would fly little model airplanes that I built into my game.  She even rigged a few to shoot pebbles out of soda straws with a burst of air.  She’d strafe my dou… dirt guys.  Like I said,  it’s all about imagination.”

“You keep talking about your double D’s and you be really confusing people’s imaginations,” Zuzanna said with a grin.

“Yeah, good point,” I said, now only slightly embarrassed.  “Let’s get out of here; I’ve already got homework from my real college classes.”

Kids were chattering excitedly in small clumps, texting each other with idea after idea as we all began to scatter.

Outside the classroom, Caeco was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, waiting for me but looking sideways across the hall at another person.

“Ashley,” that person called out.

Both Ariel and Ashley, who were just behind me, turned to look at the woman leaning against the other wall.  It was the tough-looking platinum blonde from Gina’s apartment, and she was eyeing us all pretty hard.

Caeco pushed off the wall, arms coming uncrossed, and the blonde mirrored her.  I started to pull power, as it looked like something was about to go down.

“Oh, Neeve,” Ashley said, pushing past me.  The blonde continued to watch Caeco although I was pretty sure she was aware of me as well, but Ashley’s obvious familiarity took most of the tension down several notches.  Ashley flashed us all an apologetic glance, then headed down the hall, speaking quietly with the dangerous-looking woman at her side.

The twins pushed past me, Ryanne, Jael, Michelle, and Paige all following.  “Thanks for sharing your double D’s, Declan,” Erika called to me with her eyes on Caeco.

Eyebrows arched, Caeco just looked at me.

“Let’s get a snack and I’ll explain,” I said, leading her into the dining room.

Chapter 10

A single buffet table was set up with cheese, fruit, crackers, and bowls of different chips.  We filled paper plates and chose a table.  The werewolf boys were at another table, powering through plateloads of snacks.  Delwood glanced our way, nodded a sharpish nod at Caeco, and went back to his food.

“What’s up with that?” I asked.

“We have an understanding.  Now, don’t stall. Tell me what the witch bitches meant and why they’re so suddenly friendly to you,” she said.

I explained the last hour and a half to her.

“Dirt dudes?  Double D’s?  Seriously, Declan?” she asked.

“I was eight flipping years old. I had no idea why my aunt snickered when I said it,” I said.

“Show me,” she commanded, a funny look in her eyes.

There wasn’t any dirt nearby, but she had a whole pile of orange fish-shaped crackers on her plate so I assembled them into a two-legged figure and walked it around the table.

“Cracker people?” Ariel asked as she pulled up a chair, T.J. coming along behind her with an entire bowl of potato chips.

“Cool, we could eat the losers,” he said as he took a seat.

“I was explaining class,” I said.

“It’s going to be amazing,” T.J. said.

“Plus you pulled Miss Berg’s ass out of the fire,” Ariel said.

“What do you mean?” Caeco asked.  I was pretty interested in her answer too.

“Well I don’t know if you realized this, but she didn’t seem to have much of an idea of how to teach class.  She just sorta had us teach each other, then when your idea caught the entire class’s attention, she glommed onto it for a major part of the curriculum.  She has no idea what she’s doing,” Ariel said.

“Other than insulting me at every turn,” I said.

“Well, from what I’ve overheard the witch pack saying, apparently just about every known warlock is a male slut.  Comes from all the witches throwing themselves at them for… well… having witch babies, I guess,” Ariel said with a grimace.

“Dude, look what you have to look forward to,” T.J. said.  Caeco’s gaze settled on him and he put both hands up.  “Whoa, just joking,” he said, but when she looked away, he shook his head at me, grinning and silently mouthing, “No I’m not.”

“Oh.  I didn’t know that,” I said to Ariel, ignoring T.J. and wondering how it was possible that I knew so little about my own people. “But then, I’ve never met another warlock before.”

Ariel looked shocked.  “Why not?”

“Well until a few months ago, I’d never met another witch, either.  Aunt Ash kept me pretty isolated. Talked to a few on the phone and by email when they ordered supplies from our website, but never met one face-to-face until that night here with my friends,” I said.  Both T.J. and Ariel shot me curious looks so I continued.  “We won a free dinner and band night at the local Irish restaurant.  Ryanne and her sisters were playing.  Afterward, I found out they were witches.”

“Oh, that explains why she’s so friendly with you,” T.J. said, blithely stuffing his face with chips and completely missing how Caeco’s deadly gaze was now centered on me.

“We’re acquaintances. That’s all,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.

“I’d love to be acquaintances with a hot rock star witch with a cool Irish accent,” T.J. said.  Ariel smacked him and I gave her a nod of thanks.

“Anyway, I don’t have any experience with other witches,” I said.

“But you have mad skills with witchcraft,” Ariel stated firmly.

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“Oh come on.  I’m not stupid, ya know… I saw Miss Berg’s face when you made the first dirt person and later when you ran both a mini-fire bird and the dirt guy at the same time.  She was bugging, and so were the weeotches,” she said.

“Showing off, were we?” Caeco asked.

“No,” I replied firmly.  “The teacher as much as called me a liar for claiming dual affinities, so I chose a very minor form of magic to prove myself.  Hardly anything at all.  She still insulted me after everything, so she can’t be too impressed.”

“So if that was nothing, you must really be something, huh?” Ariel asked.  T.J. stopped chewing chips and looked from her to me as her logic struck him.

“I thought warlocks were weak?” he asked.

“As a rule, they are.  But as with any bell curve, there are exceptions at either end of the population.  Huh, Declan?” Ariel asked.

“He is exceptional in many ways, Ariel. Let’s just leave it at that,” Caeco said. “Now, who was that N-eev person?”

Eyes narrowed in a way that told me she wouldn’t be forgetting our discussion anytime soon, Ariel finally turned her attention to Caeco’s strategic question.

“She’s responsible for Ashley’s safety.  Probably checking in to see how her first day went.”

“So she’s like a bodyguard?  Secret service type?” T.J. asked.

“No, she’s pretty important herself.  She’s basically a princess.”

“A princess from where?” he asked, baffled.

“Not from here,” she said, looking uncomfortable.

“How important is Ashley in not here?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  I just met her a couple of days ago,” Ariel said, looking down and away.

“Hmmpf,” Caeco said, making her opinion of that statement blatantly obvious.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got homework of my own to get done.  See you guys tomorrow,” Ariel said, picking up her tray and heading for the exit.

“Okay, that was strange.  Listen, I’m rolling out, too.  Catch ya later,” T.J. said, looking like he was going to follow Ariel.  From all the glances he’d been giving Ashley the last few days, I was pretty sure he had a crush on Ariel’s mysterious roommate.

“Wytchwar?” Caeco asked.

“It’ll probably amount to nothing,” I said, making one of the most grossly mistaken statements of my life.

I said goodnight to Caeco and went to my room to get a start on my math homework.

Mack looked up from his smartphone as I entered.  “Hey what’s this game you’ve got everyone talking about?” he asked.

I explained the last two hours of my life as well as the early years of it, complete with a demonstration.  I had his excited attention.

“Dude, that’s better than any video game I ever saw,” he said.  “Listen, you oughta write an email to everyone, explaining your personal vision of it.”

“That’s actually my homework for the class.  But I also have Calc homework and I need to start looking at this coding assignment for Programming.  Man, college seems to be ninety percent homework and ten percent everything else.”

“Yeah, no shit.  Gotta read three chapters of Economics and I also have math homework.”

We both got busy, me with my nemesis, calculus, although it seemed to be making sense, and Mack with a thick book on Macro Economics.  I knocked off my list of problems and decided to take Mack’s suggestion, spending the next hour organizing my thoughts and writing an email about Wytchwar.

I detailed its early days and described some of the different ways it could be played.  Obstacle course, capture the flag, war for territory, two teams, three teams, or maybe even four.  One of the rules my mother laid down for me was that I couldn’t just change the course with magic as I wanted.  My Craft had to be kept focused on my avatar, but I could build multiple spells into it or carry spelled objects.  To keep me honest, she had warded the course with her own runes and I suggested that any course we built at the school should be built the same way.  I threw in some ideas of how different abilities or affinities could be employed in the game, put Miss Berg’s name in the address box, and copied it to the class email group.  Noting the midnight witching hour had come and gone, I packed up my MacBook and crawled into bed, seeing that my roomie was already sound asleep.  The first day of college was officially in the books.

Chapter 11

I slept in till almost nine the next morning, as my first class, Intro to Websites, was scheduled for ten AM.  After a quick shower, some fresh clothes, and two breakfast sandwiches from the dining room, I piled into the Beast, shivering as I waited for the engine to start delivering much-needed heat.  January in upstate Vermont stays mostly way below freezing and often below zero, and Tuesday was no exception.

Finding parking was an issue, but I made it to class with about two minutes to spare.  The professor spent the first quarter of class impressing upon us how seriously we needed to take the material.  I think he was trying to set the tone, attempting to kill off any complacency before it could start.  From the conversations around me before class, most of my fellow students already had experience with designing and administering websites.  I had built, rebuilt, upgraded, and improved my aunt’s restaurant and occult supply websites many times over the years, so I felt this would be an easy class.  Ninety minutes later, I still held that attitude but was anticipating learning a whole bunch of updated skills, as we were each to build our own website over the course of the class.

My second class wasn’t till twelve-thirty, so I headed to the Student Center and grabbed lunch.  My non-standard student ID caused a minor issue as the checkout lady didn’t recognize it and had to check with her boss before suspiciously scanning it into her register.  The line behind me had built up and I was glad when she grouchily waved me through.

“ARC? Never heard of it?” a voice behind me questioned.  The rest of UVM’s student body carried a CATcard, named for the school mascot, the Catamount or mountain lion.  Behind me, a girl and guy were staring curiously at me.

“New program… experimental.  Kind of a local collaboration among the colleges here,” I said, moving to an open table.

They followed me and sat down uninvited.  It was a big table and I didn’t own it, so what the hell.  Plus, the girl was friggin’ beautiful.  Tanned and blonde with super bright green eyes and white teeth and a rocking figure displayed to excellent advantage by a clingy green sweater, charcoal tights, and fur-topped Sorel boots.  The blonde guy with her matched her hair and eye color so close that he must have been related.  He carried a tray of food in one hand and two heavy winter jackets in his other.

She plucked a bottle of fruit juice off the tray and turned to me with a brilliant smile.

I automatically smiled back before looking down at my beef barley soup, deliberately keeping my eyes off her.  Warning bells were going off in my head and I tried to focus my thoughts.

“So an experimental program, huh?  What kind of experiments?” she asked in a bright, clear voice.

I felt pressured to answer… to help her understand.  It would be the right thing to do, to help her with anything she might need, kind of like the blond guy who was waiting on her with food and clothing.

And that was just wrong.  She was hot, but UVM has thirteen thousand college kids, more than half of them female, and there were plenty of really hot girls on campus.  It was something more than that, and now, with my attention focused on my bowl, the awful pressure had lessened.

“Oh, you know.  New kinds of education methods, organically focused degree majors, unconventional curriculum methodologies,” I babbled, spewing whatever bullshit flowed into my swirling mind.  Not looking at her helped.  So did breathing deep and activating my mental shields, the ones drilled into me by my aunt and mother.

My thoughts slightly more organized and thoroughly alarmed, I finally looked back up to see her frowning at me.  It was unbelievably cute and it raised the hairs on the back of my neck.  No one was this charismatic.  I’ve met Tanya Demidova and Stacia Reynolds, two of the most beautiful women on the planet—an opinion held by most of the world’s media—and they were nowhere near as brain melting as this girl was.

It couldn’t be natural and therefore it had to be supernatural.

She smiled and the pressure ramped up a bit, but I could now manage my thoughts.

“So these new methods… anything odd about them or exotic, maybe?”

“Oh, they’re odd, all right.  All kinds of writing seminars and public speaking bullshit,” I said with a shrug, popping the top on my diet soda a little too vigorously.  Brown cola sprayed across the tabletop and spattered a few drops on her perfect face.

The blond guy stiffened like he’d been slapped, and the girl’s smile froze in place while her eyes shut for a second, but not before I’d seen a flare of rage.

“Oh my bad.  Here, let me get that,” I said, wiping the blob of cola from her cheek with a clean napkin.  Her hand shot up and snatched the napkin from mine, using it to finish cleaning up.

“Sorry about that.  What’s your name?” I asked, going on the offensive.

Oddly, it caught her off guard: the simple request for a name.  She hesitated, then I felt the pressure again, but now it just flowed off my shields.

“You can call me Erin,” she said, smiling again.

“Okay, Erin, but is that your name?” I pressed.  Her smile faltered and a cute furrow appeared between her eyes.  Focus, O’Carroll.  Guard up.

“It’s a form of my name,” she finally answered, clearly off stride.

“But not your name?” I pressed.

She leaned back, frowning, eyes locked to mine, lips compressed in a flat line.

“Hey Declan,” a voice called from across the room.  We turned and I spotted Ashley coming toward us, a strained smile on her face and her eyes locked on the blonde whose name wasn’t really Erin.  Behind her came a tough-looking, middle-aged guy who might have been her dad.

Ashley arrived at the table and studied me for a second before glancing at Not Erin, then back to me.  She frowned minutely, then turned back to the spooky blonde across the table and her minion.

“Sightseeing, Eirwen?” she asked, an edge to her voice.

“Just interested in your education choices, young Speaker,” the blonde answered, her bearing suddenly formal.

“Declan, this is my dad, Ian Moore.  I see you’ve met Eirwen.”

“Well, she said I could call her Erin, but we had just established that wasn’t her true name.  Eirwen, is it?  Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Likewise, Declan, likewise,” she replied, standing up, the guy next to her popping up like a puppet.  “But now I must take my leave,” she said, gliding away without even glancing back to see if her companion was following, which he was.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Moore.  Ashley, please don’t take this the wrong way, but your friend was… well, a bit weird.”

“She’s not my friend, Declan, and she’s certainly not yours,” Ashley said, looking at me a bit worriedly.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure of that.  She tried to hex me with a charm or something,” I said, holding my hand out to shake her father’s.

He had a powerful grip and callused hands, but then, I would expect nothing less from a blacksmith.  Up close, he seemed younger than I would have thought.  Ashley was about my age and her dad looked to be in his mid-thirties, which meant he had her young.

He held my hand a moment longer than a normal handshake, pulling me forward just a bit and studying me carefully.  “You’re alright then?  Not feeling the need to chase after her and offer up your firstborn or anything?”

“Yes, sir, ah, no sir.  So it was compulsion of some type, right?” I asked.

“It’s a kind of overwhelming glamour that effects both appearance and personal charisma.  She’s very, very good at it.  Most men become her babbling slaves,” Mr. Moore said, grimacing.  “It helps to hold on to a piece of iron or steel.”  He opened his left hand to show me ring of car keys with a tiny steel prybar on it.

“Steel… iron.  Sidhe,” I realized.

“Wow, you put that together very fast,” Ashley commented.

“Last name O’Carroll, as in Irish. I was raised on the legends.  But they’re real and they’re here?” I asked.

“Yes to both.  Not all of the portal gates open to Hell.  Some open to our sister world, Fairie,” Mr. Moore said.  “It used to occur naturally from time to time, and they would visit.  Or sometimes one of us would fall through to their world.  Back when the Collider first came online, the very first gates to open were to Fairie.  They came through in droves, but only in certain places.  They were hunting,” he said.

“Hunting?” I asked.

“Children, Declan.  Children like us and our classmates at Arcane,” Ashley said.  “But ideally younger.”

“They grabbed Ashley, but it turns out her particular skill is a very, very rare form of telepathy, one they hadn’t seen in a thousand years,” Mr. Moore said, pulling up a chair.

“Fairie has a second dominant species… a very large, very dominant species,” Ashley said, pausing to gauge my reaction.  She leaned close and whispered, “Dragons.”

I looked her in the eye and she was dead serious.  Glancing at her father showed he was as well.  Then I glanced around to see if any of the eating students near us were listening.

“Like flying, fire-breathing dragons?” I asked.

“Exactly.  Big as in 747 Boeing big. At least, Gargax is,” she said.

“And you’re their translator, so if the sidhe and the unseelie sidhe don’t want to get their asses kicked by the dragons, then you are suddenly a very important person,” I surmised.

Father and daughter shared a glance, the daughter surprised, the father suspicious.

“Chris said you were a negotiator for another world, between species.  He didn’t say anything about elves or dragons, though,” I explained.

“Why would he tell you that?” Mr. Moore asked.

“He thought we could keep an eye on Ashley and Ariel.  He owes Ariel big time and he thinks you could both be targets of some kind.”

“I understand Caeco as a bodyguard, Declan, but why you?” Ashley asked, a gleam in her eyes.

“Because I’m not your average warlock, Ashley,” I said.

“You know, that’s been my suspicion all along,” she said.  “I mean, come on. God’s Hammer seeks you out for your opinion on stuff?  An eighteen-year-old warlock that shouldn’t be able to do much but turns out to be the only dual-affinity witch in our school?  Like, please.”

“Are you aware of the necklace that Gina’s daughter wears?” I asked.

“The black stone in the silver tear?  Of course,” Ashley said, puzzled.

“It’s a really, really powerful artifact that protects Toni.  My aunt and I pretty much made it.”

“No way?” she asked.  I just nodded.

“This thing a big deal, then?” Mr. Moore asked.

“Chris bombed that silo in New Hampshire because he was so upset that he couldn’t protect Toni.  That’s where we met him… protecting his goddaughter,” I explained to Mr. Moore.  Ashley was nodding impatiently.

“So we helped make the necklace.  It’s instant death to anyone who attempts to harm her.  Lets him protect her no matter where he is.”

“Will the necklaces you made for Ariel and I do that?” she asked, fingering her Rowan amulet.

“No, but it will block witch attacks, up to a point.”

“What point?” she asked.

“I think if the twins and all the others worked together, they would pretty much blow past the wards.  One on one, though, you’re pretty safe.”

“Is that why Erika’s spell failed on Caeco?”

“No, I blocked that one by reflex.  Better if they don’t know about the necklaces,” I said.

“Hmm, I feel a bit better about you attending this school, Ash,” Mr. Moore said.

“Oh, Mr. Moore, Ashley mentioned you might be revisiting your knife forging business.  Are you taking commissions?” I asked.

“What do you have in mind, Declan?”

“A folded steel set like the ones on your poster.  Bowie and tomahawk, only with silver wire folded in as well,” I said.

“Anti-werewolf and vampire, huh? That’s an expensive order. Have you seen the price of silver lately? I can give you a discount, but it’s still going to cost,” he warned.

“I have money that I’m not having to spend on college and Caeco, my girlfriend, really, really admires your work.  Plus, with the two species being out in the open, I would think folding silver into the mix would be a big hit.”

“Why Declan, you romantic, you,” Ashley laughed.

“Caeco’s much more of a knife and axe girl than a diamond and gold girl.”

“I think we can work something out.  Just make sure you keep an eye on my kid,” he said.

“Dad… you know Neeve is always lurking about, and I have Pancho.  Plus, I’m learning to protect myself,” she said, hands on hips.

“The more the merrier, kiddo,” he said. “Now let’s get some chow.”

“I have to get to English anyway.  Nice to meet you, Mr. Moore,” I said, shaking his hand one last time before heading out.

Chapter 12

My class was mostly sophomores, with maybe a few younger kids like me who had gotten AP English credits in high school.  Held in one of the older buildings, the room had hardwood floors and chairs with attached desks set in rather haphazard rows that more or less faced the old-school blackboard.

I grabbed a desk, maybe two-thirds back, and hung my jacket over the back of it before breaking out a spiral-bound notebook and pencil.  Kids were trickling in, finding their own spaces and basically ignoring each other.  So I doodled.  The room filled slowly and the empty desks dwindled.  A wave of warm, perfumed air announced that the desk next to mine had been claimed.  I glanced over and met a pair of amused green eyes.

“Hey Declan, what are the odds, da ya think?” Ryanne asked, setting her own supplies up on the little desktop.

“Well, you write music and basically grew up next to the United Kingdom, home of English.  So actually, the odds must be pretty decent.  I’m guessing you tested out of English 1?” I asked.

“Naturally, but me meanin’ was more about the odds that a slacker like you would have shuunted it as well,” she clarified, flicking my forearm lightly with the eraser end of her yellow No. 2 pencil.

“I took AP English in eleventh grade and the college accepted the credits,” I said.

“Good on ya, D,” she said with a smile.  “You’re not the complete slacker then, are ya?  Maybe yer a licky bum bum?”

“Only with the hot girl teachers,” I said, smiling back.

She laughed before glancing at the doorway where the middle-aged female professor had just entered.

“Oh, this one looks about right for ya then,” she said of the glasses-wearing, gray and black-haired woman wearing a brown sweater and brown corduroy slacks.

The teacher introduced herself to the class before I could answer and I had to concede the verbal sparring match to the young lady from Ireland.

It turned out that our professor was animated and lively, with a quick sense of humor that kept the entire class entertained as she outlined what we could expect from the curriculum.  We would be reading as much as we would be writing, and she immediately listed a whole slew of classic and modern books to choose from, pretty much including every genre known to man.

“It’s surprising, but this jest might end up to be a savage class,” Ryanne said at the end of the hour and a half.

“What are you going to read first?” I asked as we walked down the old staircase to the first floor.

“I’ve always had a hankerin’ ta read The Call of the Wild.  About as far from life in Ireland as ya could get, and a fella with the name of London should know a bit about writing.  What’s yer pick, then?”

“Dead Witch Walking, by Kim Harrison.”

“Yer going to read a tale about witches?  Really?  Living it ain’t enough?” she asked.

“What the hell; it’ll be fun to read about someone else’s idea of magic,” I said.

“Holy shite, its feckin’ cold out here.  How do ye stand it?” she asked, shivering as we hit the outside air.  The wind was blowing up the hill from Lake Champlain and the wind chill was wicked.

“You get used to it.”

“It’s goin’ to suck fierce walking down to Arcane.  Right into the teeth of the wind, it is,” she muttered.

“Ah, I drove.  Want a ride?” I asked.

“Now yer feckin’ talking, O’Carroll.  Let’s go,” she said, hunkering down even further into her coat.

Beast was just a short walk away and soon enough, I had the engine running.  The ride back to Arcane was short and the heater had only just started to pump out warm air when we were back to our home away from home.

“Goddess bless you, D.  I think I would have froze me blasted ass clear off if I’d had to hoof it,” she said.

“So you’re saying I saved your ass?” I asked as deadpanned as possible.

“Just so, O’Carroll, just so.  These leggin’s are comfy as hell but a bit too sheer to be warm in this cursed cold,” she said, pinching her gray tights along her hip with a finger and thumb.  Her motion brought my attention to the aforementioned body part that I was credited with saving.  Somebody should give me a friggin’ medal.

We got to the doors, flashed our ID’s at the guards, and slipped into the shocking warmth of the building.

“Right then, tanks fer the lift,” she said, standing very close. A cell phone ringtone started to play the beginning strains of a song.

“‘Galway Girl?’” I asked as she scrambled in her parka pocket for her smartphone.

“It’s me sister, Gael… the flirty redhead?” I nodded, instantly remembering her sexy, fiddle-playing sister.  “Me sisters always call me their very own Galway Girl on account of all this,” she said, waving a circle around her face and head.

“What do ye want, ye chancer?” she answered, back on the phone.  “It’s all jest fine, not counting all the international calls from you fockers.

“The bobs?  There are some.  Got a savage one right here wit me now.  Say hello to Declan.”  She held up the phone and I heard Gael’s soft voice: “Hey there, Declan. ‘Ow’s it going, then?”

“Oh it’s brilliant, it is,” I answered in my best brogue, which isn’t half bad.

Ryanne frowned, a cute little furrow forming between her eyes.

“Enough flirting wit me friends, ya poacher,” she said into the phone before bringing it back to her ear.  She gave me a wave and a smile as she turned, heading for the stairwell to her floor.  I would have headed up to my own room but I spotted Mack coming around the corner from the dining room.

“Hey, you already at dinner?” I asked.

“Yeah, your girlfriend got hungry so we just came down.  She thought you’d be turning up about now,” he said.  “I was just heading to take a piss.”

“More information then I needed, dude,” I said.

“Speaking of information, was that the Irish hottie I saw you come in with?”

“Ryanne?  Yeah.  She’s in my English class and I gave her a ride back is all,” I said, maybe slightly defensive.  “Didn’t want her to freeze her ass off.”

“No, ‘cause that would be a crying shame.  Must be an Irish national treasure,” he said with a grin, continuing past me toward the bathroom.

I headed into the dining room, dragging my bookbag and jacket with me.

Caeco, Jetta, Ariel, Justin, and T.J. were sitting at one of the round tables, Mack’s spot obvious from the rumpled cloth napkin.  There was only one buffet table tonight, and it was covered in desserts.

“Hey D, grab a seat.  We get to order off a menu tonight,” T.J. said, obviously excited by the prospect.

“Yeah, I just saw Mack.  Where’s Ashley?” I asked Ariel as I sat down next to Caeco.

“Having dinner with her dad and Neeve,” she said.

“Oh, I met her dad today.  Tough-looking dude, but what would you expect from a bladesmith?” I said as nonchalantly as possible.  Both Caeco and Jetta fastened their gazes on me like lasers.

“Did you ask him about making new knives?” Caeco asked.

“Why would I do that?” I said, making a production of looking at my menu.  It had four entrée choices, two soups, and a couple of appetizer selections.

Steel-strong fingers gripped my thigh under the table, getting my immediate attention.

“Because you have a deep and abiding interest in the happiness of your girlfriend,” Caeco said.

“Oh, well, then yes, I asked him.  He’s going to look into pricing them.  Silver’s gone through the roof since they all came out,” I said, pointing to the table of weres across the room.

Delwood chose that moment to look our way and when he saw us looking, he raised his glass and gave a nod, but I’m pretty sure he was only looking at Caeco when he did it.

“Is he looking for another ass kicking?” T.J. wondered.

“No.  He is offering his admiration,” Justin suddenly said, surprising us in what he said and that he even spoke at all.

Unsettled, the whole group shifted to the menu, discussing the choices.  I chose the chicken cordon bleu while Caeco picked the grilled mahi mahi.

By the time dinner was done, we still had an hour before the TAP seminar with Gina Velasquez, so we headed to our own rooms.

I dumped my book bag and hung up my jacket as Mack took a running dive onto his bed.

“So you gonna whammy that Deldouche or what?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

“Well he’s got his eye on your girl.  You should give him fleas or mange or something,” he said, holding both hands out and twitching his fingers, spell-like.

“You think it’s that bad?  Shouldn’t I let sleeping dogs lie?”

“He’s not sleeping, and I think Justin’s right.  I think he’s become fixated on the only person to give him a proper butt whipping.  I doubt he thinks you’re a threat, what with the rep you dude witches have,” he said.

“Hmm, “ I said, studying the suddenly unsettled feeling I had in my stomach.  Probably not a premonition, ‘cause I kinda suck at those. Maybe gas?

“You do have enough juice to do something, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, but wait, you don’t think Caeco would even go for a meathead like that, do you?”

“Listen, I absolutely don’t understand how chicks think, but I never discount anything.  I mean the dude’s a giant, he’s ripped, and he’s a born killing machine.  A girl like Caeco, raised for combat, wouldn’t she maybe find that kinda hot?”

The feeling in the pit of my stomach had just gone from mildly upset to hold the bucket, she’s a-coming up.

“But just so I’m clear.  If you did want to put the pox on him, you could do it, right?  I mean, I know some of the kids seem impressed with your Wytchwar game, but do you even have enough juice to bother a beast like Delwood?”

I looked at him, considering all he’d said and what he was implying, and my temper rose like a live thing.  Pointing my left hand at the nearest outlet, I pulled an arc of electricity from the wall.  My hair started to stand as the juice built up inside me and the lights dimmed and flickered.  After a couple of seconds of draw, I released the arc and put both hands together about eight inches apart.  Blue twisted bolts of electricity passed between them, snapping and popping.

Mack’s expression was half shock and half awe, his eyes glued to the inch-diameter strands of raw power.  I dropped both hands, letting the electricity slip back inside me, pooled and waiting.  He looked up to my eyes and recoiled a bit.

“Dude, your eyes…” he started, words falling away.

“Mack, nobody here knows how much juice I have.  Caeco has a little idea, but even she doesn’t really know,” I said.

“Okay, okay, I’ll take on faith, especially after that,” he said.

“That was a fart in a hurricane.”

His face was blank for a moment, then it twisted in disdain.  “Really?  That was the best badass statement you could come up with?  We gotta work on your verbal skills,” he said.

I reached over and gave him a tiny zap on his sock-covered foot. He jumped backward on the bed, giving me a Dude, really? look.

“Sometimes Mack, actions speak louder than words.”

“Ow…  fucking oww, you skinny Bewitched warlock son of a bitch,” he said, rubbing his toe.

I laughed and dug out a notebook and pen for the seminar.

“Hey, what did you guys learn in your werewolf control class with Jenks?” I asked.

“Yoga.”

“Yoga?  You’re bullsitting me, right?” I asked.

“Nope.  Jenks says it teaches control, both of body and mind,” he said, changing his voice to make it deeper and more mystic sounding.

“That’s kind of funny.”

“Not if you saw old Delwood eyeing your lady while she nailed some of those bent-over poses,” he said.

He was right.  It suddenly wasn’t funny, wasn’t funny at all.

Chapter 13

Gina made us all sit on the lower levels of the smallest classroom, forcing the class to be closer together.  I deliberately sat so that my body blocked Delwood’s view of Caeco, suddenly seeing him as a new kind of threat.

“Okay, let’s start with a quick video montage of recent news,” Gina began, using a remote to turn on the giant sixty-five-inch monitor on the wall.

(Footage of mobs of people with protest signs outside of a building labeled Demidova Incorporated.

A news anchor with a scrolling banner under him labeled ‘Cure for Cancer, AIDS and Ebola?’

A Wall Street shot that morphs into a climbing graph of silver prices.  A news graph showing the decline in attendance at NFL games and other public events.

A shot of Chris Gordon, Tanya, and team leaving a building on a cobblestone street at night, surrounded by men and women wearing black combat fatigues with POLICE across the back and little French-looking uniform caps, darkness lit by flashing emergency lights on European cars.

A swirling helicopter shot of the famous Battle of DC, the giant demon prince holding half a body in each taloned hand.

Another news anchor, female, with a caption indicating church membership was rising across the world in all faiths and denominations.

A man in a black robe wearing an upside down pentacle being interviewed under a sign for the New Church of Satan.

Blurry footage of a seven-foot white werewolf in beast mode, running through the fight-torn streets of Washington.

The cover of TIME magazine showing a full portrait shot of a beautiful blue-eyed woman with the headline ‘Tatiana Demidova: Heiress, Business Tycoon, Vampire?’

A screen shot of a blog page with the title ‘What Else Roams the Night?’

The video ended frozen on the final title and Gina turned to the class.

“So, what do you think?” she asked the class.

Silence.  Finally, “About what?  The video?” asked the same girl who had asked Chris so many questions just a few nights ago.

“About everything, Ilda.  About how the world is reacting to proof of the supernatural.  About what that means for all of you,” Gina answered.

“Listening to kids around the campus, I think most of the normal people are scared to death of demons and worried about weres and vampires,” T.J. said, glancing apologetically at the vampire girl sitting alone at the far end of the seating.

“Okay.  Katrina, what do you think?” Gina asked the vampiress.

Sitting unnaturally still, the girl studied her in a way that would have made me uncomfortable.  Then she spoke.

“I think it will complicate things.  Probably make life more dangerous,” she said.

“How so?” Gina asked.

“Pointing out the healing powers of Darkkin blood will only make us targets.”

“Turn around is fair play,” one of the werewolves, Matthew, muttered.

“I know. Ironic, right?” Katrina agreed with an uncharacteristic display of animation, like a normal eighteen-year-old girl might. Then her face went cold again.  “Of course, everyone will want a hunting license for werewolves now.  I heard there are groups waiting for the next full moon.”

“Is that true?” the girl of the brother-sister were pair asked with a light accent.

“Yes, Darina, I have heard the same thing, although I know that Chris is working with Stacia Reynolds to lobby Congress to pass an immediate law.  We’ll see what happens.  But Katrina’s point about danger is very, very real.  It’s the reason we haven’t seen many more supernaturals coming out. The leaders are all waiting to see what, if any, protections can be passed.  Currently, any new weres or Darkkin are immediately hounded by the media.  Only those in an organization like the Demidova Corp, the bigger packs, the Coven, or Oracle are protected.  Did you notice the final blog post?  It’s by Brystol Chatterjee and in the article, she wonders about everything from ghosts and goblins to witches and zombies.  So the rest of you are very much at risk as well.”

“I should very much like to see a human attack me or Darina,” the were brother said, his accent very European but hard to judge exactly where.

“I would suggest caution, Janek.  The first time a were of any species kills a human, even in self-defense, there will be an uproar. The public’s fear is very real. There’s a reason why the current poster child for weres is a petite female,” Gina said.

“I thought it was because she happened to be part of Chris’s team,” Jetta commented.

“Yes, but the Alphas are comfortable letting her keep the role.  Stacia’s been plastered all over the media and the public is getting… if not comfortable, at least acclimated to her,” Gina said.

“Doesn’t hurt that she’s frigging hot,” Delwood rumbled.  Most of the males in the room nodded.

“Yes, being attractive is very helpful in this instance.  People are drawn to beautiful people and tend to overlook all kinds of things because of it.  Here, this is a good time to segue to this group of photos,” Gina said, clicking her remote.

The monitor showed a Google Images page of Stacia Reynolds thumbnails.

“Notice how many times she’s pictured with children or families,” Gina pointed out.

“I thought she was just nice, but you’re telling me it’s all fake?” Paige asked.

“No, she is nice.  Right, Caeco?  Declan?”

“Yes, tougher than she looks, though,” Caeco commented.

“She certainly took good care of Toni in New Hampshire,” I said, still looking at the photos.  Gina froze and it occurred to me that I might have a big mouth.

“Did she?” she asked, trying for clinical, but I doubt anyone was fooled.

The whole class was looking our way and I just knew Caeco wasn’t going to be the one to tell this story.

“Ah, yeah.  Toni rode Awasos out of the complex and Stacia ran right alongside her the whole way.  Then she got her a blanket and water and wrapped her all up.  I think everyone else was too scared to go near Awasos.  He’s like super protective of your daughter, but she just worked around him like he was a puppy or something.  Then she got Toni all buckled into the chopper and sat with her, holding her hand.  ‘Sos was in wolf form and curled around both their feet.”

“Thank you, Declan. I didn’t know all those details,” she said, turning away for a moment like she was studying the monitor and surreptitiously wiping one eye.  When she looked back at us, she seemed pretty much back to normal.

“Stacia has a unique relationship with Awasos, kind of like she’s his de facto big sister.  She has been in his life since shortly after his birth.”

“Not what I would have expected for a female werewolf,” Ashley said.  “I mean, I could see someone like P!nk as one.  She seems really kind of fierce on stage.”

“Or Michelle Rodriguez, from The Fast and Furious. She’s pretty badass,” T.J. added.

“Yeah, and she’s hot, too.  I like that brown hair, brown eyes Hispanic look,” Delwood said, looking toward Caeco.  I leaned forward just a bit, blocking his view.

“So you see, your own expectations are probably not all that dissimilar to the general public’s and frankly, some of the were women I’ve met fit that image exactly.  But when you’re trying to mold a positive opinion, using a girl who looks more like a model downplays how dangerous she is.  Chris tells me that posters of Stacia are selling like crazy.”

“I bet his posters don’t do to bad, either,” Erika muttered.

“He won’t admit it, but I have my sources, and you’re completely correct,” Gina answered.  “Again, by directing the image into that of role models, it increases their ability to influence this pivotal moment in history.  And that’s going to be the center point of our seminar—this enormous, without precedent, moment in history.  We’re going to study current events and discuss ways it might continue to unfold—both good and bad.  So right now, let’s break into groups of four to six and do some quick online research.  I want you to look for recent news or opinion pieces on the supernatural breakout.  We’ll take like fifteen minutes, then we’ll go around the room and see what everyone has found.”

We ended up with eight in our group and everyone broke out phones, tablets, and computers to start running down the news.

A little more than a quarter hour later, Gina called for our attention.

“Shelia, tell us one thing your group found?” Gina asked one of the telepath girls who was in a group of four.

“The top headline in Google News was a story about Chris and his team cleaning up a gateway at Stonehenge.  Lots of articles about their recent travels around the world cleaning up the remaining outbreaks,” Shelia said, nervously pushing her glasses up.

“Good.  That’s been a major topic for the last two weeks. Remember, there has been much said internationally about the God Hammer being just an American asset. Thomas, what did you guys find?” she asked one of the were boys, deliberately bypassing Delwood.

Thomas glanced at the giant before answering.  “Yahoo Finance and MSN Money both have headlines about the upcoming Demidova IPO. It’s got Wall Street all hot and bothered.  There’s no other company in the world quite like it and the prices of many major pharmaceuticals are plummeting.”

“Excellent.  Talk about a disruptive technology: refined vampire proteins to treat some of the most devastating diseases known to man, and they currently have the only source,” Gina said.

“What do you mean by currently?” Matthew the werewolf asked.

“Katrina, care to comment?” Gina asked.

The vampire girl was still by herself, none of the other groups brave enough to include her.  She didn’t appear to care.

“Tanya’s group is a smaller subset of the Coven.  The Elders are hanging back and letting her front the Darkkin society, but at some point, they may decide to compete against her.”

“Which are you part of?” T.J. asked her, showing serious balls.

She studied him for a moment.  “I am a Vice President in the Demidova Corp.”

“Then why are you here… at this school?” Ariel blurted out, surprising everyone.

“Exactly how would that be your business?” Katrina asked in a dangerous tone.

Ariel shrugged.  “You’re likely older than anyone here, probably been to college three or four times, and you already have a job.  Just seems odd is all.”

A funny expression flashed across Katrina’s face.  It might have been chagrin or embarrassment, but it was gone too quick to tell.

“Perhaps, noisy little seer, I am on assignment for my Queen,” the vampire replied.

“Enough.  Katrina has as much right to be here as any of you, whatever her personal reasons are.  Let’s get back to the topic, shall we?  Tami, what did you girls find?”

“Well, Mrs. Velasquez, we’re not sure of this one, but eleven women were found dead in New York City.  The cause of death was sudden embolisms in all eleven and the scene of their deaths was set up in an occult ritual.  The article surmises that it has to do with Satanists attempting to open a gate,” Tami said.  “We think it was a circle of witches.”

“Interesting.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t most circles number twelve?” Gina asked.

“Generally, that’s the accepted number, although a circle can be any number.  The eight of us could form a circle, nine if we added Declan, but twelve seems to supply the best mix of power and flexibility.  We are wondering if the twelfth one survived and in fact might have caused the others to die,” Tami said.

“What gives you that idea?” Gina asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“We can’t be sure, but the description of the ritual layout is more in line with a spell to raise power than to summon anything,” Britta spoke up.  “If the circle was collectively sharing power with its leader and something went wrong, it could kill them in just that way.  It’s one of the first things we learn: how to prevent draining yourself to death in a sharing.”

“Also, the article mentions that the police are looking for a twelfth woman known to be part of the group.  I think they fear possession, but I doubt it,” Jael added.

“That, ladies, may be a pivotal point in the exposure of witches.  I’ll defer to your expertise on the true nature of what happened, and I suspect that the police might eventually bring in someone who would tell them much the same thing,” Gina said.

“The article mentions that the authorities are waiting for a certain expert to get back into the country,” Jael said, nodding.

“And he will know almost instantly that it was witchcraft, not demonic,” Gina said before whipping around to look at me.  “Declan, would he contact you about something like this?”

Again, every eye in the room was on me.  I shrugged, feeling my face flush.  “Maybe, or maybe my aunt.”

“Why would he contact a little spark like you when he knows my mother just as well?” Erika asked, arms folded.

“Because Chris Gordon doesn’t trust witches, except for that one right there and his aunt,” Katrina said, sounding as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “It seems some of them have attempted to put spells on him,” she added, eyes drilling into Erika.

Oddly, the snotty blonde dropped her eyes and looked embarrassed, which made me wonder just what she might know.

“Okay, we’ll have to see what happens. Justin, what did you find?” Gina asked the by far quietest person in our group.

“Ah, well, we found an story in the Burlington Free Press about missing children.  Some of us,” he glanced at Ashley, “felt that it was potentially supernatural in nature.”

Gina looked completely alarmed at this.  “Ashley, are you certain?” she asked.

“No ma’am, but there are three kids missing all at once and, well, they are here,” Ashley answered.

“Who’s they?” Ryanne asked, “and why would they be taking the little ones?”

“Ashley?  Would you like to share?” Gina prompted.

After a long moment of thought, Ashley started to speak.  The whole class leaned forward as she told a story of alien invasion in a New York town only hours from where we were sitting.  How the aliens had poached our planet for thousands of years, ending up deep in our folklore as elves, goblins, and pixies.  She explained about a sister planet, Fairie, separated by a thin layer or membrane of dimensional physics that was suddenly eroded by the Large Hadron Collider, much like Hell’s was. Speaking in quiet tones, she told of a world with two main kingdoms, known as Winter and Summer, and the role that each played in insuring the survival of their species. She explained being taken from her grandparents, who didn’t survive the experience, and being rescued by her father, who had to be the biggest non-supernatural badass I’d ever heard of.  Of how her very rare form of telepathy worked only with another important species on the planet and how that had changed an entire world.  And at the very end of her tale, she explained that those same aliens, who we might call elves, were here to oversee her safety and that some might be tempted to kidnap some children while they were here.

“Ashley, I’ll need to talk to Director Stewart about your suspicions,” Gina said into the silence that followed the pretty girl’s speech.

“Yes ma’am, but closer to home, I think some of the people in this room might be targets.”

“Aren’t they much too old?” Gina asked.

“I would have thought so, but I know they’ve been sniffing around some of the kids. They wouldn’t bother the were kids, as that wouldn’t help them and might get them dead, but they might try to target some of the kids with less dangerous powers or attempt to recruit the more powerful ones,” Ashley said.

So that was what was behind my accidental meeting with the creepy blonde Eirwen.

“Well, this changes things.  Class, no one is to walk anywhere alone until we know more.  I’ll have our security people accompany you to and from the campus.  I want everyone to buddy up. Ashley, what about the witches?”

“I think they’re too dangerous for the Hunters to bother.  I know of one instance where the leader of the Hunters encountered one of our witches and backed off.  They may approach them, however, as they’re drawn to power and I suspect the witches give off a lot of it.”

“Please do not leave the building tonight.  I promise to have procedures and protections in place by morning, by the end of your survival class.  Please, please use the buddy system from now on.  Class dismissed. Ashley, I need to see you.”

Just that fast, the class had gone from interested to fascinated to scared… at least in some cases.  The were kids suddenly found themselves popular as we all exited the room.  Caeco glanced my way as we walked out.  Myself, I was still thinking about the circle of dead NYC witches and the missing Sorrow, wondering if they could be connected.

“Who do you think was approached?” she asked quietly, shifting my train of thought.

“I’m pretty dead certain it was me.  I had a weird encounter with a couple of people at lunch today and then Ashley and her dad came along.  Ashley told me the girl I met was Eirwen,  Princess of the Summer Court.”

“Princess?  From now on, Declan O’Carroll, I think you should have a bodyguard,” she said.

“Oh?  Do you know anyone with advanced training in close quarters protection? Are you volunteering?  Because you’re the only one I want guarding my body,” I replied with a smirk.

She bumped my shoulder.  “Maybe I can do some guarding right now… unless you have studying to do?” she said, moving ahead of me and glancing back over her shoulder.

“Fuck the studying,” I said.  “I need some serious guarding.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I’m wondering if I can have a blood sample?” she asked.

Talk about killing the romantic vibe.  “Ah, why?” I asked.  Giving away personal DNA was something every witch was taught not to do from a very early age.  Blood topped the list.

“My Genetics class is karyotyping chromosomes.  We’re supposed to use our own, but I don’t want mine anywhere near a lab, for obvious reasons.  I figured if we used yours, you could always remotely zap the specimen after I was done if for some reason I couldn’t destroy it, accidental-like.  I already asked my professor if I could use someone else’s.”

“So you gonna stick me before or after we ah…” I asked.

“After.  Trust me, you’ll need all your blood for the guarding I have planned.”

“Okay, let’s go.  My blood is yours,” I said, following her up the stairs to our floor.

Chapter 14

The sweat dripping off me had begun to sink into the concrete floor of the hell room, er, gym.  Thought I was in shape.  Jenks had quickly kicked that idea in the ass.

He’d started with jumping jacks in groups of forty, alternated with air squats, also in groups of forty.  Then hindu pushups, burpees, vee ups, flutter kicks, crunches, bear crawls, before doing something called a click drill where we started on all fours, hands and feet, body down, rotated one hand and one foot (opposites) till we were facing up, still on all fours.  We did this four times in one direction, rotating around the floor till we were back in roughly our starting spot.  Then we went the other way.  Back and forth for ten clicks.

Next, he broke us into partners.  First, Mack held my feet while I did handstand pushups, four as it turned out before I collapsed.  Mack did better at six, but the damn werewolf kids were still going at fifteen when Jenks called a switch.  Jenks had had Caeco demonstrate, then let go of her feet when it was apparent she could do them unaided, a fact I would have been quietly in awe of if Delwood hadn’t ooh-haa-ed his appreciation. Mother-f-ing ape wasn’t even sweating yet.  Then he’d shaken off his own partner and done ten unaided himself, calling everyone’s attention to it by grunting loudly at each one. When he stood back up, he’d winked at Caeco before turning a contemptuous look in my direction.  His thunder was stolen a bit by the vampire, Katrina, who was doing them one handed, pumping them out like a machine.

I took a little solace in the fact that I wasn’t the worst by far.  Maybe top of the middle of the group, but still nowhere near as good a shape as the weakest of the weres.  And Delwood… well, I was rapidly developing a major hatred for the biggest dog in the group.

“Okay, enough for now. We’ll go easy today and ramp it up slowly for you softies,” Jenks said.  “Now, I was going to do some more preparation discussion, but in light of the recent revelations, Director Velasquez has asked me to fast track the self-defense portions of the course.  So today I’ll be introducing you to kali, also know as eskrima or sometimes arnis.  These are blanket terms for a host of Philippine martial arts that, unlike most others, actually start with weapons before progressing to empty hands.  It’s an interesting approach that depends on a speedy buildup of muscle memory from the weapon usage.  So today we’ll start with eskrima sticks.  They’re about two feet long and made from rattan, which is a tough, fibrous wood that is also very light.”

He and Caeco handed out pairs of sticks to each student before he had us all face front and led us through some basic swings—diagonal overhand from one side to the other, then same with the opposite hand. Diagonal upswing from low to high, back swings low-to-high, high-to-low, middle-to-middle.  Twisting the stick in one hand back and forth to hit with each end.  Thrusting jabs with the far end, back fist strikes with the near hand end.

Caeco walked the group, correcting grips and swings while Jenks continued to talk us through the loosening up drills.  As she walked, Caeco drew two sets of giant chalk V’s on the floor at each student’s feet—one V right side up, the other inverted.  As soon as she was done, she nodded to Jenks and he demonstrated how to step in a pattern either forward and then back following the inverted V or stepping back then off to an angle following the regular V.  After fifteen minutes of that, he had us break into pairs and after watching him demonstrate with Caeco, we began to do paired strike patterns, complicated sets of matching strikes that required a great deal of partner-to-partner coordination.

Mack and I were just getting the hang of it when I heard one of the were kids swear and drop his stick.  He was rubbing his hand and glaring at Delwood, who shrugged.

“Sorry, dude. Just having trouble getting it,” Delwood said.  It happened that Caeco was two people away, observing two witches who were giggling as they fumbled through it.  Naturally, she turned and moved over to help.  Borrowing the bruised kid’s sticks, she walked Delwood through the pattern slowly, although I could see that he really had no trouble getting it down, an impression reinforced by the evil grin he shot my way when she wasn’t looking.

My preoccupation with his private lesson caused me to miss a block and Mack’s stick glanced off the top of my head.

“Dude, sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry, Mr. Sutton.  Mr. O’Carroll’s own lack of focus caused the problem, not anything you did,” Mr. Jenks said, appearing suddenly by our sides.  “I would think that being in the weakest ranks of energy users would maybe incent you to develop some additional skills, Mr. O’Carroll.  Depending upon others to protect you will be a serious drag on their energy and talents.  You don’t want to be a drag, now do you?”

“No sir,” I said, seething mad.  Caeco’s disappointed look and Delwood’s sneer added fuel to the fire.

Mack and I went back to the drill and I focused like a laser beam through the red haze that was clouding my vision.

Levi had often pushed me to an angry state in Krav, teaching me how to handle my anger while trusting that I wouldn’t cheat and draw on my Craft.  I never did, but I was always comforted by the idea that it was there, like a loaded gun, ready to go off at a thought.

Ten minutes later, Jenks called it quits and had us place our sticks in a big bin on the floor before leading us through a set of cool down stretches.

I waited for Caeco by the doorway as she talked with Jenks for a moment.  The were boys went through in a pack and someone slammed into me so hard I almost lost my breath.

“Sorry, Duckland. Didn’t see you there. You’re so small, it’s easy to miss you,” Delwood said.

I smiled and anchored his left foot to the floor with a thought, which caused him to stumble to one knee.  He jumped up, not realizing I had chosen to release him, instantly furious.  Ready to give him the O’Carroll do-it-yourself uber taser, I suddenly sensed someone behind us.

Delwood froze, looking behind me.  “Leave off, Mr. Singer.  Go on, head out.  Mr. O’Carroll, a word please,” Jenks said.

Caeco was a step behind him, a puzzled look on her face.

“Mr. O’Carroll, perhaps you weren’t listening a moment ago, but a warlock against a werewolf is a poor matchup.  Against the son of an Alpha like Singer, it’s even worse.  One of the girls would likely hold her own, but you?  Not so much.  So do yourself a favor and stop antagonizing him.  A little foot trip won’t save your ass in a fight, hear me?”

I couldn’t speak for a moment.  Couldn’t utter a word, I was so angry.  Caeco was shaking her head at me, eyes wide in disbelief.  Finally, I spoke. “You think me helpless against them?”

He stared at me a moment.  “I think you’d get killed.”

“You an expert on witches?” I asked, not even attempting to keep the anger out of my voice.

“I know enough to know male witches are badly outclassed in the power arena.”

“Really?  How much power do you think it would take to kill someone by internally burning an organ, like, say, a heart?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Mr. O’Carroll, but I know this conversation is over.  Get out,” he said, pointing at the door.

The building shook once—hard, like a huge truck had just gone by or something.

“What the hell was that? You two go on about your day while I check this out,” he said, stepping past us and into the hall, heading to the guarded entrance.

“What’s the matter with you?  You’re acting all crazy,” Caeco said.

“It’s that fuck Delwood.  He’s hitting on you right in front of me and daring me to stop him,” I said, still seething.

“What?  Delwood?  What are you talking about, Declan?  That’s crazy.  He hasn’t hit on me,” she said, thoroughly confused.

“Of course he has; you just don’t see it.  Use your training.  He’s paying you complements, demanding your attention, making comments,” I said.

“You’re being absurd,” she said calmly.  “He knows I’m with you.  Everybody does.  Now listen, I have to run; I’m behind schedule a bit.  I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yeah, count on it,” I said.

“Okay,” she smiled.  “And Declan, no more shaking the building, okay?  It’s old and you’ll just knock it down.”

Mildly embarrassed that she’d recognized my temper tantrum, I was also slightly mollified at her acknowledgement of my power.

Keeping it on the down low was fast becoming a major drag.  The day was coming when the school would learn just what I could do.

Chapter 15

The rest of the day passed in a blur.  Programming claimed enough of my attention to keep my mind off Delwood.  We were running through lines of code to find errors and there was no live machine for me to cheat and ask with my magic. Lunch was clear of elvish folk and my calc class was, well, calc.  I did notice some of my fellow Arcane students either moving in pairs or even groups of three.  Some of the psy kids were hanging with were kids for protection.  I noticed that big, quiet Justin had two young ladies staying close as they walked down the hill.  I stopped and gave all three a ride back to Arcane.

Dinner was another buffet, but the choices were all completely different and the preparation seemed on par with my restaurant-trained tastebuds.  It was definitely better than what they served on campus, and even that wasn’t too bad.

Back at Arcane, the kids all seemed a little nervous, talking animatedly in groups in the lounges and dining hall.  Even my group was a touch subdued.

“Are they really going to come for us?” Ariel asked her roommate.

“I don’t know.  Honestly, I don’t.  It’s just that three children missing in an area this size all at the same time is way outside the norm.  So it makes me think they’re around.  Plus Eirwen approached Declan at lunch,” Ashley said.

“She’s a princess, right?” T.J. asked.  Ashley just nodded, her mouth full of soup.  He turned to me.  “Dude, was she hot?” he asked.

Ashley rolled her eyes, Ariel looked incredulous, Jetta frowned, and Caeco just looked mildly curious.  Mack and Justin waited for my response with typical male interest.

“Yeah, but it was fake hot,” I said, dipping a California roll in some wasabi that Caeco thought I should try.  “She projects some kind of glamour or illusion that makes you almost lose your mind,” I said, then popped the sushi into my mouth.  Big mistake.  Note to self: Don’t rely on Caeco where culinary spice heat is concerned.  Eyes tearing, throat burning, I drank my entire glass of water and when that failed to impact the burn, I stole Mack’s glass of milk.

“Hey dude, not cool,” he said, although his tone was too mild to indicate any real annoyance.

“So she was, like, ugly?” T.J. asked, disappointed.

I coughed a couple of times and finished the milk.  “No, she’s good looking, but when she’s got the glamour thing going, she’s crazy hot.  You feel this pressure to do anything to make her happy.”

“Aww, I get that with any hot girl that will talk to me,” T.J. said with a quick glance at Ashley.

She either failed to notice or chose to ignore. Instead, she was still looking at me curiously.  “The elves have different abilities; glamour is often one of them.  Eirwen is really strong with it.  The way to defeat it is to hold a piece of iron or steel in your bare hand.  But you didn’t fall for it, D, even without iron.  How?”

Wiping the remaining tears from my eyes, I watched as Caeco casually swiped her own sushi through the remaining wasabi on my plate, popping it into her mouth without any visible reaction.  I felt myself frown but only pushed my plate in her direction, noting the glimmer of amusement in her eyes.  I finally addressed Ashley’s question, which had everyone else curious.

“Hello… warlock here… remember?” I asked.

“You know what?  I got paired with that foreign witch, Zuzanna, today, as my escort.  She kept asking questions about you.” Ariel said.  “She’s a bit freaked out that you’re a dual-affinity warlock, something she’d never heard of, and she’s really impressed with your skill.  Then there’s the comment that vampire chick, Katrina, made… you’re like the only witch that Chris Gordon trusts.”

“Not true.  He trusts my aunt,” I said, spearing another sushi roll and dipping it in soy sauce this time.  Caeco had turned me onto sushi and I liked it, but definitely not the wasabi sauce.

“Yeah, Zuzanna had a whole bunch of questions about your aunt as well,” Ariel said.

“What?  What did she want to know?” I asked, food forgotten.

“If O’Carroll was really her last name, where she was from in Ireland, stuff like that,” Ariel replied, eyes wide at my response.

“Listen, we’ve strayed off topic.  We need to get back to the important stuff—how hot was this elf girl without her magical makeup?” T.J. asked.

“Well, she was pretty, I guess, quite pretty, but no more so than the girls here,” I said with a wave around our table and at the other tables.  “It was the illusion that made her standout from other girls.”

My glance had made eye contact with all four girls at my table and now they all sat upright, with expressions of surprise and unconcealed pleasure.

“You blarney speaking smooth talker, you,” Ashley said.

“Well, if ye don’t mind me saying, good blarney is always based on the truth, jest more of it, ye see?” I responded, smiling.  My comment had been sincere, though, and they all knew it.

“Are all warlocks such bullshitters?” Jetta asked, giving me a smile to take any sting out of her question.

“Aunt Ash won’t call me a warlock.  Says I’m not one and she hopes I’ll never be one.  Won’t tell me what that means, though.  She just says that the meaning of the word has been lost over the years and now people use it to refer to any male witch.  She says that’s not right,” I said.

“Have you researched whatever she’s talking about?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, nothing on the web and most of my non-digital sources have given me zilch.  There is one source, but I promised I wouldn’t go there yet.”

“Hey, we got class in like five minutes,” Mack suddenly said, looking up from his phone.  I think he’d been Snapchatting a girl from one of his college classes and must have noticed the time.

We grabbed our plates and headed to the clean-up station. Caeco and Justin turned off in the direction of the gym while the rest of us went to the Explorations classroom.  I snuck a quick kiss before letting my little killer head out.  Jetta smirked at me and Mack made a little heart shape with the fingers of both hands over his chest.

Inside our classroom, a note on the smartboard told us to head to the basement level.

Downstairs, following the rest of our classmates, we found an enormous open space, broken up by massive support pillars.

Miss Berg was waiting for us near the overhead door that led to a ramp up to ground level.  Bricks and lumber were stacked near her, as well as a kiddie pool full of water and some tools.

“I’ve received all your suggestions, which ranged from somewhat simple to overly verbose,” she said, her eyes moving over us.  “I think to start off, we’ll construct an obstacle course with these materials and then we’ll practice moving avatars through it.  So let’s dig in and put a serious course together.  I have some plans here for what I have in mind.”  She held up a fairly talented sketch of balance beams, ramps, brick climbing walls, and even a swing over a pool of water.

“Ah, Miss Berg?  How are we going to have avatars?  We aren’t all earth witches, like Michelle and Declan,” Erika asked.

“Ah, don’t worry about that.  We have several strong telekinetics and nine witches.  Every witch born has some telekinetic power, even Declan, right dear?” she asked, looking at me.

Someday I would realize just what a pivotal moment that was, and wonder what might have been if I’d had ten seconds more.  I had decided that hiding my power was a dead end and that seemed the perfect time to display just a bit of it.  Lifting her off her feet and flying her around the room would prove my point to her and everyone else.  But just as I made the decision, footsteps pounded across the flat concrete and an excited voice yelled in echoes. “I got them! Miss Berg, you scored big time,” T.J. hollered, carrying a big cardboard box in his stretched-out arms.

He dumped the box onto the ground and it flipped on its side, the contents spilling out in a tangle of plastic arms, legs, and multicolored hair.  I wasn’t entirely sure, but from my angle, it looked to be full of Barbie dolls with a Ken thrown in here and there for good measure.

Miss Berg lit up with a smile, her question to me forgotten and my moment gone.

“Perfect T.J., just perfect.  I saw them at that Recycle store in the toy section,” she said. “They were still there when I went by today.”

Grabbing a blonde specimen dressed in a tiny jean skirt and white blouse, she set it upright on the floor and when she pulled her hand back, it stayed standing on its own.  Then it moved, the legs and arms jerking it forward in a grotesque approximation of walking.

“Takes a bit to get the hang of it,” she laughed a little, self-conscious.  Her Barbie started to smooth out a bit but its joints were stiff and rigid, its awkward motion frankly creeping me the F out.  She walked it over to a stack of bricks and reached its little stiff plastic hands up to grasp the top edge of a three stack.  After fumbling a bit, she managed to make the doll climb up, its joints creaking as she forced it to simulate natural movement.

This wasn’t my childhood game; there was no creation or imagination, no finesse or skill, just using brute power to operate a readymade alternative to a dirt dude.

My fellow classmates didn’t share my opinion, as the witch girls rushed forward to claim their own dolls.  Funny how they tended to grab one with the same hair color as their own.  The three kids who had demonstrated telekinesis also moved up and grabbed a doll, too. Soon the better part of a dozen of Mattel Corp.’s finest creations were teetering about the floor.  Miss Berg put the other kids to work creating ramps and raised wooden walkways for the bizarre horde of perky plastic people.

T.J. was tinkering with a different toy that he’d pulled from the bottom of the box.  It was small white robot, the miniature version of a much bigger, much more capable programmable home robot.  His version was never meant to actually do as much as its big brother, but T.J.’s dexterous fingers were disassembling it and reassembling it in ways its designers had never dreamed of.  Watching him with my Sight, I could see the magic at work as he took apart another couple of broken toys from the box and added their parts to his new creation.  He was done in five minutes and when he added batteries to it, his little ‘bot marched into the middle of the rapidly growing obstacle course and proceeded to put the ungainly Barbizoids to shame.

“You’re not participating, Mr. O’Carroll?” Miss Berg said suddenly from my side.  She handed me a Ken doll and motioned me into the fray.  “This was, after all, your idea,” she said before moving over to direct the construction of a brick pyramid.

I looked at the toy in my hands and considered all the ways it was wrong.  Bending one leg on it, I felt the joint ratchet, the design intended to hold the new position and not flow smoothly like a real leg would.  My dirt people were usually built over a skeleton of wood and wire, but the joints were left free and loose.

Concentrating on the plastic and the wire frame it covered, I made some modifications.  Plastic flowed and metal smoothed until its legs and arms swung freely, the joints now fully flexible.  I set Ken down and walked him into the fray, his motion entirely different than the others.

“Jest how are ye doing that, ye cheating bastard?” Ryanne asked, admiring Ken’s smooth gait.  The other doll drivers started to pay attention as I pulled her black-haired Barbie from the floor to my hand with a mental tug.

“Here now, don’t ye be taking liberties with her, ye pervey nonce,” she said although her tone was more curious than anything else as I made the same modifications.

“There, I loosened her up a bit,” I said with a smirk.

“Ay, I’ll jest bet ye did.” She eyed me suspiciously, but with a slight twitch of a smile.  Within moments, her doll was moving about the course and I quickly had a line of witches looking for customization for their own dolls.  My smartest move was showing Michelle what I’d done and letting her help modify plastic people.

Her first customer was Britta while the other twin insisted that I handle her doll.  Erika watched me carefully as I loosened joints and added flex to her little Mini-me.

“You know, those body proportions are just about accurate,” she said, leaning close… too close while I worked.  “At least for my sister and me. Not so much these other girls,” she said archly.  Then she took back her avatar and pivoted on one heel to try out the new, improved version.

“Pretty cool, huh?” T.J. asked quietly, watching the Amazonian witch walk away.

I glanced over at where the other kids, the ones without telekinesis, were sitting and watching the action, their simple construction chores done.

“Not what I envisioned, T.J.,” I said.  “Not at all.”

Chapter 16

Tuesday passed rather uneventfully, although Caeco wasn’t too pleased that I gave Ryanne another ride back to Arcane after English.  But we were still on the buddy system and it was still January in Vermont.  Waiting for me near the entrance, my assassin girlfriend had simply raised her eyebrows when the two of us had walked in and Ryanne had rather loudly thanked me for the lift.

For most girls, that wouldn’t constitute much of reaction, but for her, it said a lot.  I’d have to find a tactful way to avoid too much lift giving.  My explanation that we were in the same class only fueled the fire, so I asked about her day instead.

Her workload was a buttload more than mine. Oracle had arranged for some fake college credits to compensate for her years of growing up in super-advanced biology and genetics labs.  The result was a heavy courseload of second-year classes and their accompanying labs.  I asked how the genetics class was going and specifically how my DNA sample was doing.

“Waiting for the karyotype results.  Probably find out tomorrow, then I’ll accidentally spill some acid on the sample.  Just gotta get the project done and I’ll have my grade,” she said, a trace of weariness in her voice.

She walked with me to my room, where I dumped my stuff, then we walked down to dinner and met up with the rest of our friends.  After dinner, everyone separated to get started on schoolwork before Gina’s seminar.  We were all rapidly realizing how much work came with college, and Arcane’s special programs took up a ton of precious homework time.

Before too long, we were back in an Arcane classroom once again.

“We ended the other night on a bit of a scare.  I’m happy to announce that I’ve met with representatives from the Fey and received their assurances of your safety.  Also, the three missing children were located by the Sheriff’s department, all safe and sound.

“However, this illustrates the additional dangers faced by supernaturals, so I hope you all take your morning survival classes seriously,” Gina said, her eyes ending on mine.  That pretty much instantly pissed me off.  Jenks had obviously been feeding Gina some crap about me and she was buying it.  I spent much of the class fuming.  She talked more about the obvious things we saw on the news daily.  Chris and company were currently touring Europe, cleaning up gate sites too tough or resistant for the regular exorcist types.  The media was having a field day following their exploits.  The discussion moved to some of the more extreme religious groups that had formed, seemingly overnight, since Halloween.  Many preached complete intolerance toward supernaturals, calling for laws to control them.  Jael suggested that witches might have protection under grounds of religious freedom, but another kid, one of the telepaths, pointed out that witches had a gene or three that gave them the ability to practice, which meant their religion wasn’t open to everyone.  That prompted a discussion about whether or not a religion had to accept everyone interested.  Someone pointed out that regular humans could still practice witchcraft, they just wouldn’t be able to make anything happen.  I wasn’t participating and barely listening when Gina called me out on it.

“What do you think, Declan?”

I had listened enough to know that she was questioning my thoughts on witchcraft as a religion.

Reluctantly I answered.  “I don’t think that you have to be skilled at a religion to practice it.  People all over the world practice New Age or pagan-based religions without a wit of power. And claiming a genetic difference for any reason is a field day for lawyers,” I said.

“How do you figure?” she prompted, an obvious ploy to draw me out.  The fact that the other kids were all paying attention to my answer kept me from pulling away.

“You can argue that lycanthropy, vampirism, and the inherited ability to control energy are all diseases or medical conditions.  Discriminating against someone based on medical or physical condition is illegal,” I said.

“But government can quarantine individuals whose condition pose a threat to society, like an Ebola-infected traveler,” one of the wolves, Matthew, said.

“They can and have, but there are a ton of cases where they’ve stepped on individual rights and been sued successfully.  Much of it has to do with degree of contagiousness, and the articles coming out about the benefits of vampire proteins are pounding the point about how hard it is to actually get infected with vampirism.  Lycanthropy requires the virus to penetrate the skin and cannot be transmitted by kissing a were or even having sex with one,” I said.

“Thank Goddess,” Erika muttered.

“And witchiness can only be passed on by sex,” Michelle said, “—at least to the next generation.”

“All of which is true, and none of it is an absolute protection,” Gina said.  “Like any other legal right or privilege, it can be taken away by the stroke of a pen.”

“So we need to be vigilant about new bills and try to build a base of public support.  I like Declan’s idea about all the New Agers, Wiccans, and other practitioners of pagan-based religons.  Plus there’s that whole Satanism church that sprang up, which is arguably a greater threat to national and global safety than anything else,” Paige chimed in.

“That, dear, is a very interesting point.  The New Church of Satan is a danger because of the threat of opening new portals to Hell, correct?” Gina asked.  Most of the class nodded or made affirmative noises.  “Well, by extension, so is witchcraft.  Even non-witches have successfully opened gates, at least before the Large Hadron Collider was adjusted and turned down.  How the country treats the NCS will set precedent for a lot of things.  Ever heard of slippery slope theory?”

The discussion trended toward things like camel’s nose under the tent and other potential snowballs of legislative peril when I turned to Caeco and muttered, “Nuclear weapons and the Internet.”

“What was that, Declan?” Gina asked, snapping her attention to me.  Wow, good ears.

“Just a comparison.  Having the knowledge and ability to produce something dangerous is not inherently a crime.  It’s the act of doing so that is.  I can pull up detailed plans and instructions on my phone for explosives, bombs, even nuclear weapons, and none of that is criminal.  But if I start actually building bombs, then I’m in trouble,” I said.  On my other side, Mack suddenly slid down a bit in his seat.

“Knowledge of rituals and spells is widely available.  Hell, my aunt’s website sells a half-dozen books that have viable spells and charms in them.  Several touch on demon summoning.  It’s the same thing.”

That touched off a fierce debate on whether my example was apples-to-apples or something else.  The result was yet another assignment, this time a written essay of fifteen-hundred words on one side of the argument or the other.  Then Tami asked an off-topic question.

“Mrs Velasquez, can you explain the ranks you spoke of our first day?  Paladin, Knight, and Champion?”

“Sure, Tami.  I think I mentioned that we would touch on it.  Oracle ranks untrained operatives as either Plebian or Noble.  Plebian will likely never reach a field operator status, but may end up as support personnel, guards, admin, analysts, and the like.  Noble indicates a strong potential to achieve Paladin rank, which is the standard operator classification.  Ninety percent of Oracle active field agents are Paladin class.  Only ten percent are Knight class.  Before you ask, there are no strict definitions of Knight class, only a general concept that each Knight operator is strong enough to be the equivalent of three or more Paladins.”

“What about Champions?” Britta asked.

“Champion was a theoretical classification for individuals who might have the abilities of ten or more Knights.  It was recently decided to be a viable theory and two Champion class individuals have been identified by Oracle senior management.”

“Chris and Tanya,” I found myself saying.

“Yes Declan, Chris and Tanya.  There may be others, but none have been clearly identified.  However, both Chris and Director Stewart feel that all of you have the potential for Paladin, if not Knight classification.”

“What about Champion?” Delwood asked, clearly already in love with the title.

“Chris feels that at least one of you has that potential, but he says it’s just a feeling and he refuses to say which of you he thinks it is,” Gina said.  “Now, it’s getting late, you all have plenty of work to do, and your survival class comes early in the morning, so let’s adjourn, shall we?”

Speculation on the potential class Champion ran like wildfire around the group as we left the classroom and split off into our friend pods.  I mostly ignored it, still bothered by the idea that groups of citizens might face discrimination because of accidents of birth or infection.  I had never paid attention to politics before, not seeing a value in it.  But as our discussion struck close to home, I was beginning to see its importance.  Suddenly, the idea of having rights taken from me made me wonder at the sheer balls of the original colonists who dared take on an empire for freedom.

There’s a song about high school never ending and how the struggle for popularity, status, and the control of public opinion carries through to adulthood.  I had thought it hilarious when I heard it.  Now I was chilled at the implications.

Chapter 17

Friday marked the end of our first week at college.  It was also the worst day of my life.

Survival class started with the same workout as Wednesday. Ariel tried to get me to stand near her and Ashley, but then I saw Mack wave to me from across the room near the were pack.

True to his word, Jenks pushed us just a bit further with the PT.  Then he and Caeco handed out the eskrima sticks and he led us through a set of swings and strikes to loosen up.  Next, we spent fifteen minutes on the same partner drills, only faster.  He also added a few more patterns.

Mack and I were hitting a rhythm, getting smoother and faster.  Only the giant were douche and his punching bag… er… partner next to us impeded our pace.  Delwood kept crowding our space, backing into us and making wild backswings that promised pain if we got clipped.  We moved over twice, yet there never seemed to be enough room for him.

Jenks stopped the class and with Caeco as a partner, demonstrated how to block a swing and disarm your opponent.  We used single sticks at first, going back and forth and trying it both left and right handed.  It was an oddly intuitive drill. It just seemed to make sense.  After stopping the force of the swing with your own stick, you wove your free arm over and under your opponent’s stick, twisting your upper torso and yanking their stick free with superior leverage.  It was going great until a free-flying stick hit me in the shoulder.

A glance sideways showed that Delwood had disarmed his opponent so violently that his stick had actually shot through the space between us.  Picking it up, I tossed it to Matthew, who was unlucky enough to be partnered with Dullwood.  A baton slashed through the air and knocked my toss back at me.

“Don’t throw sticks at us, shithead,” Delwood snarled.

“Actually, it’s his stick and you hit us,” I said, picking up the stick and handing it to Matthew.  Delwood’s eskrima stick thundered down and smashed it free from my hand, the end of his baton sliding down the stick and smacking my knuckles.  I reflexively smacked him on the elbow with my own right hand stick.  He growled, actually growled, and swung on me again, knocking my stick almost out of my hand.  The force of his blow was enormous, reminding me of his power.

“What’s this?” Jenks suddenly asked, standing ten feet away.

“Declan’s throwing sticks at us, sir,” Delwood said, his snarl replaced by a mask of righteous outrage.

“O’Carroll, I warned you not to pick fights you’re not prepared to win, yet you refuse to listen,” Jenks said, studying me.

“Sir, that’s not what happened,” Mack started to explain.

“Quiet please, Mr. Sutton.  I don’t need your help to run my class. Got it?” Jenks said, fixing Mack with a stare.  Then he snapped back to me, coming to a visible decision.

“Clear back.  Okay, Mr. O’Carroll.  Maybe you’ll understand the differences between weres and non-weres if we have a little demonstration.  You two stand here and here,” he said, putting Delwood and me together, facing off.

“Alright, wait one,” he said, turning and trotting to the bag of gear he kept on the bleachers.  He took out a light-colored wooden box and opened it, revealing two metal bands.  They twisted my vision hard as he pulled them free from their cushioned resting places and came back to where we waited in the center.

“Hold out your hands, Mr. O’Carroll,” he said, looking at me expectantly.  I didn’t know what those bands were, but I didn’t want them anywhere near me.

“Hold out your goddamn hands.”

I finally did and with two swift movements, he snapped a band around each wrist.

It felt like he tore half of me away.  Part of me was gone, the part that sensed magic, just snipped off like I’d never had it.  Was this how normal people felt?

“Can’t have any temptation to cheat, now can we?” he asked, raising one eyebrow at me.  “Okay, sticks up.”

Still struggling with the loss of so much of myself, I put my sticks up and tried to concentrate on the smirking giant in front of me.  The hair on the back of my head was lifted and what senses I had left were screaming that this was all wrong.

“Now, try to block his strikes, Mr. O’Carroll.  It’ll hurt if you don’t,” Jenks said.  “Fight!”

There was a blur, a sharp smacking sound, and my right hand went numb.  My rattan stick went flying and when I lifted my lefthand stick, it was pummeled out of the way by a truck.  Delwood gave me a vicious grin, just before his massive leg came up off the ground and hit my left side too fast to dodge. Searing pain lanced through my ribs, stopping my breath in my chest and freezing me for a second.  The world slowed to a crawl as I watched Delwood’s right hand back swing at my face, the end of his baton hitting the side of my jaw with a dull crack.  Things went blurry and I felt myself falling.

My next clear moment was on my hands and knees, feeling my opponent pressing down on my neck with a massive hand.  Instinct took over and I pulled at Power, only nothing came, just pain.

The jumble of sounds around me cleared in bits and pieces as the ringing in my head dulled slightly.  Delwood’s whisper reached my brain.  “You’re my bitch, witch, and next I’ll take your girl.”  Then his massive presence was gone, pushed back by others who crowded around me.

“—insane?  What the bleeding ‘ell was that about?” an angry Irish voice demanded.

“Enough, Miss Flynn.  That was not the intent.  Delwood simply got carried away,” Jenks said, his own anger evident.

“Carried away?  He just about killed him,” another voice hissed.  Jetta’s, I think.

“Mr. Jenks, just what is going on here?”  Gina’s voice.

“He had the fucking monster wolf beat the shit out of Declan, that’s what went on,” Jetta said.

“Enough, Miss Sutton.  Another word and you’re gone from this class,” Jenks said.

“If this is how you teach—using your favorite monsters to half kill your students, then I don’t want to be here,” Jetta said.

“Especially when you’ve gone and crippled his Craft with those bloody things on his wrists,” Ryanne agreed.

“You two can both leave,” Jenks said, but Gina’s voice overrode his.

“You both stay, until I say otherwise.  Jenks, get away from that boy and let Dr. Rosewell look at him.  You’ve done more than enough damage already,” she said in a cold tone.

Hands helped me upright, the world weaving and waving.  Pushing against them, I struggled to find my enemy, pulling at the bands on my wrists.

Delwood stood back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, Caeco in front of him like she was keeping him away.  People milled around me, an older lady checking me over.  Gina looked worried, a scared looking Ariel next to her.

“Jaw’s obviously dislocated.  What are these things on his wrists?  Can we get them off?”

“No,” Ryanne said, sharply.  “Don’t be taking them off just yet.  He’s fecking pissed.  Not that I blame him, but ye don’t want a dead student on yer hands, now do ye?”

“Take them off.  I can handle any sparks he can throw,” Delwood said and I tore harder at the bands, trying to suck a breath that didn’t burn like fire.

“He doesn’t throw sparks.  He burns things to the ground,” Caeco said, looking at me  sadly.  A thought occurred to me.  Why was she over there and not over here with me?  Why was it Jetta and Ryanne who were holding me and not my girlfriend?

An older woman, the doctor, was suddenly in my face.  She pressed on my side and my vision blurred as fire tore through my ribs.  Every breath burned and I felt panic take over as I tried to get air.

“He’s got broken or bruised ribs.  Bring him this way,” the doctor said.

“He can’t breathe, doctor,” Ryanne said, worried.

A pair of hands took each side of my head, avoiding my jaw, and gray eyes met mine.  “Focus on me, young man, and the sound of my voice.  Breathe slow and shallow.  The pain makes you think you can’t take a breath, but you can.  Slow and shallow.  That’s it.  Almost a panting type breath,” Dr. Rosewell said, her voice calm and even.  I got the hang of it, catching just enough oxygen with each small, short intake to just meet my needs.

“Okay.  That’s better, right?  Now I want you to concentrate on my voice.  You’re not going to like this next part, but it needs to be done, and the sooner, the better.”

Her hands dropped lower on my face, then firmed up.  “Hold him still.”  A sudden sharp twist and shove and my jaw exploded and my vision blacked out.

I came back to myself gradually.  My head and jaw throbbed and my ribs shot with pain, but it was slightly duller than I remembered.  What had happened?  Where was I? I tried to open my mouth and was quickly reminded of why that was a bad idea. The pain and the tightly wrapped bandage that went under my jaw and over my head stopped me from any further mouth movements.

Oh yeah.  Delwood had picked a fight, Jenks had allowed it and crippled my magic, and then I got my ass kicked in front of my girlfriend and all my classmates.

He had beat me down in seconds flat and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.  I’d never been so helpless in all my life.  Not as a captive in New Hampshire, not even as a child being held by a maniac.  My magic had always been there, always a part of me, always giving me some kind of option.  Levi had beaten me before, although never to the point of real injury, but still enough to knock any pride right out of me.  Even  fuming mad, the magic had been there to comfort me and let me know my physical abilities weren’t the end of the story.

The bands were still there, twisting my vision and blocking my senses.  The room was unfamiliar but the medical stuff and the exam table-slash-bed I was on were  pretty good clues as to where I was.  So was the fact that my shirt was gone and my torso was bound with elastic bandages.  I was alone and the door was shut.

I returned my attention to the Warded bands on my wrists, made of copper and bronze, carved with runes, glyphs, and sigils, some familiar, others not.  It didn’t take rocket science to figure them out; I quickly understood their method and function.

By blocking my receiving side and my projecting side, I could neither pull in power nor push it out.  But they were only on my wrists.  Both feet still touched Earth and the two halves of my body were free of them.  It dawned on me that part of their power was suggestion.  By blocking the most common avenues of magic to a witch’s body, they effectively disrupted focus and intent.

Much of magic is psychology, convincing your brain that you can do something that it doesn’t believe is possible.  It’s the same thing that stops adults from believing or perceiving things that kids instinctively know as possible.  Children are often sensitive to the occult, mostly because they haven’t been taught by life not to be.

All the spells we do, the runes we draw, the words we say or sing are just methods of mental accounting.  Focus methods to trick our brains into doing what it already knows how to do.

I have clear memories of my mother telling me that a skilled witch, a truly well-trained Crafter, doesn’t need words or symbols, but can create complex results with just her or his mind.  That was how she’d taught me, avoiding as many crutches as possible.  So I really just ever used a few runes to add structure to my spellcraft.  Which was maybe what I needed now.

A quick and very painful exploration of the drawers in the little medical cabinet in the corner turned up a black ink pen; one of those gel pens that write really well and are pretty cheap.

Pushing up the ward bracelet on my left wrist, I was able to get to the pale skin under my wrist.  Cen, aesc, eoh, and sigel overlapped each other.  Torch, Ash-tree, Yew, and Sun.

On my right wrist, I drew the same symbols but in reverse order.  Now when I pressed my arms together, the runes matched up, like-to-like.  Instantly, there was a connection, like a circuit being completed.  Those four runes represented knowledge and Craft to me, to my unconscious mind.  The simple ink symbols formed a link, not in reality, but in my head, which was where a good witch forced reality to bend and change.

I started slow, using my own internal reserve of magic or mana or whatever you want to call the energy we use.  Maybe it’s chi; I don’t know.  All I know is it formed a circuit from the core of my power, two inches below my belly, up my torso to my right shoulder, down my arm, through my wrist, across the gap to my other wrist, up my left arm, back down to center.  Just a trickle in the beginning, but as my mind confirmed that it was working, I upped the amperage.  A glance at the bands showed the visual twisting to be harder, more violent, more stomach churning.  But that too was just a trick of the brain, a way for my mind to interpret what my eyes were showing it.  So I forced myself to keep looking and upped the flow yet again.  And again.  The bracelets fought me, but my personal reserve is deep, even deeper now than a few months ago when I had shivered and froze in a warded holding tank deep underground.  Practice since then had pushed my fuel tank to new limits.

The exercise became easier as it started to reinforce itself, the circuit flowing faster and stronger, the stream of power wider each time through.

I felt a snap, an etheric pop of something breaking, followed by a second one, and the bracelets ceased to twist my vision, becoming just bands of copper and bronze.

The door to my room was locked, but there are very few things crafted of metal that refuse the will of a skilled Earth witch.  Finding the outer room empty, I slipped—well, let’s be honest—I staggered out the door and into the main floor hallway.  It was quiet; the sun streaming in the windows of the dining room as I entered told me that was the middle of the school day.

The dining room staff looked at me a little oddly as I grabbed an entire quart of chocolate milk and a couple of straws, but no one said a word.  Two painful flights of stairs later and I was in my own room, the door locked and warded behind me.  I sucked blessedly cold milk through a straw and fumbled in my dresser till I found the deerhide bag my aunt had given me on move-in day.  Inside it, among the little ziplock bags of herbs, crystals, and powders were three un-dyed cotton pouches that looked a little unfocused to my eyes.  I squeezed one hard, pictured the rune nyd or need in my mind and shoved the little charm under my shirt against my bound ribs.  The dorm-standard bed had never felt soft and comfortable before, but it was a cushioned nest as I fell into it, fully dressed, letting the world slip away.

Chapter 18

Pounding on the door woke me several times.  It was Mack’s voice that finally roused me.  Touching the concrete floor, I mentally disarmed the wards and unlocked the door, pulling it open just a bit.  The yelling stopped and after a moment, Mack cautiously stuck his head around the door.

“Is it safe to come in?”

I beckoned him in.

“Dude, I came back from class to find Velasquez freaking out.  You disappeared from the doctor’s office and then they couldn’t open your door.  Miss Berg couldn’t break your spells or whatever, and you didn’t answer to their knocking.”

I shrugged.  He suddenly looked behind him, then moved further into the room in a manner that told me someone was behind him.

Gina Velasquez peered into the room, looking around until she saw me, then she started to come in.  I scrambled to get somewhat upright, sucking air at the pain.  I wasn’t going to listen to another adult and my left hand rested on the electric outlet next to the bed, ready if need be.

She took in my expression and froze in place.  “Hey, Declan.  Just wanted to make sure you’re all right.  Doctor Rosewell panicked a bit when you vanished but when we couldn’t unlock your door, I figured you were holed up in here.  You okay?”

I gave her a short nod, waiting to see what she was going to do.  There was no way I was letting any more faculty do absolutely anything to me.

Her dark eyes were very sharp as she watched me, and it took her almost no time at all to come to some kind of decision.

“Okay, so we’ll let you alone.  I told the doctor that you probably didn’t feel safe in her office and just wanted your own room.  Tell you what.  Just have Mack here ask for anything you need and we’ll see that he gets it for you, okay?”

I nodded again and after one more look around and a final glance at me, she retreated, closing the door behind her.  Voices rose in the hallway, hers predominant among them.  After a few garbled exchanges, the voices faded and the hall was quiet.

“Dude, you look like hell.  Are you hurting?” Mack asked.

Was I?  The healing charm on my ribs had reduced the pain of breathing to a dull, steady ache.  Flexing my jaw at all was instantly painful and every joint and muscle felt awful.  I held one hand out, palm down, and waggled it back and forth.

“Want some Motrin or something?”

Aunt Ash had powdered willow bark in my little herb kit, but frankly, I think good old ibuprofen beats the piss out of willow every time.  I nodded and he grabbed a bottle from his bath stuff.  Pouring two pills into his hand, he looked at me again and added a third.  Glancing around for a drink, he was at a loss until I hefted the remainder of the purloined chocolate milk and showed him I was all set.  There was just enough milk left to wash the pills down after I poked them between the tiny gap I could open in my teeth.  I floated the empty jug to the wastebasket and dropped it in.

“Wait, how are you doing magic if you’re still wearing those bracelet thingies?” he asked.

I pulled a pad of paper from the little stand near my bed and wrote out my answer: I broke them.

“You broke Jenks’s super-duper anti-witch bracelets?” he asked.

I nodded, looking at the little ink-drawn runes on my wrists.

“So, dude… you got a plan to fix that fuck stick Delwit?  Cause I really, really hope you do,” he said.  “Thought my sister was gonna stick him with a silver blade right there in the classroom. Anyway, count us in.”

I was still staring at the runes and thinking rapid thoughts.  Looking up at him, I nodded then wrote on the pad.  I think so.  Gotta work out the details.

“Cool.  What can I do to help?”

I thought about that for a moment. My stomach rumbled and we both heard it.  Gonna need food I can eat through a straw.  Protein shake or something?

“Yeah, the doctor mentioned something about having the kitchen whip up some kind of nutritious drink for you.  Oh, and soups.  How about something fancy?  You like lobster, right?”

I nodded.

“Good, I’ll tell them you need lobster bisque.  Might as well work the shit out of this whole clusterfuck,” he said.

There was a knock at the door and when Mack asked who it was, his sister answered.  He looked at me and I touched the floor.  The door unlocked and opened itself to reveal Jetta, who was giving the door a wary look, and behind her, Caeco.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Jetta asked.  I shrugged, then looked at Caeco.  She seemed nervous and… weird.

“Are you healing satisfactorily?” Caeco asked awkwardly, sounding like she had when we first met.

I nodded, watching her.  Her eyes were jumping around, looking everywhere but at mine.

“He’s hungry, though.  I’m gonna get the kitchen to make him a bunch of stuff,” Mack said, attempting to bridge the awkwardness.  His sister gave Caeco a funny glance, then smiled at me.

“That’s a great idea.  We’ll see you downstairs, Mack,” Jetta said.

“Yes, let’s go get Declan’s food,” Caeco said, turning and just about running out of the room.  Her roommate looked after her in disbelief before turning back to me and giving me a little wave goodbye.

I wrote on my pad and showed it to Mack.  WTF?

“Don’t know, dude, but that was weird.  She was acting all squirrelly right after the fight.  Jetta will know what’s going on.  I’ll find out at dinner.”

She looked embarrassed.  She’s embarrassed that I got beat up so fast and so easily.

“That was bullshit.  Nobody faults you for getting smacked by a gargantuan werewolf who is three times faster and stronger than any of us.  Especially when that dick Jenks blocked your powers. Trust me, Jetta and I know how tough they are, and if you don’t kill them, they just Change and heal everything up and you’re screwed.  Caeco’s gotta know that,” Mack said.

Caeco beat him easily and then her boyfriend got bitchsmacked.  She’s embarrassed of me.

I put the pad down and rolled toward the wall.  The lights flickered a bit while I struggled with my emotions.

“Well, I don’t believe that.  But you rest and I’ll go score you some really good stuff,” he said, sounding a little weirded out.  I’d kept the magic to a minimum till now, but that was over.  This morning had ended my time of hiding who and what I was.

I was locking and warding the door every time it closed, so I opened it for him.

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.  Do you always do this much magicky stuff?”

I rolled back and grabbed the pad.  No. But it hurts to move and I won’t get caught again—period.

“Yeah.  I feel ya.  Jetta and I vowed something of the sort when our parents died.  Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get used to the fact that my roommate is the male version of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”

A thought occurred to me.  I’m not scaring you, am I?

“No, not really, but you’ve got this dark mood thing going on which is totally understandable. It’s just I’ve finally realized that despite the Mr. Normal Dude act, you are actually, really truly a witch.  And you seem a lot… I don’t know… stronger than I thought warlocks were supposed to be.”

Yeah, well stay tuned.  You ain’t seen nothing yet.

“Okay, not making me feel better.  Just heal up and stay in one spot, okay?  I’ll get some good shit from the cooks and come back up.”

I nodded at him and he slipped out.  I let him get partway down the hall before I ordered the door closed and locked.  Then I reached under my bed and pulled out my empty suitcase.  Only it wasn’t really empty.  Just spelled to look that way.  In a little cloth compartment where a normal traveler might keep underwear and socks was a hand-bound book.  My mother’s grimoire, given to me on my sixteenth birthday by my aunt.  It was enormously valuable in its own right—the personal spell book of the greatest of Ireland’s modern witches.  But Mom was a Fire and Earth witch like me, and her spells were all especially valuable to someone with the same affinities.

Aunt Ash had given it to me with one stipulation… I wasn’t to read the final five chapters until she gave me permission.  It was an on-your-honor type of promise, but I had abided by it faithfully ever since.  Till now.

Drawing a short, painful breath, I opened the book to the last section and looked at the tidy cursive writing.  Most of it was in Gaelic, which I could generally figure out, with a few notes in English here and there.  The chapter title I understood instantly: cath draíochta—Battle Magic.

Settling down, I started to read my mother’s words, seeing my way forward with sudden clarity.  College Arcane was about to get schooled.

Chapter 19

Mack returned about forty minutes later, carrying a big tray loaded with a bowl of creamy-looking soup and a tall chocolatey shake.  He hardly glanced at the self-moving door, completely preoccupied by the story he could hardly wait to tell.

“So the kitchen manager brings me this tray and explains that she had these extra large straws and that they should make things easier for you.  Delwood, who’d been acting even douchier than normal, pipes up and says something about you sucking the rest of your life or some bullshit like that.

“Suddenly, every drop of liquid in every glass or bowl on his table launches itself into his face.  It was friggin’ unbelievable.  He jumps up, swearing and screaming to know who did it, and your little friend Ryanne just stands up and casually calls him a knob gobbling dingleberry who couldn’t be an alpha in a dog pound.  He goes red in the face and starts to come toward her and she did something… something witchy ‘cause all of a sudden, he gets this look on his face, turns all white, and stops dead in his tracks.  Miss Berg jumps up and starts screaming at Ryanne to stop it.  That little Irish spitfire turns to Berg and says ‘Why?  So he can hit me, too?  Is this a school or a fight club?  And just try and put any bullshit Witchbands on me.’

“Deldouche is still standing there looking like he’s choking on his own spit and Jenks is looking angry but uncertain of what to do and Mrs. Velasquez calmly stands up and says, ‘You’ve made your point, Miss Flynn. Now let him go,’ and suddenly Delwood just drops and starts coughing and your Irish girl sits down and goes back to dinner like nothing happened.”

I grabbed my pad.  Is she in trouble?

“No, can you believe it?  They all just sat down and pretended nothing had happened.  Except Delwood, who had to open his trap.  He says ‘You’re not always gonna be able to protect that little shit,’ and Ryanne just starts laughing.  She says, and I quote, ‘If you believe I have to protect him, then you won’t last out the week.’”

I scribbled a quick No shit?

“Yeah, friggin’ awesome,” he said, finally putting the tray on my lap.  The bowl was deep, the soup now only lukewarm, which was fine, and I was able to suck some through the giant straw.  It tasted great, but even opening my jaw that much was hard and painful.

Someone knocked on the door and I exchanged a quick glance with Mack before commanding it to open.

Ryanne stood smiling tentatively in the doorway, one of the blonde twins behind her, looking uncomfortable.  I figure it was Britta as she wasn’t wearing a sneer or frown like Erika seemed to do.

“Hey, D, just checking on my driver.  Personal self-interest and all.  Can’t afford to freeze me tender Irish behind off, ye see,” Ryanne said.

I tore the top page off my pad and threw the crumpled paper onto the little pile on the floor.  Then I wrote on the fresh sheet.  Erin go bragh.  Can’t put any of the green isle’s treasures in jepar… danger.

Britta snorted as she read it and Ryanne gave me a brilliant smile.  “See, Britt, he’s a charmer, this one is.”  Then she looked around the room.  It was looking messy.  I waved a hand and the pile of papers shot over to the wastebasket and the clothes on the floor slid under Mack’s bed.

Britta frowned.  “For a warlock, you spend power like it’s nothing.”

“Ah, but Britt, if ye happen to have billions, what’s a few quid here or there,” Ryanne said, casually sitting on the end of my bed.

“You keep saying stuff like that, but it’s not possible,” Britta said.

“So said the witch, eh Mack?” Ryanne said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know squat about magic and witch stuff, but Miss Berg was shitting marbles trying to break Declan’s door spell thingy.  Thought she was gonna stroke out in the hall,” Mack said.

Ryanne smiled a triumphant smile at Britta, then patted my foot.  “Well, we’ll not be tiring ye out.  It was a shit deal that was done to ya.  Wait… they left those foul things on you?” she said, staring aghast at my wrists.

“Oh, it’s alright.  Declan broke them,” Mack said, trying to calm her down.

“He what? Let me see,” Britta said, striding over to the bed and bending down to stare at my wrists.

Ryanne leaned over and grabbed my hand, lifting it and focusing on the bronze band below it.

“It’s fecking smashed,” she said.  Then she spotted the ink on my skin.  She gently twisted my wrist and looked close at the runes. “That’s fecking brilliant,” she said, looking at me with a funny expression that made me nervous.  Britta, too, was staring at me.

“Ah, Declan, I’m hoping that ye understand when I told them not to take these off before… ya know?  Right after the assault.  I was thinking that if anyone had done that to me, take my power and beat me up, that I’d fecking want to smash them.  I dinnae want ye to lash out and be left with anything unfortunate on yer soul,” Ryanne said, looking uncertain.

You made the right call, I wrote on my pad.  Unfortunate indeed.

“Exactly.  Any of us would.  I doubt Jenks would have used you as an example if he knew what ye were capable of.  It might be time for ye to stop hiding yer strength,” she said.

Oh, it’s long past that.  But hey, a new week starts Monday, right?

“Declan, I don’t think anyone expects ye to class on Monday,” Ryanne said, looking me over.  My skin, the part not covered by bandage wraps, was turning a deep purple over much of my torso and face.

I’ll be there.

“Okay, well that’ll be smashing, but don’t be going if yer ribs and jaw are still all a mess, alright?” she asked, standing up.

“Hope you feel better soon, O’Carroll,” Britta said, maybe actually meaning it.

“Right then.  We’re off,” Ryanne said with a big smile at me and a wave to Mack.  The girls left in a swirl of perfumed air and when the door had shut and locked itself, Mack turned to me.  “See, that girl really likes you,” he said.  “And Britta seems a lot nicer than her sister.  Just as hot, but nicer.”

So you like the tall blonde types or the smaller Asian types? I asked.

“Oh, I like all types.  I don’t believe in discriminating, Declan.  It’s an ugly concept and I’m so not about that,” he said smugly.

I lay back, sipping my shake, and thought about the visit.  As painful as the fight had been, both physically and esteem-wise, at least one new friend had stood out.  She’d understood.  I’d wanted to kill them so bad, right at that point where I was most helpless.  Delwood and Jenks both.  Part of me still did, still wanted me to sink back, close my eyes, and send my power outward to find them.  To silently burn out their hearts or brains, or drop the ceiling of their room on them.  Maybe short out a nearby appliance and send thousands of high amperage volts through their bodies until even their werewolf healing was overwhelmed.  My short read-through of mother’s grimoire had shown me the section I was interested in, but I’d also seen sections on massive war spells, magic of mass destruction.  It was there, waiting for use.  But my reasoning side said no.  It spoke logically of carefully, strategically crafted responses that would get my revenge and show the rest of the school a much different side of me than what they’d seen today.

“Listen.  It’s our first Friday at college and apparently there’s a whole bunch of off-campus parties happening.  The gang wants to see if we can get into any of them.  But I can stay and hang with you, if you want?” Mack offered, almost twitching as he checked himself in the mirror.

Can’t rest if you’re here banging around the room.  Better if you go out.

“Well, that’s true.  It probably won’t be much fun without you, but at least it’ll be quiet here, right?” he said, zooming around the room, changing his shirt, and spraying an obnoxious amount of Axe body scent on himself and his clothes.

There was another knock on the door and when I opened it, Ashley, Ariel, Jetta, Justin, T.J., and Caeco were all there.  They crowded in with a burst of overwhelming noise and confusion, asking about me, hoping I was feeling better, full of excitement to go out.  Jetta checked me over like she knew something about medicine.  Turned out she’d helped the vet treat her family’s horses and picked up a thing or two.  After a moment or two, she herded the others out, leaving just Caeco and me.

My girlfriend was still acting awkward around me but had taken a clinical approach, sort of an efficient caregiver thing.  She fluffed my pillows, moved a bottle of water closer, and placed the tray of food on a little green stuffed stool right next to the bed.

“I think some of my nanites may still be in you.  They’ll help you heal,” she said, looking around for something else to move or pick up.

I wanted to ask her about her embarrassment with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to write the words.  To ask if she was ashamed of my showing—or complete lack of showing—today.  Three times I picked up the pen, but I always chickened out.  What if she admitted it out loud?  How would I handle that?  The moment passed and she gave me an awkward kiss on the top of my head, a troubled glance, and was gone.

The noise of my friend pack dwindled down the hall as they headed out for their first college social adventure while I lay in my bed, still having trouble breathing.

This was not how college was supposed to be, not how I’d envisioned it.

I let myself wallow in the injustice of it for a minute, then I snapped out of it.  Sipping more soup, I pulled mom’s grimoire out from under the covers and started to read.

The first topic was battlefield healing and after reading it through twice, I got out a Sharpie and paper and drew me some runes of healing, following my mother’s clear instructions, almost hearing her voice in my head.

After that, I went back to the section I was most interested in, the one that would deliver my retribution.  Sipping my food, I looked at the complex drawings my mom had done years ago, reading her words, hearing her voice, feeling more connected to her than perhaps ever before.

Delwood had humiliated me, had beat me badly, but it was nothing compared to what my father had done to my mother.  How badly had she wanted to avenge herself, how strongly had she wanted to make him pay?  Instead, she and Ashling had run, avoided further conflict and avoided their treacherous circle.  Ultimately, it hadn’t worked.  Somehow, avoiding direct face-to-face confrontation hadn’t saved my mom.  Eight years after the crime, she’d tried to reconnect and look where that had gotten her… dead.

My mom had been powerful. So was my aunt, and they’d avoided using that power.  That tactic hadn’t worked.  So I would learn from my mom’s book and my mom’s mistake.  No more avoiding what I am.  Face it head on.

I copied the drawings on notebook paper, learning the strokes, correcting my errors.  Each practice paper disappeared in a brief flash of fire, then a second flash of flame as I burned the gases and reburned the ash.  The excess heat I pushed outside, using it to melt off the big icicles that hung from the roof above.  Finally, exhausted but satisfied, I lay back in bed and fell asleep, thinking about my mom.

Chapter 21

The weekend passed in relative quiet. The partygoers had failed to get into any of the upperclassmen parties, instead spending the evening traipsing around Burlington in the freezing cold.

Saturday, I was either resting or, when I had a bit of energy, doing homework.  Mack and the others went to Burlington’s shopping district on Church Street.  Basically a walking street, it was liberally endowed with shops, restaurants, and even some outdoor kiosks.

I gave Mack some money and made one request of him, giving him the name of the store where he could find what I wanted.

Staying in the room, I continued to drink protein shakes and soup, although I’d taken off the head bandage and could now move my jaw just enough to get scrambled eggs and applesauce-type foods in. I used the second of my aunt’s healing charms to speed my recovery along.

Sunday, Mack went out with his sister, taking their truck to Walmart for some needed supplies.  I took the time to use the tube of henna ink that Mack had acquired for me and begin the applications.  It was tricky, as most were never intended to be self-applied.  There was almost a ritual to drawing them and some had to be done backward when I applied them to my opposite side.  Each had to be figured out in advance, very carefully, as the dark ink did not allow me to make any mistakes.

The ones for my back and butt had to be drawn on cardboard and then I had to oh-so-carefully lie or sit down on them without smearing the glyphs.  It was exhausting and time consuming, using up every bit of my energy, so much so that I was napping when Mack got back.  The evening was spent watching a couple of Netflix movies on our laptops and then we turned in.  Monday was going to be a big day.

I was up early the next morning.  I showered and washed for the first time in several days, the henna ink dry enough to resist the water.  Mack looked at me like I was an alien as I rousted him for survival class.  That look became increasingly speculative as I dressed in black cargo pants, combat boots, and a black Krav Maga t-shirt from Levi’s school.  Just before we went down, I popped my aunt’s last charm and applied it to my ribs.  They were only slightly sore, but the charm would maybe protect them from further abuse.

Sleepy heads swiveled to take me in as we entered the gym.  Delwood and friends came in, loud as usual, but did a double take when they saw me.  I stared directly at the giant wolf kid, trusting in werewolf psychology to do my work for me.

He stared back, my challenge making him increasingly angry.  By the time Jenks got there, Delwood was just about boiling mad.  Jenks was surprised to see me and took in my combative clothing choices and the direct stare I gave him as well.  When he called us to get in lines for warmup exercises, I made sure to stand right next to Delwood.  My intent was blatant, obvious to everyone in the class.  Caeco asked me several times just what I was doing, but I couldn’t answer, my jaw still too sore.

I sweated out the warmup, pushing just enough power into the combat glyphs to give me strength and dull my pain sensors to get me through the workout.

Jenks and Caeco handed out eskrima sticks, both eyeing me sideways as I swung mine around in big circles.  I accidentally hit Delwood with my right one twice.  The third time was the charm.  Turning, he swung his own stick straight at me, choosing a moment when both Caeco and Jenks were looking away.

I blocked it with my left hand stick, the resulting thunk loud enough to capture everyone’s attention.  Delwood stared at my unmoving stick, thoroughly pissed off but also slightly surprised.  My right hand stick snapped around and hit him in the hand, hard enough to make him drop the stick.

Jenks and Caeco both headed for us, Delwood dropped to the ground to pick up his stick, and I fully activated all my glyphs.  Time slowed, my heart pumped, and my nerves and muscles almost sang with energy.

Delwood was turning his squat into a leg sweep, an artfully executed reverse spin that would normally have taken me off my feet.  I jumped over his leg, landing on my left foot, and kicked into his helpfully exposed groin with my right foot, as his foot swung on past.  His hands and sticks came down to block, but the horse was out the barn so to speak and the damage was done.  It made me happy though because now I could hit him in that massive head with both sticks, causing his too-slow block to reverse itself.  My right foot was on the ground, close to his body, too close, but he was preoccupied with my strikes and as his hands moved up to guard his head, I dropped one stick, grabbed the other by both ends, and jammed it crossways into his throat as hard as I could.

The combat glyphs on my arms, chest, back, butt, and legs gave me power and speed I’d never felt before, maybe not on full par with a werewolf, but close.  My strike crushed his throat and his chin snapped down, his eyes disbelieving as he tried to suck air that had nowhere to go.

A hand grabbed my arm and I was suddenly flying backward.  Time was still slow and I calmly executed a breakfall.  Bouncing back up, I saw Jenks turn to block me from Delwood.  Caeco was already there, trying to get a look at his throat.

“He may need a tracheotomy,” she said to Jenks.

He spun back around and looked at Delwood, who was on hands and knees, choking.

“He needs to Change.  Everybody get back, now,” he commanded, glancing at my classmates and giving me a baleful look as he bent down and started speaking quietly into Delwood’s ear.  The big kid fastened his eyes on Jenks, his thrashing slowing, then suddenly changing to something different.

His back arched and he silently screamed, eyes bulging, tendons and veins standing out on his arms and neck.  A liquid popping, crunching noise came from under his t-shirt, and one running shoe tore across the seam as his foot became a whole new shape.  A new kind of spasm tore through him and then he was shaking and vibrating all over.

Within seconds, his clothing was tearing apart and black hair was sprouting across newly exposed skin.  His arms lengthened and his legs shortened, face erupting into a muzzle and ears jutting up from the sides of his widening skull.  Less than a minute later, a monster that had to go almost five hundred pounds stood on all four legs, shook itself hard, and roared loud enough to knock dust from the metal beams overhead.

I was thoroughly impressed.  Delwood the kid was imposing, Delwood the werewolf was a true heart-stopping monster.

“You should have run.  I don’t think I can control him,” Jenks said to me, angry yet resigned.  He had both hands on Delwood’s shoulders but the beast was too big and strong for him to slow down.

Delwood sighted me and roared again, claws scraping the concrete as he started toward me.

I almost immolated him.  Self-defense right?  Completely understandable. Yet I didn’t.  Couldn’t bring myself to pull the mental trigger.  I could, however, bring myself to pull Earth energy in shitloads from the floor below me and fling the giant wolf across the room and into the brick wall twelve feet off the ground.  He stuck there, kicking and thrashing, amid broken brick and concrete, held in place by my power.

Jenks turned to me, disbelief written across his features.  He glanced at my Witchwards and then back at my face, flinching a little from whatever he saw there.  Caeco was frozen in place, staring at me as well.  The rest of the class had scattered around the room, none of them making it very far before stopping to watch the spectacle in full view.

“What the bleeding ‘ell is going on here?” a new voice demanded, a voice I’d thought was safely home in Castlebury.

My aunt stood in the doorway to the gym, Gina Velasquez to one side of her.  Gina looked shocked and my aunt… my aunt was well and truly pissed.  Her auburn hair floated around her head, telling me she was holding her full power in readiness as she took in the scene before her.  Then she looked at me directly, her attention completely on me, and horror spread across her features.

“Just what the feck have ye done to me boy?” she hissed, her tone more dangerous than a yell. “Declan?”

Chapter 22

I couldn’t answer her, my jaw still too fucked up to work properly.  I tried though, and in hindsight, that was maybe a mistake.

“Eymmm ulllriipe” is what came out in a harsh gurgle.

She came straight across the room like an arrow, straight to my side where she reached out to grab my jaw.  I pulled back just before she made contact.

“He can’t open his jaw, Miss O’Carroll.  It got dislocated on Friday,” Mack said, tentatively, from his spot fifteen feet away.

“Dislocated, ye say?  What kind of fecked-up nightmare are ye running here?” she said, whipping around to spear Gina with a glance.  Gina flinched as I think would almost anybody when faced with a thoroughly pissed off Ashling.  “Why did me nephew get his jaw dislocated, why is he beaten bloody black and blue and had to activate three of me most powerful healing charms, and just exactly why is he holding a fully changed werewolf against the fecking wall?”

“It’s complicated,” Gina said.

“Then uncomplicated it,” she commanded.

“Ma’am, you’re obviously related to the warlock,” Jenks began, but Ashling turned back around and glared in his direction, which made him pause.  Then something occurred to her and she looked at me again.  Grabbing my arm, she turned it till she could see the henna glyph on my right bicep, the one on my forearm and the back of my hand.

“Ye broke yer promise.  Away jest a week and ye broke yer bloody promise to me,” she said, a combination of hurt and disbelief in her eyes.  Then her expression hardened and turned to something else.  She held my eyes as she answered his question.

“This warlock is me nephew.  And thanks to this fecking shitty school, he now truly is a warlock.  Eighteen years I’ve loved and protected him and one fecking week away and it’s all ruined,” she said.  “How… how and why?”

Gina looked at a loss for words, Jenks was gaping at my aunt, and I couldn’t speak to save my life.  A new voice piped up.  Katrina, the vampire girl, spoke from atop one of Jenks’ wooden kung-fu training dummys, apparently perched to see the fight or escape the action or both.

“I can tell you.  It’s pretty simple really,” she said.  “Let me start at the beginning.  Jenks here made the soldier girl his assistant, which makes sense as she’s apparently been birthed to know all this crap.  The big bully kid who’s currently wearing fur up there on the wall pitched a fit, all butt hurt that he wasn’t the teacher’s pet.  Soldier girl beat him up and put him in his place, only in some perverse manner, he became infatuated with her.  Started to hit on her, pay attention to her, except she either ignored it or failed to notice it.  Personally, I think it went right over her head.

“Anyway, he’s trying to get her attention and it ain’t happening but Declan there is noticing in a big way, so wolfy decides on a new tactic.  Push the boy witch until he makes a move, then beat the piss out of him in front of his girl.  It’s a wolf thing—impressing the bitch wolf with your strength and power.  Instructor Jenks here allowed it, as he seems kind of clueless about how weak and soft regular students are.  Soldier girl follows orders instead of interfering as she should have, and now she’s all self-ashamed.  Wolfy whispers some trash talk into your nephew’s ear about taking his girl and making him his bitch.  Might work with a wolf but frankly I think he misjudged your boy, who’s supposed to be powerless ‘cause of those fancy bracelets Jenks put on him, but apparently has some tricks up his sleeve.  He used magic on himself, at least that’s what I think he did, and beat the piss outta the wolf.  Just about killed him.

“Jenks makes him Change to heal but can’t control him.  Then your boy flicks one hand and smashes him into the wall and just leaves him there.  Then you and our esteemed Director show up.”

Ashling studied the vampire for a moment, her jaw clenching.  She finally nodded and turned to Gina.

“This is yer idea of teaching witches? I left three of me most powerful healing charms with the boy and I felt all three get used in a matter of days.  So I drop everything and rush here to see what had happened.  And I find ye allowed a sadist werewolf to beat him up till he snapped and used forbidden magic.  There hasn’t been a new, true warlock in almost a hundred years, but now we got one.  Congratulations. You humiliated the son of the most powerful witch to ever come out of Ireland, himself more than her equal.  Pushed him to use battle magic on himself, to tattoo glyphs that change him forever,” Ashling said.

“Ah, if it helps, I think it’s just henna ink,” Mack said.

“Ah, but it doesn’t matter now, does it?  Because once a male witch uses the glyphs, they become permanent, now don’t they?”

Ah, what?  That hadn’t been anywhere in mom’s manual.  I read the damn thing five times before I even started to sketch the glyphs.

“The boy used magic in my class, Mrs. Velasquez.  I want him expelled,” Jenks said.

“Not until a changed werewolf started to attack him.  Before that, he just used it on himself.  Not part of your rules,” Erika said, which was truly a surprise.

“I told you on Friday, Mr. Jenks, fighting students, especially those with vastly different levels of power was forbidden.  And yet two days later, you do it again,” Gina said, trying to get some semblance of control.

“I didn’t allow anything.  The witch boy picked a fight,” he replied.

“And almost fecking ended it, too,” Ryanne said.  “Ye realize that he could have just hunted ye and Delwood down as soon as he broke your fancy anti-fecking-magic bracelets, don’t ye?  Instead, he found another way, he did.  It’s what yer always going on about—being prepared. Well, looks like he came to class prepared, but now yer all… what did the vampire call it?  Butt hurt?  Yer all butt hurt cause he beat up yer pet boy.”

“It’s a good damn thing he didn’t come hunting me or we’d be short one warlock,” Jenks said.

“Oh really?” my aunt asked.  “Mistress vampire, if ye’d be so kind as to vacate that wooden thing?”

Katrina disappeared from the top of the kung-fu dummy in a blur.  The dummy was basically a round six-foot log of wood, polished and finished, set upright into a metal stand that had suction cups to hold it to the floor.  A wooden leg came out about knee height and then bent down to brace on the floor.  Three wooden arms jutted out of the front about shoulder height.

“Warlock, immolate that thing,” my aunt commanded me.

Immolation is very different from just starting something on fire.  Throwing balls of fire or even streams is really inefficient and wasteful.  Lots of lost therms going nowhere.

A good immolation starts from deep inside the target and then feeds upon itself as well as on additional outside heat.  They’re tricky to pull off, but my mom had been a master with Fire and Earth, teaching me from an early age.

I started it deep inside the dummy, in one of the hollow spaces where the arms entered it.  Extra oxygen is really good, at least at the beginning.  The heat I pulled from everywhere; the ground, the air above the crowd of students, the furnace heating pipes in the walls, the flailing werewolf on the wall.  Rolling it into a tiny, tiny compact ball, I pushed it deep inside, then fed it more as the first embers began.

The next part is tricky, reburning the smoke and gases that come from the initial ember, but it’s vital if you want a truly fast burn.  All that extra fuel goes to complete waste otherwise, so rechanneling it back into the fire takes it to a truly spectacular level.

The effect was that nothing happened for like a second and a half, and then the air above started to shimmer.  Suddenly, the entire top of the dummy disappeared in a white-hot light that was almost too bright to look at.  Six seconds after I started it, the fire abruptly went out. Just the twisted metal base, all blackened, and part of the foot remained.  There wasn’t even any smoke.  Just heated air and I dispersed that across the room, back into the floor and walls and up into the metal beams above us.

“Ye’ve heard of spontaneous human combustion?  Well, me family invented it and me nephew has perfected it, as ye can see.  How would all yer combat skills do against that, wolf?” Aunt Ashling asked.

“Yer last name isn’t truly O’Carroll, is it?” Ryanne asked as Jenks was silent, staring at the ash remains of his equipment.

“No dear, it isn’t.  I was born Ashling Irwin and me sister, Declan’s mum, was Maeve Irwin.  Have ye heard of us then?” she asked with a small, tight smile.

Zuzanna, Britta, and Erika all took sudden deep breaths. Ryanne just smiled and nodded.

“Oh yeah, ye bet I have.  The Irwins of Tipperary are famous.  Me own mum used to tell me sisters and me tales of the Irwin sisters.  Said she’d met ye both when she herself was a girl.  Megan Flynn, well she would have been Megan Boyle then.  Said yer sister was sumthing… as were you,” Ryanne hastened to add.

“Aye, we were all of that.  And me boy here is as well.  What he lacks in training, he makes up for in sheer power,” Ashling said. “So in that regard, the lass is right.  He could have just snapped and we’d be having a different conversation.  But why don’t we just call it a day, then?  I’ll take me boy out of this… this madhouse and ye can go about bolloxing up young witches and the like without him?”

Leave Arcane?  Somehow in all my planning, leaving the school had never really entered my mind.  I only just got here.  Sure, Jenks was a maniac and Delwood a bully, but now that the kid gloves were off, things should be different, right?  Unless they expelled me.

“Now let’s not be hasty here.  Does Declan really want to leave?  Seems to me if he did, he would have right after the incident on Friday,” Gina said.

Ryanne snorted and my aunt lifted both eyebrows in disbelief.

“Surely you don’t think an Irwin would run away from a fight, now do ye?  The menfolk of our Clan were bred to fight.  Why, he’d be more like to stop breathing and die on the spot than to run away.  No, ye boxed him into a corner, humiliating him that way.  I can’t imagine a worse nightmare. For eighteen years, I’ve been afraid of exactly what ye’ve done to him.  He was taken as a child, ye know, by a pervert.  The man died, by me nephew’s hand.  And when his friend Caeco , who’s been strangely silent over there, was threatened, he took out three soldiers and a vehicle.  But what ye done was worse.  I’m surprised ye have a building still standing.  So in that regard, I guess I’m glad he chose the route he did.  Except for breaking his promise.  Maybe blasting the damned building would have been better.  Come on, Declan. We’re leaving,” she said.

I didn’t move.  Just looked at her and then my friends, who were all fascinated by the drama.

“Declan… come on,” she said again.

I finally shook my head.  “Oh?  That’s how it is, is it?” she said, hurt and anger flashing across her face.

“I think your nephew has made a large number of friends here, Miss O’Carroll.  Despite the recent unpleasantness, he may still want to stay.  Perhaps you and I could talk, just for a bit, maybe over some tea?  You are absolutely right that we have gotten a great number of things wrong with our programming and your insight would be invaluable.  A famous witch of your caliber?  Critiquing our program?  It would be a major boon,” Gina said, her tone sincere.

My aunt was still looking at me, reading my face, which I hoped was suitably sorry looking even as I felt determined to find a way to stay.

“You and I will have a little chat later, boy, don’t you jest know it,” she said, her voice a quiet, dangerous tone.  “And put that wolf down.”

Instantly, I dropped Delwood, hearing him land on all fours behind me, but I still watched my aunt’s eyes.  She held my gaze for a moment, her expression telling me I was in major trouble.  Hearing claws clicking, I turned and watched the massive werewolf, but he just shook his fur and then trotted over to Jenks who, in turn, was watching me like I was the feral animal in the room.

“Okay then.  Let’s call it a class, then?  Have a good day everyone and we’ll see you all tonight at dinner,” Gina said, quickly moving to my aunt and talking in her ear.  After a moment, my aunt turned her way and then they moved off out the door and right toward the dining room.

“Dude, that was freaking awesome!” Mack said, slapping my back.  I winced as my ribs compressed, and he apologized.  But my attention was now on the pack of kids that surrounded me.  Ariel, Ashley, T.J., and Justin, but also the witch pack and even some of the werewolves, notably Janek and his sister Darina, as well as Matthew.

Jetta was talking to Caeco a few feet away.

“You’re an Irwin witch?” Britta asked.  Beside her, Zuzana was looking at me in almost complete shock, whereas the others wore expressions that told me they were either trying to figure me out or were just flat-out wowed by all the drama.

I nodded to Britta.

“And your mother was Maeve Irwin?  The Maeve Irwin?” Britta continued.  I looked around for a pad to write on.  An iPhone appeared in front of me, opened to a Notepad screen, held by a slim white hand.

I took it, nodding my thanks to Katrina, who was now on my right side.  Typing quickly, I held it up for all to see.

Yes, she died when I was eight.  Murdered in Boston.  She and my aunt were betrayed by the rest of their circle.

“Betrayed?  How?  Why?” Erika asked.

Their mother, my grandmother, was leader.  She died and another witch took over.  Feared my mom.  Tried to marry her off to a Croatian witch.  He raped her.  They fled here.

“I thought an Irwin wouldn’t run from a fight?” Janek asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.  I looked at him for a second, then choose my response.

If your entire Pack turned on you, would you stay and fight them?  Kill them?  Your own family? Particularly if most of them were following the orders of your leader?

He frowned.  “Okay, that’s different, I guess.  Didn’t think of it that way.”

“All right, enough of twenty questions.  Declan needs some alone time with his girlfriend,” Jetta interjected, shoving her way into the crowd.  She grabbed my hand and towed me through the pack of kids, past a rather shocked-looking Zuzanna to the open spot where Caeco was standing.

“You two kids have some things to talk about.  Why don’t you go get breakfast or something?” Jetta suggested.

I nodded my thanks to her and turned to look for Katrina to give her phone back.  She was standing two feet away.  Spooky.  Giving her a grateful head bob, I handed her the phone back, then glanced at Caeco.  She had her poker face on, but I sensed apprehension. Super. Looking around, I spotted some papers and stuff on Jenks’s teacher podium.  I felt really, really tired—drained.  Maybe Mom had left out some other important details about battle magic.

There were a couple of mostly blank pages in Jenk’s notes so I helped myself to them, along with a pen.  Then I led Caeco to another classroom, this one empty.

She hadn’t said anything yet, but had let me pull her along.  I wrote my first question.

Do you like Delwood?

She snorted and looked at me in disbelief.  “Don’t be absurd.  Why would I like him?”

He’s a big, muscular fighter that turns into a beast.  You are a strong, gifted fighter.  I’m not so much.

“That’s idiotic.  I met tons of guys like him at the lab.  All the meathead soldiers that thought being big and tough was all that.  I guess some girls like that but trust me, when you beat them up every day, they lose their appeal.”

You beat me up almost every day… in practice?

“Yeah, cause I’ve been trained from birth to do just that.  How long would the fight last if you used magic?  For that matter, how long did Delwood last as a fully Changed werewolf?  Two seconds?”

Then why were you ashamed of me after Delwood beat me up?

“I wasn’t ashamed of you.  I was upset and ashamed of me.  Jenks made me an assistant instructor and suddenly I was right back to being in the lab and taking orders.  Snapped right back to being a good little soldier for a guy I don’t even know.  A guy who let a fight happen to my boyfriend that was the equivalent of a sucker punch.  And I did nothing to stop it.  Jetta and Ryanne, who don’t even like each other, had to come to your rescue because I was just standing there like I was back in the lab watching two soldiers beat each other up.  Six months of freedom and what did I do?  I followed orders.  When I got out, I swore I wouldn’t ever just follow orders again.  But I did and you got hurt because of it.”

Oh.  I thought you were disgusted with me, being all weak and all.

“Yeah, real weak,” she said.  “That’s why you just tossed a quarter ton of monster up a wall and held it there while burning a hundred pounds of wood up in less than ten seconds.  You don’t think I know how strong you are?  Hello?  I was with you in that field last September when you wiped out all those zombie things.”

Revenants… not zombies.

“Whatever.  Now you sound like me, Miss Correction and Logic.  Watch out or you’ll find yourself following orders next,” she said, truly disgusted.

Fight wasn’t your fault.  Okay, so you did what you’ve been trained to do your whole life.  So you couldn’t break all your advanced conditioning in under half a year… so what.  Make a note and move on.  I don’t blame you.

“But you got hurt.  That’s not all right,” she said.

I survived.  No one is dead, although I might be when Aunt Ash is done with me.

“Yeah, you’re in trouble, but she loves you to pieces.  You’re just gonna have to suck up to her and grovel till you get back into her good graces.”

I can grovel with the best of them.

“No doubt. Hey, let’s go get breakfast before we have to go to class.  You can tell me about these battle tattoo thingies,” she said, poking at the one on the back of my right hand.

I was pretty hungry.  We headed out to the dining room and sat quietly in a corner, far from where my aunt sat with Gina, drinking tea.  I didn’t have too much time to explain the glyphs because class was fast approaching for both of us, but that was okay.  At least she was talking to me again.  I wrote out a lengthy bit about using my mom’s grimoire to find the tattoos and about how it was in the section I’d promised not read.

I gave her a ride to the campus and just after I parked in student parking, she unzipped her bookbag and pulled out an envelope.

“These are the results of your karyotype.  They’re a little… unusual.  My professor was very interested but unfortunately your blood sample was accidentally soaked in strong acid.  Unfortunate,” she said with a slight smile.  “I got some stuff off the Internet and put it in there about your type.  Don’t read a lot into it, although it maybe helps explain how you turned out to be who you are.  As a witch, I mean.  Anyway, see you later, okay?” she asked, kissing me quickly.  I nodded, clutching the envelope, and watched her walk away.

We were still a bit awkward, but I felt better.  Grabbing my stuff, I hightailed it to Programming, getting in early enough to have time to open the envelope.

Declan, generally speaking, most people have 46 chromosomes.  You have 47.  In your case, instead of having one X chromosome from your mother and one Y chromosome from your father, you ended up with XYY, or in other words, two Y’s from your father.

It’s rare… about 1 in every thousand people… but not really a big deal.  I printed out some stuff about it and some of the things it can cause.  I don’t think you have any of those except you fit the general genotype of tall and slender. XYY Syndrome is the least detrimental of the abnormal karyotypes.  XXX, XXY or X syndromes all produce disabilities, some quite severe.  You don’t suffer from any mental retardation other than what’s basically normal, in my experience, for all males. LOL (there I used those stupid letters). The Syndrome may explain your extraordinary power.  Super mom X and double dad Y.  You should maybe tell your aunt and get her opinion. I’m not going to tell anyone.  It’s your information to do with what you want.

Again, I have no excuses for my failure to act, but it will not happen again.

Love, Caeco.

On the pages behind it were some Wikipedia article stuff on XYY Syndrome, and I glanced through them quickly as class started.  The professor lectured without looking for any class participation, which was awesome because between what I had just learned about myself and the exhaustion I had been feeling, I was pretty much out of it.  All I could think about was the accident of birth that made me the way I was and what I might have been—or more to the point, not been—if I wasn’t as freaky as I was.

My magical strength was part of who I was. What would I be without that?

Chapter 23

Somehow, I got through my classes, picked up the notes I had missed on Friday, and even got a head start on my homework at lunchtime.

When I got back to Arcane, the place was buzzing.  Apparently, both the Control class with Jenks and the Explorations class were meeting together at the regular time down in the basement.  Speculation ran rampant as to why and from all the looks and stares I was getting, my name figured prominent in most of the theories.

I ate with our regular gang, a pad of paper next to my food to answer the torrent of questions.

“So your mom is famous… er, was famous?” T.J. asked almost as we sat.

Among witches I guess.

“And somebody murdered her?” he asked bluntly.  I just stared at him, deadpan.

“Idiot,” Ashley said, eyes furious.  “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“What?  Just asking,” he said unconvincingly.

“Let me guess—both your parents are alive?” she asked.

“Well… yeah.  So what?” he came back.

“So for those of us who have only one, or even none, it makes a huge difference.  Then to have you quizzing Declan about his mom’s passing… that’s not your business.  Step off,” she said.

He shut up and took a bite of food, face bright red.  T.J. was one of those kids who used his social awkwardness as a tool, not really ever embarrassed about his lack of grace.  But I suspected that Ashley’s opinion carried a much heavier weight than any of ours.

“I lost my mom about the same age.  Car accident.  It was… really, really rough,” Ashley said to me.  “I don’t know what I would have done without my dad.”

“Declan’s aunt is a really strong person and so is her partner, Darci,” Caeco said.

T.J.’s head snapped up at the word partner, but Ashley, Caeco, and even his roommate Justin were glaring at him, which headed off any unfortunate comments.  Just as well, because I was ready to dump his dinner in his lap if he had gotten out any comments about gays.

“So, what do you think this combined class is about?” Jetta asked in a very obvious attempt to change the topic.

“I heard that Jenks got in a lot of trouble for failing to control his class,” Ariel chimed in.

“How’d ya hear that?” Mack asked around a forkful of mac and cheese.

“I have connections in Oracle.  One of them texted me asking for dirt about what went down this morning.  She works at headquarters in Nathan Stewart’s office and heard the Director cursing a blue streak about Jenks and his ‘incredibly bad judgement.’ Apparently he was on the phone with somebody high up in the Demidova Corp.  She never found out who.  But the whole thing is a big deal.”

“So why, if mixing weres and nonweres resulted in mayhem in the morning class, would we mix them in the night classes?” Mack wondered.

“So we’ll learn to get along,” Justin said.  Everyone stopped eating and looked at him, startled that he’d spoken.  He looked around at the rest of the table and shrugged his big shoulders. “Stands to reason is all,” he said.

“Justin, what’s your major again?” Mack asked.

“Poli-sci,” he answered without looking up from his chicken alfredo.

The rest of dinner passed with fruitless speculation about our class.  We all headed down early and found a set of folding bleachers had been set up on one side of the open space.  The concrete floor over much of the room had been marked with white chalk lines that I couldn’t quite make out.

The rest of the kids filtered in, sitting in clumps on the cool metal seats.  By mutual unspoken agreement, Delwood and his wolves sat on the opposite side of the bleachers from me.  Surprisingly, the witch pack sat on my side, just below my group.  Most of them even nodded to me or said hello.

At five minutes to seven, Gina came in, followed by Miss Berg and Mr. Jenks.  The two teachers took seats on the bottom level of the bleachers and Gina stood in front of us.

“The first day we assembled upstairs, I mentioned that this whole thing was an experiment.  We’ve never put so many kids of such wide-ranging talent together before.  Mistakes were bound to happen, and they did,” she began.  “But learning is about making mistakes and then overcoming them. Finding what does and doesn’t work.  Trial and error.  So we go forward and learn from our mistakes.  Find opportunity in failure.  With that in mind, we’re going to change up things a bit.

Monday nights, from now on, we’ll hold a combined class, down here, with a guest instructor.”

Mondays?  Rowan West, my aunt’s restaurant, was closed Mondays.  Oh shit.

“We are very lucky to have an extraordinarily gifted witch who has consented to instruct you.  Her family has been practitioners of the Craft for hundreds and hundreds of years.  Please welcome Ashling O’Carroll of the Clan Irwin,” Gina said, pointing one hand toward the doorway.

My aunt swept toward us, dressed stylishly in designer jeans and thick sweater, with calf-high brown boots.

I forget how young my aunt is, but she was only about sixteen when she and my mom fled to America.  She looked more like one of the young associate professors or teaching assistants up at the campus than a successful restaurateur or accomplished witch.

“Good evening to ye all.  We met under different circumstances this morn, but the thing that stood out to me is that ye could all benefit from a different perspective,” she began.  Most of my classmates were listening intently, the witch pack literally on the edge of their seats.

“As Mrs. Velasquez mentioned, me name is Ashling O’Carroll, but I was born Ashling Irwin.  For those of you that would have no way of knowing, the Irwin witches are fairly well known among the circles of Ireland.”

“Fecking right they are,” Ryanne muttered loud enough to be heard.  My aunt flashed her a smile, then continued on.  “After this morning’s meltdown, we decided that maybe I could shed a different light on things as it were.  So I’ll be teaching ye some and I suspect ye’ll be seeing some others come here now and again.

“Now, it was apparent to me, at least, from the fiasco that shall remain unmentioned, that none of ye know all that much about each other.  Things that work well for training a shapeshifter don’t work much at all for witchkind or psychics, now do they?”

She turned and waved at the lines on the floor behind her.  “I’ve heard that me nephew has mentioned the game me sister and I created for him when he was a wee lad.  Most young witches begin to exhibit power at about eight or nine.  Now, if I understand it right, were children don’t change till puberty, although they are always stronger and faster than regular kids.  Anyway, always being a bit of a cheeky lad, Declan started in the cradle.  His toys would be floating about his head all on their own like some great spooky mobile.  So we needed something to train him with even as he learned to walk and talk and stop crapping his nappies.”

Oh my god.  Did my aunt really just reference my toilet training?  Half the class was giving me amused glances.

“Made it tough to keep sitters, it did. They always thought our home was haunted.  But I digress.  We came up with this game, what Declan eventually called Wytchwar.  I understand ye were all going to get it going here,” she said, frowning at the bricks, wood, and Barbies.  “So we’ll dive right in.  First, I’ve marked out some parts of the floor.  I need me witches to come down and do some preliminary spellwork before we put in the course.  So come on down, ladies,” she said, waving the girls forward but ignoring me.

She quickly organized them by affinity and took them to various parts of the floor. She took each group, explained what she wanted, and put them to work with chalk, sharpie, ink, or whatever they wanted, marking spells on the floor. “No, ladies, use yer own spellcraft. I’m sure it’ll work just fine,” she said to Erika and Paige when they asked how the spells should be done.

Michelle ended up teamed with Miss Berg, both listening as Aunt Ash described something in the middle of the floor.  They started to draw out spells, Miss Berg directing most of it.  Tami and Zuzanna were working together on another section, Tami using colored ash she produced from her bookbag.  Both Britta and Erika, who were working with Ryanne and Jael respectively, were weaving straw, vines, and small sticks together into little shapes and figures, which they set down on the floor where the spell was to go.  A big ziplock bag of weeds and stick stuff was sitting on the concrete in the space between them.

Most of the witches used chalk although Zuzanna was using an artist’s paintbrush and a jar of black paint, while Jael used a bird’s taloned foot as her brush.  It looked like it might have come from a big crow or maybe a raven.

When all were paired up and working, my aunt came back to the bleachers.

“The rest of you could be so kind as to move the wood and bricks and use them along the chalk outline of the entire space.  Space the bricks and the wood out, no need to stack or have them touch.”

Aunt Ash put them all to work, moving the material out of the game space.  The weres just picked up whole pallets of bricks, two weres to a pallet, and hauled them away with casual ease.  The rest of the students started creating a physical outline of the course, one brick and one board at a time.  The course was huge, at least in outline, easily thirty feet wide and seventy feet long.

When everyone was employed but me, Aunt Ash finally turned and looked me in the eyes.

“Warlock,” she said loudly.  Everybody stopped what they were doing to watch.  “Go out and bring me Earth,” she said pointing to the big overhead door at the other end of the basement.  “Enough to fill this course,” she said, holding my gaze until I nodded.

Things were different between us.  Strained and new, and she was really mad and hurt.  But you get maddest at the people you love, right?

There was a person-sized door right next to the big overhead, and it unlocked easily from inside.  I wandered up the concrete ramp that led to the parking lot at the rear of the building, thinking about how bad I had screwed up with my aunt.  Blacktop stretched for fifty yards, mostly bare but with scattered patches of ice and snow that squeaked in the frigid air where my boot treads pressed down.  At the end of the asphalt were large mounds of plowed snow.  After looking around a bit and not seeing much visible in the bright sodium lights, I closed my eyes and reached through the ground, feeling for anything I could use.

The pull I got came from the snowbanks, so I moved closer.  Snow’s not my thing, water, in any form, being the antithesis of all my powers.  Yet when I looked closer, I noticed an oddity—a crown of bare branches poking up from the other side of the mound’s crest.  A tree sapling, maple perhaps, growing out of the snowbank.  Caeco is the bio major, not me, but still I was pretty certain that trees didn’t randomly seed in snowbanks.  I reached through the ground at my feet and found a significant mass of dirt, stone, broken concrete and old asphalt debris buried deep under the snow.  The mound next to it was the same, as was the one next to that. They were probably bulldozed there when the parking lots were redone. Perfect.  After a quick glance around for witnesses (the subzero air made that unlikely, but not impossible), I made a request of Earth.  The snow shook as I received my answer.  Reaching further away, I felt the vibrations of cars and trucks on Main Street, busy even on a weekday evening.  Perfect.

Back down the ramp, I cracked open the person door to get to the controls for the overhead door, which were mounted on the wall between doorways inside the building.

“-do you say warlock like it’s a negative?” a voice carried across the floor. Ariel’s, I thought.  I froze, the door only open a couple of inches, and listened like a creeper. Old habits die hard.

“Because me dear, the history of warlocks is a bleak one, it is.  Ye see, we were a fearsome people and when we found the isles, we fought to keep them.  Males with a bit o’the Craft, we found, could power these glyphs if they were applied jest right.  A bit tricky that, getting the layers of runes down correct and all.  I’m more than a bit impressed that the boy was able to mark his own self… but don’t ye go telling him. I don’t want him thinking I approve of what he done.

“Anyway, a male so marked became known as a warlock.  Some think the word comes from the Middle English word warloghe, one who breaks faith. Fitting in this case, aye? But there’s some what think it comes from another Middle English word werre, which means strife.  One who breaks strife… one who wins conflict?  So strong and fast, so inured to pain and fear they were that they were much like the berserkers of the Vikings. Kept us mostly free. But here’s the thing… once a warlock used the glyphs in battle, they became permanent.  And the warlock would inevitably grow to crave the thrill of battle, as it were.  A nasty, vicious spiral it was, leading the poor man from battle to battle until eventually his luck would run out and he would be killed,” my aunt’s voice answered.

“And you think Declan will do the same?” Ashley asked.

“Oh, no dear.  I fear much worse than that,”my aunt said.

“But he’s good.  I mean, he’s a nice guy, a really nice guy.  He protects little kids and stuff.  He wouldn’t go bad, would he?” Matthew asked, his voice not one I expected to speak up.

“Yes he is, dear.  That’s me grand hope.  He’s very much the lad you described. It’s jest that we all have the seed of darkness inside us and I wonder if using the glyphs is akin to planting it,” she said. “But enough on that topic.”

It was wickedly cold outside, seeping through my sweatshirt and jeans, and the conversation about warlocks and crazy nephews was over so I loudly opened the door.  Quickly closing it behind me, I paused to shiver and rub my hands together without looking at the others. I hit the UP button on the overhead door control, the steel panels immediately rolling up.

The parking lot lights were blotted out by the massive shape waiting on the other side, and once the twelve-foot-high opening was fully clear, I brought my Earth in.

Stepping through on four ponderous legs, the mass of dirt and concrete was over twenty feet long, ten feet high, and a roughly lizard-shaped eleven feet wide.  The floor shook as it waddled through, its gait rough as I struggled mentally to make it walk.  A trail of dirt dribbled behind it and its back was layered with a thick coat of dirty ice and snow, the little sapling sprouting like a horn from its head.  Once it was through the door, I hit the DOWN button and then walked ahead of my monstrous delivery.  Driving a little two-legged dirt dude was nothing; making a forty-ton, four-legged behemoth walk took all my concentration and a huge amount of power, so I kept my head down as I walked it to the site marked by a brick and timber outline.

There I paused to read the spells written and carved into the concrete.  Here, a mini mountain range would rise; over there would be a flat plain, continually windswept by the Air spells woven underneath.  Here, a mini-river would spring up from the ground and flow downhill to a basin where the water would pool before seeping magically back uphill to start again, commanded by chalked symbols and a woven grass doll lying on the floor beneath it.  The fire witches had created a space that would be hot, maybe hot enough to burn wood and would certainly dry out clay and mud.  Tami’s part of it was a beautiful picture of blue, orange, yellow, black, and white ash—a desert landscape under a hot sun.

My aunt had outlined a model landscape, one that would set itself up for the most part when I delivered the raw material.  It would be about a foot thick across much of its space but much higher in the middle.

I looked up at my aunt to see how things stood.  She was looking at my dirt beast, studying it with a careful eye.  I decided that she was maybe, just maybe, a little impressed.  She looked at me and raised one eyebrow.

“A léiríonn as?” she asked, wondering if I was showing off.

I glanced at my audience.  Most eyes were wide and more than a few jaws were dropped.  Delwood looked impressed and even Jenks appeared uncertain.

I looked back at my aunt and shrugged while holding my thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

“Well, go on wit ye.  Put the dirt where it goes, We’re wasting class time,” she said.

I waved the earth lizard over the course, its massive feet lifting over the brick border, shaking the building when they came down, the head coming closest to the class side of the room.  The students backed up a couple of feet, even though the earth lizard never left the outline.  Another wave of my hand and it settled into place, like a monstrous crocodile lying down, features crumbling as the dirt flowed outward.  A second later, the preset spells activated and the center of the model lifted up into a ridgeline while dirt flowed outward to fill in the rest of the space.

I helped the mountains along by moving much of the broken concrete up to the top, a cliff of manmade stone.  The area set up for water collapsed down into a basin that had an asphalt bottom, and a miniature riverbed climbed halfway up the escarpment.  I can’t do shit with water, but the ice and snow were easily moved by an earth wave I used to convey it to the basin. It shifted and slid into the basin, where I melted it with heat borrowed from the building around me.  Almost as soon as liquid water was available, the spells that Britta and Ryanne had scribed set the water to circulating, pouring down the riverbed.

“And jest what’s the point of that?” Aunt Ash asked.  I looked at her finger, pointing at the little bare-limbed sapling up near the end of the course.

Another shrug; what I was supposed to do, let it die?

“It doesn’t fit the rest of it, now does it?” she pressed.

I frowned, then waved my right hand.  The tree and a portion of its surrounding dirt left the model and slid fifteen feet away, leaving a trail of mud.

“Too soft to let it jest die then, are ye, Warlock?” she challenged.  I met her gaze with a steady calm.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Tami?  Would ye be so kind as to burn that decrepit tree for me?” she asked, never taking her eyes off mine.

Tami tilted her head to one side in consideration, then simply formed a fireball in one hand and threw it at my tree.  Without taking my eyes off my aunt’s, I shunted the fireball into the snow still clinging to parts of the model.  A cloud of steam puffed upward as dirty crystals exploded outward for a few feet in every direction.

Tami frowned at me and formed another fireball, but Ashling spoke before she threw it.  “Don’t bother, dear. He’s decided it’s under his protection and he can be stubborn as a stone.  We’ll let it be if that’ll soothe ye, Mr. Warlock?”

Her tone was mock serious and I realized the thing with the tree had been a test.

“So, my cheeky lad here has taken care of our dirt needs in short order and your fine spells have started to work.  Now we have the makings of a grand game pitch.  So next, we need players.  We’ll also need people to keep an eye on things and catch any that feel the need to cheat.  Are any of you, by chance, telepathic?”

Three people, including Ashley, raised their hands.

“Oh, that’s fine then.  You’ll be our officials.  Okay, now for some avatars, what me nephew used to call double D’s,” she continued.

Paige raised her hand and when my aunt nodded in her direction she asked, “ Why can’t we just use the Barbies, Miss O’Carroll?”

“The dollies?” Aunt Ash frowned.  “Did ye no show them a proper avatar, lad?” she asked me.  I nodded, thrilled that she hadn’t used the term warlock.  All my life, I had felt she should call us male witches warlocks and now that she was calling me that, I couldn’t wait for her to stop.

“He did, Miss O’Carroll, but only Michelle is an Earth witch.  We don’t really see how we would play the game with fire, water, and air,” Erika said.

“The whole point of the game is to learn to improvise and use your given abilities with control and style.  Do you not see any other ways to use your affinities?”

“Declan showed me I could use a water ball or ice ball, but the Barbies are so much more… people like,” Britta said.

“Oh, is that it,” Aunt Ash said.  “ Ye’d rather be using a comfortable shape than be winning, is it?”

“No, ma’am.  We want to win, but how does a ball of ice or water become the winner?” Ryanne asked.

“I see.  Let’s do it this way.  Tonight, we’ll have those of you with the ability to move a dolly do just that.  You’ll all work together and your job will be to hunt down young Mr. Warlock here and whatever avatar he can put together in the next ten minutes.  Then after, we’ll see how ye feel,” she said.  “Declan, go around the backside and do yer thing.  In ten minutes, we’re coming for ye.  And only use what’s lying around or in your pockets.  Oh, an would ye clean up that mess ye made coming in?”

I looked back at where she was pointing, seeing the trail of dirt and rock that had dribbled off the dirt lizard.  A wave of my hand swept it toward me, starting at the overhead door and piling up at the back end of the course.  I headed to it, thinking about what I could construct.  I was finally warmed up, so I reached up and brushed back the hood of my sweatshirt, one of the bronze witch bracelets banging my forehead.  I had left them on, kind of a visual reminder to Delwood and Jenks.

Now I looked at them as I squatted down next to the dirt and rock debris pile that was my supply source.  Each bracelet consisted of two arcs of bronze, hinged together at one point, with a simple catch at the other point.  When they were working, the catch was impossible for the wearer to open, the result of the spells embedded in the bronze.  Now they simply popped open and I had two hinged pieces of bronze about an inch and a half wide.

I pulled my knife from my pocket it.  It’s a SAK—I mean, it’s a Swiss Army Knife.  Blade enthusiasts use the acronym SAK, but I had sworn off using it years ago.  As I’m a diehard computer and gadget type, the inherent utility of a Swiss Army knife or a Leatherman type multi-tool deeply appeals to my inner geek.  But when I was fourteen, I had spent the better part of ten minutes lecturing a cute girl at a science fair about my SAK.  My SAK could do this and my SAK could do that.  She disappeared as fast as she could and my friend Rory had quoted some of my sentences back to me so I could hear how it sounded.  “Dude, the only thing worse was if you had a multi-tool; then you’d have been going on about how your tool could screw things,” he’d laughed.  Lesson learned.

My particular carry knife has a sharp can opener blade, and I used that to score straight lines down the inner length of both bracelets.  A simple but concentrated use of Earth power caused the metal to separate along the lines, and I was left with five hinged pieces of bronze.  I had cut one bracelet into equal thirds, the other into one third, two-thirds sized pieces.  Two for legs, two for arms, and half of one wider one for the torso.  I found a small bundle of roots from a sapling that had never grown much and used that to bind the five pieces together.  The other half of the wide piece flowed and molded under my fingers, becoming a bronze sword.

Using the same can opener, I scribed some basic runes into the metal and pushed a bit of power into them. Then I packed muddy dirt around each limb and the body, pulling heat from around me to bake it hard.  I left the lower arm and leg on each side just as bare bronze, the edges forming a makeshift built-in blade for climbing or even fighting.  I did fasten a small piece of stick to each forearm to give me fuel for the fire runes I carved underneath the sticks, and scribed runes of binding that would let my avatar hold things like his sword or other artifacts.

My aunt approached, leading Delwood of all people, as I was finishing up.  “Almost done, are ye?  Good.  I’m having each of the shifters partner up with an avatar driver to see what they can add to the team.  You two will work together or you both will lose,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.

I looked at him, he looked at me, we both frowned and nodded.  A temporary forced truce as it were.

She left and I worked the final touches.  Delwood said nothing, leaving me free to ponder why she would pair up weres and witches.  A though occurred to me.  I had a little pad of paper in my back pocket and I used it to write him a question.

You want to observe or participate?

His frown got deeper.  “I’m not the spectator type.  I’d rather do something then watch you play with dolls.”

Give me a hair from your head.

“What?  Why?” he asked.

I just held out one hand and waited.  Finally, he plucked a hair from the thick mass of black on his head and gave it to me with more frowns.

I stuck the hair on the blank face on my dirt dude and cemented it there with a thought.  Then I carefully drew some tiny runes around it in the hardened mud.

“Whoa!  What the fuck did you do?  I smell dirt and metal,” he said suddenly, rubbing his nose. “And my hearing is all fucked up.”

I set my dude onto the backside of the course and powered him up.  Delwood shifted beside me to see what I wrote on my pad of paper.

Linked your sense of smell to where his nose would be and your hearing as well. You can use it to warn us of danger… like, say, the smell of plastic or the creaking of Barbie joints.

“No shit?  Yeah, I’m getting all the wet ground smells that I would if I had my nose pressed down there.  So you want me to smell for the dolls and listen?”

I nodded, strapping the last of the tangle of roots like an assault vest around dirt dude.  Using pebbles and pieces of stick, I made some surprises and stuck them in the vest, finally weaving the little sword in as well so that it hung down his back.  We were ready. Just in time.

“Alrighty then.  We begin the hunt,” my aunt called from the other side of the mountain range, where the rest of the class was.

A quick glance at Delwood showed he was watching me cautiously.  I turned back and set my dude to walking, heading up the escarpment that divided us from the rest of the course.  Time to hunt Barbies.

Chapter 24

On this side of the ridge, the incline went steep pretty fast.  Dirt dude had to go to all fours, digging his exposed brass-bladed feet and hands into the soil to climb.  I took him toward my left, approaching the ridge nearest the back wall of the long room.

Excited voices from the rest of the class drowned out any sounds I might have picked up from the doll crowd, leaving me to guess where my prey might be.

Delwood suddenly grunted.  I glanced at his puzzled expression.

“I smell plastic,” he said, looking mildly surprised, like he hadn’t expected my spell to work.  I raised both eyebrows and pointed at various parts of the hill.

“There’s like three separate sets of odors.  Two back by this side and one over where you’re headed,” he said.

Closing my eyes, I extended myself into the avatar, hearing sounds at his level and seeing what he might see if he had eyes.  My aunt explained once that this was like far viewing, casting oneself into the avatar and experiencing its perspective.

At double D’s level, the voices of my classmates faded to a dull background roar, the sounds of soil and rock tumbling around me filling my ears, mixed with the crunch of each brass limb as it dug into the ground.  There was nothing to see yet, just dirt and, as I got higher, the exposed concrete of the ridgeline.

About ten inches from the top, I stopped.  The ridge cut side to side across the whole width of the model like a continental divide.  The concrete above me probably came from a curb or something, the molded angles still fairly defined although it was chipped in places.

In the real world, I would extend my senses through the ground to scout the other side, but here in Wytchwar, that was a breach of the rules.  I could use magic on my dude and on anything he carried, but not on the model itself. The telepaths would be looking for that kind of breach.

But I had prepared for this.  Holding a brass spatula-shaped hand up to my vest of roots, I forced a rune marked stone to pop off and stick to the hand.  A thought activated the stone and I tossed it, grenade style, over the concrete outcrop above me, hoping its clatter would be lost in the confusion of the far side.

The stone, an object of Earth, became a kind of sensor for me, reporting back the vibrations of the ground around it.  It had rolled almost halfway down the slope but was still able to pick up the vibrations of four above it.  The Barbies, who numbered about a dozen, had split their forces and sent at least four to guard the far left end of the ridge.  Delwood’s warning was right on point.  Hmm, mixing werewolf senses into the game might be a big factor in future games.  Next time I tossed a stone, the other kids would know my whereabouts, so it might be better to rely on wolf senses.  I tucked that thought away and proceeded on. Beside me I could feel Deldip stretching up to his full height to watch the action.

Moving quickly, I pushed my dude to the end of the ridge and around the steep end. Immediately, my mental vision changed, showing four figures struggling with the sharp incline and more figures back toward the other end while large blobs of color that marked actual students crowded the perimeter of the model.

Crablike, I rushed the closest four, spinning on bladed feet and lashing out with both hands.  The nearest Barbie, a brunette doll, was flung away, falling down the slope and off the model.  The next doll caught a bronze edge right in a knee joint and fell, flopping about in the dirt.

The last two stood upright and attempted to hold me.  Wrong move on a sharp slope.  I put all four limbs into the dirt and pushed through them on all fours.  They both fell back down the hillside, one of them hanging on long enough to almost pull me with her. Almost, but not quite.

Ignoring them, I moved toward the next group of figures positioned near the middle of the mountain range.  This group copied my motions, digging their avatars’ feet and hands into the soil.  I got four inches away, the equivalent of about four feet in the real world, and extended one arm.  The piece of wood strapped to the bronze smoldered for a second, then burst into a jet of flame that washed over all four dolls, catching the long strands of plastic hair on fire and igniting synthetic skin.

They panicked and fell, leaving strands of melted plastic behind.  The last group had come closer but now held their distance, about ten inches or so away.  A couple manhandled long sticks taken from the debris of the model.

Good idea, poking me with the sticks till I fell, keeping just out of flame distance.  The fuel on my avatar’s left hand was gone, the bronze blackened.  But the righthand piece was still there and I had a couple of chips of rune-carved wood on my root vest.  Activating a chip, I tossed it left handed into the pack of improbably proportioned female figures while pulling the little bronze sword.  The chip exploded in a puff of fire, scattering the Barbizoids.  One was burned outright, one fell, and the two highest up the hill held their positions and their sticks.  But they were now off balance and I was close enough to rush them, my sword hitting their sticks hard enough to break them, my backswings knocking them off their plastic feet.  I grabbed two seismic stones from my vest and prepared to throw them into the dirt just above the fallen dolls.  Avalanche time.

“Enough.  I’m calling it for the mud kid,” my aunt said before I could fire off my rock grenades.

“But he cheated!  He used magic,” Erika immediately protested. Back on the other side of the course, I stood up and moved toward the class, Delwood following behind, looking thoughtful.

“Nothing wrong with magic, as long as it’s just used on yer avatar or on anything the avatar carries.  He made little Molotovs is all.  But look at his figure, will you.  Made of fire resistant mud over a metal frame.  Is that your bracelets, is it?” she asked me.

I nodded, walking the dirt dude closer to the class so they could see him.

“Brass feet and hands for digging, climbing, and even fighting.  Nice.  Even a wee little sword and a vest of roots to carry his bombs and… rocks?” Aunt Ash looked to me for an explanation.

I pulled pen and paper and wrote.  Seismic sensors or to cause avalanches.

“Ah, ye see.  He can’t use magic on the course but he can on a stone what his fella there was carrying.”

“But he’s been playing this his whole life,” Paige protested.

“Course he has, dear.  I expected him to clean ye all up.  But more to the point, he used material that worked for him to build a player that was much better suited to the game then a plastic bimbo, now didn’t he?” Ashling answered.  “So here’s the thing. I want you all to design something between now and next Monday that uses your strengths and shields your weaknesses.  I expect a much different outcome when next we play, and I expect that yon laddie will help you with yer ideas and such.  Afterall, he’s always been wanting skilled opponents, he has.  Ye can also be thinking up some better tactics.  Ye’ve got a tactical expert in Caeco here, and I think ye could be employing yer classmates skills better, as well.  Think like a team, not individual heroes. Use the remaining time to study the game pitch and ask questions.”

A hand shot up, Michelle’s.

“Yes dear?” my aunt asked.

“Okay, I get that Declan is freaky strong, especially for a boy, but how can any one witch hold enough power to make all that dirt take a form and walk like a puppy—I don’t think my entire circle at home could do that.”

“Ah, that’s an excellent question, dear, something I meant to discuss but it slipped me mind.  Okay, so how did me boy work so much power?  Any guesses?” Aunt Ash asked.

“Human sacrifice?” Erika joked.  At least I think she was joking, but then, I hadn’t thought she had much of a sense of humor before this.

“Actually, that’s one way to do it, harvesting the life energy of a ritually murdered human.  Is that what ye did, boy?” she asked me.  I shook my head.  “No?  I guess not.”

She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.  “What Declan did was a bit of a trade secret to me clan.  Ex-clan, that is.  The main method for using the power, as ye all know, is to absorb energy and hold it inside yourself. You psychics do that, too. Consider it a reservoir, a pool of magic, or for you modern thinkers, a battery of sorts.  The amount of power each witch can hold is part of her individual strength.  The other part of magical strength is how much ye can channel, like the difference between a drinking straw and a fire hose, ye see?

“And me lad over there can handle a bunch of both, but that’s not what he did, right?  How do I know?”

“Because he never looked exhausted or even tired,” Ryanne suddenly stated.

“Exactly, dear.  He never used his own reserves at all, did ye, lad?” Ashling asked, turning to me.

I shook my head.

“He borrowed it,” she said.

“Huh?” Britta asked, looking at the others around her to see if anyone understood.

“So what do witches or even psychics do when they want to use power?  You all pull energy into yourselves from whatever yer affinity is, right?  Then you push it back out to do yer will.  And all yer lives you practice holding as much magic essence as ye can, don’t ye, because it limits the works ye can do?” she asked.  The witches nodded back at her.

“But what if ye never took the energy to yer core, to yer magical piggy bank.  What if ye just passed it through ye and put it to work?  How would that be?”

“What, like when a circle leader takes power from the circle and uses it?” Jael asked.

“Very much like that.  Almost exactly, only instead of yer sister witches pushing power at ye, ye pull it from yer affinity and send it on its way at the same time.”

“But that would only be a trickle… It wouldn’t amount to anything at all, would it?” Ryanne asked.

“And that’s the trick of it, deary.  Ye got to find enough of a source of power that matches your need. Tell me, boy, what did ye use for the dirt beastie?” Ashling asked me.

I held up both hands on an imaginary steering wheel and made driving motions.

“Ah, the cars?” Aunt Ash asked.  I nodded.  “Clever lad.  What he did was to borrow the power of the vehicles on the roads around us.  And being right in the middle of Burlington, there are lots, now aren’t there?”

“How do you borrow the power of a car?” Britta asked.

“Practice, dear, practice. And a little from each.  Everyone, close your eyes.  That’s it.  Now extend your senses and feel outside these walls.  If ye be having the ability to cast afar, then do so.  Or if not, just listen and feel,” my aunt said.  A truck rumbled by outside.  “Feel that?  A road tractor, so powerful it shook the floor.  The shaking of the floor is power to be harnessed, as is the rolling of its mass, the vibrations of its engines.  Now, if ye were science types and ye were to measure the motor output for each car me lad here borrowed from, I think ye’d find that they all lost a little bit of oompf here and there.  Declan took all those wee little pieces of energy, blended them together, and powered his beastie with it.”

“But that’s insanely complex.  Why not just one or two big trucks?” Michelle asked.

“Well, yes, except that what would be happening to the trucks?”

“They would lose all their power?” Michelle guessed.

“Just so.  Right in the road.  If it’s all ye had, then so be it, especially for life and death, but that weren’t the case here, now was it?  So by taking wee bits and pieces, no one was the wiser and no one was in danger.  It just required a lot of concentration and skill by the Crafter.  Well done, lad, but yer still in the doghouse and don’t be forgetting it.” She shook her finger at me.

Erika looked like she was concentrating hard, or maybe had gas—it was hard to tell with her, but she suddenly exhaled loudly and then looked at my aunt in frustration.  “You can’t get any energy that way,” she said.

A strong wind blew up around the room before swirling down into a tight little cyclone of spinning air that swept up all the loose dirt I’d missed.  The powerful dust devil spun through the space between the class and Ashling, blowing hair and papers around before rising up over the game model and collapsing downward, dropping all the soil onto the landscape in a puff of dust.

“You can’t… yet.  I can,” Ashling said into the silence and awe.  “I borrowed that energy from the wind outside what’s blowing fierce and I’m still fresh as a daisy.  But don’t be worrying about it.  We’ll work on it next class, along with your avatars, which I suggest you talk about now.”

The class did exactly that, breaking up into groups and clusters.  Some studied the landscape or handled the avatar I had made.  Others drew on paper or tablets.  And almost all of them asked questions of both my aunt and me.  My paper ran out long before the questions did, forcing me to use a borrowed tablet to type out answers.

T.J. was showing a drawing to my aunt when I approached her.

“Ye have to know that magic and technology have a hard time co-existing, ye see?” my aunt was telling him.

“But Miss O’Carroll, my tech is different.  Maybe it’s part of my talent, but most of my work is pretty tolerant of magic, and it’s not like anyone can cast a spell directly on my creations,” he replied.

“If ye want to make one o’ your robot thingies and put it to the test, then by all means.  I think it a grand idea. Jest don’t be surprised if some of the landscaping spells muck it all up,” my aunt said, turning and catching sight of me.

I had found some more paper in Caeco’s supremely organized backpack, so I handed her my question.

Can we talk?

“Oh, I think that we should,” she said in an ominous tone.  T.J. backed away several steps before fleeing back to the other kids, some of whom were watching us.  Maybe they thought she’d turn me into a frog or something.  They didn’t know her very well… her anger wouldn’t manifest in anything so mild.

“So, go ahead.  Give me your brilliant excuses for why ye would break yer word,” she said, arms crossed.

No excuses.  I knew what was in that section and I could either break a promise or drop out and never come back. But I am very sorry.

“It was as bad as that, was it?” she asked, her tone doubtful that anything could be that bad.

I was helpless.  Utterly helpless and I thought I was losing Caeco because I was so weak and slow compared to him.  He whispered stuff in my ears like I was his bitch.  I wanted to kill him.  Thought about it.  But I remembered Mom’s book.

“Mind yer language,” she said as she read my words, but her face softened just ever so slightly.  “Ye could have come home… or called?  And how were ye knowing what was in that section, eh?”

First week of college and I’m supposed to flee home?  My mother would be so proud.  And I read the whole book once, long before you gave it to me.  I found it in your office when I was like ten or something.

“You what?” she asked loud enough to make half the remaining kids jump.

Old Mr. Grady came into the kitchen, mad about something and cursing a lot.  You sent me to your office, probably so I wouldn’t hear his words.  Mom’s book was under some papers and I thought the writing looked like hers.  I paged through it, but the glyphs caught my eye so I mostly remembered them.

“And ye never mentioned a word of it when I gave ye the book?” she asked, frowning.

I was so excited to get Mom’s grimoire and I thought you might not let me have it if I told you I had seen it before.

“That’s called lying by omission and it can be jest as bad as the regular sort of lies,” she said, but her tone wasn’t quite as dangerous.

I thought of just trying the glyphs from memory.

She paled as she read that, a flash of real fear flickering across her features.

“Oh, Declan, I really wish ye had called or texted or something,” she said, her anger now dismay, which, strangely, was a little worse.

I won’t use them.

“Oh lad, that’s easy to say, but they’re a part of ye now.  Ye might as well say ye won’t use yer feet,” she said.  “What will ye do if that behemoth wolf comes for ye again?”

I’ll use magic.

“Just as bad.  Maybe worse, don’t ye see?  First, yer likely to get tossed out on yer ear for using magic against another student.  Ye got away with it this morning because Mrs. Velasquez saw him go for you in his beast shape.  But as much as she wants ye here, for whatever reason, if ye break the rules, she’ll have no choice, will she?  And how many times have I told ye that using the Craft to solve yer problems is no solution at all?”

Lots, but why does she want me to stay?  Maybe a quick change of topic would move us away from more dangerous things.

“I don’t know, lad, but she was mighty persuasive, arguing on yer behalf.  I’d think her a witch meself if I didn’t know for sure she wasn’t.  Which goes back to me point… ye don’t need magic for solving yer problems. She sure doesn’t. What have I always told ye?”

Only really serious stuff.  Life and death stuff.

“’Tis a truth. I’m still mad at ye for breaking yer word, and I’ve me doubts about this looney bin.  That being said, I’m glad yer healing, though I kinda like this not talking thing, boy.  Could get used to ye not mouthing off all the while,” she said.

“Now I’ve got to be ending me class and all, so get yerself back to yer friends.”

Love you, I wrote.

“Get on wit ye now,” she mock-growled, turning and speaking to the class.  “Okay, enough for tonight.  We’ll see what ye come up with next Monday, won’t we?”

I joined my group and Caeco smiled at me.  “Did you grovel well?”

Getting there.  Not completely done yet, though.

“Oh, I have complete faith in your ability to grovel,” she laughed, the girls joining in.

“Oooooh, dude,” Mack said like she’d burned me.  I didn’t care.  I still felt better than I had in days.  Who knew it would be so short lived.

Chapter 25

A cold hand clamped across my mouth woke me instantly Tuesday morning.  The color of the eyes that met mine was so vivid that I could tell they were blue in the murky dark of early morning.  A finger rose to the beautiful face and made the universal sign for silence.  Tatiana Demidova was in my dorm room.  At… 5:34 a.m., if Mack’s ceiling projection clock was right.

I nodded, or at least tried to under that steely grip.  She got the point, letting go and backing away.  Another dark figure, larger and male-shaped, stood near the door.

Throwing off my covers and sitting up, I realized I was only wearing boxers.  Before I could think to cover myself, the slim pale hand was back, grabbing my wrist and pulling me off the bed like the winch on my Land Cruiser.  Clothes were shoved my way, a pair of running shoes added to the pile, and then I was standing in the hall, blinking under the florescent lights.

Chris Gordon shut the door to my room and grinned at me.  Tanya stood next to him, studying my mostly undressed body.  “Get dressed.  We have much work to do,” she said, her Russian accent a touch heavier than I remembered.

I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but my jaw was still too stiff and sore.  Tanya handed me an open bottle of red Gatorade and I automatically took a sip.

“How’s your jaw?” Chris asked after I’d swallowed.

I started to shake my head, but suddenly realized the pain was gone.  Experimentally, I opened my jaw further.  “Ah, better,” I said.  Tanya made an impatient bottoms up gesture for me to finish off the little drink.  I chugged it down. Queen vampire demands, I deliver.

“Now how do you feel?” Chris asked, grinning as if he already knew.

“Pretty awesome.  No… really awesome,” I answered, stunned that it was true.  Every ache, every pain was gone and I felt like running a mile.

“We heard about the shit that went down.  Declan, we’re really sorry that all happened to you,” Chris said.

His girlfriend was suddenly deep in my personal space, looking at my face and eyes critically.  I froze solid. “That’s some bullshit training.  We’re here to fix that,” she said, only inches away.  “But it is cold for you, yes?  Put on your clothes.”

I put them on—fast.

Then we were walking, down the hall and down the stairs.  Waving to the guards and heading into the dark cold outside.  “Follow us,” Chris said, still wearing a shit-eating grin.  Both uber-naturals took off at a slow, effortless jog.  I copied them and as soon as I had caught up, they sped up slightly, forcing me to as well.  No sooner was I up to speed than they did it again.  Pretty quickly, we were sprinting down the road, passing converted industrial building after building as we turned corners and moved a bit further from downtown.  Art studios, architectural salvage, non-profit home good recycle shops, music stores, martial arts studios and, of course, restaurants.  About three-quarters of a mile from Arcane, we came to an old building, which looked unloved.  No good Vermonters had yet claimed it and renovated it into a new life; instead, it had broken windows and graffiti-painted walls.  Tanya led us inside.

A single lightbulb hanging from a long, cracked wire illuminated the entryway to what must have been a factory at one time.  Most of what was visible appeared to be open space and wooden support beams holding up the open-rafter second floor.  High above that was a wooden ceiling, obviously the flooring of the third story.  The overall impression was of a building stripped down for renovations.

“Okay.  Not using your powers is bullshit.  How can you learn if you don’t use?” Tanya asked.

“Not very well?” I suggested, glancing from her to Chris and back again.  He was no real help, still grinning at me like he was loving life or something.

“So, this is my building now… for us to use as a gym… for you,” she said, tilting her head to study my reaction—which was likely confused, because that’s how I felt.

“We’re in town for the rest of the week.  We flew back from Europe when we heard how badly Jenks had fucked up.  So today and for the next three days after, we’ll be training you here at 5:30 sharp.  Next Monday, you go back to Jenk’s class, but for now you’re ours… or hers, if I want to be accurate,” Chris said.

“Okay,” I said, at a complete loss for words. “I mean, wow.  Thanks.”

“Well, being trained by Tanya is a huge honor, but you might want to save the thanks.  You’re going to hurt, even with the drop of blood Tanya put in your drink,” Chris said, still cheerful.

“If it’s going to hurt, then why are you so happy?” I asked.

“Because this time, I get to be on the trainer side instead of the trainee,” he said.  I looked back to Tanya but she was gone… vanished, like a ghost.

“First lesson.  You have enormous power, but your reactions and speed are only human, even with your fancy tattoo things.  So you’re going to have to adapt and develop techniques to deal with beings much faster and stronger than you.  Your goal is to cross each floor, back and forth, till you get to the far side of the third floor.  We, meaning Tanya, Arkady, Stacia, and myself, will be attacking you at random.  Nothing too vicious, but you best protect yourself.  Now, here’s my advice—use your shields, use those circle things you do to protect yourself from our speed.  Try to develop weapons that don’t require aim… you’ll never hit us.  Ready?  Go!” he said and was suddenly gone.

I might have been confused and unsure, but when the most dangerous man in the world tells me to put up a shield, I do it.  Good thing, as no sooner had I put on imaginary invisible armor than a length of wood shot out of the darkness and bounced off me.  That one would have left a serious bruise.  Okay, game on.

While we were talking, I had studied the area around us.  The only electrical wire that looked live was the bare bulb dangling over my head.  Some loose wires were strewn about the floor in the corners, but nothing looked connected except the light.  I sucked it dry, pulling energy till the bulb dimmed and went out.  Then I ran.  Behind me, the light came back on.

Immediately, a blurring shape came at me from the darkness to my left.  I threw out a hand and lightning shot out, smashing into a wooden beam but missing the target.  Something hit me from behind and my feet left the floor, my body smashing into another upright post.  Anyone get the plate number of that truck? Oww.

My shields either deflect an impact or absorb it by spreading across a much greater area.  Slamming into a beam across the length of my body was still very bruising, but at least nothing was broken.  This would get old fast.

I started on, but a smack from behind sent me sprawling forward.  I judo rolled forward and came to my feet, but the giant Arkady was already past me and when I turned toward him, I stepped right into an open-handed shove that knocked me backward flat on the floor.

Shields alone weren’t working.  I grabbed chalk from my pocket and scratched a quick circle.  Or tried to.  A hand from the rafters above grabbed my collar and my feet left the floor.  A split second later, I found myself on the second story, lying across open floor joists.  A figure hovered over me and I threw another bolt of electricity at it but it was long gone, like they could dodge lightning.  Which I didn’t think they actually could.  Even Chris and Tanya weren’t that fast, but they were more than fast enough to read my molasses-slow human motions and dodge the strike when my arm flung out.  So no more open motions… wait… I remembered something Levi had told me about kung-fu.  Something about a lying hand or distracting hand.  Hah.

I rolled over and let my feet fall through the rafters, grabbing the wood only long enough to slow my drop a bit.  As soon as I hit the ground, I flung one hand forward but projected the electricity in an arc that wrapped around my shields.  A loud snap and crack and a sharp Russian word sounded from behind me.  My chalk was lying on the concrete nearby and I grabbed it, finishing my partial circle and powering it instantly.

A body smashed off the circle, smaller than Arkady, but bigger than Tanya.

“Hah!  Very good, Declan,” Chris said from the darkness.  “You’re learning.  Now, how to move forward?  You’ll have to leave the circle sometime.”

Tempering the impulse to waste my borrowed charge of electricity, I instead used basic telekinesis to grab the two-by-four that had bounced off me earlier and whip it in his direction.

“Oh, but I’m not there any more,” he said from the other side of me.  I pulled the wood back till it floated in front of me.  One four-foot piece of wood wasn’t going to work.  I mentally snapped it in two, something I couldn’t have done physically.  Then I snapped both pieces again, and again.  Now I had eight roughly six-inch-long blocks and I swirled them around me in a continuous weaving circle, speeding them up till they were moving in a blur.  A quick look around didn’t show anyone visible.  I broke the circle and ran forward, the spiraling blocks moving around me.

“Nice,” Tanya’s voice said from the darkness.  “But wooden blocks aren’t very scary.”

“I thought we were training?  If this was for keeps, I’d make them all wooden spikes or pull up concrete from the floor, or just flatten the building,” I said, slamming to a stop at the far end.  A short set of unfinished stairs climbed to the second story and I rushed up them before anything else interfered.

“Breaking my building is a fail,” Tanya admonished from the dark.  Couldn’t tell if she was below or up on the rafters.  I shivered at the thought of making her mad.  She was just playing with me—I’d be a smear of red jelly if she wasn’t.

“But points for out-of-the-box thinking,” Chris added, his voice echoing.  “But how to cross the rafters?  Can’t put a circle down up here, now can you?”

No wiseass, I couldn’t.  Not on a broken floor.  A witch would have to bring their own circle with them and that was impossible… or was it?  A piece of bright copper wire, a grounding cable, hung from a nail on a nearby beam, like an electrician left it there when he was called off the job.  Called off by a vampiress who wanted the building left rustic.

I grabbed it and held the two ends together, requesting the metal to bond with itself.

Now I had a circle of copper four feet in diameter.  Too big.  I twisted the loop like I’d seen Ashley do with her infinity scarf, making a doubled two-foot circle.  It lay across the rafters and I stepped into it and powered it up, keeping my winding rope of spinning blocks outside the circle.  The curving blue wall extended straight down to the concrete floor ten feet below and straight up to the wooden ceiling ten feet above.

Now to see if it could move.  I willed the copper up an inch, till it floated just off the wooden joists.  When I stepped forward, my circle stepped with me, the wooden blocks still swirling like a hyperactive nest of giant bees swarming around me.

Something giant smashed into my circle, completely ignoring the blocks that pelted it, but bouncing off the glowing wall of my circle.  I snapped out a bolt of electricity without moving my arms and scored a satisfying yelp from the massive Russian vampire.

Stepping quickly but as carefully as I could, I crossed the open floor.  A glance back showed Arkady was gone, not that I expected to actually see him.

I made it to the other side without attack and found another stair, this one as old as the building.  It led up through the thick planks of the third floor. I took down the circle, climbed the stairs in a rush, and tossed my wire circle out onto the rough wood of the third floor.  Frankly, this high above the ground, I wasn’t sure a circle would even work. It was two short steps ahead of me but before I could move, a god-awful growl sounded from the darkness nearby.  It rattled my spine and ribcage, instantly sending the hairs on the back of my neck straight up and shriveling my boy parts.

Enough with the darkness.  I cast an orb of light ahead, letting it hang just below the ceiling.  Much of the vast space was now lit, only the corners in shadow.  The light was plenty bright enough to reveal the source of the growl.  An enormous white wolf, easily over two hundred pounds, stood stiff-legged and snarling, bright yellow-green eyes locked on me.  An even bigger wolf, this one black and tan, lay on the floor to one side, just watching.  That one was Awasos, so I had no trouble figuring the white one for Stacia Reynolds.

I long ago got over hitting pretty girls in fighting practice.  And it was much easier to contemplate when they were shaped like one of Nature’s most efficient killers.  She dodged away from the spinning blocks of wood I sent after her, darting back and forth.  Thought I had her baffled, but she surprised me by flattening out low to the floor like she was coming under the blurring ring, then leaped up and over it, coming down, paws outstretched, jaws open.  My reaction was automatic, a burst of kinetic energy to throw her back, followed by a bolt of electricity—just about the last of my borrowed power.

She twisted in midair like a cat, but the mini-bolt caught her and she yelped before hitting the ground in a white-furred lump.  Turning to Awasos, I figured he’d attack next, but he only yawned and put his head on his forefeet.  I glanced back at the white wolf only to discover she was gone, replaced by Stacia’s human form… her very naked human form.  She lay unmoving and I worried I’d really hurt her.  Mindful of ‘Sos, I moved cautiously to Stacia, trying to ignore her nakedness.  She lay on one side, breathing but unconscious.  Pulling on her shoulder caused her to roll onto her back, which left her breasts fully exposed.  I was actually successful in keeping my gaze on her face as I mentally wrestled with the little red-suited fellow on my left shoulder.  He kept demanding that I look at her perfection.  But I didn’t… for a full five seconds, but then his white robed opposite suggested that her wounds might be lower on her body and red-boy quickly agreed.  So I dropped my gaze, truly intending to check for wounds—honestly.  But I got trapped by her chest.  Until a band of steel closed around my throat and I felt myself lifted off the ground.  Her other hand gripped the hair on the back of my head as she stood with boneless grace, my body’s weight hardly an inconvenience. “Snap… your neck is broken,” she said mildly, green eyes glittering in the pale white light of my orb.

She dropped me, still holding my eyes with her own.  A low chuckle sounded behind me.  Turning around, I found Chris, Tanya, and Arkady standing in the stairway.  Chris was laughing, Arkady grinned, and Tanya just studied me.

“Fooled by the helpless naked female act… classic,” Chris said.  Arkady chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling.

“I thought I’d really hurt her,” I said, wincing at the defensive tone in my voice.

“Do you think ‘Sos would just lie there if she were really hurt?” Chris asked.

I shrugged.  “She got me good.  I just don’t know what will hurt a were and what won’t.”

“Hitting them with a bus is a start,” Tanya said.  “Please feel free to do so with this one.”

“Nice,” a soft feminine voice said behind me.  I was afraid to look, but when she came up next to me, my peripheral vision picked up green clothing, so I took a quick glance.  Stacia wore black leggings and a bulky green UVM sweatshirt.  Her feet were still bare, but she seemed unconcerned by the unheated building and the frigid air that clouded with our breath.  “He held back… I could tell.  Both the mind blast thingy and the personal lightning bolt… which stung like hell, by the way.  You should try one, Tanya… you might like it.”

Chris sighed, glancing from one to the other before coming back to me.  “Not shabby for a first try.  What do you think, T?”

“He learns fast, but is very slow,” she said, turning to me.  “You must work like a tank, using your power to armor yourself from our attacks.  Then strike back.”

“He stopped telegraphing his bolts right away… is good,” Arkady rumbled.

I started to feel better about my performance.  “I wonder if his circle or shields are bulletproof?  We should try them out,” Tanya said, matter-of-fact.

Now I didn’t feel better… now I just felt terrified.

Chapter 26

Chris took pity on me.

“Ah, let’s go back down to the first floor and we can experiment… very carefully,” he said.  “Circles work best right on the ground, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think activating one this far up would be useful for physical protection.  It might block a magical attack, but for shielding from objects or direct attack, touching ground is a must,” I said.

“Wire circle on rafters worked, no?” Arkady questioned.

“Yeah, but I was desperate, plus I could see the ground.  I think that helped.”

We went back down the steps to the open beam floor, where they all just dropped through the gaps in the beams to land lightly on the concrete below.  I squatted, grabbed a floor joist, and lowered myself till I could let go.  My wire hoop had come with me, so I dropped it on the ground and looked up at the others to see what they were planning.

Arkady was screwing a suppressor onto a foreign-looking pistol.

“Makarov?  Sweet,” Chris commented.

“Dah, spoils of war,” Arkady replied, looking up from the pistol to me.  I gulped.  I mean, my Craft was strong, but shooting my circle with bullets?  Never done it.

“Step in circle please,” the giant vampire requested.

“Ah…” I started.

“Declan, just sit on the ground.  Arkady will shoot at the air above your head so that if it doesn’t work, it won’t hit you,” Chris said.

“What about ricochets?  What if it gets through one side and bounces down the other?” I asked, really scared.

A warm hand grabbed mine.  “Come on, I’ll sit in here with you,” Stacia said, pulling me into my circle.  “You won’t let anything hit us, will you?” she asked, head tilted to one side.  I gulped again but followed helplessly.  Damn.  I hoped like hell she didn’t ask for my lunch money because I would likely empty my bank account.

She sat gracefully with her legs crossed in front of her, patting the ground beside her, feet still bare.

“Now, forcefields on or shields up or whatever it is you do,” she said with a smile.  I touched one finger to the wire hoop and pushed power into my circle, closing it, looking anywhere but at the bombshell next to me.

Arkady pinched the slide and grip of his gun with one massive finger and thumb, peeking into the minute amount of chamber that this revealed.  He grunted, having most likely seen the brass of cartridge case chambered and ready to go.  He was going to freaking shoot my circle.  Granted, he was aiming over our heads, but shit happens with guns and who knows where a ricochet might go.  With a glance at Stacia, who was smiling at me with complete confidence, I closed my eyes and thought, stop the bullets—stop the bullets.

There was a sharp snap, followed by the clatter of the gun’s action cycling and the ping of a brass case on the concrete floor.  Four more pops, like an air rifle going off, four more cases tinged on the cement right beside me.

“Damn.  That’s cool,” Chris said.

I opened my eyes and looked where the others were looking.  Five perfect bullets hung in the outer edge of my circle, each ringed with a bluish hue.  Suspended, not moving, all clustered in a tight little group.

Stacia patted my hand and popped upright.  “Go ahead, big guy.  Empty the mag,” she said, facing the giant vampire with just my circle protecting her.

Without any hesitation at all, he fired six more times till the slide on his gun locked back on an empty magazine.  Three bullets hung in front of her face and another three right where her heart would be.

“Holy shit.  You guys don’t play around, do you?” I asked, stunned by their nonchalance.

“Actually, the rumor is that the one next to you is all about playing around,” Tanya said from nearby, her arms crossed.

Stacia’s eyes narrowed for just a second before she turned to me.  “That was awesome, Declan.  Now let’s get out of here before you freeze to death from all the cold, frigid things in here.”

“It never ends,” Chris muttered.  He looked at me, his expression a combination of embarrassed and annoyed.  “How do you get out?” he asked.

“As soon as either of us touches the circle, it’ll break,” I said, standing up.  I nodded to Stacia and she took a tentative step forward.  Abruptly, all eleven bullets fell to the ground, pattering about the cold floor.

“So how does that work?  I thought circles were used to keep things in… like, say, demons?” Chris asked.

“Depends on the direction the caster set it in.  If I close a circle from inside, it blocks things out.  If I close it from outside, it locks them in,” I said.

“What about a two-way circle?  Both blocking and locking?” Stacia asked.

“I’ve never heard of that.  It’s always vulnerable from one side,” I said.

“How about shields you put up?  They block bullets too?” Arkady asked, dropping the empty mag from his gun and slapping in a new one.

“Theoretically,” I said, not at all interested in trying it.

Chris laughed at my expression, clapping me on the shoulder lightly.  Damn near knocked me over.  “We won’t try it today.  You’ve done pretty well, I’d say,” he said, looking pointedly at Tanya.

Her serious expression disappeared into a beautiful smile that reached her eyes.

“Yes, a very good first session, Declan.  We will ramp it up a bit tomorrow.  What are your thoughts?” she asked.

I looked at them while I thought about her question.  “I think you all took it very easy on me.  I think that anything I came up with, you would have gotten around, especially if you worked as a team rather than individual attacks.  I don’t think I realized how very fast you all are,” I said.

“Is good… you are not cocky,” Arkady said.  “What you say is all true, but this is only beginning.  You have much power, need much practice.”  He pointed at the scattered bullets and cases on the floor.  “Never seen a witch stop bullets before.”  Then he started to pick them up.

Instantly, I joined him, thinking it was just like picking up after shooting practice with Darci or Levi.  After a second, Stacia joined in, grabbing the last two bullets.

Arkady held out one giant palm and I dropped the brass and copper collection I had into it.  Stacia shook her head.  “Nope, I’m keeping these.  Maybe make earrings out of them,” she said with a smile, holding a bullet up to each ear.

“Alright, Declan.  Same time tomorrow?” Chris asked.  “Meet us here?”

“Sure.  Ah, thanks,” I said, realizing I was dismissed.  I headed out into the cold morning air, the sky still dark but starting to brighten.  It was only six-thirty, but it felt like I’d been up all morning.  I jogged back to Arcane thinking that the most interesting part of my day was already over.  Turns out I was wrong.

Grabbing a breakfast sandwich from the dining room, I headed upstairs.  Mack was still blissfully sleeping as I got my shower gear and left the room.  It was a bit crazy to think that just minutes ago, I’d been training with the most dangerous people in the world.  Thinking about it, my brain froze on the image of bullets floating in the air above my head, Stacia sitting next to me on the freezing floor. Okay, I’m not gonna lie… I also might have replayed the naked werewolf girl on the floor scene, too.  Hey, I am a guy… it’s how we’re wired.

I also thought about the spinning blocks and how Arkady had just shoved through them like nothing.  The problem was that the building constrained me.  I couldn’t knock it down or burn it up, and most of the inside was wood.  So I was left with electricity, which was in short supply, except static, ‘cause the building was so damned cold.  A thought hit me.  Hmm, static.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and ready.  I knocked off some homework and prepped for Website Design, sitting in the dining room, drinking coffee.  Caeco and Jetta came in and grabbed breakfast, sitting next to me.

“You’re all peppy this morning,” Jetta commented.  “Cut it out.”  She didn’t look excited for school.  I took a guess.

“Bio at high school this morning?”

She grimaced and attacked her yogurt like an enemy.

“You’re speaking again and your bruises are all gone,” Caeco noted, studying me with raised eyebrows.  “What have you been doing?”

“Training, and I had an unusual energy drink.  It kind of healed me up,” I said.  She frowned.  I instantly understood. I hadn’t been training with her.  Ooops.

“I got drafted out of bed at five-thirty this morning,” I said hurriedly.

“By who?” Jetta demanded.

“Tatiana Demidova,” I said as casual as I could.

“What?” Caeco asked at the same time that Jetta said, “WTF?”  A couple of kids three tables away looked over.

“Yeah, my reaction, too.  You try waking up to her hand over your mouth.  And Chris just standing there laughing at me,” I said.  “Then I drank her blood.”

I had their undivided attention.

“Seems like someone spoke to them about the whole Delwood situation and so they came back from Europe to train me for the next few days.  Every morning—at five fucking thirty.  Tanya owns an old factory not far from here.  I have to get to the top floor and they all hunt me.  She put a drop of her blood into a Gatorade to get me healthy enough to beat up.”

“Who is ‘they all?’” Caeco asked.

“Chris, Tanya, Arkady, and Stacia.  Awasos was there but he didn’t participate.”

“I’m jealous,” Caeco said, a hungry look on her face that had nothing to do with breakfast.

“Well, it’s frustrating because they’re so damned fast.  They’re also taking it pretty easy on me, just attacking one-on-one.  And the building is old and full of wood but I can’t burn anything and earth is useless because it’s all old hard concrete and I might level the building or something.  That might make her mad and I really, really don’t want to see her mad.”

“How can you even defend?  I beat you up and they’re way faster than me,” Caeco said.  She was peeved.

“I can’t—not martial arts style.  Instead, I have to use circles and shields and electricity.  I’m trying to think up new weapons and stuff, but it’ll be hard,” I said.

“Which is the point of it,” she said, expression shifting to thoughtful as she pondered my problem.

“I managed to make a circle out of wire I found, and it moves with me, but it won’t work up on the top floor.  Also, they shot my regular circle to see if it would stop bullets.”

“With you in it?” Jetta demanded.

“Well, me and Stacia, but we were sitting on the floor.”  A voice in the back of my head spoke up and pointed out a potential hazard in that last sentence.

Caeco’s eyes narrowed.  “Why was Stacia in the circle with you?”  Yup, that hazard.

“Because I was really unexcited about having them shoot me and she volunteered for moral support,” I said, thinking faster than I had all morning.

“Tell me… is she interesting to you?” Caeco asked, eyes deadly serious.

Hmmm, options? Definitely a no-go on the whole naked werewolf story.  Let’s stick to observations.

“Is she attractive?  You know she is.  Is she in love with Chris Gordon?  I’m no expert, but even I could see that,” I said, hoping it was enough.

“What?” they both said, simultaneously and loud.  Other diners looked our way.

“No, it’s pretty glaringly obvious.  She’s super helpful and all, but she watches him, you know, when he’s not looking.  And Tanya and her don’t really get along… I mean, they work together, but you can tell they don’t like each other.  Always trading insults and not really the friendly kind, either.  You can see it frustrates the crap out of Chris,” I said.  “And when we were back in the silo, do you remember how she looked at him?”

Caeco’s eyes unfocused a bit as she sat back and thought about my words.  Then she nodded.  “Yeah, I agree.  I never analyzed it from that direction, but now that you mention it, all the signs were there.  I wasn’t as attuned to social cues as I’m becoming now.”

“Wow, a super love triangle.  That’s really hot,” Jetta said.  She was practically shaking with excitement as she thought about it.  Girls.

“Okay, you’re off the hook, O’Carroll. But let’s think about weapons.  You said there’s electricity?” Caeco asked.

“Not much.  Just one wire at the entrance.  I’m wondering about static, though, because the building is unheated and cold.”

“Good thought.  Wait, you never said if your circle stopped bullets?” Caeco asked.

“It did. Froze them right in the air over our heads.  Then Stacia stood up and Arkady shot her again.  Stopped them all.”

“How about your shields?  Do they stop bullets?” Caeco asked.

“We didn’t test them yet, thank God,” I replied.

“We should.  Test them, that is,” Jetta said, spooning some yogurt into her mouth.

“That would require guns and shooting and someplace to do it,” I said, relieved that nothing like that was possible.

“Yeah?  So what?  We got guns.  Must be an old quarry or something around here,” Jetta said.

“You’ve got guns?  What about the school rule?” I asked, my relief gone.

“It specifically says no guns in the school.  Doesn’t say we can’t have a truckload in the parking lot.  Which we do.  What do you expect?  We aren’t all super witches or super soldiers.  You honestly think Mack and I would attend a school with werewolves and disarm ourselves?” she asked, frowning at me like I might be brain damaged.

“Okay, okay, I didn’t think it through,” I said.  Caeco who hadn’t even flinched at Jetta’s pronouncement, instead looked up from wherever she’d gone mentally.

“Declan, do you know what reactive armor is?” she asked.

“Ah, no,” I answered.

“On tanks?” Mack asked, sitting down on my other side with a heaping plate of bacon and hash browns.

“Exactly,” Caeco said.

“Sure, but why are we talking about it, and where were you when I woke up?” he asked, directing the last part at me.

“He was training… with Tatiana Demidova, Stacia Reynolds, Chris Gordon, and that giant vampire dude, Arky or whatever,” Jetta said.

“What?” he almost yelled.

“And she was in your room this morning to wake him up,” Jetta added, stealing a piece of his cherished bacon.

“Tatiana or Stacia?” he asked.

“Tatiana,” I said, but before I could say any more, Ashley and a tired-looking Ariel arrived.

“What’s going on?” Ashley asked.

So I spent several minutes explaining my morning.  Mack sat mouth agape and the two girls gave each other a meaning-filled look.

“That explains a lot,” Ariel said, poking at her cereal.

“Like?” Caeco prompted.

“Ariel had bad dreams last night,” Ashley said.

“And?” Jetta asked.

“Many of my precognitive visions occur while I sleep.  Some happen in daytime, but the bulk of them are in dreams.  Last night, I had awful dreams of people fighting outbreaks in Germany and Turkey.  Chris and Tatiana were not there to help,” she said, looking wrung out.

“You see the actual demon outbreaks?” Caeco asked.

“I sometimes see them hours or days in advance, other times minutes.  Last night was, I think, the minutes kind.”

“You’re saying people died last night because Chris and Tanya came here to train me?” I asked, horrified.

“Looks like,” Ashley said, giving me a serious look.

“I didn’t ask them to.  I didn’t even know they were coming,” I protested.

“Of course not, Declan,” Caeco said, shooting Ashley a look of her own.  “They can’t be everywhere and there are always outbreaks that they can’t cover.  But do you understand what this means?” she asked me.

“I’m responsible for people dying?” I replied.

“No, you dope,” Caeco answered, giving me a sympathetic look.  “It means that Chris and Tanya feel your training is so important that they have to handle it personally, even if it means missing some outbreaks.”

“If it helps, Oracle’s PortalSafe devices closed the gates very quickly… at least in my dreams.  It’s just that no one can handle these things as fast and smoothly as Chris’s group,” Ariel said.

“So we need to up your game as fast as possible, Declan,” Caeco continued.  “Back to my comment on reactive armor.”

“It’s explosives sandwiched between armor plates that go off when an antitank round hits.  The explosive either disrupts the plasma jet of a shaped warhead or the penetrator rod, if it’s that kind,” Mack explained.

“Exactly.  So here’s my idea.  What if you built your shields to do something similar?  Either with electricity or just kinetic power or what-have-you.  A shaped charge sends a plasma jet at something like five miles per second, but the reaction is as fast or faster.”

“So no matter how fast a vampire or were is, if they attack me, my shields blast them back?”  I asked.

“Exactly,” she said.  “You should give it some thought while you’re at class, then later, before dinner, we’ll try it out.”

“And we can shoot you, too?” Jetta added, with more enthusiasm than I felt was appropriate.

Chapter 27

Website Design was a blur, as I was either doodling thoughts on my shielding or wondering if innocent people were dying while I was sitting here in class.

After class, I followed my normal routine to head to the Student Center for lunch.  A familiar brogue assaulted me as I was ordering a sub sandwich.

“And are ye thinking of eating the whole bloody thing yerself, are ye?” came from behind me.

“Hi Ryanne.  And yes I am.  It’s only a sub,” I said.

“Only a sub, he says.  Declan, if I ate like you lads, me ass would look like two bulldogs in a tater sack, it would,” she said, shaking her head.  A couple of guys walking behind her were busy eyeing her form and I was pretty sure they weren’t thinking of dogs or potatoes.

“So what does a fair maiden of the Emerald Isle eat to maintain such a svelte and lithesome form?” I asked, adopting a cultured tone.

“Oh such complete and utter blarney.  Ye’ve kissed the Stone then, have ye?” she asked, even as she held up a salad to answer the question.

“No, never been to Ireland, let alone Blarney Castle.  Would like to, but you know how it is.  An entire clan of Irwins would most likely murder me,” I said, thanking the lady behind the counter as she handed off my seafood salad sub masterpiece.

“Now yer jest talking shite,” she said, grabbing my elbow and steering me toward a table.  “After what I’ve seen ye do, I think ye could probably be crowned King of the circles,” she said.

I started to snap out a witty reply but stopped.  “Wait, you’re serious.  Not about the king thing, but you don’t think my mother’s killers would come for me?”

She settled into an open table in the corner, her green eyes uncharacteristically serious.

“Declan, I’ll be honest with ye.  Most of the circles already know of ye.”

“You told them,” I accused.

“Of course I told them, ye box head.  Ye never told me who ye were or that it was some great bloody secret.  So naturally, I told me sisters about ye.  Being the grand gossips that they are, word spread fast,” she said, holding up one finger to stall my response.  “Then yer aunt showed up and explained about ye and herself and, well, I passed that along too.  Yer the biggest news to hit the Irish circles in years.  Me damn cell’s been ringing nonstop.  And ye can thank me for not giving out yer own number or they’d be calling you, too.  I know for a fact that they’ve sent emails to yer aunt’s website.  Has she no said a word then?”

I sat back, stunned, while she poked her salad without much enthusiasm.  “She’s still a bit mad at me,” I finally said.

“Bah, what witch isn’t going to read their own mum’s grimoire?  Bloody nonsense, if ye ask me.  She should be glad ye didn’t just burn the stupid bloody wolf to cinders or that gobshite Jenks.”

“So what have they wanted—the people who call you?” I asked, fighting to kill the blossom of hope that had taken root inside me.

“They want a fecking introduction is what they want.  Like I’m yer bleeding agent or some shite,” she said, watching me take a bite of my sub, her eyes a little covetous.  Her salad was mostly getting pushed around instead of being eaten.

“Do you eat a lot of salads in Ireland?” I asked.

“We don’t grow a whole lot of this leafy shite.  Lots of root veggies,” she said.

I pushed the other half of my sub her way and her eyes lit up like it was gold at the end of the rainbow.

“So if I was introduced, what would they want of me?” I asked.

“Babies, most like,” she said, taking a huge bite of the sub, eyes closed in pleasure.

“What?” I asked.

“Yer the most powerful warlock anyone’s heard of and yer mum was a fecking legend.  They want to breed ye back into the lines.”

It was a repeat of what the witch that had worked to contain me in the missile silo, Krista, had said.  I hadn’t really believed her then, especially as she didn’t know how strong I really was.  I absently wondered if she gotten out before the asteroid hit.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Just remembering something another witch said to me once.  But if I understand you, then I need to stay away from Ireland for what… ever?”

“What, ya think they’ll chain you up and breed ya like a prized bull, do ya?” she laughed.

“Actually, that’s pretty much what this other witch said, although I think drugs were mentioned.”

“I won’t lie to ya… There are some what might treat a male like that, but yer stronger than most circles, unless I miss me guess.” She looked at me with raised eyebrows until I shrugged.  “Drugs would be a mighty iffy thing with a witch of yer power, Declan.  If they fecked it up, you’d like to get free and then they’d all be fecked, wouldn’t they?”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust any of them.  They killed my mom,” I said, taking a bite of sandwich.  She went quiet and I glanced at her.  She looked hurt.

“Them, Ryanne. I said them.  Not you.  But really, shouldn’t I be careful with ladling out trust?” I asked.

“No, no ye shouldn’t.  In fact, ye hardly know me.  Ye probably shouldn’t trust me either, as I might be scheming to get ye in me bed and get pregnant with yer child,” she said, wrapping up the sub remnants a bit violently.  She stood up, grabbed her book bag and tray, and headed to the garbage.

“Ryanne, I said it didn’t include you.” I scrambled, gathering my own stuff.  She was halfway across the room as I attempted to catch up without dropping my things everywhere.  By the time I got rid of my garbage, she was out of the room.  I jetted through the process, completely failing the Vermont code of recycling, and shot out into the hall, looking around for her.  She was standing by the wall, just outside the lunch spot, waiting.

“Did you hear me?  I said it didn’t include you,” I said again as I approached.  She looked up, eyes watery.

“And did ye hear me?  I said, ye shouldn’t trust me on account my intentions are less than grand,” she said.  A couple of kids walking by looked over curiously at our little drama.

I started to brush off her ridiculous comment, but something about her posture stopped me.  She was serious.

“What?” was the best I could come up.

“Declan, why do ye think I’m here?  At Arcane?” she asked.

“To go to college and learn witch stuff,” I said.

“No, ye moron,” she said gently.  “I could go to college in Ireland if I really wanted to and I already know more o’ the Craft than this school could teach me, yer aunt not withstanding.  Declan, I was sent here to find you… to lure you back to Ireland.  We knew you were strong before, back when ye stood toe-to-to with me sisters, but after last night?  Well, nobody dreamed any single witch could command so much, let alone a male.  The leader of me circle has as much as commanded me to seduce ya.”

“That’s crazy.  She wants you to get pregnant?” I asked, trying to picture her giving up her freedom for a child she didn’t even want.

She wiped her eyes, blinked a couple of times, and took a deep breath.  “Let’s walk to class.”

We headed out of the Davis Center and across campus.  After a few minutes, she spoke again.  “I was excited for this trip.  Getting time here in America without the chaos of a tour.  Don’t get me wrong, I luv touring, but to stay in one spot for five months and make friends, take classes and the like, well that was a gift from the goddess.  And ye seemed an okay sort of lad, so it wouldn’t be horrible like to see if I could work me wiles on ye.”

I looked at her, both eyebrows up.  “Don’t be giving me that look.  Ye know what I mean.  I only met ye the couple of times, so ye could have been a great tool or complete moron, now couldn’t ye?”

“You just called me a moron a moment ago,” I pointed out.

“But not a complete one.  Anyway, when I got here last week, I thought I had all the time ye see, at least several months.  And I like Britta, even if her sister is a savage twit who’s shagging her way through every bob in Arcane.  And you turned out to be a surprise.  I mean, I knew ye had a thing for standing up for the lasses, but then yer protecting little kids and fighting werewolves and ye had to go and show off yer power last night and now it’s all bollixed up.”

“I’m not following.  I mean, I get that you liked coming here and maybe Britta isn’t as awful as Erika, but what does the big dirt lizard and the rest of it have to do with anything?”

“Because, ye great fool, ye did things that made me like ye and I wasn’t supposed to like ye, just seduce ye.  And for showing off, ye’ve gone and made a mad race of it.”

“A race of what,” I said, trying not to dwell on the part where the really, really pretty Irish girl said she liked me.  I have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend.

“Do ye think I’m the only one whose people are interested in ye?  Do ye think that maybe the other witches would have called home and told them about the powerful warlock with the brains of a turnip?” she asked, giving me a sidelong glance as we walked.

I thought of the kids I’d seen after class last night… on their cell phones.  Trying to gather my thoughts at all these revelations, I was glancing to the other side of us when I spotted him.

Adult male, middle-age, five-nine to five eleven, brown hair, dark eyes, beard, thigh-length dark leather coat, tan pants, brown shoes… staring at me.

On a college campus of over twelve thousand undergraduates, anyone older than twenty-five stands out.  This guy didn’t have the professor or administrator vibe.  Too polished, too metro looking.

“Who the hell is that?” I asked as a pack of kids crossed in front of my vision, blocking him off.

“Who?” Ryanne asked, looking where I was staring.

The kids moved past and the man was gone.

“Wow, that was odd.  A dude was standing there staring at me.  Now he’s gone.”

“At you?  Oh does the whole world revolve around you, does it?  Don’t ye think a man might be staring at me?” she asked, executing a quick walking pirouette.

“Absolutely, which is why it was weird he made eye contact with me.  He should be staring at the hot girl, not the scruffy boy,” I said, still looking around for him.  His disappearance was odd, too.  Much too complete to be normal in my opinion.

“Oh so ye think I’m hot, do ye?” she asked.

“Of course.  I’m a straight male, aren’t I?”

“Oh, that was almost a complement, I do believe.”

“Let’s rewind a bit, back before I got distracted by some dude and where we got sidetracked by your hotness.  You said that other kids would be calling home and talking about the dirt lizard and stuff. What’s the big deal?”

“Okay, me hotness aside, let’s look at it like this.  Suppose ye were in a school or college or place where a kid appeared who could throw home run passes or kick field bases from one end of the field to another,” she said.

“What?  I think you mean throw touchdown passes and kick field goals?” I clarified.

“Whatever.  Not my fault ye’ve no normal sports at’all.  Anyway, some prodigy of a player appears in whatever sport ye want to name and is so completely beyond what anyone has ever seen in that sport as to make things almost unfair,” she said.

“Like football?  Our football?” I asked.

“Whatever, ye chancer,” she said, clearly done with the sports metaphor.

“Well, there would be a lot of media coverage and probably a mad dash by all the head coaches to recruit the kid,” I said.

“Bingo. Give the man-boy a biscuit,” she said.  We entered the English building and started toward the stairs.

“So you think recruiters are coming?” I asked.

“I think, boyo, that parents weekend is coming for our little Arcane in March and it’ll be crazy attended, with lots of aunts and uncles that have no blood at all in common with the students,” she said.

“Oh, circle leaders coming along with actual parents?” I asked.

“Yep.  And they’ll be offering ye the moon, their daughters, and free tickets to the Superbowl,” she said.

“Wait… Superbowl tickets?  Good seats?” I asked.

She smacked my arm.  “Ye focker.  Sell yer soul for end line tickets would ye?” she said in mock disgust.  “Not to mention all the nubile girls ye’d be offered along with riches.”

“End zone,” I corrected quickly.  “And I already have a girlfriend.”

“Yes, I know.  Tell me, Declan, jest what’s the attraction to the soldier girl?  She’s kind o’ cute, I’ll admit, but I don’t see any wicked sense of humor or interest in stuff other than things that’ll bleed you, blow you up or shoot you dead.  Maybe you like getting beat up a bit?”

I didn’t answer right away, thinking about Caeco.

“We have a lot in common,” I said finally.

“Like, jest exactly what?” she wondered, completely serious.

“We’re both outsiders.  Neither of us ever belonged.  We are both gifted in our own areas.  We each understand being hunted and living under the radar.  We’re both freaks of nature,” I finished.

It was her turn to be silent.  She glanced my way a couple of times as we climbed the stairs and moved down the hall to our class.  The next hour and a half went by slowly.  I partially listened to the lecture, took half-assed notes, and doodled designs of ideas for reactive shields.  Ryanne appeared to be deep into the class, but I noticed she wasn’t writing down much.  She usually took detailed notes; at least she had before.

When it was finally over and we were headed out into the cold and snow, she turned to me.  “So have ye thought about what I said?”

“About what?  Recruiters?”

“Yes.”

“Some.  I don’t see how it would work.  What am I going to do?  Move to some town in Ireland or wherever the twins are from?  And do what?”

“It’s more about having you on their side and about adding your genes to their lines.  Some witch moms are pretty militant about marrying their daughters to the fellas with the best magic genes they can find.  Yours are tops,” she said.

“Maybe from Mom’s side, but not my father’s.  He was a frigging rapist.”

“Like I said, some circle leaders are pretty ruthless about getting the genes.  You best not be drinking anything you haven’t poured yerself.  Now, jest where was the man who fathered ye from?” she asked.

“Croatia, that’s all I know,” I said.

“Odd that,” she said.  I looked at her expectantly.  “Oh, it jest that Zuzanna is from Croatia is all,” she said.

Oh great.  And she was one of the ones making calls.  “You think my father will hear?  If he’s still alive?”

“I think the whole witch world will hear, if they haven’t already,” she said with a seriousness that was unusual for her.

Chapter 28

“Hold steady, Declan,” Mack said for like the tenth time.  “I don’t want to shoot any of your fingers off.”

“You try holding still when some maniac of a werewolf hunter is pointing a .22 pistol at your hand, or at least close to your hand,” I replied.

We were just outside of Burlington at a sand and gravel quarry that was closed for the night.  The pole-mounted security camera had succumbed to my magical persuasions, as had the locked gate, and there weren’t any private homes in the immediate area.  A light snow was falling and Caeco’s concern for the line of tracks that the Beast left forced me to use another card in my deck. Jetta had noticed immediately.  “You’re using wind to blow away the tracks… How are you using wind?” she’d asked.  I had just shrugged and winked at her.  Caeco was the one who blabbed my secret.

“He has an affinity for Air,” she’d said.

“No way. He’s Earth and Fire,” Mack had chimed in.

“Earth, Fire, and Air,” Caeco said back.

“A little Air,” I’d corrected, pulling to a stop behind a big pile of snow-covered sand.

“I thought that was impossible?” Jetta asked.  I shrugged again.

“So is a dual affinity warlock with more power than an entire circle.  Why not be even more impossible, ah Declan?” Mack asked.

“That’s me… Mr. Impossible.”

“Impossible ego, impossible to live with, impossible son of a bi—” Jetta ground out before Caeco interrupted her with a loud “Ahem.”  Jetta immediately looked embarrassed .  “Sorry about that last part, D. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

“It’s okay.  I think my mom would be okay with the bitch part as long as it was a capital B Bitch and said with respect.  She could certainly go there when it was called for,” I said, thinking of my mom yelling at a food delivery guy who had dropped and then stepped on some expensive meat.

Minutes later found me lying back on the mound of dirt, left hand extended out straight out from my side, watching as Mack lined up to shoot near my hand.

“Remember, try to extend your shield past your fingertips because I won’t hit you, but it’ll be close,” he said, then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Maybe.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing.  Now stop being a big warlock baby and concentrate,” he said, lining up the shot from a foot away.

I closed my eyes and thought really hard about stopping bullets.  There was a snap, a chuffing sound as the soda bottle suppressor Mack had whipped up contained much of the sound and… nothing else.  I looked over at my hand.  A little .22 bullet hung, suspended, an inch off the sand.

“Still concentrating?” he asked.  I nodded and he instantly snapped off two shots right at my left hand.  I yanked my hand away and jumped up.

“Are you fucking crazy?” I asked.

“He kinda is, but so is that,” Jetta said, pointing at my hand, where two bullets were moving everywhere my hand did, but not touching it.  I held up one hand to Mack.

“No more shooting. I’m dropping the shield,” I said, waiting until he nodded and cleared the gun’s chamber.  Caeco snatched the ejected round out of the air and handed it back to Mack.

“Neat, now maybe you can help me find the empty cases,” Mack said.  Caeco opened her other hand, revealing three tiny brass .22 cases.

“My girl has mad skills,” Jetta said.

I dropped all three expended bullets into Caeco’s hand .  “So does my guy,” she said, smiling at me before looking at her roommate.

“Okay, the results are good.  Let’s get out of here before someone comes along,” Mack suggested.

We piled back into Beast and pulled back out to the closed gate.  After everyone looked out their perspective windows and pronounced the area clear, I used Craft to open the gate and reclose it after Beast rolled through.  A swirling snow-devil wiped out our tracks behind us and we pulled up to the edge of the road.  Just in time, as a pair of headlights appeared around the far bend.  I waited to let the car go past but it slowed, the silhouette becoming that of a police cruiser.  Chittendon County Sheriff’s Department.

“Awesome,” Mack groaned.

“Shut up and let Declan talk.  His aunt’s girlfriend is a deputy,” Caeco said before turning to me.

The cruiser pulled in with its headlights focused on Beast, but after a moment, the car pulled forward and the driver’s window powered down.

“Roll down your window. I think I know him,” I said.

Leaning over Caeco’s lap, I waved to the deputy I had met at least once at a department picnic.  His stare was very direct and measuring, but I figured he’d already recognized my distinctive vehicle or he would have held back and run the plates.

“You Ashling’s boy?” the beefy, bald headed deputy asked, his eyes scanning everything.

“Yes sir.  Declan, and this is my girlfriend, her roommate, and my roommate,” I said.

“Roommates?  I thought you were still in high school?” he asked.  His name came to me a second later.  Carl.  Carl and a couple of other deputies were Jeep aficionados, but they could admire Land Cruisers too, and we had talked about Beast at the outing.

“Early college program at UVM.  We’re all in it,” I said.

“So what are you doing way out here?” he asked.  “Drinking?”

“Do that right in the dorms if we wanted to.  We needed to get away from the other kids for a bit.  Plus, I need to be outdoors fairly often, like my aunt,” I said.

Most of the department knew my aunt had some different skills, things that a few of the more open-minded might call psychic.  She had done a lot of lost people work for the department and after a while, they stopped caring how she did it and were mostly glad she could do it.  I was hoping Carl was one of the ones that weren’t too freaked out by her.

“Like aunt, like nephew?” he asked, a deeper question hiding in plain sight.

“Exactly,” I said.

“Okay, well, carry on.  Drive careful, though; the roads are a little greasy and I wouldn’t want to have to call a Jeep to pull your Cruiser out of the snowbanks,” he said with a smirk.

“Ha ha.  As if.  We were turning around right here to head back but stopped for a moment to talk.”

“Well, your tracks have already filled in, so I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you,” he said.

“Thanks, Carl. We won’t.”

He nodded, powered up his window, and pulled away.  After a moment, I followed him and stayed two car lengths behind him all the way back to Burlington.

We made it in time to grab a quick dinner before the buffet got put away.  We were the last ones through and by the time we were done and had taken our dishes up, it was almost time for class with Gina.

Before she could start the night’s discussion, one of the remote viewer kids raised her hand.

“Gina, why did you have the entire school sit in last night’s class?  All of us Explorations of Power students I understand, but why the Control class kids too?”

“Because Ms. O’Carroll requested it and I liked her reasoning.  She said it was about respect.  The physical minded among us have plenty of chances to impress the Explorations of Power class during Mr. Jenks’s morning workouts.  Ashling felt that the weres and more combat-oriented kids could benefit from seeing what was possible on your side of things, Gail.”

“Mission accomplished,” Matthew said, glancing my way.  The class laughed, even the stoic Janek smiling briefly at the joke.  Delwood just frowned.

“So, tonight I want to start with a follow-up.  I had a call from Chris Gordon today.  He and his team came back to the States last night and today they visited the scene of that ritual murder we talked about.  I say murder because they confirmed it was a circle of witches.”

“And they’re knowing it was witches how?” Ryanne asked.

“Ms. Reynolds apparently has a friend in the city who is a skilled witch.  She reviewed the scene with them and actually knew some of the dead witches.  So the NYPD and FBI are aware it was a supernatural crime.  Apparently so does the media,” Gina said, holding up a tabloid with the headline Witches Die in Demonic Ritual.  The Hammer Investigates.  The cover photo showed Chris coming out of an apartment building, two NYPD officers by his side.

I was busy thinking that if he came back at the request of the NYPD and or FBI, then it wasn’t just to train me and therefore not my fault if any outbreaks in Europe ended in deaths.  Not all my fault, at least.

“So Dickland, why would one witch kill the others?” Delwood suddenly turned and asked me from his spot several bleachers away.

“Don’t know, Dullweed.  I’ve never been part of the whole circle and witch world,” I said, holding his stare.

“How about any of our other witches?  Thoughts?” Gina asked, watching Delwood and me.

“She likely did it to steal their power,” Tami said.  She was normally so quiet, it was easy to forget about her.

“Could you explain that to us, Tami?” Gina asked.

“I also don’t have much experience with circles.  But among the People, the Navajo, most witches who follow the Witchery Way are males, not females.  They gain their power through ritual murder, usually of a relative.  Murdering another witch can increase one’s power immensely,” Tami said quietly.  I hadn’t noticed it before, but now it occurred to me that the girl had a certain darkness about her.

Mack leaned close. “Okay, that’s not creepy or anything,” he whispered.

“And males are common?” Gina asked, completely unruffled.

“For those that follow the Witchery way, yes.  Not among those of the Blessing Way.”

“Ah, which witch are you?” Delwood asked, sitting forward to hear her answer.

“Some of my family follow one path, some follow the other,” she said.

“Didn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” Delwood said.

The quiet witch’s dark eyes flashed with the first signs of anger.  “How very astute of you,” was all she said, turning forward and focusing on Gina.

“Are males powerful?” Gina asked her.

“Relatively.  Not like him,” she said with a quick glance in my direction.

“Wait, you’re saying you could, like, murder me and steal my power?” Erika asked Tami, whom I recalled was her roommate.

“Any witch could with the right spells and rituals.”

“Hear that, Duckling?  Sounds like the whole witch world will be lining up to take you out,” Delwood said to me.

“It’s possible, but not likely.  He is wary and well trained. It would be exceedingly dangerous. Most would try to avoid his notice.  I did not mention that if the stealing witch makes a mistake or the victim gets a chance to counter, the results are fairly gruesome for the robber,” Tami said.  “I have no idea how it would be done with a circle, but it seems likely.”

“She’s likely got the right ‘o’ it,” Ryanne said.  “I’ve herd tales of it from long ago.  Some really powerful Crafters got a start that away back in the day. There was one in Germany hundreds of years ago that was fecking brilliant at it, she was.”

“Roswitha Maier,” Zuzanna and I said simultaneously.  We looked at each other, then back to Ryanne.

“Jinx, You owe me a Coke,” Michelle said.  Some people laughed.

“I’ve heard that name before,” Gina said.

“She lived in the Black Forest and is probably the basis for the witch in Hanzel and Gretel,” Zuzanna said.

“Her grimoire was The Book of Darkest Sorrow,” I said, seeing immediate recognition on Gina’s face.

The room was silent for a moment, then Delwood put both hands up and shook them.  “Ooooh, spooky,” he said in a mocking voice.

“It’s said she kept two werewolves as pets.  Never let them Change back to human form.  Doesn’t the mind become all beast if you don’t Change back?” Zuzanna asked Delwood innocently.

He sneered at her but looked away.

“Grandfather says werewolf blood is particularly useful for dark spells,” Tami said, looking straight ahead.

“I thought you said that most male witches of your people followed the witchy way. You know, the dark path?” Erika asked.

“I did,” Tami said, inspecting her nails.  Ooooh, Erika was so not getting any sleep tonight.

“Okay, that book, Darkest Sorrow, popped up recently, didn’t it?” Gina asked, knowing damned well it had.

“That’s the rumor.  Some say it fell into the hands of Chris Gordon and his people,” Britta said.  Something about the way she said it gave me the impression that she had firsthand knowledge of it.  I tried to remember how she and her family knew Chris, but nothing came to me.

Mack leaned over to me.  “It was found in the Carolinas and Chris took it away to hide it,” he whispered.  Matthew, the closest were beside Justin, looked our way and gave the slightest of nods, as if to confirm what Mack had said.  Interesting how many kids in this room had firsthand knowledge of the book.

“Okay, well that’s all pretty fascinating, but let’s not spend the whole class speculating on this case.  Let’s talk about any other news bites you’ve come across,” Gina said.  “Anyone?”

T.J. raised his hand, speaking at her nod. “I saw an article about how team or product names with the word devil in it are being changed for the most part.  Like a minor league hockey team in Albany and those snack things.  The article said that with demons being real, people avoid anything named like them.”

“Interesting, T.J.  What was fiction became too real to ignore.  Anything else?” Gina asked.

“All kinds of anti-vampire and werewolf charms are popping up for sale on the Internet,” another kid I didn’t know added.  He looked stoned.

“Yes, Jack, I’ve seen some of those myself.  What about the alarm companies hocking new and improved thermal detectors that are supposed to pick up both vampires and weres?  Have you seen those ads?” Gina asked.

“One wonders how they are able to make such claims without proper testing?” Katrina asked from her position just behind me and one row over.  She had sat down there as class started, giving me a nod before turning her attention to her phone.  She seemed to always end up near our little group.

“Yeah, I read some of the technical specs, and deep in the fine print are disclaimers that the units were tested with objects both warmer and cooler than ninety-eight point six, but not with real supernaturals,” Gina said with a nod.  “So, some society changes have happened very fast.  Some will be slower.”

A hand went up, a brown-haired girl who might be one of the psychometric kids, the ones who could read objects and find out a lot about whoever had last handled it.  I was pretty sure they all had jobs waiting for them with Oracle, as they would make fantastic investigators.

“Yes Jillian?”

“This is off topic, but what’s the point of most of us going to the Wytchwar class?  I mean, if we can’t run avatars?” the girl asked.

“Well, Ms. O’Carroll fully intends that all of you will be able to run avatars, even the non-magical.  She has suggested that a certain Earth witch will be building… I guess mini-golems would be the word.  How about it, Declan?  She said to ask you about Robbie?”

I felt myself flush instantly.  Ashling was fighting dirty.  “Yes ma’am, I’ve made some before that answered to voice commands, but that might get noisy and confusing here.  I have some ideas about changing my formula that I could try out,” I said, hoping to avoid any more conversation about Robbie.

“Who is Robbie?  Your dirt sex doll?” Delwood asked.  The whole class laughed. I had to laugh, too.

“Just a golem I made,” I said.

“Jest a golem, he says?” Ryanne said.  “Not a thing to it, is there?” she asked. “Like any old witch would be making them.”

She was right: making golems was tricky and required a lot of power, at least for the big ones.

“He took a while, but the little ones shouldn’t be awful hard to do,” I said.

“And jest how big was he, if ye don’t mind me asking?” Ryanne asked, one eyebrow arched, giving her question several meanings, most of which made the class laugh.

“Seven, maybe seven-and-a-half feet tall.  Never weighed him, but we thought he was five or six hundred pounds.”

Ryanne’s eyes narrowed as she studied me, like she was trying to figure out if I was lying.  “Ye went and made a giant golem?  What for, and how could ye hide him?”

“I did it the summer my aunt put me in charge of the firewood supply.  I could use the chainsaw and splitting maul, but we didn’t have a tractor or ATV to haul logs, so I made Robbie.  Dressed him in a hat, big surplus coat, and and some fat man pants I got at Goodwill.  He hauled about six cords of wood for me before my aunt found out and made me get rid of him.”

“You named him Robbie for the robot, right?” T.J. asked.

“Yeah, from the movie Lost in Space,” I answered.

“You had to dismantle him?” Erika asked.

“I was stupid.  I ordered him to bring me back dead trees.  I never told him to just take lying ones, so he was ripping standing dead trees out of the ground and hauling them back, roots and all.  It was loud and if anyone had seen this giant man hauling a ton and a half of tree, it would have been bad.”

“Okay, well I guess that makes you our resident golem expert.  Your aunt wants you to have them done by next Monday.  Is that doable?” Gina asked.

“How many?”

“One for everyone.  Say forty, maybe forty-three to give us some spares?”

My face must have reflected my dismay.  How was I going to get over three dozen golems done, train with Chris, work on my website project, find coding mistakes, write an English paper, and study for upcoming tests?

“Ye know, if ye teach us how to do it, we can help ye,” Ryanne suggested. The other witches nodded. Beside me, Caeco stiffened slightly, which told me how she felt about me working with the witches.  Still, did I really have a choice?

“That’s an excellent idea and much in keeping with our mission of cross-fertilizing the fields of knowledge,” Gina said, smiling.  Nope, no choice.

“Better be the only cross-fertilizing,” Caeco said under her breath.

“Great,” I said to Gina, patting my killer’s hand at the same time.

T.J. raised his hand, speaking when she called on him.  “That whole Robbie the Robot reference reminded me.  I saw some of those same sensors being discussed in an article about DARPA.  They mentioned that a company named Bolo Industries will be incorporating them into autonomous designs selected to compete in DARPA’s robot trials.”

“What’s DARPA?” Michelle asked.

“Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.  The government’s technology think tank.  They do a lot with robots… particularly military robots,” T.J. answered.

“So what?  You think the government will be sending Robbie the Robot or the Terminator after us?” Delwood laughed.

“No.  Those designs are both stupid.  Who builds a robot that mimics a human when you could build one that overcomes all our flaws and weaknesses? I mean, come on, do you think a really well-designed robot will move as slow as Arnold Schwarzenegger?  Hell no.  They’re going to react at the speed of electricity and move as fast as, well, a machine,” T.J. said.

The class gaped at him and I think he realized how impassioned he’d gotten over it.  It was his turn to blush.

“That’s interesting, T.J.  If you’re right, that’s a whole new threat for the supernaturals of the world,” Gina said.

“And the regular humans, too,” I said.  She raised one eyebrow in question.  “Well, come on.  Artificial intelligence is just around the corner.  Who says it’ll be friendly?  And if it’s got T.J.’s super killers, well, the ordinary folks could be the first to go.”

“Not to mention the Internet of Things, factory and corporate automation, and the digitalization of almost everything,” T.J. added.

“Wow.  You guys are downers,” Matthew said, inadvertently making about half the class laugh.

“But really, that can’t happen, right?” Erika asked.  “I mean, our elected officials wouldn’t do that, would they?”

“You mean the same people who imprisoned God’s Hammer on Earth?” Ariel asked.

“Wouldn’t matter if our leaders didn’t do it—China, Japan, Russia, or someone else will eventually,” I said.

“You two are downers,” Gina said.  “What do you think is the solution?”

“I think it’s likely that multiple AI’s will develop at around the same time.  We just have to design one that’s interested in keeping us alive… and it has to be better than the others,” I said.

“How do you know all this tech shit, witch boy?” Delwood asked, his curiosity apparently real even if his words were snarky.

“I’m a computer science major,” I said.

“And a witch?  Didn’t see that one coming,” he muttered.

“Alright, let’s use the rest of the time to finish up your essays that were due today,” Gina said.  Shit, I had completely forgotten about the essay.  Breaking out paper and pen, I started to try and brainstorm something.  Gina wandered around the room, talking to different kids. When she got to me, she smiled at my mostly blank paper.  “Also, Declan, what do you need for your golem project?”

“I need everyone who wants one to write their name on a piece of paper, sign it, fold it, and put a hair from your head in the fold,” I said.

“Wait, give a witch a hair?  I don’t think so,” Janek said.

“If he wanted a hair from you, wolf, he could just pull it from your sweater or your coat,” Katrina said, handing me a folded piece of lined notebook paper.  “If you mess with me with this, I’ll hurt you,” she warned quietly.  I gulped, took the paper, and nodded.

“In light of recent events, I’ll give you until tomorrow night to turn in your essay, Declan.  Don’t rush it,” Gina said, openly amused at the exchange.

Having dodged yet another bullet, I thanked her and spent the rest of class outlining my essay.  And piling up folded papers.

Chapter 29

“Blyat!” blasted out of the darkness of the factory’s first floor.  I don’t speak Russian but somehow I didn’t think Arkady was happy with the results of his attack.

My guess was backed up by the four shattered support beams strewn about the concrete floor.  He’d been blasted through them after assaulting me from behind.

Caeco’s reactive armor idea had worked out rather well.  Ignoring the stream of other Russian words that were most likely not congratulatory, I ran across the floor to the far side.  My rules were the same; traverse each floor till I reached the top.

As I ran, I worked up the next surprise, one that would take advantage of the cold, dry, dusty air around me.  Earth Craft let me control the buildup of negative ions on the outside of my shields, the dry air helping immensely.  Climbing the stairs, I took a quick glance around, pressed my witchy senses outward and then, feeling nothing, started across the open joists.  Halfway across, I felt the passage of wind just before a loud snap cracked at the same time a flash of blue light lit up the room around me.

The image of Tanya’s surprised face burned onto my retinas, her form briefly frozen by the huge static shock that had discharged when she touched me.  Super fast vampires moving through dusty winter air created tremendous potential for static.  The wood joist floor was a natural insulator, and my own consciously charged shields had boosted the resulting arc of electricity.

I didn’t think it would slow her for long, so I instantly thrust a kinetic burst in her general direction while still picking my way over the dangerous flooring. I made it to the stairwell just as she hit me from behind.  Again, my shield reacted, blasting force back at her strike.  I had layered my shields, putting a spell between them that would essentially explode outward with any disruption.  Despite the protection of the inner shield, I was thrown forward hard enough to stumble into the stairwell.

Jumping up, I looked around. Tanya was gone again.  I turned and took advantage of the pause to head upward.  Rushing up the stairs, my head met a wooden beam that appeared across the opening. Or rather, my shield met a beam and blasted it.  But the beam was wedged into place across the stairwell and had nowhere to go.  I, on the other hand, had no such restriction, my body being completely free to go flying back down the stairs and hit the floor.  Which set off the shields on my lower body, exploding me back up to hit the ceiling.  Again I was thrown back down hard, then up, my constantly reacting shields bouncing me up and down until I thought to take them down and stop the insanity.

No sooner had my battered body settled to the floor when a single finger touched my head and a voice said, “Bang… you’re dead.”

“Thank you.  I needed someone to put me out of my misery,” I muttered, lying in place and attempting to take stock of my aches and pains.  Chris smiled at me before reaching a hand for me to take.  As soon as I grasped it, I was hauled up with the force of a crane.

“So cool.  What was it you did?” Tanya asked from the spot next to Chris that she had just appeared in.

“Caeco thought I could make my shields into reactive armor.  It would be a counter to your speed.  The static was my idea.”

“Clever.  Both defenses overcame our speed,” Tanya said, smiling.

“But not the building itself,” Stacia said, peering down from the third floor as she slid the treacherous beam back from the opening.

“I like this one, my Queen,” Arkady rumbled as he jumped lightly up from the floor below, somehow forcing his bulk through the narrow joists.  “He learns fast, yah?”

“Very,” she agreed, reaching out to brush bits of wood off my sweatshirt.

“Learning to get my ass kicked,” I muttered.

“Spar with the pride of the Darkkin world you do, young Jedi,” Stacia said in a passable Yoda voice, sitting on the steps above me.  “Did you expect to win?  Against them?  You’ve done really well,” she said in more normal tones.

“Yeah, till the building beat me up,” I said.

“Are you hurt?” Chris asked.

“No, just bounced around like a jumping bean,” I replied.

“So you learned to shield yourself well enough to stop the equivalent of an Elder vampire and even with the explosive cycle you got caught in, your protections kept you safe.  It was only when you removed them completely that you met your fate.  So what did you learn?”

“Drop the outer shield to stop the cycle, keep the inner one up... and look where I’m going.  Oh, and we tested it. My shield, that is.  It will stop bullets,” I said.

Arkady rubbed his beard thoughtfully while Chris and Tanya exchanged a glance.

“Was that safe?” Tanya asked.

“Mack was very careful to shoot at the shield where I projected it ahead of my fingers.  So yeah, I think it was pretty safe,” I said.

“I like those two, Mack and Jetta.  They’ve been through personal hell, but they survived, thrived, hunted down their parents’ killers and kept together,” Stacia said.

Tanya eyed her for a moment.  “I hate to agree with you, but I must.  You have good friends, Declan,” she said.

“Somehow, I think you two had a hand in our roommate selections,” I noted.

“Hell, we handpicked half the kids at this school,” Chris said.  “Of course we picked your and Caeco’s roommates.”

“You’ve done a lot for me and Caeco… why?” I asked.

Chris looked surprised.  “Well, some of it should be obvious. You two saved Toni.  That’s a debt we can never repay.  But besides that, we see a tremendous potential in you two and want to foster it.  Along with all the other kids we picked for Arcane.”

“Well, thanks.  But who picked the other kids?” I asked.

“Stewart and his people,” Chris said, his tone cold.

“Oh, that reminds me.  I think I have the answer to your exploding necklace problem,” I said. They got really focused and really serious.  It was a little bit intimidating… okay, it was flat-out intimidating, but I don’t think they meant anything. It was just a very heavy topic for them.

Gulping a couple of times to clear my suddenly constricted throat, I told them about the anti-magic bracelets and the battle magic glyphs, showing them the black ink on my wrists and the remains of the henna tattoos.

“But those are now permanent?  Even as they fade?” Stacia asked.

“My aunt says the henna may completely disappear but the magical outline will always be there.  See, they glow a little if I power them up,” I said, putting just a hint of power to the one on the back of my right hand.  “In daylight, that would just turn black.  Kinda freaky, but I’m glad they won’t show all the time.”

“We will explore your glyph powers later, but how does that help us with restraints?” Tanya asked.

“Don’t you see?  If I can make these, then I can make similar ones that will allow all of you to cut any neck or wrist bonds with a thought,” I said.

“We don’t have magic,” Arkady pointed out.

“You don’t have to. All it takes is my magic to draw the glyphs.”

“Do you know for sure that it will work?” Chris asked.

“Not fully, but I’m pretty sure.  See, I have to make a bunch of golems for the non-magical kids to use in our school game.  Those golems will each be tied to one kid, but the power they run off of is mine.  As I perfect them, I can write glyphs that will protect each of your team from restraints.”

“We don’t take tattoos very well,” Arkady rumbled.

“Actually, some of the wolves in the Mallecks’ pack get tattoos.  The ink has a tiny amount of silver and a hint of wolfsbane.  Not enough to be harmful, but it prevents the design from disappearing through Changes or accelerated healing,” Stacia said.

“We’ll figure something out, but they may end up like mine—magical and not truly ink-based.  Caeco will help me work them out.  She really likes the idea of being able to defeat any restraints or prisoner collars,” I said.

“Seeing as she is already a highly trained and skilled operator, that makes sense,” Tanya said.  “You, on the other hand, while skilled and powerful, lack crucial training.  So now we will do some hand to hand sparring.”

“With you?” I asked in disbelief.

“No, we will use the wolf,” she said, rolling her eyes in Stacia’s direction.

The beautiful blonde flashed a sarcastic smile back at her before turning to me and smiling for real.  “Come on.  I’ll be kind,” she said. “I hope you don’t have any hangups about fighting with a girl?”

“Hello?  Guy with bioengineered assassin girlfriend, remember?  She beats me up all the time,” I said.

“Welcome to my world,” Chris said.  “Just hold back the magical responses for this one.”

“But Declan,” Tanya said after a brief narrow-eyed glare at Chris.  “Don’t ever, ever allow anyone else to cripple your magic again.”

“I’ve already made that vow,” I said, standing up to follow Stacia up the stairs to my imminent doom.

Chapter 30

The week passed in a blur of training, homework, golem construction, teaching witches to construct golems, more training, more homework, and finally the weekend… where I got caught up on homework.

My training with Chris and the demon-fighting crew had been short but jam-packed.  I met the telepathic vampire, Nika, on Thursday, and spent most of my training time learning about defending my mind although class ended with more sparring. Friday, they made me use all my glyphs, individually and all at the same time.  I’d worried about the fate my aunt had predicted.

“For those warlocks, who came into their tattoos in combat and only knew combat, that makes sense.  It actually afflicts regular soldiers and warriors, too.  Adrenaline junkies.  But if you are trained to use the glyphs and use them in practice with care and thought, you shouldn’t have a problem.  Somehow, Declan, I doubt you are headed for a life of boredom,” Tanya said after my last workout ended.

We were all standing on the rafters of the second floor.  Suddenly, three sections of wooden beams near our feet snapped and shattered as a gigantic furry head and shoulders burst up from the first floor.  “Awasos!  You’ve broken my floor,” Tanya admonished.

“He’s hungry and impatient,” Chris laughed.  “Me too.  Let’s go get breakfast.”

The waitress and the customers in the diner had bugged out when they realized that God’s Hammer and the woman the media was calling the Night Angel were sitting among them with a massive wolf that was just as famous, along with some scruffy college kid. It would be only a matter of minutes before the media arrived.

“I was glad to find out that you came back to check out the witch murders,” I mentioned as Chris and I shoveled eggs and hash into our mouths.

“Well, we were here anyway. Might as well check it out,” Tanya said, sipping water while she read the local paper.  A middle-aged lady at the counter was blatantly snapping a picture on her iPhone.  I glanced at Chris and raised my eyebrows, flicking my eyes at the woman.  Maybe I should whammy her camera?  He shook his head.

“You were here anyway?  I thought you came back from Europe to find out about the murders?” I asked.

“No, we came back to train you.  Katrina told us about what happened and we had to make sure you were okay and also that it wouldn’t happen again,” Chris said.

“But, what about the demon outbreaks?  People probably died?” I asked.

“They happen… maybe less often, but they still happen.  We cover the ones we can, but we can’t be everywhere.  We have to prioritize,” Chris said, frowning.

The waitress was hovering nearby, clearly wanting to approach the table, but as our coffees had just been filled and extra toast and bacon delivered, she didn’t have a valid reason.

“I think, zayka, that Declan is feeling that we should put demon outbreaks over his safety and wellbeing,” Tanya said, her blue-blue eyes spearing me over the top of the paper.

“Oh.  Well. I see.  Listen, Declan, I don’t think we’ve been super clear with you.  The idea for Arcane came about because of you and Caeco.  First, because of what you did for Toni, but then later, when you and your aunt made the necklaces, we realized how very unique the two of you are,” he said, going so far as to put his fork down.  “The world’s most powerful witch is a young male who can talk to computers.  Have you thought about how valuable that makes you?  To witches, to supernatural groups, to entire governments?  We want you trained and educated to be able to protect yourself.  We also are dead set on winning you to our team. I… we feel that the future holds other dangers that are just as nasty as demons, maybe more so.  We think you might hold some of the answers to them.”

“Oh,” was all I could come back with. “What is it you fear?”

“A number of things, most of them for another time.  But one thing is we think that ritual murder in New York involved Sorrow.”

It took me a second to realize he meant the book and not the emotion.

‘Sos’s wolf head popped out from under our table, massive and furry, and lay on the vinyl seat beside me.  Huge brown eyes implored me and my hand automatically grabbed three strips of bacon from the side order and dropped them into his mouth.

“He’s marked you as a soft touch, you know?” Chris commented.

“He is alarmingly large and toothy and I want him to think friendly thoughts about me,” I said.  “Why do you think Sorrow is involved?”

“Stacia’s witch friend said the spell traces we found were written in old German.  As far as we know, the suspect witch doesn’t know German of any kind.”

“You think the book is controlling the witch?” I asked.

“Could it?”

I thought back to my brief exposure to the Book of Darkest Sorrow.  I couldn’t stop a shudder.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I think it could.”

“So that’s one small item.  The Garth Administration is another.  Also, I don’t trust the Fae, there are wacko organizations popping up all over, and the Coven has been extraordinarily quiet.  So there’s plenty to consider,” he said.

He wouldn’t talk about his other fears but steered the conversation to the school and our classes.  Finally, when the media arrived, we hit the car and they dropped me off at Arcane, promising to be back soon and I, in turn, promised to have the drawings for the anti-restraint tattoos done.

My friends and I did venture out on the mean streets of Burlington both Friday and Saturday night.  Despite failing at crashing any parties Friday, we persevered and got into a party for a couple of hours on Saturday.  It was pretty much a letdown.  The frat guys running it had been hammered by the time we got there and were happy to let four pretty girls into their domain.  They weren’t as excited about letting Mack, T.J., Justin, or myself in.  It was Jetta who rescued us, sliding into a very surprising persona, effortlessly distracting the upperclassmen by flirting at a professional level.  I hadn’t seen her put on sex appeal before—none of us had.  It was… effective.  Till Mack leaned over and whispered in my ear, “How do you think we lured all those werewolves away from their pack?”

Instantly, the allure was gone, replaced by a healthy respect for her lethal abilities.  She really was the perfect roommate for Caeco… who was studying her performance a little too closely.  Uh oh.

After discovering that the party was a bunch of drunken fools, we left.

I returned to Jenks’s class on Monday morning, coming back as he began to introduce knife techniques.  He ignored me, I worked with Mack, and Delwood stayed away.  But now it was Wytchwar time and while my aunt was teaching the other kids how to control their spanking new golems, the witch girls were putting me through a hell of a rematch.

“Flank him!” someone shouted, the high pitch of the voice making me think it was Michelle.  The odd thing about running avatars is the double echo of senses: both your own and your avatar’s.

The witch pack had me on the run, climbing as fast as I could for the top of the concrete ridge.  They were way more threatening with their new dirt girls.

Double D made it to the top of the concrete and I spun him around.  Below me, the feminoid forms the witches had chosen scrambled after me, two pairs spreading out to either side to follow Michelle’s suggestion.

I dropped a rock from my vine vest, but the dirt girls split apart and let it fall past them.  Good tactic, but when their blank dirt faces peered upward, most likely feeling good about avoiding the spelled rock, they found another stone already in their midst.  This one took a page from the reactive shield spell, exploding kinetic energy outward and bowling three of them over.  Not wasting a second, I jumped back down the slope I’d just climbed and ran through the gap in their lines and all the way to the bottom till my forward progress was blocked by the little river and its terminal pool. During the last week, all of the snow and ice had fully melted and the resulting water had been pulled by the water witches’ spells into the lake and river.  It was kind of a raging torrent now, at least from Double D’s perspective. Going around would slow me enough for the flankers, who were running downhill after me, to catch up.  I had to cross, but my dude couldn’t jump that far.

I dropped my last reactive rock on the edge of the river, backed up, and ran.  My final step was onto the spell-encrusted stone and an instant later, I was sailing through the air and over the river.  Over a decent portion of the remaining landscape as well.

I crash landed right in what everyone was calling Tornado Alley.  The Air girls had spelled it to form a constant series of mini-dust devils that could rip a dirt dude apart.

Pulling my dude out of the sand, I turned to face into a dirt-and-pebble-nado that would have eaten me for lunch.  Double D executed a rapid exit dive and rolled upright in time to dodge a second tornado coming from the other side.  A fast burst of speed and I was out of the Alley and headed for the finish line.  Then something hit Double D from behind and knocked me down.  I stood up and looked at the ground behind me.  A stone, pebble really, except to Double D, it looked like a boulder.  A glance up showed two more in flight, headed right for me.  I dodged left and right, missing one and getting clipped by another.  Some of my dirt was gone, knocked off by the stones and by the rules of the game, I couldn’t fix D until the match was finished.  I turned and jogged forward, one leg showing way too much brass.  Water sprayed across me, hard enough to tear off dirt and I turned, ready to cry foul only to find two of the dirt girls standing on the far edge of Tornado Alley, lobbing balls of water from little plastic baggies tied to their hips. They threw the water blobs at two more gals, who were holding up dirt hands. A strong wind came off those little palms and blasted the water into streams like little fire hoses.  People had been doing some out of the box thinking.

I ran on, my pace slowed by the eroded dirt.  The gals were now all crossing the tornado section as two of the Air witches held up rune-carved clay hands that stopped the cyclones in their tracks.

Dirt was falling off in clumps and my left leg was dragging, but I was almost there.  Ten more hobbling paces and I reached the stone that marked my goal.  The rest of the class who had stopped to watch either yelled their pleasure at my win or Bronx cheered if they were more inclined to favor the witches.  Double D fell down in a heap as I pulled my consciousness back from him and took a deep breath.  Damn. These ladies were tough and learning way too fast.

“If yer done wit yer little rematch, Declan, I could use some help with these others,” my aunt said.

A few of the kids had their golems in motion, Delwood surprisingly one of them.  Most of the class, however, was looking frustrated and upset, their clay avatars standing motionless in front of them.

Darina, the foreign werewolf, crossed her arms across her chest and looked angry.

“These things don’t work,” she said with a slight accent.  “You made them wrong.”

I glanced at Delwood, who was making his dude dance around like a drunken clown, then I looked back at the werewolf girl.  She was maybe sixteen and always wore a slightly snotty expression, at least whenever I had seen her.  Jetta called it resting bitch face syndrome.  It reminded me of someone from Castlebury High School, an old nemesis of mine who had once been an even older friend.  He got that look when he was out of his element and even when he was… scared.

“You and your brother are from the Carpathian Pack, is that right?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” she sneered.

I nodded and looked back at her avatar.  “Someone told me your pack is renowned for your abilities to scent track and for leading into battle,” I said.

“It is commonly said,” she answered.  Behind her, Janek, her older brother, frowned at me.  Most of the rest of the class was now paying attention as well.

“Touch your avatar with your finger and breathe in through your nose,” I said.

She frowned at me and looked at her brother uncertainly.  I nodded at both of them.  “Go on, just try it.  Tell me what you smell.”

Brusquely, she unfolded her arms and with a put-upon sigh, reached one finger to touch her avatar.  Either unconsciously or otherwise, she happened to touch it right where its nose would be if any of them had noses.  Then she took a breath.

Surprise was chief among the emotions that crossed her face, wonder and maybe a little excitement, as well, followed.  Definitely a trace of fear at the end.  “Earth, and sand, melt water, and loam.”

“Tell me, when you Change, is it like losing yourself?” I asked her.  Her brother’s frown deepened.

“No, more like finding one’s true self,” she said.

“Ah well, for me, taking control of an avatar is like submerging myself into a really good video game.  But I can snap out of it whenever I want.  I think if you start with the senses, scent first, you will quickly find yourself sliding into her.  Just as quickly, you can pull back out,” I suggested. Around us, I could see a couple of other kids touching their clay people and sniffing.  Jetta, Mack, and Caeco were already operating their golems.  I had made theirs first and had them link up with them to make sure the golem program worked.  Caeco smiled at me, even as her golem tackled Mack’s from behind and proceeded to sit on him.

Darina reached out again and touched her avatar, sniffing and closing her eyes as she did.  Her body turned as if trying to catch the direction of a scent and her golem girl turned exactly the same way.

“Dri, you did it.  You made it move,” Janek said.

“I did?” she asked, eyes popping open.

“I think, Darina, you may have found the way.  The others can all follow what you’ve done,” I said.  Janek nodded slowly, light dawning on his expression, before he too reached down and touched his golem.  A couple of breaths later, his avatar shuddered and shook.

“You’re doing it too, Janek,” she said before lapsing into Romanian or Hungarian or whatever language it was that they spoke at home.

I left the brother-sister combo and moved about the others, all of whom were already trying the nose trick.  Once one sense was linked, the rest followed quickly, or so it seemed.  Probably the reason that Delwood had picked it up so fast.

“Look out, bitches,” T.J.’s voice sounded like it came from over by the game plot.  “The Wychinator is coming through.”  A whirring clicking followed his words, along with protests and some curses from the witch girls.

A glance showed a crawling mechanical creation swarming into the midst of the witches’ avatars, knocking some of them flying.  T.J.’s robot was six legged and bigger than any of the dirt people.  Pointed steel feet dug in, giving it hefty traction in the loose dirt, which in turn let it run rampant over the witches.  T.J. was taking huge delight in knocking them down as he operated the metal beast from what looked like a modified video game controller.

I sidled back over and whispered in Michelle’s ear.  She went from pissed and uncertain to determined in a split second at my suggestion.  Her avatar tossed a stone at the robot, only to have it fall at the monster’s feet.

“Ha, sticks and stones, Michelle,” T.J. taunted.  Then the ground around the stone opened up and sank, taking three of robo-crab’s feet with it.  Immediately, the soil came back up and solidified, trapping the robot.

Ryanne, who’d seen me talk to Michelle, grinned and started to pound the robot with gobs of water from her baggie, clearly looking to short the thing out.

Tami took a more direct approach, igniting the pieces of wood strapped to her avatar’s arms into jets of fire nine inches long, and advancing on the trapped robot.

T.J. desperately tried to get the spider-crab bot free, but nothing happened and as Tami’s flaming avatar got close, he started to yell, “Yield, yield.”

The fire snapped off, but the dirt remained packed tight around the robot’s legs.

Michelle shrugged.  “It’s an Earth grenade.  I’m not allowed to directly use my power on the game course, remember.  So trapped is trapped.”

“Tis true.  Once yer beastie or avatar is trapped or down, yer done till the game concludes.  Then one o’ the witches can set ye free,” my aunt said, nodding to me to release the robot.

It was no sooner out than I found myself surrounded by witches looking for repairs to their golems.  The rest of the class had gotten their avatars activated and were now climbing up and about the game course.  The whole thing reminded me of a kindergarten class gone amok.  Aunt Ashling apparently felt the same way.

“Enough,” she said loudly.  “Witches, see Michelle or Declan for repairs and then help the others learn to navigate the course.  The rest of ye bring yer dirt people over to the game pitch and climb on up.  Time to get organized, don’t ye think?”

“Listen,” I interrupted the concerned gaggle that surrounded Michelle and I.  “You helped make these things, remember?  Most of the damage is self-repairing with a little dirt.  Here. Just grab a handful and pour it over the wounded area and watch,” I said, dropping soil onto the upper thigh of Erika’s dirt girl, which was missing some patches.  Most of it fell off, but some, just enough in fact, stuck to the leg and filled the leg back out to its pre-damaged proportions.

“Ooh, that tickles.  Do it again,” Erika crooned, vamping it up and smiling at me in a way that made me nervous.  “Pour some on her chest,” she said.

“It’s not damaged,” I replied.

“Yeah, but I like it,” she said through lowered lashes.

“Next,” I said, not liking being made fun of.  She pouted and flounced away, her avatar copying her motions exactly.

Britta was already pouring dirt on her own gal’s arm, watching the repairs happen all by themselves.

“That’s truly very cool,” she said, smiling a normal smile.  “Will they fix any wound?”

“No,” I said, calling my Double D to me.  He came, limping the whole way.  “When your avatar has had the shit kicked out of it, you may have to bring her to either Michelle or I to recode the spell that holds it all together.  You may be able to do it yourselves, as it’s not that complex and we’ve already laid the foundation,” I told the remaining witches.  I found Ryanne was right next to me, just about pressing up against me in the crush of witches.

I demonstrated the spell and then pulled the dirt off of D so some of them could give it a try.  Michelle was standing at the back of the pack, watching and listening, none of the witches having gone to her for help.  I raised eyebrows at her lack of patients and she grinned, silently pointing at her friends, then putting the back of one hand to her forehead, mimicking a swooning Southern belle.  I frowned, first at her then at the witches around me, some of whom were just looking up from Ryanne’s attempt.  Instantly spotting me sharing a look with Michelle, they snapped around to see her expression, but she was too fast, pulling her arm down and assuming an innocent look.

“How’s that then, do ye think?” Ryanne asked me, looking up from Double D, who looked mostly normal except for the repaired leg, which was bigger than the other.

“Pretty good, although he’s a bit out of kilter,” I said, tweaking her spell slightly to bring him back to normal.  “There, now he won’t walk in ever-decreasing circles until he disappears up his own ass.”

“Oh, yer the ass, that’s fer sure,” she said, but she was trying not to laugh as she said it.

Most of the witch damage was minor, so they poured soil on their loam ladies and then went to help the other students learn the game.

Tami’s avatar needed new wood fuel sticks for her avatar’s arms.  “Here, let’s try something new,” I said, retrieving my book bag. Inside was a box of fire starter sticks I’d picked up at an outdoor gear store on Church Street for just this purpose.

The classes’ avatars were all built over heavy wire cut from clothes hangers.  I pulled the dirt away from both arms of the dirt girl and removed the charred remains of the sticks.  Then I pulled two short pieces of small diameter copper pipe from my pack.  I had had a couple of ideas and this was a good time to try them out.  Each pipe was two inches long and I quickly fastened them to the arms of Tami’s girl with wire.  Then I respelled the arms and poured enough dirt for the pipes to be fully covered, except I left the ends open by the dirt girl’s hands.  It made her forearms bulky like Popeye but Tami didn’t protest and Zuzanna had drifted over to see what we were doing.  Snapping a fire starter in half, I put a piece in each tube.

“Okay, fire her up and let’s see how that works,” I said.  Tami moved her avatar to an open space and raised both arms.  A full foot of flame shot out both pipes, burning hot like a propane torch.  She directed it at the soil in front of her dirt doll and little sparks of organic matter flared into light as the flames washed over the ground.  The whole class stopped to watch, eyes wide.

“That’s so not fair,” one of the telepath kids said.

“No, that’s awesome,” Zuzanna said.  “I want that too.”

The pipe was from a piece I’d liberated from a pile of junk in the far corner of the basement.  The head maintenance guy had lent me a little pipe cutter, so my only cash outlay was for the box of fire starters.  I cut enough pipe for both Zuzanna’s and my avatars, fixed them both up, and told the girls where I bought the starters.

By the time I was done, most of the class was playing king of the hill, with Delwood most often the winner, probably from sheer aggressiveness.  Then the robo-spider crawled up there and no one could dislodge it.

“Technology is the future, bitches,” T.J. said as his creation held high ground.

“Teamwork time,” Aunt Ash suggested and the werewolf pack instantly stopped fighting amongst themselves and with the help of Jetta, Mack, and Caceco, jointly assaulted the bot, tossing it off the concrete ridge.

“Okay, that’ll be fine fer tonight.  Next week, we divide up into teams and play capture the flag.  I’ll be assigning the teams and the captains,” Aunt Ashling said.  “Study the spells you’ve learned tonight if yer inclined to the Craft and all of you should be practicing using yer avatars between now and next week.  That’s it. Good night.”

A couple of kids thanked her and the rest joined in, even Delwood.  I helped her clean up while the others sent their dirt people off the course and onto the long wooden bench where we lined them up.

“You’ve got a bit of a teacher inside you, Declan.  You were quick to figure out how to get the kids linked up with their dollies,” she said to me.

“Maybe.  If so, it’s because I’ve had good teachers,” I said.

“Ahh, there’s the blarney coming back.  It’s good you can speak again, although the blessed silence was nice, too,” she said with a wink.  I hugged her and then helped her with her stuff, walking her out to her car. This time, she hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek, leaving with a cryptic, “Stay on your guard.”

Chapter 31

A pattern settled in of classes and work.  I saw no more elf princesses or mysterious men in dark clothes, but I did see a lot of computer code, English essays, math problems, and I continued to build out my website assignment.  Survival class was always interesting and when Jenks had a three-lane pistol range built in the basement, it got actually fun.  The range was only twenty-five yards and built as far from the Wytchwar course as possible.  As the basement matched the full size of the Arcane building, that put it pretty far away.

After spending one morning going over safe gun handling in class and using dummy weapons for practice, Jenks started to take three people at a time to the gun range.  Caeco would put the rest of us through hand-to-hand drills while Jenks oversaw the target practice.  Each of us got to shoot at least once a week and a competition of sorts developed.

Oddly, the three highest ranked shots were my friends.  I did fine, having been trained to shoot by Darci and Levi, but I wasn’t going to win target matches against Jetta and her brother, who’d grown up shooting, or against the surprise deadeye of the group, Ashley.  In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise: her grandfather had been an ex-DEA instructor and her father was a crack shot as well.  The worst shot in the class was Delwood, who couldn’t for the life of him stop yanking the trigger like he was crushing a beer can.

Each week, Jenks would post the current class rankings for shooting and while I stayed in the top ten or twelve, the first three spots were always some combination of Jetta, Ashley, and Mack.

Caeco wasn’t allowed in the competition, which was only fair, as she was a freaking machine with a gun in her hands.  Once a week, she got to shoot at the end of class and Jenks would give her all three lanes.  Our practice was two-handed and some one-handed shooting, but nothing fancy.  Hers was timed multi-target drills, using the standard black B-27 human-shaped qualifier targets that law enforcement agencies used.  We used the same targets, just not four to six at a time, set to varying distances and in multiple lanes.  Jenks would go so far as to put a yellow sticky note on a different part of each target while keeping Caeco facing away from the range.  Then, at his command she would have to turn, draw, and shoot each note with a double tap.

It wasn’t much of a challenge for her, and she took no real pride in it, but the rest of the class was in complete awe.

T.J. started to call her Oakley, for Annie Oakley, and the nickname stuck.

In Wytchwar, things were progressing fast.  Aunt Ash made me a referee for the first half-dozen games of capture the flag and manhunt and kept changing teams up every week.  She also rotated captains, choosing the least likely candidates to run the course.  At first, it resulted in some stunning losses and temper tantrums, particularly from some of the students who thought that they should naturally be boss.  But then as avatar skill grew, people got a little better at accepting orders… emphasis on little.

When she finally let me into the games, I ended up on Delwood’s team and it was his first chance at the leadership he’d so craved.  I thought his pride would be his undoing, but he proved a capable leader and won the match.  His tactic was simple: send me out into enemy territory to draw their fire.  The other team had almost all of my friends on it and was led by Britta.

“You’re the stud of the game, Duckland, seeing as you created it, and they’re all going to want a piece of you.  So your job is to raise hell, create diversion, and give our strike team a shot at their flag,” Delwood had challenged me.  I think he was surprised when I grinned and agreed completely.

“This will be fun, but I don’t know how long I’ll last against them, so don’t dick around,” I’d said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Honestly, I’d been so afraid that I’d get stuck as captain—which was fairly egotistical of me—that I’d thought it wouldn’t be fun at all.  Instead, I got to kamikaze over the hill and wreak all manner of havoc until my dude ended up buried under an avalanche of red team strikers and defenders.  Delwood led an assault that easily beat the few avatars held back around the flag.  Our own flag was never in any jeopardy at all.  The other team didn’t even see it as a loss. They were all glad to have had a dirt hand in taking me down, especially my friends.

Somehow, through all the chaos, my aunt managed to teach everyone in the class something new, every week. Shockingly, so did Miss Berg.  My aunt covered the practical aspects—kind of the lab, so to speak. Miss Berg talked about concepts like symbolism in magic, harnessing your will, and carefully defining intent.  That last was important because a lack of focus and definition in magic crafting could be disastrous. The witches all learned new spells, including some for other affinities that could be executed by any witch if laid out properly.  The other students all learned a considerable amount about general Craft and spell work, and were easily able to identify various spells and wards by their structure and components.  Some spells could be activated by nonmagical people, and a few basic wards could be done by anyone.

Avatars quickly became customized and a heavy trade developed around spells and spelled items for the game.

All of the witches came up with new tricks, from air bombs and water cannons to spelled stones that could create berm walls and instant pits.  The air witches learned to create a Wytchwar version of a flash-bang grenade.  Erika, of all people, stumbled on it using a hollow reed.  When activated, the spelled tube would pull in air for about ten seconds, compress it, and then release it all at once.

We learned to make some things that were very useful, like magic lifts, which lifted any avatar up about two feet in a split second, making short work of high climbs, and some things which were complete duds, like the air bridge spells that were put together to get people over chasms or the river.  The little golems kept falling off and either got trapped or swept away.

Aunt Ash also had us change the landscape weekly, tweaking the underlying spellwork to allow the river to move and the ridges to change into separate mountains and valleys.

Wytchwar quickly permeated the entire school, from group discussions on tactics and rules to new versions of game and competitions on both a team and individual level. Even the teachers and staff were drawn into watching the weekly Monday night games.

Not too surprisingly, I did well although my team didn’t always win.  Caeco quickly proved herself the best tactician, but Delwood seemed to have a knack as well.  My own skills were usually utilized as sort of a heavy weapons platform.  Sometimes I was used to spearhead an attack and other times I was left almost on my own to defend, allowing the team to field the most attackers possible.

Interestingly, my greatest challenges came from whatever robot T.J. was driving at the time.  His inventiveness was crazy good and the fights between his robot and my dirt dude became a spectator favorite.

In one area, I had no equals. I was still the premier avatar maker and so my services were always in demand, which allowed me to trade my skills for favors, spelled objects or even, once, help with an essay.  I could easily trade for alcohol, but Arcane didn’t have a whole lot of ilicit drinking going on.  Weres couldn’t get drunk, the result of their metabolisms, and witches are iffy with any drugs.  Some of the rest experimented, but really, if you went to a school where the most dangerous and most prank-prone kids couldn’t drink, would you risk getting blotto? We did have some kids who were prone to attempting mind expansion through pot.

Even Explorations of Power class got marginally better.  Miss Berg had settled for leading us through the vast body of written knowledge, or I should say, supposed knowledge, of the psychic and supernatural world.  Most, possibly as high as ninety percent, was bullshit.  But some kernels of wisdom did pop up here and there.  She split us into two-person teams and had each team review a book.  The teams were almost always a witch and a nonwitch, and she changed them after every assignment.  The result was that I learned more about clairvoyants, psychometrics, telekinetics, telepaths, and distance viewers than I would have thought possible.  I suppose that they learned about witches at the same time.

The one area of study that proved to provide little gain was the witches learning the Irwin knack of borrowing or, as Paige called it, leveraging magic. It wasn’t that they didn’t try hard, as I think most of them worked on it out of class more than they did anything else.  It lurked just on the edge of their abilities, with little, sporadic glimpses of success mixed with hours of fruitless attempts.  Maybe it had to be taught young.  I don’t know and apparently, neither did my aunt.

Winter was passing quickly and the university’s spring break in March was fast approaching.  Gina announced that none of us were eligible to leave Arcane; instead, we would have a full week of guest speakers, seminars, and workshops.  The end of the week would be a parents-and-guests weekend where we would get to show our families around, have a Wytchwar tournament, and finish with a big dinner and music party.

Gina was bringing in a couple of different types of performers, including a young up-and-coming rapper and a pretty well-known D.J.  We were also informed of a special performance by the Sisters Eerie, as Ryanne’s other three sisters were accompanying her parents to visit.  I would have thought that would make Ryanne happy, but instead she got moody and even snippy with me.  The weather was a bit warmer in early March and she stopped catching rides with me.  I didn’t know if I had somehow offended her or if she was tired of having to pretend to be interested in me.  That made Caeco very happy but left me completely confused.  I would have sworn we were friends, yet she blatantly avoided me.

The exact opposite was true of the rest of the witch pack.  Somehow, I had become their best buddy or favorite guy in the school.

One day between classes, I stopped in one of the UVM campus eateries for lunch and spotted Mack in close conversation with a pretty girl.  I waved and he waved me over.  Her name was Alexis and she gave me a friendly smile when Mack introduced me.  After the introduction, I went through the line to get food and discovered the entire witch pack had just arrived.  They dragged me to their table and put me just about dead center of the group, chattering and laughing through the whole lunch.

Across the room, I could see Mack and his friend Alexis watching us, their heads close together, obviously conversing about us.

I asked him about it later when we were in our room.

“She’s a Psych major,” he said.

“But she seemed so normal,” I said.

“F.U. buddy. She’s hot and you know it,” he replied.  “Anyway, she thought you seemed like a nice guy but was fascinated to see the witch bitches glom onto you that way, so I asked her for an analysis.”

“What did she say?” I pressed.

“Oh?  Now you value the Psych major’s opinion?” he asked.

“Dude, you know that a lot of them are a bit… different.  Doesn’t mean they don’t know stuff,” I said.

“No kidding?  Really?” he asked, mocking me.  I think I might have growled a bit.

“Now you sound like one of the wolves,” he laughed.  “Anyway, listen to this… and remember, she’d never seen any of the witches before.  She said that Erika wants to have your baby—her words, not mine—Britta is fascinated by you but not in a romantic way, Paige has a crush on you, Tami fears you, Jael is uncomfortable around you, Michelle has friend zoned you, and Zuzanna is wicked jealous of you.”

“Jealous?  But what about Ryanne?  She won’t say two words to me,” I asked.

“She said she really likes you,” Mack said. “Which if you remember, I called early on.”

“She’s wrong about that, but you left out her most important analysis… What did she say about me?” I asked.

“She said you were distrustful of them, but you covered it well.  Said you were confused and uncomfortable by all the attention, which struck her as odd.  Said most guys our age would just dive headfirst into the pool.  She was amused that you were completely put off by Erika, said it reaffirmed her faith that some guys might be slightly deeper than a puddle.  She thinks you may have trust issues,” he said, smirking.

“Ya think?” I asked.  “Anything else?”

“Yeah, she wanted my number.”

I whipped a Nerf football at him, but he just caught it, spiked it, and did an imitation touchdown dance.

Chapter 32

Break week arrived along with somewhat milder temperatures and definitely longer days.  The colleges were closed so we had no classes and our Arcane classes were to be replaced by workshops and seminars of all kinds for the first three days of the week.  Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were scheduled for family and guest visits and had their own schedule of events.

Sunday night, we hung out in the student lounge at the far end of the second floor and tried to figure out what we wanted to attend, as Gina was requiring essays from each of us at the end. The witch pack held court in the cluster of chairs and couches next to us, nearer the gas fireplace, and some of the wolves were watching college basketball on the big flatscreen mounted on the wall.

Some presentations were mandatory, like the opening remarks, which would feature Gina and supposedly Nathan Stewart, who had yet to make an appearance at Arcane since the semester had started.

Other time slots featured multiple concurrent topics such as Drone Tactics and Applications, Portal Development Frequency, Technological Advances in Portal Closure, Demonic Combat, Global Supernatural Capabilities, Implications of Mythic Species, Economic Reactions to Emergence, and Weapons systems for a New World.

Some parts of the weeklong schedule were filled by single presentations like National Security Issues in Post Emergence America and Pressure Points in Today’s Society.

The schedule and information packet that we’d received via email told us no fewer than a dozen times that we were under no obligation to reveal any personal knowledge of ourselves or our abilities to the speakers.  It went on to observe that many, if not most, of the visitors held jobs with high-level clearances in intelligence or law enforcement and would be professionally curious about their young, college-aged audience. It was pointed out that recent global and national events had brought Oracle from the shadows into the limelight and the rest of the national intelligence apparatus was curious, jealous, and threatened by anything related to Oracle.

The last part of the week, when the speakers were gone, would provide us a chance to show our families and guests things we had learned.

“Is it odd that Oracle seems to be dissing the other agencies?” Ashley asked.

“Nah.  It’s like a big old family where the kids all get jealous of each other,” Justin said.  “Bureaucracies always feature rivalries by department for resources and budget.”

We must have all had the same expression because he shrugged.  “What?  We cover some of this in my poly-sci curriculum.”

“It makes sense that they’d be crazy curious.  None of the regular agencies were at all equipped to deal with demons or the other species,” Jetta said. “Mack and I were held by some FBI types at one point and they were like fish out of water.”

“Oracle has always had the smallest budget, by far, even smaller than the Department of Anomalous Activity.  Now they’re at the front of everything,” Ariel said.

“The who and the what?” I asked.

“Department of Anomalous Activity.  Previously secret group that monitored werewolves and vampires before the whole portal breakout,” Ariel explained.  “They have history with Chris and Tanya.  I’ve heard Oracle people say that they’re pretty militarized.”

“What do you mean?  Oracle has military components.  I’ve seen them,” Caeco said.

“Yeah, there are some security and strike elements, but DOAA is mostly drawn from the military, particularly special operations types.  Oracle has worked with them many times but I don’t think that Nathan Stewart and General Creek like each other very much,” Ariel said.

“It’s run by a general?” I asked.

“General Creek does not like Chris Gordon at all,” a new voice added.  Tami, who had been sitting in a chair just behind the couch Caeco and I were sharing, had turned and interjected herself into our conversation.

We all looked at her, curious and surprised.

“My brother and I were kidnapped by some rogue weres.  Gordon saved us.  He was working for… actually with is a more accurate word.  He was working with General Creek and a whole military team.  Gina was part of it as well.  The general dislikes Chris Gordon intensely.  He’s one of those guys that has to control everything.”

“And Gordon isn’t controllable,” Jetta said.

Tami looked at her and nodded.  The rest of the witches had stopped their conversations and were listening in on the cross-conversation.  My group was still digesting what Tami had told us.

“So what do you all think of these… workshops?” Britta asked us suddenly.

“The titles sound like intelligence and Homeland Security briefings, but just geared for the new threats,” Caeco said.  Jetta and Mack looked at her with eyebrows raised.

“I’ve seen a lot of recorded briefings,” Caeco said to them with a shrug.

“What new threats?” Jael asked.

“Well… us,” Caeco replied.

“Supernatural threats to the nation?  Like demons, weres, vampires and, when they figure it out, witches and psychics?” T.J. asked.

“Yeah.  Anything that threatens the peace and security of the nation,” Caeco said.

“Then why are they presenting to us?” Erika asked.

“Because Oracle asked them to and because they most likely have no idea who and what we are,” Caeco said.

“And Gina wants this why?” Britta asked.

“So we know how the government feels about supernaturals. At least, that’s my guess,” Caeco said.

Delwood walked in at that moment, two of his cronies following. “Ladies, dweebs, Decline,” he greeted us, meeting my eyes last.

“Smellwood,” I replied evenly.  He grunted and moved past us, heading to the television.

I looked away from him and discovered everybody looking at me.  “What?” I asked.

“You’ve reached a level of respect with each other,” Tami said.  The others nodded.  I must have looked confused.

“Do you think he would trade casual insults with any other male in this school?” Tami asked.  She had a point.

“Enough about that.  I want to go to this Drone workshop,” T.J. said.  Instantly, everyone got back to talking about the schedule.

We decided to divide and conquer, splitting up to attend all the workshops.  There were enough of us with diverse enough interests that at least one person from our group would be at every briefing.  The witches decided to copy our idea and do the same thing.  At the end of each day, we would get back together and discuss what we’d each learned.  Britta asked if we’d be opposed to including them.  None of our group objected.

Monday started with a welcome breakfast for the presenters.  The number of tables in the dining room had more than doubled overnight and when Caeco, Jetta, Mack, and I came down for breakfast, half the tables were full of dark suits and white shirts.

Mostly men, thirties to fifties, with a handful of equally professional-looking women thrown in.  The newcomers either glanced at us and then ignored us or studied us with sharp eyes.

“CIA, FBI, DEA, Border Patrol, and every other letter combination you can name,” Caeco said quietly as we carried full plates to an empty table.

“How can you be sure?” Mack asked.

“One, I can hear them talking, and two, I’ve seen their types before,” she said.

If I had to describe them as a group, I would say they were all confident, or at least projected confidence.  Most of them seemed to ignore us, choosing to talk shop with their peers.  I say seemed because I caught a number of sidelong glances our way.

“What are they talking about?” Jetta asked, eating the strawberry off the top of her Belgian waffle.

“Most are curious about Arcane and us.  There’s a table of CIA, NSA, and FBI that’s talking about the Coven and how hard it is to gather intelligence on them.  That one table over there is almost silent, but the guy with the gray crew cut is General Creek, and the dudes in the ‘shoot me first’ pants are combat operators, so they gotta be DOAA,” Caeco replied.

I carefully checked out the people she had commented on.  The biggest table had nine fully engaged guys and one serious-looking lady all in deep discussion.  The eight-person table on the far side of the room had a couple of obvious soldiers with short, short hair, Oakley sunglasses, and those khaki tactical pants that tried to be civilian but screamed professional SWAT or military.  The square cut middle-aged man wearing a blue blazer and standard khakis had to be the general.  He looked up and caught me staring before I could look away.

“You absolutely suck at subtle,” Caeco said without looking up from her eggs and sausage.

“Yeah, dude. Really,” Mack agreed.

Delwood, Matthew, and three of the wolves rolled into the dining room, being loud and boisterous.  They paused at the sight of Arcane’s guests, then went about gathering several plates of food each.

Since our side of the room had the most open tables, Delwood chose to head our way.

“Dickline,” he greeted me, smiling at Caeco and ignoring the other two.

“Dillweed,” I said back.

He sat at the table right next to ours, pulling his chair a little close.  “What’s with the suits?” he asked affably.

“Alphabet letter intelligence.  I think most of them are guest speakers.  The hard cases across the room are Department of Anomalous Activity,” I answered.

The other wolves arrived and settled down to the serious business of breakfast.  By their tilted heads and sniffing noses, I knew they were gathering their own intel.

“Old dude told his table to keep an eye on you, Doucheling,” Delwood said evenly, his tone curious.

“Thanks for the warning, Duffwanker,” I said back.

“Duffwanker?” he asked, clearly not up with my cleverness.

“Duff as in designated ugly fat friend,” I explained.

“Ahh.  Nice,” he said, then headed back to the buffet with both plates.

We finished up and headed into the main classroom to grab seats.  A man was in the front, opening some seriously heavy-duty equipment cases.  I could see a multi-rotor drone sitting in one of them.

After a bit, the room began to fill with both students and government types.  It was pretty evenly divided with us on one side and the intel people on the other.

One minute before nine a.m., Gina came in with Nathan Stewart and his assistant.

Adine Benally took a seat directly in front of the podium while Gina and Stewart headed straight for it.

“Good Morning and welcome to Arcane. Thank you, guest speakers, for coming.  We are all looking forward to your presentations.  My name is Gina Velasquez and I’m the Director of Arcane, which is a joint endeavor between Oracle,” she said, nodding at Stewart, “and the Demidova Corporation.”

The last part caused a bit of a stir among the suits and I saw a frown cross General Creek’s face.

“This pilot program was designed to develop the abilities of a group of highly talented young people as well as build bridges and relationships with their families and organizations.  By talented, I mean supernatural.”

She paused to let that sink in and, judging by the glances we got and the sudden side conversations, it was a bit of surprise to the intel folks.

“Nathan Stewart, Director of Oracle, can explain further,” Gina said, stepping back from the mic.

“Good morning, colleagues and students.  I am so very honored to be here.  The germ for Arcane grew from comments I exchanged with Chris Gordon last year in New Hampshire.  This semester is the pilot program for something that we hope will grow and bear valuable fruit for all involved.  We’ve had some rough patches,” Stewart said, catching my eye as he did. “But that’s how we learn, develop, and build out truly useful programs.  To our students, the next few days will be invaluable for learning and understanding.  For my professional brothers and sisters, this is an enormous opportunity to make contact with and learn from the children of the supernatural world.  There has never been a more disruptive development than the emergence of the supernatural community, but there will be more to come.  How we handle the supernatural emergence will define our ability to handle even greater disruptions.  So please prepare for a momentous week of learning and please, please treat your fellows with respect.”

Gina stepped back up.  “Thank you, Nathan.  Now, you all have a schedule of the presentations.  We have changed the schedule a bit.  The first program will be DARPA’s on drone innovations, then at ten, we’ll have two concurrent programs: Emergent Ramifications in this room and Portal Detection Developments in the room next door.  After that, we’ll break for lunch before getting to this afternoon’s agenda.  So without further ado, let me introduce Stan Abbott from DARPA.”

Stan was skinny, gangly, a little awkward in his movements but oddly confident about his subject.

“Anyone fly here today?” he asked the audience as he fiddled with his lavalier microphone. About half the suits raised their hands.  “Did you thank the plane’s computer for a safe flight?”  There were chuckles.

“I say that because almost all commercial flying is now handled, in the main part, by onboard computers.  Same with space flight and more and more military aircraft,” he said, pulling a small black drone from one of his cases.  He pressed a switch on the machine and we could all hear the little multi-rotors wind up.  Then he simply let go of the unit and walked away.  The drone hung in the air, motionless.  Stan picked up a tablet and turned back to us with a smug grin.  “Drone avionics are rapidly absorbing the same kind of flight software used to get some of you here.  And it’s even more advanced.  This little beauty takes over its own flight controls as soon as it’s powered on.  In default mode, it will stay on station wherever I leave it,” he said, reaching out and moving the drone to a different height and place above the floor.  As soon as he let go, it stayed glued to the spot he’d left it in.  “Now, instead of concentrating on complicated flight procedures, the operator can simply enter commands to whatever interface he or she might be using,” he said, typing one-handed into the tablet.  Immediately, the drone swooped up and over the audience, staying about six feet over our heads.

“This frees the operator to concentrate on gathering information, studying the sensors, and carrying out the real mission,” Stan said, using a remote to turn on the massive flatscreen on the wall in front.  The picture came up, showing a split-screen view of the drones’ live cameras, both standard and thermal.

Immediately, it was apparent on the thermal screen that some of the audience was a good deal warmer than the rest.  The drone slowed and hovered over the were pack.

I could almost see the moment when Stan figured out what that meant.  His cool composure slipped a bit as he rapidly entered a new set of instructions, causing the drone to move away from the werewolves, who were now receiving a whole lot of intense looks from the intel people.

I reached over and took Caeco’s hand with my own. That little spark that happens between her nanites and me popped and sizzled along my skin.

“Ah, this program is currently set to seek out higher body temperatures, which is useful for finding people with fevers, like potential Ebola victims,” Stan said nervously.

“Or Lycanthropes,” General Creek said.  His men were focused on Delwood and crew like laser beams.

I asked Caeco’s nannites for access to whatever electromagnetic frequencies they were monitoring.  They dumped an overload on me, making my vision reel.  Quickly, I revised my question to just new signals in this room.  The rush of information faded to a handful of cell signals and one encrypted signal from the drone.  I couldn’t break it but I could knock on its door.

“These thermal sensors are a new generation from FLIR, designed with just that application in mind, General,” Stan said, moving slightly closer to the DOAA people and farther away from the were pack.

I suggested a new idea to the drone’s software, just a slight tweak of its thermal targets.  Instead of high temperature, I suggested greatest differences in surface temperature on a single target.

“How would you know the subject is a lycanthrope and not just a fever-ridden civilian?” Creek asked.

The drone slide down over the audience and refocused on a new subject—Erika.  Her mini skirt and V-neck sweater left a lot of skin exposed, both to the advanced sensors of the drone and the lecherous ones of the middle-aged agents sitting near her.  The wall monitor showed a closeup of her chest and legs behind Stan.

“Ahem.” Gina cleared her throat, interrupting Stan’s explanation of algorithmic diagnostics.  He looked her way and then from her finger to the mildly disturbing display on the big screen.

“Oh God,” he muttered, flushing bright red and struggling with his tablet.  The drone resisted his cease and desist command for a few seconds before flying back and taking up station next to him.

Erika had gotten over her initial shock at the drone’s approach and was now obviously happy with all the male attention she was getting.  She was the only girl in the room in a miniskirt.

“Did you do that?” Jetta whispered to me, eyeing my hand holding Caeco’s.

“I might have made a suggestion,” I allowed.  Three of the wolves, including Delwood, turned and looked at me.

The intel geeks missed the glances and nods, but Gina didn’t.  She stared at me for a moment, then winked.

Stan moved on to other drones and other sensors including high sensitivity microphones and laser-based measurement systems. He talked about linked units of drones, all under the control of a single operator, able to swarm a single target or separate and attack multiples. He did, however, keep the drones away from the audience for the rest of his presentation.

The day turned out to be pretty interesting as we heard from some very qualified people and were presented with highly detailed analyses what was happening across our country and the rest of world.

On the one hand, it was pretty much along the lines of what we had discussed and discovered in Gina’s seminar, but with much, much greater detail.  The FBI had uncovered seventy-two different radical groups since the demon problem was first surfaced.  They covered the gamut from anti-were and vampire hate groups to groupies who wanted to worship the supernatural.

We learned of sixteen different proposed bills that were trying to legislate supernaturals, either to acknowledge their rights or remove them.

Presenters covered industries that had been destroyed by the emergence, and economic sectors that were soaring from it.

Oracle agents discussed improvements in the gate-closing technology as well as the development of gate-opening devices.

The CIA representatives showed a global analysis of the damage done on Halloween night, the current state of outbreaks, and a rough guess as to the dispersal of vampires and weres across the planet.  They also showed a video from the Middle East of fundamental religious fanatics preparing to behead an accused family of werewolves.  Numerous other people had been decapitated under the same accusation, but this time, they actually got a real family of werewolves.  The result was a graphic lesson in why steel handcuffs and steel knives are of little use against pissed-off werewolf parents protecting their young. It was a bloody massacre.

Overall, everything was done very professionally and the speakers were polished.  Understandable for people who made presentations for a major part of their living.  The other part of their jobs was uncovering information, and that skill set showed up at lunch, dinner, and every break we had between workshops.  The first morning, we’d been separate and distinct camps; by break one, the spies and cops were chatting up students left and right.  Friendly, making jokes, paying compliments, asking questions… lots of questions.

Caeco and I held back and watched.  Our brother-sister roommates didn’t partake either, but much of the class was quickly charmed, almost as fast as I could have charmed them with magic.  Except the weres.  They kept to themselves, which is why most of them ended up next to our table at lunch on Tuesday.  Matthew, who had moved past the nodding acquaintance stage with most of my friends, was quietly talking with Mack, although his eyes strayed to Jetta more than anywhere else.  Delwood and company were mostly quiet, their slightly tilted heads telling me they were listening in to multiple conversations around the dining room.

“Ah Miss Sutton. What a fascinating coincidence to find you and your brother here,”
a female voice said.

The speaker was a solid-looking Asian woman in a dark suit, a second woman following behind her.

“Agent Krupp.  Following us around the country?” Jetta asked, her tone cold as ice.  “And your shadow, Agent Mazar.”

Mack straightened up and narrowed his eyes at the newcomers.

“I find it incredibly interesting that you and your brother are part of this… program,” Agent Krupp said, eyes on the Sutton kids but visibly aware of the rest of us.  The woman behind her was slightly taller, with black hair and dark eyes, her skin a Mediterranean olive tone.

“As equally fascinating as finding you and Mazar here, at a Vermont college,” Mack said, his voice the most unfriendly I’d ever heard it.  “Shouldn’t you be investigating unsolved murder cases, like, say, our parents’?”

“Your parents’ case was labeled as a wild animal attack,” Krupp said evenly.

“Right. Giant dogs that tie up their victims first,” Jetta said.

“Well, in light of recent revelations, you might be right, but all my suspects either died of homicide or disappeared outright, like Simon Masten.  Interestingly enough, it was your parents’ case that brought me to my new unit and ultimately here.  With the existence of Lycanthropes and true vampires proven, we’re going back over unsolved cases with an eye toward the supernatural.  Director Stewart billed this event as a chance to learn more about those species, but so far I haven’t met a single one,” Krupp said, taking a moment to meet all our eyes, one by one.

“Well, darling, you’re standing in the middle of a bunch of them,” Delwood said, grinning insolently.

Krupp ignored his tone and studied him carefully.  Agent Mazar chose that moment to tap her shoulder.  When Krupp looked her way, she nodded at the rest of the room.  Every kid in our class was watching the exchange at our table, their own conversations with federal types forgotten. That caused the other agents and analysts to watch as well.

“That’s a little creepy in a children of the corn way,” Krupp muttered.

“Ouch,” my mouth said without checking with my brain.  She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time.  I charged blindly ahead. “No more creepy than the divide and interrogate session your fellow investigators are currently conducting on law-abiding college students,” I said.

“And just who might you be?” she asked.

“His roommate,” I said, nodding at Mack.

“Aww, don’t you know that’s the famous Duckling gone Caroling,” Delwood said.

“And over there, you have the mighty Dillweed Swinger,” I shot back.  He waggled one hand to show his ambivalence at my insult.  What can I say—not my best work.

Our little exchange confused Agent Krupp and she opened her mouth to ask a question but our two resident potheads, Jack and Larry, chose that moment to step into the room, high as kites.  Jack took one look at the agent and exclaimed, “Whoa, she’s gonna tase Declan!”

Agent Krupp was standing with her hands on her hips, her jacket pushed back, which displayed her service pistol on one hip and a Taser on the other. She instantly dropped her hands, letting her jacket cover her arsenal, but it was too late.

“Either tase him or shoot him, bro.  Cool!” Larry said.

“I say you skip the taser and just shoot him,” Delwood said.

“She doesn’t have to shoot you, Smellwolf, but she can tase me any day,” I said.

“No!” Caeco interjected.  “No Tasers.  He’s been doing so well lately.  Just shoot him.”

“Et tu, Caeco?” I asked.

“The first step to managing your addiction is admitting you have a problem,” she replied.

“Hi, my name is Dikeling O’Carousel and I’m addicted to tasing.  I keep going round and round with it,” Delwood said, standing and addressing the group like an addict at rehab.

By this point in the year, the whole class knew about my affection for Tasers, and what I usually did with the excess electricity, thanks to Jenks’s module on non-lethal weapons.

Our classmates laughed. Agent Krupp looked thoroughly confused, and Gina Velasquez arrived at our table with her eyes fastened on the two agents.

“Everything alright here?” she asked.  A small hand slipped into mine and I turned to find Toni standing next to my chair, watching her mother.

I tapped Toni’s Disney watch.  “Chuck Norris doesn’t wear a watch.  He decides what time it is,” I said quietly.

She looked at me for a moment. “Chuck Norris can make pigs fly,” she said, giggling.

“What kind of madhouse are you running here?” Krupp asked Gina, her eyes on Toni and me.

“Why are you here?” Gina asked her back.  “Why did you attend this event?”

Krupp turned her gaze back to Gina, eyes narrowed.  “It was billed as a source of information on the new paranormal world.”

“Well, these students just gave you a huge amount of information in a brief conversation.  Are you smart enough to figure it out?” Gina asked.  Krupp just looked at her.

“Anyone?  Did any of you skilled analysts pick up what they just fed you?” Gina asked the room at large.  Every eye was on her.

“Krupp displayed arrogance and aggression in approaching two of our students, who she sees as suspects in a series of unsolved murders.  Jetta and Mack are two outstanding young participants in the Arcane program.  But they’re not inherently supernatural,” Gina explained.  “But they’re here because they were exposed to the supernatural worlds when werewolves killed their parents and they tracked down the killers and saw to it that they were dealt with by the rest of the supernatural world. Now, for those who don’t yet know this, weres don’t hunt humans as a rule.  A real rule, a life-or-death rule.  Killing humans is a death sentence offense in the world of the two-natured.  Krupp, did you check the DNA analysis of the dead suspects?”

“It was either not done or disappeared,” Krupp said, arms crossed.

“I would suggest that every unsolved death should start with a DNA test from now on.  The first thing you should find out is what species you’re actually dealing with.  All of your dead victims were werewolves, Krupp.  The same werewolves that killed Jetta and Mack’s parents.  Your prime suspect, Simon Masten, disappeared?  I would suggest that the supernatural community found him guilty and passed sentence.”

“That’s murder and vigilantism,” Krupp said.

“Maybe, by strict definition.  But what would you have done if you had realized Masten was a werewolf, and a rogue one that killed humans?  Taken him into custody?  Put him in a jail?”

“Of course,” Krupp answered.

“Really?  Give me your handcuffs,” Gina said, holding out one hand.

Krupp studied her for a second, then looked around the room.  Finally she sighed and pulled out her cuffs.

“Matthew, stand up and put your hands behind your back, please,” Gina said.

He grinned and did as she asked.  Gina expertly cuffed him and stood back.

“There, I just subdued a werewolf suspect.  Matthew, break the cuffs.”

Matthew, who was certainly fit looking but not overly powerfully built, tensed his arms and shoulders.  The cuffs snapped with a sharp ping of steel.

“Lucky for me he cooperated with the cuffing.  Imagine if he didn’t.  What if he Changed?” Gina said.

“Isn’t that dependent on the moon?” a big guy in a black suit asked.

“Nope.  That’s legend.  Matthew can change whenever he wants, right, Matt?”

Matt held up one hand and it snapped, crunched, and grew two sizes larger with claws and hair.  Chairs scraped as trained agents suddenly realized just what he was.

“Stand down!” Gina ordered, loud enough to command their attention.  “Thank you, Matthew,” she said and he sat down, his hand returning to normal.  He still had the bracelets around each wrist so I leaned over and touched his left one, the lock snapping open at my command.  He nodded and held out his right wrist and I tapped that one, too.

I looked back and realized most of the room had just witnessed that.

“So Krupp, how are you going to arrest a werewolf?  How could you hold him or her?”  Gina asked.

Krupp grimaced.  “But you can’t just let people kill each other.”

“First, thank you for saying people because that’s what everyone in this room is.  Second, we live in a new world.  One that started when a demon prince of Hell fought a fallen Angel on the streets of Washington, blocks from the White House, and lost.  You either adapt to the new world or you won’t survive it,” Gina said.

“So what do we do?” the same suit asked.

“Rather than aggressively interrogate students like Mack and Jetta here, you should be learning from them.  Their parents were brutally killed by weres, yet here they are living, eating, and studying with a whole pack.  Jetta, who is finishing high school, knows more about werewolf psychology than any professional in this room, myself included.  You should be recruiting her, not bullying her.  But when Krupp showed aggression, what happened?”

“The rest of them deflected for her,” Mazar said, a slight accent buried in her voice.

“They took deflection to a team sport.  And they told Krupp in a humorous way that she was pretty much helpless against them.  Give me your Taser,” Gina demanded, holding out her hand.

“You already destroyed my cuffs.  No way I’m giving you my weapon,” Krupp said.

“You can use mine,” the big guy offered.  He stood up and pulled an M26 Taser from under one arm.  I took the opportunity to put the bracelets of the handcuffs together and requested the broken link rejoin itself.  Then I tossed them to Krupp as Gina took the Taser from the other agent.  Krupp looked at her repaired cuffs, her poker face twitching a little.

I picked up my soda and started to drink it down as Gina aimed the Taser at me and pulled the trigger.  A slight burst of magic to the glyphs in my left arm let me get it up in time to catch the barbs in my palm.

I can pull electricity from any source: wall outlet, power line, even a car battery, but the phased pulse of a Taser, specifically engineered to disrupt the human nervous system, is like a drug rush for me.  I drank it down.

The straw slurped in the glass and the Taser crackled for moment.  They both went dry.

“That’s what happens when you tase the wrong supe.  Sorry Caeco, I know his aunt will be mad, but I needed to prove a point,” Gina said.

“Not helping him, Gina,” Caeco said without heat.

“You gonna dump that?” Gina asked me.

I stood up and walked across the room, sliding between tables.  Outstretched legs pulled out of my way as I approached the far wall, where a steel beam was exposed in the red brick.  It was a foot too high for my hand to reach, but that was close enough.  A sharp arc of electricity snapped out of my fingers and blackened the beam.  When I turned back around, I felt the eyes of the whole room press on me.

“Declan is another kind of supernatural.  He’s a witch.  In this school, we have people with telekinetic power, telepathic abilities, clairvoyance, remote viewing capabilities, psychometric ability, and we have witches, who can do even more. Consider them the generalists of the psychic world. As you can see, he has an affinity for electricity and steel.  Think your locks and alarms can slow him down?”

“Witches?  Like Blair witch and Hansel and Gretel?” another fed asked.

“There is usually some fact buried in all legend.  Take the moon and werewolf thing.  They need to Change during the full moon, but can Change at will any other time.”

“So you’re saying we won’t be able to handle a crazed werewolf who’s holed up in a house or office with hostages?” another federal officer asked.

“Are they male or female?” Jetta asked.

“Does it matter?” he asked back.

“Would it matter in a regular hostage situation?” she clarified.

“Of course,” Krupp answered.

“Well, same thing here.  Males are mostly obsessed with status, followed by being obsessed with females.  Female werewolves, in my experience, are also concerned with status, but focus more on protecting the young and protecting the pack.  Then there are Alphas, which is a whole ‘nother matter,” Jetta said.

“So what does all that mean?” the same guy asked.

“It means you negotiate with different werewolves differently,” Krupp said.  Jetta nodded.

“What if they’re crazed and just killing everyone?” another agent asked.

“You probably can’t get in there in time to make a difference. Werewolves are very fast.  Also, trying to take on a Changed wolf inside a building structure is a death sentence.  They are super tough, require silver to kill, and are fast and so strong, you can’t really understand it. I would probably set up a perimeter of officers, armed with shotguns and heavy caliber rifles, all loaded with silver, and wait.  Chances are the wolf will Change back and you can bind him or her with silver,” Jetta said.

“You’re telling us we just sit there and watch them kill off the hostages?” Krupp asked.

“If you have your own werewolves on your team, you can have them scent the wolf and they’ll be able to tell you all about them.  Male, female, old or young or Alpha.  They’ll maybe get a feel for if they could Change and take them themselves.  What do you guys think?” Jetta asked the wolf pack at the table next to ours.

“I think you’re mostly right.  But if you’ve got an Alpha in there, you might just want to burn the house down,” Delwood said.

“You’re telling us there’s no way or no one to send in after an Alpha?” Krupp asked.

“Didn’t say that.  A powerful vampire or certainly Chris Gordon.  Personally, I’d love to see old Deeklan here go in,” Delwood said, smirking in my direction.  Since most of the room had picked up on our mutual dislike for one another, there were some chuckles.  Krupp and Mazar didn’t laugh, instead looking from Delwood to me as they realized at about the same time as I did that he was serious.

“Okay, we’ve run over the lunch hour.  Let’s finish our food and gather for the next presentations at, say, five after one.  We can do some more demonstrations and discussions at the afternoon break,” Gina said.

True to her word, she had some of the kids demonstrate their avatars at one break and also trotted out one of the telepaths and one of the psychometric kids to show their stuff during Wednesday’s breaks.  The cops and spooks seemed a little freaked out after that Tuesday lunch, though.  They interacted and asked questions, but it wasn’t as in-depth as I would have thought.  Before, they had seemed pretty intense, while after, they seemed to just go through the motions and were decidedly nervous around many of us, the weres in particular.

My group got together on Wednesday night to discuss our essays for Gina.  The witch pack filed in a few minutes later and asked to join us.

“Okay, is it just me or were some of these people sticking their heads in the sand?” Ashley asked.

“I’ve seen some of it before,” Ariel said.  “They thrive on control and authority and when they’re way out of their elements, they either go nuts to find out more or they close down their mindsets and ignore what they don’t want to hear.”

“And distract themselves by being really creepy old leches,” Britta said. All the girls had experienced the creeper factor, but the twins, Ryanne, and Ashley had drawn more than their share of attention.  Except Caeco, which Ashley noted a moment later.

“How did you avoid them?” she asked.

“I stayed close to Declan for the most part, but when he wasn’t around, I practiced my bitch face.  I grew up around high testosterone types.  You pretty much had to learn to shut them down.  Dressing the part helps,” she said, glancing at Erika’s V-neck sweater with a raised eyebrow.

“What?  I like clothes and fashion.  I shouldn’t have to be accosted because I look good,” Erika said.

“We’ve talked about this, Erika.  There’s a difference between looking good and looking available.  Like, say, the difference between a businesswoman and a football cheerleader.  One outfit says class and power, the other says drag me behind the bleachers,” Britta said.

Overall, the group had similar takeaways from the three days.  First, the government was devoting significant resources to the supernatural world. Second, those resources felt the paranormal revelation was dramatically changing society across the globe in ways that no one yet understood.  And third, those same resources were grossly ill prepared for the resulting problems that would inevitably arise.

“The analytical types are great at standing back and looking at this from a distance, but when they found themselves in the middle of us, they couldn’t handle it,” Tami noted.

“Yeah, the shit got too real for them,” Jael agreed.

“Tis not an easy thing to change yer worldview on a feckin’ dime, now is it?” Ryanne asked.  “We all live it day in and out, yet I’m remembering more than a few banjanxed faces when we all started here just a wee few months ago.”

“Good point.  Watching your roommate walk eighty-thousand pounds of dirt into a basement sure makes you think about honoring the roommate contract,” Mack said dryly.

“Talking of the dirt walking reminds me that we’ve got teams to form for the tourney, now don’t we?  Gina’ll be wanting our rosters by noon,” Ryanne reminded us.  “So, if ye’ve covered the finer points, I’ll be taking me team away for a meeting.”

The tournament rules allowed us to pick our own teams and apparently the witch pack was staying together.  They would be a tough group.  My own friend group was teaming up with the exception of T.J., who had been aggressively recruited by the werewoves.  Following the witch pack lead, we adjorned to Caeco and Jetta’s room for a strategy session before heading off to sleep.  Parents and guests would begin arriving Thursday morning, with the bulk of them here on Friday and Saturday.  Things were about to get hectic.

Chapter 33

Thursday was the first morning of the week that I could actually sleep in.  The first three days were all nine a.m. presentations.  But Thursday was parent and guest arrival day, with nothing much until about noon.  I made it to nine- thirty.

Any college kid worth their salt can easily lay comatose till at least noon, often one or two p.m.  Myself, not to brag or anything, but my personal best was three in the afternoon one Saturday in February.  What can I say; we’re up till all hours either studying, writing never-ending papers or, if it’s a weekend, blowing off steam.  So I should have made eleven at the least.

Instead, I tossed and turned from seven-thirty on.  Even my stomach rumbled, turning traitor against our solemn sleep pact.  So after lying in bed for two hours, unable to return to blissful sleep, I got up, pulling on yesterday’s jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt.  Then I stumbled downstairs to feed my traitorous belly.

To add insult to injury, I was like the only student in the dining room.  Oh, there were a couple of kids who nodded to me, but they were the super serious studyholics who lived and breathed the academic life.  They wouldn’t know a good party if it snuck up, chomped onto a leg, and death rolled them.

I ordered a cheddar, ham, spinach, and mushroom omelet from the breakfast chef and drank chocolate milk.  As I dipped into the fluffy mix of cheesy heaven, my determination reared up and demanded I go back to bed after my fast was broken.

Plate clean, belly full, I dropped off my dishes and headed out the door only to collide with a green-eyed armful of Irish witch.

“Oh Declan, jest run me down, why don’t ya!” she said, although her smirk was warm enough to tell me she wasn’t unduly ruffled.

“Sorry, Ry.  Got a date with my bed and some righteous shut-eye,” I said after we untangled a bit.

“Listen, before ye head off to count yer sheep or molest them or whatever pervy thing you lads do in yer dreams, I need to talk to ye for jest a bit,” she said.

“But Ryanne, I should be sleeping,” I protested mildly.  She just looked at me with those Galway eyes and my will crumbled.  “Alright, but can we be quick?  You’re cutting into my Z time.”

“Come on, ye lump,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the front doors, past the guards, and into the sunny parking lot.  “This way, if ye pitch a fit, yer less likely to break the building or anything.”

It was already warm, at least for a day in early March in northern Vermont.  Maybe almost thirty, and the sun was a bright prelude to the forthcoming Spring.

The parking lot was empty of people; just a handful of cars were scattered about.  She stopped and turned around to face me, taking a deep breath like whatever she had to say was really serious.

“Why would I pitch a fit?  Are you breaking up with me?  Go ahead then, I can take it,” I joked.

“Ye fecking moron.  Have ye got yer girls confused, then?  Do I look like the test tube terror who yer going out with?  This is serious and when I’m done, yer like to be put out with me,” she said, grabbing my shoulder and shaking it.

“Go ahead.  I’m all ears.”

“Ears, long hair, and skinny legs,” she said.

“Hey, my legs aren’t skinny… just lean,” I protested.

“Listen mate, here’s the thing,” she said, somehow brushing aside my witty banter. “My family is arriving today from Ireland.  Me mum and da and all me terrible sisters.”

“That’s awesome, Ryanne.  I’m looking forward to your show,” I said.

“We’re opening act on Saturday night, but that’s not what I want to tell you.  See, my parents are bringing guests.  Official circle guests.  It was a major request, one that me mum couldn’t deny.”

I suddenly didn’t like where she was going with this.  She read my reaction on my face, but she drew a deep breath to tell me the rest anyway.  And then she disappeared.

Not totally, like Beam me up Scotty, but in a blurry rag doll sort of flight that blasted her away in into a parked F-250 pickup that I think belonged to one of the guards.  It was like a rope had been tied to the back belt loop of her jeans, the other end tied to a rocket car.

She hit the truck with a brain-jarring thud that left a dent in the passenger door and slid boneless to the wet icy pavement.

Spending four days training with Tanya Demidova is like a month of mixed martial arts fights in the middle of a SEAL BUDs camp.  My shields snapped into place even as I jumped backward while turning to face the presence that was suddenly making my witch senses scream.

I landed six feet back, facing the threat.  A slender woman wearing stained jeans and an even-more-stained grey Yankees hoody stood stock-still, staring at me through her bangs.  Her long dirty blonde hair hung in greasy lanks over her face, almost hiding her pale blue eyes.  Almost.  Frankly, I could have done with having them hidden.  She looked at me, chin tucked down, insane eyes locked on me like a brain-starved zombie about to munch down.

But the waves of power that leaked from her pores told me she was a witch.  As did the book.  The small, eye-warping, vision-twisting book that she clutched in her left hand.  The one that was pressing on my senses, yammering for attention.  Sorrow.

Her right hand flung out at me and a ball of pure kinetic energy flashed out.

I think my shields might have protected me, but my magic-fueled glyphs made the point moot.  I jumped forward at an angle, closing the distance between us but avoiding the blast, which hit the flag pole behind me and smashed it flat.  It fell into the lexan doors to Arcane, wedging them shut even as the two guards on duty tried to open them.

I sent a shock wave through the ground, hard enough to lift her off her feet, except she rode the earth tsunami like a world class surfer, her filth-covered shoes never leaving the asphalt.

Another blast came my way, which I dodged, but she was adapting as my dodge took me right into a Prius that she threw in my direction.

My shield reacted, blasting the car to a halt and throwing me hard in the opposite direction.  Tanya had beat my reflexes into shape for this very event.  I landed, parkour rolled to my feet, and flung out my own kinetic blast.

She brushed it aside, not bothering to dodge, then blew a hurricane wind under my feet, lifting me off the ground and away from Earth.  Frantic, I threw fire her way, just to distract her, but she didn’t even react, letting the ball of plasma wink out when her own shields absorbed it.  She chose instead to feed power to the wind that held me off the ground.

I couldn’t touch the Earth, what little heat was in the air had just been expended in my useless fireball, and she was working some spell to break my shields.

It was a bright, beautiful, pre-Spring day and this bitch was getting ready to suck me dry of power while the warm sun beat down on my face.  I had to do something fast or this skank was going to zero me out.  The sun gave me an idea.

Archemedes supposedly used mirrors to burn Roman ships. I didn’t have mirrors but the whole of the parking lot was soaking in the Spring sunshine, the black asphalt warm over about an acre.  I took all that warmth and pressed it into a beam of light. The effect was almost immediate as her face blistered and her eyes seared.

Her scream shattered car windows all around me.

The column of air holding me up vanished and I fell eight feet to the hard asphalt, breaking my fall by instinct.  I came up fast and rushed around behind her, focusing on her own shields.  There was no time to draw any nearby power; I had to cancel this bitch now with my own reserves.

She held her right hand out toward where she thought I was, her left hand dropping the book and automatically covering her burned eyes.

My kinetic blast lifted her off her feet and smashed her into another car, a Passat, maybe.  It didn’t stop her; instead, she turned and fired one back, blindly, along the path of my blast.  Which I wasn’t standing in anymore.  Instead, I was standing four feet to the right, focusing on the moment she released her attack.  In that instant, when her energy was blazing forth, I slipped through the tiny opening it created in her shields and planted a burst of power deep in her brainstem, like planting a hook. Then I pulled with everything I had.  Instead of immolation, I removed the heat from her skull… all of it.

A rippling wave of hot air flashed out of her, leaving her frozen in place, literally.  Her greasy hair was frosted to her head and a snotsicle connected her nose to her upper lip.  She teetered before falling backward, her head shattering into a hundred shards of frozen flesh, bone, and brain.  Wow—disgusting.

Ryanne groaned, the sound jolting me into motion.  I scooped up the fallen book and stuffed it under my t-shirt, then I moved to Ryanne.  A glance at Arcane showed the guards still struggling with the door, so I flicked enough power at the lamppost to shift it off the Lexan.

Ry was breathing okay, but she had slammed into the truck really hard, her torso catching the full brunt of the witch’s kinetic blast.

Voices hollered, footsteps stampeded, and then people were there.  The guards, Dr. Rosewell, Gina, and Jenks all arrived.  Rosewell pushed me gently out of the way and began to examine Ryanne.  I stepped back to give her room, Gina taking my place for a moment.

Under my shirt, the book squirmed slightly, almost making me hurl right there.  The waves of wrongness coming off it were overwhelming, and yet for some reason, I kept it hidden.

Gina stood up and turned to me. “What happened?”

Chapter 34

I told her the whole story with the omission of the book.  The witch had been hellish strong, but I told her my guess was that this would turn out to be the missing New York City witch, the one who had murdered her whole circle and stolen their powers. Why was she here?  No idea, unless she had somehow heard of a school in Vermont with young, naïve witches fresh for the draining.

“Declan, the guards, Jerry and Sean, saw you pick something up after the witch died.  What was it?” Gina asked.  I remembered belatedly that she used to be an NYPD detective.

“My phone,” I said, pulling it from my jeans pocket.

“You grabbed your phone before checking on Ryanne?” she asked, managing to question my intelligence and friend value in one shot.

I felt my eyes narrow.

Schinden sie für ihre Frechheit.

What? What the fuck was that?  Was it out loud? Where’d that come from?

My face must have twitched or something.  “It was on the ground, between me and Ry.  If I needed to call 911, then I needed it in my hand, don’t you think?”

She studied me carefully.  I could tell she wasn’t buying it.  Not only that, but she was trying to decipher whatever emotions my face must have just flashed at her.  After a few seconds, she turned and looked at the headless corpse.

“She almost beat you?” she asked.  Again she managed to convey disbelief and disappointment in a single sentence.

“She attacked from ambush, which is why Ryanne was flattened first,” I said.

Gina glanced at me, eyebrows raised before the answer came to her. “Oh, a female would be the greater threat.”

I nodded.  “If she was the missing witch, then it explains her power… she was carrying a full circle’s worth with her.  She was also pretty skilled.  She threw some stuff around that I’ve never seen before.”

“You didn’t recognize it?” Gina asked.

“Just because I’m strong doesn’t mean I know everything,” I said.  “My mother died when I was eight.  She didn’t have time to teach me a lot, and Aunt Ash didn’t know as much as Mom.  I never met another witch until six months ago. The only reason I won is because Chris and Tanya chose to spend four days beating me senseless and I seem to have learned something.”

She sighed.  “I’m sorry, Declan.  I forget how young you are and as you say, we sometimes mistake raw power for experience.  I’m afraid my old police instincts took over for a bit.  How are you doing?  With all that?” she asked, waving at the now-blanket-covered body.

I shuddered, but before I was forced to say something about it, the doctor popped up from examining Ryanne.

“I think she will be okay.  Might have a concussion, but nothing is broken.  Massive bruising on her back, buttocks, and legs, though.  She’s gonna hurt.  I think it would be best to keep her here, at Arcane, rather than a hospital.  I can do a better job of monitoring her than the hospital would.”

I looked over at Ryanne, whose eyes were open, looking dazed.  Dr. Rosewell had laid her out next to a stretcher and Ry was staring straight up.  I moved over and leaned into her field of view.

“Hey.  How ya doing?” I asked.

She focused on me, recognition coming a second or two later.  “Did ye get the tag number of the tractor what busted me dial?”

“Actually, you’re the one that attacked the truck… with your butt.  Put a big dent in Jerry’s pickup.”

She winced.  “What happened?”

I gave her the short version as Dr. Rosewell and Gina finished their private conversation and came over.

“Let’s get her inside,” the doctor said, waving a couple of security types to pick up the stretcher.

“Declan, we need to get you inside as well and let Mr. Jenks and the Oracle people clean this up before local law enforcement or media get wind of it.  That fight was noisy,” Gina said to me, putting her hand on my shoulder to guide me back to Arcane.

I glanced back at the parking lot and saw what she meant.  Broken glass everywhere,  at least three smashed cars, the broken flagpole, and last but not least, the headless, blanket-covered body.

I let her turn me toward the building.  Faces peered at us from the first, second, and third-floor windows.  Not all the students and staff, but a hefty chunk of them stared right at me, most looking like they were seeing me for the first time.

I went to my room, finding it empty, which was good because I needed time alone to think about what had happened and to look over the book.

It was small, about the size of paperback, maybe just a bit bigger. Bound in pale skin, the inside pages also a light tanned animal skin. The outside was blank, but the first inside page was labeled in beautiful cursive das Buch der dunkelsten Trauer.  The Book of Darkest Sorrow.

It pressed on my mind, pushing to get in.  Then the damned thing writhed in my hands, literally squirmed.  I threw it on my bed and it squealed.  Maybe screamed is a better word, a soundless cry that tore through my head.  Clapping hands over ears did no good.  The cry was noiseless but so loud.

I grabbed the book and it instantly stopped.  It had been so loud, and I lived on a floor of witches and psychics.  I opened my door and poked my head into the hall.  Half a dozen kids were looking out their own doors, confusion on their faces.  Paige, down the hall, caught my eye.  “What was that?  It sounded like a mental scream,” she said.

“I know, right?  Not sure,” I said.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, making a head waggle toward the wall nearest the parking lot.

“Yeah, I guess.  Not sure yet,” I said, then waited for at least one other kid to shrug and pull back into their room before doing the same.

Sitting on my bed, I held Sorrow in both hands and considered it.  It considered back.  The damned thing was alive or aware or something.  And it wanted me.  But if it wanted me, why did the witch attack?

Es war ein Test.

The words just popped into my head. No sound, just words floating in the dark of my mind. Ein?  What the hell was es war?  Test I understood.  I Googled it on my phone.  It was a test.  A test of what?  Me obviously, but that witch had meant business. She wasn’t playing tester; she’d wanted my power.

Hätte sie deine Kräfte erworben, hättest du versagst.

Again with the head-popping thing.

More Googling.

If she got your powers, then you failed.

The goddamned book had tested me, judged if I was worthy.  Suddenly pissed beyond belief, I started to drop the book again but remembered the scream.

Odd. When Sorrow had been at our family restaurant and Levi had been translating it, I could feel it from anywhere on the grounds.  So could my aunt.  But nobody here was pounding on my door.  If I let go of it, all hell broke loose among the witches.  The stupid thing pitched a fit.  I put it on my jeans-clad leg and tentatively let go.  It didn’t scream, but it suddenly pressed on my senses like it had that time at home.  I quickly covered it with my hand and it stopped.

Okay.  Sorrow wanted to touch skin.  Well it was skin… hmm, what kind?  I looked closer.  Then recoiled back.  This wasn’t deerhide or rabbit skin; this was human.  The twisted thing was written on and bound with human skin.  I almost heaved up.  I won’t lie… I did throw up a little bit in my mouth.  Enough that I was forced to steal a swig of Mack’s mouthwash, spitting it into an empty soda bottle.

It was a breach of the Roommate code, but hey, this was an emergency.

The doorknob rattled and I shoved Sorrow under my baggy tee.  The knob spun and Mack opened the door.

“Hey, what’s this about a fight?  You alright?” he asked.  Caeco and Jetta were right behind him, shoving him in to make room.

Under my shirt, I felt Sorrow squirm into place, sticking itself to my skin.  My gorge rose again, but I wrestled it down.

“You look sick,” Jetta said.

“Well, ah, I’m a little fucked up, if you wanna know.  I mean I just killed some witch in the parking lot and I have no idea why she attacked us.”

Der Test der Trauer.

Yeah, I got it… the test of Sorrow. My face must have been priceless because all three were watching it like a movie screen.

“Why were you with Ryanne?” Caeco asked, her tone suspicious.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling my temper flare.  I just killed someone and she’s… what… jealous?

“How would you not know?” Mack asked, glancing quickly at Caeco.

“She wanted to talk to me, had something to tell me.  She was nervous, it had something to do with her family or her sisters or something.  She seemed like she thought I was going to be mad.  Never got to tell me, as that bitch just blasted her away like a bug.”

“Who was the witch?” Jetta asked.

“No idea of her name, but I’m pretty sure she was the New York City witch that drained that circle.  She had a buttload of power… and tricks.”

“Why would she come here?” Caeco asked.

I considered.  Tell or no tell.  No tell seemed good, but they were my friends.  My best friends.

I stood up and faced them, then raised my shirt enough to show them what was stuck to my ribcage.

“Is that…” Caeco started to ask.

“Sorrow?  Yeah, it is.  I think it drove that witch to come up here.  I think it wanted to find me again,” I said.

“Sorrow?  What’s sorrow?” Jetta asked at the same time her brother asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

So I explained.  I told them about how my aunt had used a spell from Sorrow to create Toni’s necklace, how Sorrow was a half-century-old grimoire from the nastiest witch to ever come out of Germany.  How it had been found down south at some old house in North Carolina and Chris had taken it into safekeeping, only to have it disappear.

“You talk about it like it’s alive,” Mack noted.

“Because I kind of think it is.  It… well, it talks to me.  In German.”

“German?  You don’t speak German,” Mack said.  “And what do you mean it talks?”

“It puts words into my mind.  I’ve been using Google translate.”

“What does it say?” Caeco asked.

“So far that the witch was a test, for me.”

“You should get rid of it,” Jetta said.

Häutet sie lebendig für ihre Unverschämtheit!

I grabbed my phone and plugged in what it said.  It helped that I could actually see the words in my mind.

“It wants you to flay me for my insolence?” Jetta read over my shoulder.

“You are kind of uppity,” Mack said.

“It said the same thing about Gina—out in the parking lot, only I didn’t know it was the book,” I said.

“You said that book was evil… before, when Chris brought it to the restaurant,” Caeco said.  “Get rid of it—destroy it.”

Verbrennt sie!

“Shut up!” I said to the book.

“What did it say?” Mack asked.

“Verbrennt sie, whatever that means,” I said, considering my options.

“Burn them,” Mack said, looking up from his phone.  “Hey, good idea.”  He dove down to the floor, burrowing in the mess under his bed.  A moment later, he popped up with a propane torch, the kind with the trigger lighter.  A few seconds later, it was burning fiercely in his hands.

But the flame did nothing when he applied it to the book in my hands. In fact, the hair on my arms started to smoke until I used magic to grab the heat and reapply it to the spot he was trying to incinerate.  Still nothing.  Frustrated, Mack pulled out his favorite Balisong folding knife, flicked it around his hand till it was open, and stabbed down at the book.

The cover dimpled under the point, but there was no penetration and when he pulled the knife away, no damage of any kind.

“I remember something about it being protected by strong wards and spells,” I said.

“So what do we do?  You can’t hang on to that thing,” Jetta said.

“If I let go, it screams.  Some kind of mental cry that witches and psychics pick up.  If the other witches or their families hear that and find Sorrow, there will be a blood bath.  It’s like the most valuable grimoire ever,” I said.  “I think I have to hang on to it for the time being till we can figure out what to do with it.”

“I think you are right,” Caeco said, sadly, “and I fucking hate it.”

Chapter 35

I was hungry, so we headed downstairs to grab some food.  I decided to text my aunt about the attack.  I explained as much as I could squeeze into a fairly lengthy couple of paragraphs.  Her reply back:  I know.  Gina called.  On my way.

I think I won some points for telling her but lost a few for telling her after Gina did.  And speaking of Gina, into the dining room she came.  Her eyes flicked around the room till they found me, hands and mouth each full of PB&J sandwich.  She waved me over to her so I went, but my sandwich went with me.

“Listen, we—meaning Oracle—reported the attack and death to the FBI because they take over interstate crimes.  They’re sending your favorite FBI agent, Krupp, but it’s mostly a formality.  And I told your aunt… she’s coming too,” Gina said.

“I know—about aunt Ash.  I texted her.  Should I have a lawyer or something for when I meet with Agent Krupp?  I don’t think she likes me much.”

“I doubt she dislikes you, although you did antagonize her.  But like I said, I’ve been assured that the crime scene work that our own guys did was satisfactory and that the school cameras caught the fight supporting the unprovoked attack.  The fact that she flung you and half the cars around along with Miss Flynn’s condition make it clearly an open and shut case of self-defense.  I will sit in on the questioning. She’ll be here shortly.”

“Okay.  Awesome,” I said.  “But thanks for telling me.”

“You should probably say hi to Ryanne.  She’s asked about you.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll pop in on her now, then.”

Dr. Rosewell nodded to me as I came into her office before going back to the pile of papers she was filling out.  I wondered for a second how you classified a witch attack on health insurance forms.

The exam room was around the corner from her office and as I poked my head around, I immediately spotted Ryanne’s sister, Gael.  She saw me before I could pull back and beat a retreat.

“Here now.  Here’s the lad of the hour,” she said, pinning me with green eyes that matched her sister’s.

Ryanne’s oldest sister, Aileen, poked her head around the corner and beckoned me into the room.  “Declan, is it?  Come on in. Ryanne’s been wondering how ye were?”

Trapped like a mouse on a sheet of glue, I moved further into the room.  Ryanne was sitting up in bed, her last sister, Mary, by her side.  An older man and woman stood at the foot of the bed and in the far corner, an old woman and young girl sat in folding chairs.

“Hey, D, I was wondering if ye were still among the living or not.  Gina told me ye were jest banged up a bit,” Ryanne said.

“I’m, ah fine,” I said, glancing around.

“Aye ye are,” Gael agreed with a smirk.

“Leave off, ye shameless flirt,” Ryanne said, taking a swipe at her sister, who just stepped back out of range.  “Declan O’Carroll, this is me mum, Megan Flynn, and me da, James Flynn.”

Her father wasn’t big, being a bit under average height, but he was fit looking in a working man kind of way and his grip was firm and callused when I took his extended hand.

“Thank ye for being there fer my lass,” he said, his eyes holding mine.  He looked shaken, while Ryanne’s mother seemed calmer.  She, too, held out a hand, studying my face.  When I took her hand, she instead pulled me into a quick hug and I noticed the power of another witch in her aura, even as I felt Sorrow slide itself around to the small of my back .

“Oh,” she said, pulling back, eyes wide.  “Ye leak magic like it’s water.”

“I, ah, didn’t mean to intrude or anything.  Just wanted to make sure your daughter was all right.  Let me get out of your hair,” I said, trying to back away.

“Nonsense, yer the hero of the hour.  We want to hear about the attack and all that,” Gael said, smiling.

“Not much to it, really.  She ambushed us, knocking out Ryanne before we knew she was there and then we fought.  I got really lucky and she fell and hit her head.”

“Oh, ye look Irish, but ye don’t know a thing about proper bragging, now do ye?” Mary asked.  “Our plane was landing about that time and we felt the fight from the airport, we did.”

“Aye, it was like fireworks going off all at once,” Aileen said.  “Ye don’t have to hold back with us, Declan,” she said, glancing at the old woman in the corner.  “We already know who yer mum was.”

I looked closer at the old lady, noticing that her expression wasn’t all warm and welcoming like the Flynns’.  Hers was closed and cool and the girl by her side held herself the same way.

“Ah, Declan, these are some more folk from back home who came to meet you,” Ryanne said, her tone nervous.

The old lady tapped her finger on her knee once and power flowed like the Niagara Falls.

Only it was the girl who drew it, pulling waves of energy from all around.  Instantly, my shields snapped up and I started my own pull, finding myself in a tug of war with a hazel-eyed, freckle-faced teenage witch for the surrounding energy.  She’d already glommed onto the ready power in the air around us, so I put my hand on the light switch and pulled current.  The lights snapped out as the girl threw up a shield.

It was a shield of Air and it was so thick, I couldn’t have got through it with an ICBM.  It went from the floor to the ceiling, blocking off their side of the room, like a bomb shelter.  The Flynns were all casting their own shields, watching to see what would happen. The girl was strong and her shield massive, yet it only protected their front side.  I could attack the building, knock out the walls behind them or drop part of the ceiling on them.  But that would be excessive.  My hand was still on the outlet and the answer came to me in a flash.  As did a spell I’d never seen before, one that just popped up, superimposed on my vision, ready to be cast.  It was an extraction spell and it was designed to drain the two witches in the corner of all their power to the point of death.

Sorrow’s contribution stopped me in mid-draw, my body stepping back of its own accord.

A foot scraped behind me, but the voice that came next stopped my defensive response.  “They be testing ye, lad.  Waiting to see what ye can do and what ye will do. Right, Macha? So… whatcha going to do, lad?” my aunt asked.  How the hell did she keep showing up at these awkward moments?  Ah right… witch with strong divination skills.

I put my back to the wall so she could enter the room, but I didn’t take my eyes off the two in the corner.

Several things popped into place in my head.  It helped that Aunt Ash was cool as a cucumber.

I reversed the flow of power through the outlet, pushing instead of pulling.  My outlet connected with the rest of the room’s outlets, including the one on the wall behind Macha Banfill and her young assistant.  A blue arc of electricity snapped out and licked the metal chairs they sat on.  With a cry, both jumped up and the girl’s shield slipped, just a bit, but enough.  I slipped a bolt of force through the sudden opening near the ceiling and picked both witches up, slamming them lightly against the wall.  The Air shield dropped completely.

“Nicely done, lad,” my aunt said, her eyes never leaving the two on the wall.

The old woman raised her chin slightly, meeting Ashling’s eyes.

“Declan, be a good lad and put the lights back on, would ye?” Aunt Ashling requested. “Oh, and I think ye can put them down now.”

After a second’s pause, I complied, putting the borrowed power back into the lines.  One of the bulbs overhead popped, flashed, and went dark again, but the others all came back on.

“Sloppy,” the old woman, Macha, said, eyeing me with disapproval as she straightened her clothes. The young witch was rubbing her butt where the shock had hit, glaring at me.

Du Miststück!  Sorrow said in my mind.  Have to look that one up, but I think I got the general idea

Aunt Ash laughed, her tone mocking.  “That ye are Macha, that ye are.  Declan, if yer done paying yer respects to Miss Ryanne, there’s some agents what want to talk to ye.”

“Are you sure?  Leaving you here?” I asked.

“Oh aye.  That was all the fireworks for the moment, lad.  But should ye feel them do anything else, yer to come for me. Ye hear, Warlock?”

I nodded as the old lady’s eyes widened at the word.

“Alright then, Ry.  Ladies, Mr. Flynn.  I’ll just be going. Get better fast, Ry. We’re all waiting to hear the Sisters Eerie play,” I said.

“Oh, I’m feeling better already, I am,” she said, glancing with amusement at her wide-eyed family who were still too startled to do more than nod as I left.

Chapter 36

Outside, I found Gina waiting in the hallway.  She looked up at the lights overhead and raised one eyebrow.

“I was under adult supervision,” I said.  She frowned but didn’t say anything as she turned and led me down the hall.

“Well, first time meeting the woman who drove my aunt and mother out of Ireland.  Bound to be some tension,” I said.  “I don’t really like leaving my aunt in there alone.”

“She’ll be fine,” she said, pointing into her office doorway as we passed.  I could see Toni playing with a tablet in a chair.  She looked up and waved at me.

“I’ve got the big gun nearby in case things go downhill,” she said.  The God Tear necklace wouldn’t allow any heavy shit near Toni and it might even side a bit with the woman who helped create it.

We ended up in a room next to Gina’s office, which put us two doors from the medical offices anyway.  I was close by if Ashling needed me.

Inside, Agent Krupp and Agent Mazar were sitting in front of a monitor, the screen frozen on a camera scene from the parking lot fight.

They broke off their conversation and stared at me.

“As I said before, I’ll be sitting in or, if you object to that, we can wait for a Demidova attorney to arrive.  Tanya has one ready to helicopter up from the City if needed,” Gina said.

Wow, word really does travel fast.

“That’s not necessary.  Just a few questions,” Krupp said. “We watched it twice before the power abruptly went out and came back on.”

“Old building,” Gina said with a little smile.  Krupp frowned, then focused on me.

“You’re a witch,” she stated, then stared, waiting.

“Um, I know,” I said after a quick glance at Gina.

A frown flickered across her face before it smoothed back out.  “The other two are like you?” she asked, waving a hand at the monitor.

“Witches?  Yes,” I said, keeping my answers short like Darci always warned me to.

“So this one attacks Miss Flynn for no reason?” Krupp asked, pointing to the figure on the monitor of the woman I killed.

“She attacked without warning,” I said.

“Why do you suppose she did that?” Mazar asked.

I got a nod from Gina so I ventured forth.  “I think she was likely after our power.”

“To what, drain you?” Mazar asked.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that?” Krupp asked.

“Because we were following the story of a circle of witches that were killed in New York.  The ritual space looked like a single witch, possibly the circle leader, had drained the others.”

“How do you know all that and how do you know this woman was that witch?” Krupp asked.

“Um, we’re witches.  We know rituals and shit when we see it.  And she was wearing a Yankees hoodie, so I leaped to the assumption that she was from the City.  Also, she was actively trying to beat the shit out of us.  She almost killed Ryanne.”

“Why did she attack Ryanne first, do you think?” Mazar asked.

After another nod from Gina, I said,  “Ryanne’s female.  The witch saw her as the greater threat.”

“So males are weaker?” Mazar asked.

“Generally,” I said.

“But not you?” Krupp asked.  I thought about how to answer, which Krupp must have taken for unwillingness to answer.  “I ask that because the rest of the fight only took about thirty seconds before you exploded her head.”

I kept quiet.

“What was it you did to her head?” Mazar asked.

“I, ah, removed all the heat from it—all at once,” I said, swallowing.

“Is that a common spell?” Krupp asked.

“I don’t know.  I was running low on power and time.  She was blinded, but that didn’t make her less dangerous, just disoriented.  Removing the small amount of heat in a head is easier than, say, adding enough to incinerate it,” I said, immediately cursing myself for answering too much.

The agents exchanged glances.

“You were attacked and kidnapped as a child, correct?” Krupp asked.

“Not sure what that has to do with today?” I asked.

“Another attack, another dead attacker,” Krupp said.

“He got electrocuted,” I said.

“Yes, fascinating coincidence.  The man, an accomplished serial rapist and murderer, kidnaps a young witch and somehow electrocutes himself,” Krupp said.

“What’s your point?” I asked.

“Tell us, what did you think of the last few days’ presentations?” Mazar asked out of left field.  I think I got a little whiplashed trying to stay with the change in direction.

“They were okay.”

“Just okay?” Krupp asked.

“Some were pretty interesting.  The stuff about the religious groups, the proposed laws, and the terrorist group that got ripped up by a werewolf was cool.”

“Which ones didn’t you like?” Mazar asked.

“Well, it’s not like I hated any of them.  But the population assessments on weres and vampires were pretty funny.”

“Funny?  How were they funny?” Krupp asked.

“They overestimated numbers and locations all over the place.  Nowhere near that many of either type,” I said.

“And you know this how?” Mazar asked.

“Ah, I go to school with them.  We, like, talk and stuff.”

“What about witches?” Krupp asked.

“What about them?  They didn’t mention them,” I said.

“Oh that’s right.  Must be because they didn’t know about them.  Oracle never said anything about them,” Krupp said, looking at Gina.

“Hey, don’t look at me.  I don’t work for Oracle.  I run Arcane, which is co-sponsored by Demidova Corp and Oracle.  Nobody ever asked me about witches,” Gina said with a shrug.

“Are witches numerous or scarce?” Mazar asked.

My turn to shrug.  “I don’t know.  I would say definitely more than weres and vampires combined, but they vary greatly.  I would guess that most are fairly weak.  The strong ones tend to be born into circles.  Then there are the non-magical kind that just practice it as a religion.”

“Your aunt might know more?” Mazar asked.

“Maybe.  She knows more than me, that’s for sure.”

“Did you know that we can’t find a clear trail of your aunt’s citizenship?  The paper trail is rather murky. Leaves us with questions as to whether she’s actually a citizen or here illegally,” Krupp said.

I felt myself go still as the threat settled over me.

Verbrennt sie!  Sorrow suggested.  I remembered that one.  Burn them.

“You’re playing with fire, agents,” Gina interjected, her eyes on me briefly, before flicking to the feds.  “Should you execute on that threat, the Demidova Corp will just tie you up in court.”

“We can still deport her,” Krupp said.

“Yes, and instantly alienate the most valuable resource you could ever hope to gain.  Face it, with the exception of DOAA and Oracle, the entire U.S. law enforcement and intelligence apparatus is reeling from the exposure of vampires, lycanthropes, and now witches and psy-enabled individuals.  You have no idea who they are, how to detect if they were involved in a crime, or how to apprehend them if you could prove it.  Which is why you two are here on a fishing expedition.  Congratulations, you’ve found a big fish, big fishes actually.  But you’re just about to scare them off completely,” Gina said.  “Did you watch the video?  Did you understand what you were seeing?  Because I’ve been following this stuff for most of my career and I didn’t follow all of it.  I did follow the self-defense part, though. That was pretty clear.  But this part where you to try to threat leverage a kid who is sponsored by the fastest growing corporation on earth and is a clear favorite of the Hammer of God, well this part seems to be poorly thought out.  A kid that just defeated another witch who most likely murdered eleven others and evaded law enforcement for weeks.”

The two agents stared at her, then Mazar glanced at Krupp, who seemed locked up. Looking at me and finally back at Gina, Mazar nodded.  “You are right.  The world’s police forces have no idea how to do their jobs.  I’m actually seconded to the FBI from Shabak, which is Israel’s internal police force.  As you say, we are seeking answers.  I was chosen, as I have a background in theology.  My father is somewhat famous in those circles.”

“Thank you for being honest, Agent Mazar.  As it turns out, Declan’s mother was pretty famous in witch circles,” Gina said. “So you’ve at least chosen well.”

“Maeve Irwin?” Mazar asked.  “Who died in Boston?”

I nodded, my throat suddenly tight.

“So, Declan, can you tell us what happened?” Mazar asked again. “With the witch in the parking lot?”

“Pretty much what I said before.  I’m pretty sure she was here to drain witches.  I have no idea how she found the school, but she was packing the power of eleven other witches, so who knows what she was capable of,” I said, sticking with the truth.

“She took out Miss Flynn, thinking she was the threat, yet you then beat her in magical combat?” Mazar said, grimacing a bit over the word magical.

“Yes,” I said.

“But she was all leveled up, packing big guns,” Krupp said.  I must have looked shocked as she shrugged.  “I have nephews.”

“Declan’s mother was an extraordinary witch, both in skill and power.  Despite being born with a Y chromosome, Declan is, from all reports, just as extraordinary.”

Two Y chromosomes, thank you very much, I thought to myself.  That bit of info would be best kept secret, though.

“You reacted very quickly—very effectively,” Krupp noted.

“I have some training,” I said.

“Is that what Arcane does for you?”

“Arcane pays for my college, but it does teach us self-defense, which is what I did.

I self-defended,” I said.

Both agents paused a moment.

“You are heavily connected to Gordon and Demidova,” Krupp stated, but it felt like a question.

“Declan and his girlfriend, Caeco Jensen, are the reason Arcane exists.  Chris and Tanya are very interested in their well-being,” Gina said.

I hadn’t ever heard that before, that they created Arcane with us in mind.

“He’s probably a hero to you or something?” Krupp asked. I may have nodded.  She went on, “And yet he’s done more to destabilize the world than any ten terrorist groups put together.”

Hah.  We had covered this in Gina’s class.

“Did he?  Or did he restabilize it?” I asked, holding up one finger.  Gina smiled to herself and leaned back.  “The U.S. didn’t start World War II, but we finished it with the atomic bomb.  For a short time, we were the only ones with that weapon, then others caught up.

“Chris didn’t start the issue with AIR that led to him bombing that base in New Hampshire, but he sure finished it.  And that left him free to clean up the destabilizing forces of Hell that were the side-effect of science.”

“But now he’s a rogue force, only roughly aligned with the government, and he’s basically the equivalent of a nuclear power,” Krupp said.

“As you just said, no one controls him.  Which is why there have been attacks on Toni and her parents: to control him.  They all failed, fairly spectacularly, and as a result… they stopped.  So for the time being, his neutrality lends itself to stability,” I replied.

We had argued this point around and around in class.  There were no solid answers and for every point I had made, I already knew the counters.

Krupp looked like she might press on, but her partner leaned forward.

“So, Declan, now that you know how far out of our element we are, do you have any suggestions?” Mazar asked.

“Am I being arrested or anything?” I asked.

“No, Director Velasquez was correct.  Your actions clearly reflect self-defense,” Mazar said.

“Okay, that’s cool.  Um, with the whole law enforcement thing, I think you need to hire some supernaturals to work for you.  Some of the psychic kids here would be awesome cops, like the telepaths and psychometric kids.  Weres of any kind make great fighters and trackers.  They could pick up stuff at a crime scene that would blow away your CSI techs.  And witches can do all kinds of things.  My aunt regularly finds missing people for the Chittenden County Sheriff’s department.  They just think she’s psychic,” I said.

“What else?” Mazar asked.

“When does the tournament start?” I asked Gina.  My team and Delwood’s had been seeded for Friday’s playoffs and I hadn’t paid much attention to the early rounds timetable.  I had planned today as a down day—so much for that.

“Three o’clock.  That’s a good idea, Declan.  You would be able to see firsthand the kinds of skills we were talking about. The kids have their own sport, Wytchwar.  It’s played with avatars on a model game course in our basement level.  You would learn a lot by watching them play.  This afternoon, we start a three-day tournament.  If you’re lucky, the game’s creator might explain it to you, if he’s free,” Gina said, turning to me.

Both agents looked my way.  “I could probably spare some time,” I allowed, mentally waving goodbye to my dreams of a long afternoon nap, preferably with Caeco. “Can I go now?”

Krupp nodded, then asked, “What exactly is an avatar?”

“Kind of like a mini-golem.  Each kid in the school has one tuned for them.  We sort of mentally drive them,” I said.

“Golem?” Mazar asked, eyes wide, at the same time Krupp asked, “Drive them?”

“Well, I linked each avatar to a kid, and they kind of share awareness and motor function with it.  Some skills are spelled into them, like movement skills, so that the kid doesn’t have to be a witch or telekinetic to operate them,” I said to Krupp.  Turning to Mazar, I explained further, “Real golems are fairly autonomous. These mini-versions won’t function without a human operator.  Kinda like a remote control airplane versus those drones that the DARPA guy had.”

“So they’re not real golems?” Mazar asked, disappointed.

“No, those take a lot of time and planning to build.  I haven’t made one for years,” I said.

“You make golems?” Mazar asked, enunciating each word slowly and carefully like she didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.

“I have.  I made a golem dragon for my own version of the game when I was a kid.  Also made a big one to haul firewood, but my aunt made me get rid of it.”

She was speechless, but I could see the wheels turning in her head as she processed that.  A second later, my brain caught up.  Israeli—theologist—golems—Judisim and rabbis, who made the first golems.  Ah.

“Okay, I’ll catch you later, at three, downstairs,” I said, making my getaway and thinking of a short nap.

Chapter 37

I made it almost back to my room before Janek and Darina stepped out in front of me.

“Ah, hi,” I said, looking between them for clues as to what they wanted.

“Hi Declan,” Darina said, then smiled.  It was kinda creepy.  The girl never smiled… now I knew why.

“Declan, we wondered if we might have a moment of your time?” her brother asked.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“We have been requested to make an introduction,” Janek said a little nervously.  Whoever made the request was someone who he either feared or respected or both.

“Right now?”

“Thank you, that would be terrific,” he said, turning and leading me down the hall to the student lounge.

A man was sitting near the door to the lounge, which was uncharacteristically closed, and he came to his feet as we approached.  Middle-aged, very fit, with gray at his temples and wearing an expensive-looking suit.

“Declan, this is our father, Kral Vrana, Alpha of the Carpathian Pack,” Janek said.

The guy looked like a bigshot, rich and powerful, which made the slight signs of tension stand out.  His eyes darted around too much and his movements were tight.  Not what I expected from a werewolf bigshot.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said, thinking this would be quick and I could still catch a snooze.

“A pleasure,” he said, turning immediately to his son.  “You, Janek, need to make the introduction.”

“But father,” Janek began, but his dad interrupted him, speaking in what I assumed was Hungarian or Romanian or some whatever.

“Very well,” Janek said when his father wound down.  He took a deep breath and opened the door to the lounge and led me in.

A giant, at least six-ten or better, stood to one side, watching everything, the handle of a frigging sword jutting up over one shoulder.  But he wasn’t the most interesting thing in the room.  Two women were sitting on one of the couches, maybe two feet apart.  One was blonde, really pretty, but old, like thirty maybe.  The other was older, maybe even forty, and serious, with dark eyes and dark hair.  I looked back at the blonde, who watched me with a slight smile.  Dark, dark brown eyes that were set off by her blonde hair, wearing an expensive dark blue dress suit.  Very put together, extremely polished.  Her gaze was interested, while the woman next to her studied me as well but with a slightly bitchy look that said she already didn’t like me. She was wearing a long dress and bright blouse, very Eastern European looking.

Aufpassen!  It sounded like a warning.  No shit, Sorrow.

Janek cleared his throat.  “Elder, may I present my classmate, Declan O’Carroll.  Declan, I have the honor of introducing you to Elder Senka of the Coven.”

I don’t know shit about the Coven.  But I’d heard Tanya and Chris speak a little bit about Elder Senka.  Enough to scare the crap right out of me.  I had no idea how to address her and she was much more dangerous than the sword-wielding giant glaring at my back.

“Your Grace,” I said.  Okay, so we’d been watching a lot of Game of Thrones on TV.  It just friggin’ popped out.

The other woman snorted.  Senka turned her head just ever so slightly and the woman stiffened.

“I am not royalty, Declan.  Just call me Senka, but I do appreciate the respect,” she said, glancing sideways at the woman.  That one rolled her eyes… slightly and quickly.

“This is Veleslava Majtas, who has served me for many years. She is, like you, a witch,” Senka said.  Veleslava snorted again and said something foreign, maybe Hungarian.  Whatever it was, it was derogatory and about me.

Janek spoke back to her in the same language, his tone even but firm.  He spoke at length and although I couldn’t understand a word of it, I could tell two things: he spoke well and he was defending me.

The woman crossed her arms and looked pissy.  Senka looked amused.

“Well spoken, Janek.  Declan, I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.  Janek’s family has a long relationship with me and when I heard he was here, I asked for this introduction,” Senka said.  Her accent was full-on Brit and it was pretty awesome.  Her personality was overwhelming, completely overshadowing everyone else in the room.

“Ah, me, ma’am?” I asked, confused.

“I am deeply interested in my granddaughter’s life,” she said, not bothering to tell me who her granddaughter was, although I already knew that much.

“Now, Tatiana is currently in a bit of a… snit.  So I haven’t exchanged many words directly, you see, but I have plenty of eyes on both her and Christian. I discovered some time ago how much they both favor a young male witch.  Naturally, I had to see for myself.”

“Ah, see what, ma’am?” I asked in brilliant response. If she was testing my intelligence, I think I was failing.

“Why, the boy… my apologies… the young male witch with so much power who Christian likes so much.  My grandson-in-law does not get on with witches, Declan.  Not at all, except for you,” she said.

“Ah, and my aunt,” I pointed out.  Not sure why I offered that up.  Still not representing too well.

“Yes, your famous aunt.  Even Vel will accede to her solid reputation,” Senka said.  Veleslava shrugged, which for her seemed to be a big concession.

“But Veleslava is steadfast in her belief that no male could wield even a tiny bit of the power that has been ascribed to you,” Senka said.

A ball of fire appeared in Veleslava’s hand.  She slowly moved it out in front of us and pulled her hand away, leaving the ball floating in space.

“Put it out,” the witch said, daring me with her dark eyes.

The ball was shielded, that was obvious, as was the fact that it was a test of my strength.  That pissed me off.  Sorrow made a suggestion, just a floating image of a spell super-imposed on my vision. I saw it as glowing runes, a slight variation of the spell Sorrow had offered with Macha and her powerful assistant.  I took it and laid it like floating spiderwebs over the fiery orb as I pretended to bend down and inspect it.

“So, if I understand, you came all this way from Europe or wherever, to meet me?” I asked Senka, now ignoring the orange ball of flame.

“Well, to be truthful, I also met your young friend Ariel.  I had heard there was a Seer here.  Nice girl.  Skillful, I think, but only in a narrow range.  I asked her about you,” she said with a smile.  I waited, ignoring the smug look on Veleslava’s face.

“My specific question was about how it was to be a precognitive in a school of supernaturals.  Did her classmates bug her for test answers and predictions of course material, that sort of thing.  She answered that most of them did, with the exception of her close friends.  She said not a single friend had ever asked her for a prediction or reading.  I was intrigued, so I pressed further.  She said it was as if her roommate, you, your girlfriend and your roommates had never even thought of it.  Which is really terribly odd, don’t you agree?” Senka asked.

I hadn’t ever thought of it and now that she’d pointed it out, I didn’t know why. I couldn’t recall ever even considering asking Ariel for a prediction. I shrugged.  “I suppose it is,” I said, baffled.

“I asked her why that might be.  Her answer—she felt that she was right in the middle of something really important, something brilliant.  And when that occurs, the Seer is as blind as everyone else, and at some level, you all knew it.  Absolutely fascinating,” Senka said.

“Do you know how old I am, Declan?” she asked.  Uh oh.  Danger. Danger.

“No ma’am.  And I wouldn’t ever presume to guess,” I said.

She laughed, her dark eyes holding me in place. “Suffice to say I am the oldest of my kind.  Living this long is not easy. In fact, most Darkkin die by their own hand soon after they reach five hundred years or so.  Boredom and loneliness.  One must find new and interesting things to keep life… spicy.  In all my years, never have I lived in a more interesting time.  Do you know how I spend the majority of my time?”

I thought about it carefully, pretty sure where at least some of this was going.  “Dealing with the fallout of the Battle and Emergence?”

“Exactly so.  Christian and Tatiana have thrown our society into upheaval and chaos.  Darkkin across the planet either fear for their lives or rally for battles they are certain are coming, or want to start. Mortals flock to religion, or their politicians, demanding to be protected from the Darkkin who have lived among them forever. For hundreds of years, I led the Coven in suppressing all knowledge of vampires from the mortal world to prevent just this upheaval.  And now it is all for naught.”

She seemed strangely okay with that fact.  “How do you feel about that?” I asked, maybe unwisely.

She looked at me archly.  “When Tatiana was born, many prophecies were made.  The end of Darkkin, the ascension of Darkkin over mortals, the end of days, even the second Coming.  I didn’t believe in any of those.  But I knew something was coming, something vast.  So while many feel I should be enraged over the Emergence and I should be punishing Tatiana and her Chosen, I have done nothing of the kind.  Do you know why?”

“Because anyone who gets in the God Hammer’s way doesn’t survive?” I asked.

She laughed.  “Something of the sort.  I don’t fear for my survival, young warlock, but I don’t believe it is wise to side against the One God’s champions.  So I put out the fires and I watch, guide, and temper my people.  I calm them down and if that doesn’t work, I cull them from the Coven.  This is not the time to react from fear or anger.  It is the time of careful thought and even more careful maneuvering.  Christian has a way of overcoming everything thrown at him.  Part of it is the extraordinary people he draws to him and surrounds himself with.  You are obviously the latest.”

The witch, Veleslava, said something rude in her language.  Janek sucked a breath and Senka glanced at her companion before looking back at me.

“Vel is of the opinion that you are nothing special.  That you are all hype.  She complains that you haven’t even tried to smash her fire.”

I looked at the orb of fire. Sorrow’s spell was now ripe with absorbed power, the shield almost gone.  Reaching forward, I lightly tapped the burning ball with my left index finger, absorbing the spell and snuffing the flame at the same time.

“She may be right.  I have no way to judge these things,” I said as I leaned back, my eyes on Senka, but my peripheral vision watching the witch.  Her mouth hung open a bit and Senka looked amused.

“I, on the other hand, have over a thousand years by which to judge,” Elder Senka said.  “I am very glad to have met you, young warlock.  Take care of yourself and your friends, especially young Ariel.  Many factions covet the powers of a Seer.  And remember, Christian and Tatiana are impervious to much, but those they surround themselves with are not.”

Janek touched my arm at the same time that I came to the conclusion my audience was over.  Fine by me.  As welcoming as she was, I hadn’t for a second been able to forget that she was the oldest vampire known, sitting here in broad daylight.

Backing away, I nodded respectfully to the Elder and ignored the witch, turning when Janek tugged my arm and following him out the door.

“Thank you Declan,” he said before his father began asking him questions in their own language.  Darina was nowhere to be seen, which struck me as an excellent example and I headed to my room, where I locked the door and warded it with everything I had.  My head spun with the events of the morning and when I finally dozed, my dreams were disturbing.  I was back home in Castlebury, at my friend Jonah’s house, which was normal enough.  But his mother, who was very attractive despite being a mom, kept growing fangs and chasing me around their house while Darci, in full uniform, just watched with her thumbs on her gun belt.  After an hour, I woke up sweaty and less rested than when I laid down.  This day couldn’t end soon enough.

Chapter 38

A shower helped, as did clean clothes, and by the time I was done, it was two-forty in the afternoon.

Caeco answered my text immediately, telling me that she was in the dining room with Mack and Ashley.  More importantly, if I hurried, I could scavenge some snacks they had wheedled from the staff.

Cheese, crackers, and fruit were all that was out, but I was a non-choosy beggar.  Between bites, I updated them on my day of meetings.

“You met the head of the Coven?” Ashley asked, incredulous.

“I think she’s one of the heads.  Chris said there are like three Elders,” I said.

“But she’s the real leader.  I was on a Wytchwar team with Katrina and we talked a bit about the Coven while we waited to ambush the bitches… I mean the witches.”

“She actually talked to you?” Mack asked.

“Yeah.  We’re not BFFs or anything, but she’s okay.  Has absolutely terrifying ideas about how to eliminate avatars, though.”

“So, the de facto head of the worldwide Coven came here to meet you?” Caeco questioned.

“That’s what she said, although we need to find Ariel because Janek introduced her as well,” I said.

“And Janek is buddy-buddy with this ancient geezer of a vampire because…” Mack asked.

“His father is Alpha of the Carpathian Pack.  I get the impression that Senka has lived near them or was from their territory and worked out an alliance generations ago.  The Vranas were nervous as hell around her, though,” I said.

“I just texted Ariel.  She and Jetta went out shopping; they’re on their way back,” Ashley said.

“Senka wanted to meet you and Ariel because Chris and Tanya are focused on you,” Caeco stated.

“On us.  Focused on you and me.  But I’m a witch and Chris doesn’t like witches, except me, and my aunt, and Senka is fascinated by anyone that Chris is interested in.  She said he has this thing for gathering special people around him,” I said.

“Special like short bus special?” Mack asked, straight-faced.

“No, because then you’d be in the first seat,” I said.

“Does anyone else get the impression that Break week is really just an opportunity to display us to any group interested in supernaturals, which is like, everybody,” Ashley questioned.

“It does feel like we are being put up for inspection,” Caeco said.  “What happened with that Macha witch and her ringer?”

“My aunt wouldn’t say much when I texted her.  Said we would talk later, at dinner.  She’s going to be overseeing the tournament, acting as the final word on disputes,” I said.

Every kid in the school had played the game and had driven an avatar, but not all of them liked it.  Pushing your consciousness into a dirt creature wasn’t for everyone, so some of our classmates had taken on the role of referees and gamekeepers.  They would run the tournament under my aunt’s careful supervision.

It was almost three, so we headed down to the basement, finding it crowded with parents and visitors.  Gina must have anticipated the interest as additional folding bleachers had been brought in.

Krupp and Mazar had claimed seats on one of the new ones, so I led my friends over and sat beside them.  Mack made sure to sit last in line, as far from Krupp as he could get.

Out by the course, two teams were getting ready to go at it.  Wytchwar had evolved way beyond my wildest dreams in the last few months.  All the dirt avatars had been customized by their drivers, painted in bright colors, and equipped with all manner of spelled weapons.  The kids sat on two separate benches like any standard sport, except most of them had their eyes closed.  Out on the course, a dozen avatars, split into two groups, worked through a series of exercises to limber up their mental muscles.

“How are they connected to the golems?  Not all of those kids are witches, right?” Mazar asked me.

“None of those are witches.  Each player, actually every kid at Arcane, has a dirt person linked to them with sympathetic magic.  We used a hair from each when we built them, then sealed them to their avatar with a drop of blood when we activated them,” I said.

“But what powers them?” Krupp asked.

“He does,” Caeco said, poking my shoulder.

“Not exactly,” I said, forcing myself not to rub the spot.  That only encouraged her.

“We link each avatar to the building and parking lots.”

“What?” Krupp asked.

“This building and the lots around it are active places.  People coming and going, cars and delivery trucks driving around it at all hours.  Lots of energy.  The spells pull some of that energy the same way that a hybrid car recaptures the breaking energy when the car comes to a stop,” I said.

“You can pull energy from the environment?  Just hoover it up and use it?” Krupp asked.

“It’s complicated and the spells require renewal and attention.  But yes,” I said.

“And that’s enough?, To power all those little golems?” Mazar asked.

“Usually, although sometimes we have to give them a little extra juice,” I said.

“That means him, by the way.  The other witches generally don’t like to share their power, except for Michelle,” Caeco said.

“And Ryanne,” Mack said, unexpectedly and so not helpfully.

Caeco just grunted.

“Okay, welcome guests and visitors.  Our Wytchwar tournament begins with a match between the Burlington Brawlers and the Psychic Swarmers.  Captains, please lead your teams to their assigned starting points.  At the whistle, you may hide your flags and begin,” the girl who was lead ref announced.

Little figures ran across the course, six headed one way, six headed the other.

“We are playing a basic Capture the Flag game.  First team to gain the other’s flag wins.  If one team eliminates the others players entirely without finding the flag, they will be declared the winners,” the ref explained to the audience.  Turning to her assistant refs, she got okay nods that the course wards were all up and running, which would protect the audience and seated players when the game got rough.  A sharp blast on her whistle and the game was on.

“So you either find the hidden flag or knock out all the other team players?” Krupp asked.

“Yup,” I said.

“How do you knock out a golem?” Mazar said.

“Well, remember, they are not full golems.  Each avatar is dirt formed over a spelled steel wire skeleton.  The dirt is hardened, almost like clay or pottery, but if you knock enough of it off, the avatar will collapse,” I explained.

“How will they do that?” Mazar asked. “Knock the dirt off, that is?”

“You will see,” I answered, getting a look in return.

“Any predictions?” Krupp asked, watching for movement.

“The Brawlers will make short work of them,” Caeco said.  At the agents’ questioning glances, she explained.  “They’re a mixed discipline team: a couple of pyschics and two weres, versus a team of pure psychics.  The best teams mix and match strengths.”

“With the exception of the Witch Pack,” Ashley commented.

“As I said before, witches are the generalists of the supernatural world.  We’ve got pretty good versatility, plus the game favors those with the best spells,” I said.

“Or best tactics,” Caeco added.

“Are you in the tournament?” Krupp asked.

“Yes, all four of us are, plus Jetta and our friend Justin.  Caeco’s Commandos,” I said.

“Your Commandos?” Mazar asked, surprised.

“I’m the best tactician,” Caeco said with a shrug.

“But you invented it?” Mazar said to me.

“Doesn’t give me any special advantages,” I said.

Both Ashley and Mack snorted at almost the same time.  They looked at each other and laughed.

“Declan is modest.  He’s the most dangerous single player in the game, but his enthusiasm requires direction,” Caeco said. “Also, he designed the game and its rules to eliminate many of a witch’s advantages, to level the field.”

The game started in earnest and twenty-one minutes later, it was done.  Short by Wytchwar standards.  The outcome was just as Caeco predicted: The Swarmers had chosen to split into three two-man teams to hunt the Brawler’s flag.  The Brawlers had split into two three-man teams to hunt the Swarmers.  The course is big enough to hide a flag well, but not big enough to hide dirt people all that well.  When it was done, the Brawlers had taken out all of the Swarmers with the loss of only two of their own people.  One of those had stepped on a wind spell, one of Erika’s creations that they must have traded for.

At the conclusion of the game, all the injured players were allowed to activate the rebuilding spells, but the girl Brawler whose gal had been wind torn was having problems.  Seeing as the team might have to play again the next morning, it was understandable when she got a bit panicky.  She glanced around the room and locked onto me.  I wasn’t the only witch present, but I was the avatar guru.  I excused myself from the agents when the girl frantically waved me over.

“She won’t take any dirt on her right leg,” the girl, whose name I remembered was Lacy.

I picked up her red-and-blue-painted dirt princess and looked at the exposed steel thigh wire.  Sometimes the runes inscribed in tiny detail on the coat hanger wire get burred by smashing rocks, and that’s what had happened this time.  I set the avatar on the course and held my left hand over it, keeping it upright while I telekinetically spun all the remaining dirt off it.

“Shit, what did you do that for?  Now I gotta repaint her,” Lacy protested.

“Gotta repaint anyway, and I want to check all the runes.  Ah, see, this one is f’d up, too,” I said, looking through a little pocket magnifying glass.  The rest of my little portable repair kit had come out of one of my coat pockets and I snagged a dental pick to re-scribe the damaged runes.  Seconds later, I was done and I reversed the spin maneuver, only this time the dirt leapt off the course and flowed up around her legs, body, and arms.  Then I pulled some heat from the orb floating over the course’s hot zone and baked the dirt hard.

“There.  Let her cool and you can repaint tonight.  Plenty of time till your next match,” I said.

She inspected her avatar, walked her around, and then gave me a quick hug.  “Thanks Declan.  You’re right about the paint.  It would have looked trashy without a full strip and repaint,” Lacy said.  One of her teammates, possibly her roommate, was waiting with her and she gave me a fist bump as I started to walk away.  Heading back to my friends, I noticed that much of the audience had stayed to watch the repairs and now I was under too many sets of eyes to be comfortable.  At least four of my fellow witches were there with their families, and all eyes were watching me.

“Declan, I want to introduce my family,” Paige said as I walked by her, sitting in the lowest level.  I met her mother (a witch), her father (not a witch) and her little brother (also not a witch).  They all looked alike: pleasant, average height, and maybe all a touch overweight.  The trim, middle-aged woman sitting with them didn’t look related.  “Declan, this is Sylvia Westcom, our Circle leader,” Paige said, clearing up the mystery and proving Ryanne’s month-old prediction accurate.

“Very nice to meet you, Declan.  Paige tells us that your mother was Maeve Irwin,” Sylvia said, getting right down to the pedigree, her eyes shining with a little greedy gleam.  I nodded, seeing my aunt approaching from the referees’ box, her eyes locked on my little scene.

“True,” I said, reluctantly shaking her cool hand.

“She never told us who your father was, though?” Sylvia asked.

“Mostly, that would be fer the reason that the lad himself don’t know,” Ashling said, arriving alongside me.

“My aunt, Ashling O’Carroll,” I introduced.

“Oh!  Oh, very nice to meet you,” Paige’s mom gushed.  Sylvia, on the other hand, had pulled back, clearly not expecting a witch celebrity.

“Yer daughter is a joy to have in me class.  Quite gifted,” Aunt Ashling said to Paige’s parents before turning to me.  “Ye’d best be explaining the repairs to the agents, as they look a might perplexed.”

I took her cue and said goodbye to the parents and her brother.  Paige grabbed my arm before I could get away.

“Declan, Davey was wondering if it would be possible for him to drive my avatar.  I didn’t know if we could make that work?” Paige asked, patting her brother’s shoulder.

I thought about that and shook my head.  “That would be too hard to patch together and the control would be off—disorienting.  Why don’t we just hook him up to one of the spares? Make it just a temporary link in case we need it for the tournament players.  We could do it tomorrow after breakfast.”

“Really?” her brother said, openmouthed.

“Yeah, not too tough.  Now, if you’ll all excuse me.”

I beat feet for my friends and the two federal agents, leaving my aunt to deal with the circle leader.  I was beginning to see what Ryanne had meant.

“So the avatars are self-repairing?” Mazar was asking Caeco when I arrived.

“Mostly, although that’s not allowed during the game, and if the underlying spells on the steel frame get damaged, they have to be respelled, which is what you just saw Declan do,” Caeco said.

“That seemed easy,” Krupp said.

“Seemed is the word.  He’s been fiddling with these little monsters all his life, so he’s rather adept at it,” Caeco said.  “He has his own game course set up in an old barn at his home and there’s a dragon there that would fascinate you, Agent Mazar.  Acts like it’s alive and can even breathe fire.”

In mid-February, when the cabin fever was at its worst, I had taken my friends home to see my own game layout and have dinner at Rowan West.  T.J., in particular, had gone crazy over the dragon, insisting on calling it mini-Smaug.

“What was the bomb or whatever, that took that avatar out?” Krupp asked.

“Erika, the Air witch who created it, calls it a Pole Dancer, which is, as you know, a stripper who spins around something.  The rest of us call it a Dyson, like the vacuum cleaner,” I said.  Then in my best British accent, “Driven by cyclonic forces, the Dyson spins rocks and debris around the victim, dicing them.”

“A Pole Dancer?” Krupp asked.

“She’s a bit… forward,” I said.

“You do know that she really only calls them that around boys, right?  The rest of the time she uses Dyson,” Ashley said.

“Ah, didn’t know that.  Did you, Mack?” I asked, uncomfortable.

He laughed.  “Dude, open your eyes.”

“She knows you’re together, right?” Mazar asked, looking at both Caeco and I.

“Witch boys are rare.  Witch circles prize them for breeding purposes.  Almost always guarantees a powerful witch daughter.  Declan is in a special class, and a big chunk of the guests here are Circle leaders looking him over,” Ashley said.  “Erika, the class slut, would love to add him to her trophy room and her approach is, shall we say… direct.”

“Fascinating,” Mazar said, reminding me of a female Spock.

Krupp, for the first time since I met her, looked positively amused. “That would piss me off,” she said.

“Yup,” Caeco said.  “The only thing keeping her alive is that Declan despises her.”

“Really?  The tall blonde with the big boobs?” Krupp asked me.

“Yeah.  Cheerleader type.  My history of interactions with cheerleaders has been thoroughly unpleasant.  I’m not a fan, whatever the exterior looks like,” I said.

“Hmm, what about her twin?” Krupp pressed, watching me closely.

“Britta’s okay.  She’s got a boyfriend back in Michigan.  Much more serious than her sister,” I said.

“And there’s only a handful of witches, right?” Krupp pressed.

“There’s less than fifty kids here total.  It’s a pilot program and the supernatural community is skeptical. Very reluctant to send kids here. Which is the reason for visitors’ weekend.  Wytchwar and other demonstrations of some of our classes are geared toward improving that opinion.  So we only have nine witches and like ten weres.  The rest are mostly psychics,” Caeco explained.

“Or not,” Mack said lightly.

“Right, Mack, Jetta, and I are not psychic, witchy, or lycanthropic,” Caeco said.

“And you three were handpicked by Chris Gordon and Miss Demidova,” Mazar stated.

“Yup,” Mack said.

“What about the Irish witch, the one you with you when the attack happened?” Krupp asked.

“Ryanne?  I don’t think Chris even knows her,” I said.

“She means how do you feel about her if you’re not attracted to Erika?” Caeco said,  her eyes locking on me like lasers. “You know: the witty, beautiful Irish singer who charms everyone she meets.”

Aufpassen!  Again, no shit, Sorrow.

“Ah, well, she’s a friend.  We have an English class together,” I said, proud of my smooth and nonchalant delivery.

“Yeah, a friend,” Caeco said.  “I’m going to get something to eat.  Excuse me, agents,” she said, standing and jumping to the floor below with casual agility.

I didn’t need Ashley’s elbow to tell me I should be moving, but I got it anyway.

“Okay, great chat.  See you around,” I said, putting my long legs to good use.  I caught up in five strides.

“Not sure I want you around me right now,” Caeco said, moving toward the stairway at a formidable pace.

“Right.  You’re upset.  You don’t like Ryanne, Ryanne likes me, and I’m still friends with her.  I get all that.  But I’ve made it clear that I’m with you,” I said.

She stopped so fast, I got whiplash.  “So… you told her you’re with me, is that right?” she asked dangerously.

I had made a mistake, but for the life of me, I couldn’t identify it.  “Ah, yeah,” I offered carefully.

“So, in effect, you’re telling her, when she tells you she likes you, that you can’t be with her because you’re with someone else,” she restated.  I nodded slowly, sensing a trap I was helpless to avoid. “But you never told her that you didn’t like her like that, did you?  So being a bright girl, she’ll assume that you could, in fact, like her, but that you are currently, what, obligated to another?”

And there it was.  Damn, I hate when I walk straight into those.  I’d rather fight Delwood with no magic than spar with Caeco verbally.  I held silent for a moment, thinking about my answer.

“And by your silence, you are answering me,” she said.

“Actually, I’m thinking about this very carefully,” I said, starting to get angry.  “You asked me a question and I am going over everything I ever said to her so that I answer you truthfully.  Because that’s what you and I do—tell each other the honest answer.

“So here it is:  She asked me why we were together, she thought you were pretty and everything, but couldn’t put our personalities together.  So I explained how much we share, how we have such similar backgrounds and have much we’ve both been outsiders and how we understand each other.  How we have a bond.  And no, I never said I didn’t like her because it was never part of the discussion.”

She studied me for a moment.

“But you could like her?” she asked. “If I wasn’t in the picture, you could like her?”

“Like you could like Mr. Jenks if I wasn’t in the picture?” my mouth stupidly asked.

“Whaat?” she was shocked.  Then angry, but somewhere in between, I had seen guilt, even if it was just a flash.  “What did you just say?”

“Like I gotta say it again?” I asked, knowing she had heard and could literally rewind the conversation.  It was something I had worried about and feared for some time.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, then I was stumbling back from the stiff arm I didn’t see coming.  “You’re a total dick,” were her last words before spinning and leaving.  I was smart enough to stay put this time and smart enough not to say the words that wanted to come out of my mouth.

“What the fuck did you do?” Ashley demanded, Mack trailing behind her.

“She got in my face about how I could like Ryanne if she wasn’t around , so I compared it to her liking Mr. Jenks,” I said.

“Mr. Jenks?” Mack asked.

“Oh, no.  How did you know that?” Ashley asked, horrified.

“It’s kind of obvious if you watch her.  She doesn’t suffer fools and he’s an older, mature guy, very competent, who treats her as an equal.  Also, she never had a father so, I don’t know, maybe that’s there, too,” I said.

“You can’t see how remaining friends with Ryanne causes trouble, but you can see that?” Ashley questioned.  I noticed that neither Caeco or Ashley had denied the crush.  “And then you hit her with it?  Now?”

“Yeah, I threw it back at her.  And now?  Now? What about now?  How is this bad timing?  I’m the one who almost died today. I’m the one who had to end a life,” I said.

“Ah dude.  You might want to lower your voice,” Mack said, looking around.  We were drawing attention.  I was drawing attention.

Ashley ignored it.  “That’s exactly what I mean.  Twice you’ve been in mortal danger and twice she wasn’t there for you.  It’s not all about you, Declan.”  She turned and copied Caeco’s exit.

“Dude, what just happened—aside from you stepping in deep shit and claiming your girl has daddy issues?” Mack asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Declan,” my aunt called, approaching us.  “Ye’ve had a bloody bad day, lad.  Why don’t you come home for the night and have dinner with Darci and me? Ye can come back first thing in the morn for the tourney drawing.”

“Dude, that’s actually a great idea.  You’ll sleep better at home,” Mack said.

I thought about it.  On the one hand, it felt like running away, but on the other hand, I had been burying the morning events deep in my mind all day and tonight they were bound to come gushing forth.  Maybe home was okay, at least for one night.  Caeco sure wouldn’t miss me.

“Okay.  I’ll drive separate, though.  That way, I can be here when Miss Berg draws the matches tomorrow,” I said.

“Grand, grand. I’ll make ye one of your favorites for dinner,” Ashling said.  I nodded, caught a shoulder clap from Mack and then walked away, ignoring all the faces pointing our way.

Chapter 39

Even surrounded by my own room, lying in my own bed, I didn’t really get any sleep.  The image of that strung-out witch, staring at me through her unwashed bangs, was burned into my eyelids—except when it was replaced with the slow-motion timbering of her body and the crystal shattering of her skull.

Luckily, I could distract myself with memories of my girlfriend hanging on every word my sadistic survival instructor uttered.  That was helpful.  On a good note, Sorrow had managed to stay quiet.

At least by being home, I didn’t keep Mack awake.  I crawled out of bed early and took a long, hot shower, my second in less than twelve hours.  Something about not having to share a bathroom with a bunch of sloppy, loud, obnoxious dudes.

When I entered the apartment behind the restaurant, I found Darci cooking breakfast.  A quick review of the newspaper headlines found no mention of the apocalypse, so I must have been looking a bit confused when she glanced over at me.

“Plot twist.  The tough but beautiful deputy uncharacteristically demonstrates her sophisticated culinary skills to her favorite step-nephew,” she said with a grin, shoveling runny scrambled eggs and overcooked bacon onto a plate for me.

I kissed the top of her head, which both pleased her and simultaneously pissed her off.  Her mock growl failed to scare me.

“Just because your center of gravity is a mile off the floor and your most vulnerable parts are in easy punching range is no reason to get cocky,” she said.

“Thanks Darci,” I said, both for the food and the banter.  “Where’s Aunt Ash?”

“Hey, sensitive and savvy, that’s me,” she said to the first.  “She’s out making sure everything is in place for the restaurant tomorrow.  She’s gotta big gig at that fancy new college facility, ya know.”

My aunt would run the finals of the tournament tonight.  The finalists would be decided today from among Caeco’s Commandos, The Burlington Brawlers, Delwood’s Wolver-machines, and team Witch Slap.  Miss Berg would run this morning’s event.

“So, how you doing?” she asked in an imitation Brooklyn accent.

“Eh,” I said, digging into the eggs and discovering melted cheese mixed in.  Cheese can fix lots of cooking errors.

“Ash said you had girlfriend issues on top of the self-defense incident,” Darci said.

“Caeco thinks I want to be with Ryanne and I’m of the opinion that she’s crushing on our survival instructor, Mr. Jenks,” I said.

“Ah.  Jealousy mixed with hot for teacher.  Classic.  Listen, Declan.  Caeco’s a great kid, which despite the whole engineered-for-combat thing, is what she is.  Same with you: you’re just a punk-ass eighteen year old, despite the being the Goddess’s gift to witchkind.  You’re both kids and this is the first real romance for both of you.  So the emotions are sharp and pointy at both ends of the spectrum.  But this is just the beginning for both of you.  If it ends, and who knows… it might not, then treasure it for what is was and let it help guide you in your next relationship.”

I didn’t want to think about next relationships.  I didn’t feel like there would be any next relationship.

“Now, any issues with defending yourself and your friend?  Any second doubts about preventing two homicides by someone who, for reasons outside your control, attacked you with intent to kill?” she asked, her voice shifting to a more professional tone.

Only the idea that if I tried to get rid of Sorrow, it would find another witch and do the same thing all over again.  I kept that to myself, as I had already kept quiet about Sorrow’s appearance.  No part of me could see how involving others would help me with my book problem.

“No.  I spent the whole night thinking about it.  You know, wondering if I could have done anything different and kept her alive.  Like that,” I said.

“And?”

“She was kicking my ass.  I’d blinded her, but there are ways around that and she was going to settle down and start using them.  She was really skilled, had some spells and shields I didn’t know what to do with.  No, I can’t think of anything else I could have done.  I couldn’t beat her shield on raw power, not without time to draw from somewhere else.  So I snuck inside her guard and pulled rather than pushed,” I said.

“Listen, I don’t know shit about the Craft, but I understand confrontation.  Believe me, I do.  When you are fighting for your life, you have to take the kill shot if it presents itself.  Your aunt and I would be holding a wake for you right this moment if you had chosen different,” she said.

That mental image was sharp and clear.  It helped put things in perspective.

“Thanks, Darci.  A lot.  For breakfast, too,” I said, getting up and giving her a hug.

“No problem.  Just don’t tell Ashling about how devastatingly delicious my cooking is.  It would crush her self-image,” she said with a smirk.

“Hah.  Don’t worry about that.  I can guarantee those words won’t come out of my mouth,” I said, grabbing the Beast’s keychain.

“Brat!  Go on; we’ll see you later,” she said as I left my home.

I got back to Arcane a few minutes before nine a.m. and headed straight for the basement.

Miss Berg was drawing the teams for the first match, the team captains standing around her as she pulled marked tokens from a paper bag.

“It’ll be the Brawlers vs. Commandos, and Were-machines vs the Witch Slap,” she said, lining up the four tokens as she had drawn them.  “Brawlers and Commandos first.  Captains, you have ten minutes to get your act together.”

“Oooh, Carl, you are so gonna get your ass spanked,” Erika, team Slap’s captain, said to the leader of the Brawlers.  Then she saw me.  “And Declan, when we’re all done down here, we can head to my room for some other spanking.”

Die Schlampe! Sorrow said.  Gonna have to look that one up, but from the tone, it didn’t sound complementary.

“Then he can run home from that, too,” Caeco said, just loud enough for the other captains to hear.

Du Miststück!  That one I already knew… bitch.

“Oooooh, dude, she burned you,” Delwood said, his expression a combination of delight and surprise.

I didn’t say anything back, just looked Caeco up and down before deliberately looking over to Mr.Jenks, who was now talking to Miss Berg.  Caeco’s khaki tactical pants and black skin-tight performance top were almost identical to his.  They even wore desert combat boots.

My silent comparison was not lost on the others, who looked either puzzled or shocked.  Caeco flushed, ever so slightly, then frowned and got up in my face.

“You up for this match today?  Say the word and we’ll get a replacement,” she demanded.

“No substitutes this late in the competition,” Erika said.  “That’s the rules.  Otherwise, we’d take him on our team, where he belongs.”

“Ready.  In fact, if you want to sit this one out and watch from the teacher’s box I can carry your slack,” I said back, ignoring Erika.

“As if.  You will follow my instructions or sit out yourself,” she replied.  I recognized her Leader mode, one of her fallbacks when she was upset.

“This is gonna be fun,” Mack muttered to his sister, Ashley, and Justin as they came up.  Caeco led us over to a dark corner.

“Ashley, you plant the flag and post on overwatch.  Make sure you have extra gun tubes.  Jetta, Mack, Justin, you are all with me.  We’ll hunt both the Brawlers and their flag at the same time,” Caeco said.  I waited, but she didn’t address me.

Mack and the others looked confused and finally Mack opened his mouth.  “What about Declan?  Where are you going to use him?”

“Declan can go do whatever he wants, which is what he usually does.  I only want people that will listen to me,” she told him after glancing at me.  I snorted, turning my back on her and heading over to check on Double D.  I was actually so mad I could literally see red.

Each avatar had a cubby on the wall, with a warded door and storage for ammo and spelled weapons.  I put my hand on D’s door and it popped open, allowing me to grab gun tubes and start loading them into his arm brackets.

The use of replaceable copper tubes, preloaded with spelled ammo, had grown out of the flamethrowers.  Turns out that fire wasn’t very useful against clay people, not unless you used plasma and that was forbidden by Gina as too dangerous to the school, the students, and the spectators.  But the fire tubes quickly evolved into single-shot guns shooting ball bearings, propelled by a compressed air spell, cast by enterprising witches.  I skipped the standard tubes and loaded some experimental ones of my own design, a new approach.

The bleachers were filling up and I could see lots of extra people with the witch families.  I also saw Ashley’s minder, Neeve.  The two agents, Mazar and Krupp, were back and that hard-assed general, Creek, was even there, sitting with a man and woman who looked as military as he did.

“Dude, you okay?” Mack asked, Justin just behind him.

“Okay?  Why Mack, I’m abso-fucking-lutely fantastic,” I said, smiling.  They both recoiled a bit from my expression

“Uh oh,” Justin said in his deep voice.

“Just keep it together for the match, alright?” Mack asked, clearly worried I was going off the deep end.

“Sure,” I agreed, pulling more spelled artifacts out of storage and sticking them to DD’s vest.  All the avatars wore loadbearing gear now, most of it hand-sewn or modified from toy dolls. DD’s is handmade from fine copper mesh, with a rune-carved chest plate of soft copper. All my own work, which puzzled the hell out of my friends and competitors.  It was new and its secrets would soon be out.

“Teams to the benches, faces away from the course,” Miss Berg called out.

We placed our avatars on the landscape, then turned and sat on the benches so that we faced the audience.  Only a few of us could drive the dirt players with our regular eyes open and it was considered cheating, if you could handle the double vision.  I had been doing it forever, but a couple others could do it, Delwood surprisingly one of them.

When we were seated, Miss Berg nodded to someone out of our view and the sounds of the landscape remolding itself rumbled through our ears.  The audience oohed and ahhed, clearly impressed.

“Alright, players.  Wake up your avatars and proceed to your assigned starting points.”

I closed my eyes and pushed into DD, letting my senses adjust to his perspective.  Driving an avatar was thrilling, but the mini-golems lacked the sensory input a real human deals with constantly.  We had vision and hearing as well as smell.  But touch was very muffled and there was obviously no pain.  If your avatar got burned, blasted, or knocked to powder, you felt the impact but not the damage. It allowed kids to do horrible stuff to each other’s avatars without causing any pain.  Lots of anger, though.  People got pissed when you trashed their dirt partners, more so than in video games.

The others were grouping up and I took last position, following as Caeco led us along the edge of the course to the far end.  The referees had reformed the course into what looked like six or seven mountains, with deep valleys and peaks that almost reached the ceiling.

At our end, Caeco’s green and black tiger-striped avatar turned and waved one hand at Ashley’s green and brown mottled fighter.  Ashley took off at a trot to the nearest mountain slope, the team’s flag over her dirt shoulder.

Dropping a stone from her vest, she stood back to watch as it formed an avatar-sized hole in the side of the mountain.  One cave, ready made.

It was illegal to bury your flag, but hiding it in a cave was okay.  She laid some stones and wood chips at the opening and then moved back till she was almost off the landscape.  There she built a sniper hide, draping a handkerchief over her form with an arsenal of gun tubes lined up in front of her.  The handkerchief was the result of a photo of the game course ground, printed by a specialty shop on Church Street onto the handkerchief.  It made a perfect camo sniper cover.

Caeco pointed at her three other teammates and waved them to follow her, ignoring me completely.  I watched them go, my temper doing a slow boil.  Then I looked at Ashley’s hide.  The ground appeared to shrug.  Great.

Fuck it.  I sprinted around the opposite side of the mountain from Caeco’s path, running across the valley on the other side, ignoring the newly mounted cameras on the ceiling that were projecting our activities to the freshly installed monitors for the audience to watch.

The next mountain over, I climbed.  Right straight to the summit.  There I paused, setting up a concave-shaped piece of wood that had been spelled with a hair from Matthew the werewolf’s ear.  The woodchip linked to DD’s hearing and suddenly I had a werewolf-powered hearing aid.

Soft little shifting rock sounds came from two mountains ahead.  The listening chip went into its pouch and a flat pebble replaced it on the mountain peak.  Some careful aiming, a quick jump up while activating the pebble, and the kinetic blast shot me across the valley and almost over the next peak.  Sharp brass feet and hands stuck into the dirt and stone of the new summit, stopping me from falling seven real feet to my doom.

Another listen to check my bearings and I repeated it with a second kinetic pebble.

My second landing was better, but it still made a whole bunch of noise.  I paused, holding very still. More rock noises, maybe someone climbing my way.  I broke out the werewolf hearing aid.  The thing about the hearing chip was that it didn’t work like a simple sound amplifier.  Instead, it actually gave the avatar, and therefore the driver, werewolf hearing—with positional analysis so that I could now tell that one individual was climbing toward the peak and the other three waited below, spread out, while the stream rushed and thundered far down at the bottom of the mountain.

Pulling out some rope, which was actually Kevlar thread I had taken from our personal survival kits that Jenks had us all building, I let a long strand hang between DD’s brass hands.

Then I waited, still listening.  The climber closed the distance and when I judged him two body lengths from the top, I jumped.

Chapter 40

I jumped to the summit then jumped again, letting gravity take me over the surprised avatar’s head.  The loop of Kevlar string hung down, about neck height to him as I went over.

He must have been one of the weres as his reflexes were excellent, much better than a human’s.  His steel hands came up and one of them snagged the rope, preventing it from catching on his neck.

In the regular world, that would have been crucial to survival… even werewolves need to breathe.  But here in Wytchwar world, it was impossible to choke out or strangle an avatar made of dirt and wire.  It was, however, possible to yank one off the steep mountainside with the momentum of your own falling body.

Pulled from his perch, he flew over me as I fell flat on the mountainside, my feet and hands bladed into the dirt.  He fell past his colleagues, down to the rushing river below.

One down.  I jumped again, flipping DD over to land on his feet between two of the remaining three.  Both hands came up, each pointing at a different golem.  A squeeze of the mental trigger and my gun tubes went off, the results better than I could have hoped for.

Each tube was steel wrapped with copper wire.  The wires fed back into DD’s body.  Runes all over the place created the magical equivalent of circuits.  It was an idea I got listening to T.J. rattle on about gauss guns for his robot avatar.  The spells on DD’s skeleton picked up electrical ions as I moved him about the landscape, storing them like a capacitor. When I fired the tubes, three steel BB’s flew out of each like machine gun fire, accelerated by the electromagnetic field on the tubes, blasting big chunks off the avatars.

The one on my left was all done, my aim good enough to destroy all the clay around the golem’s pelvis, which caused it to collapse.

The one on my right had a useless left arm, a wobbly right leg, and a big chunk missing from its gut. The unaffected avatar behind it was raising its right palm as I kicked the damaged avatar in its good leg and punched its shattered gut clay.

As the wounded one fell, I recognized the remaining avatar as belonging to one of the telekinetic kids, Raymond.  I had helped him modify his dirt dude with runes to allow him to send out telekinetic bursts from his right palm and if I recalled right, they packed a serious punch.

I no sooner processed all that than his hand blurred and a freight train hit my chest… and dissipated.  Actually, it was absorbed into the copper plate on DD’s mesh vest.  The runes caught the blast like a shortstop snagging a hard-hit baseball, converting the kinetic energy to electricity, which I sent right back at him, directly into the upraised steel palm.  He really did pack a punch because there was enough electricity arcing back his way to weld his wire skeleton together.  He straightened, froze up, and fell over.

“Game to Caeco’s Commandos for simultaneous capture of flag and elimination of all opposing team members.  Game time four minutes, seventeen seconds,” Miss Berg’s voice boomed out.

A second later, the rest of my squad, minus Ashley, came trotting around the base of the farthest mountain, flag in Caeco’s soil soldier’s hand.  They pulled up and looked at me and the scattered, shattered avatars at my feet.

My physical body heard Mack ask a question from our team bench. “Feel better?”

I raised one brass hand and wobbled it back and forth.  Caeco snorted, then led the team back to get Ashley.  Mack’s avatar shrugged at me as it went by and I fell in behind.

Moments later, our avatars were lined up on the edge of the game course and we were accepting congratulations from our classmates and the family members they brought over for introduction.  I tried to stay out of it, helping the Swarmers repair their wounded veterans, but kids came over anyway, dragging mom and dad for a quick intro.  Apparently my little temper tantrum on the course had been fun to watch, as they were all admiration and compliments.

Still angry at Caeco, I vowed to get away from the course as fast as I could, but my plan was interrupted by Ashley’s sharp, “Oh no!”

Turning around I found her looking at her iPhone, her face looking stricken.  Before I could ask what was the matter, she looked up at the rest of us, head swiveling until she found both Caeco and me watching her.

“Ariel texted like fifteen minutes ago.  She was coming back from Henry’s Diner, where she had breakfast with her parents.  She says someone started to follow her, then several someones.  Her last message says they got between her and Arcane, so she was going to head up hill to the college campus.  We have to go get her.”

“Beast is right outside,” I said.

“We’ll take our truck, too,” Mack said, turning to get his keys.

“Ashley?” a male voice said.  “What’s the matter?”

It was her dad, along with that tough-looking elvish bodyguard, Neeve.

She explained quickly about our missing friend.

“You’ve done your part, Seeker,” Neeve said as soon as Ashley announced we were headed out to the rescue.

“I’m going, Neeve,” Ashley said, a steel tone in her voice.

“No,” the elf said, grabbing Ashley’s arm.  Before her father could intervene, I did, grabbing the elf woman’s own arm.

It worked and it didn’t. Neeve let go of Ashley, but a sudden sharp pain in my side made me let go of the dark elf like she was made of lightning.  Her left hand held a black spike that poked into my side.  I never saw her draw it, but some part of me noticed that the fancy bracelet was missing from that arm.

“You don’t have a say,” elf woman said, voice cold as death.  The needle-like blade somehow hit Sorrow, but must have hit hard enough to still feel like it was sticking me.  Which begged the question, what would have happened if Sorrow wasn’t there?

I grabbed her spike where it entered my shirt and pulsed enough electricity through it to make her jump back.  The weird blade began to morph into something bigger and badder while I pulled power from the building hard enough to shake the foundation.

“Enough!” Ashley yelled, jumping between us.  “You are here to protect me, not rule me, Neeve.  I’m going to find my roommate.  So you can go with me or stay here.”

“Let’s get going,” Ian said, then turned to Neeve.  “I told you that arguing with her doesn’t work.”

We piled into the two vehicles.  Caeco jumped into Beast, mostly just because, I think, she had her ax in it.  Ashley, Ian, and Neeve were in the back.  Jetta and Mack were in their truck with Justin.  I tried to ignore the itch between my shoulder blades that had Neeve’s name on it and started the car.

Racing out to Main Street, we headed uphill toward the university.  The lights were maddening, but shortly we were in the center of the campus, just in front of the Davis Student Center.  There’s a bus loop there, not meant for cars, but we pulled into it anyway.  Jumping out of Beast, I headed straight for the Student Center.  With the college on Spring Break, it was one of the few buildings guaranteed to be open.

The campus was strange, empty of the hordes of milling, moving students that normally flooded this space.  Now it was void of people, except a pair sitting on a low wall near the entrance to the building.

I glanced at them, then glanced again.  What I had taken to be a girlfriend-boyfriend combo was now rather obviously a daughter-father pair.  And I knew the daughter—Zuzanna.  The man with her, who had the same dark hair and dark eyes was oddly familiar.  Then it hit me: he was the man I had seen staring at me from across this very campus more than a month ago.  I stopped so fast that Mack ran right into me.

“She’s not in there,” Zuzanna called.

“Who?” I asked, glancing about to see who else might be up here.  The others were spread out, looking for Ariel.  A campus police car pulled into the loop, its lights flashing as it came to a stop behind Mack’s truck.  Ashley and her father headed for the officer.  I pulled my attention back to Zuzanna.

“Ariel… she’s not in there.  I was trying to call you, but I don’t have your number.  So I was calling Ryanne to get it,” she said.

Caeco, who was fifty yards away, well within her personal hearing zone, cocked her head.  Great. She had to love the fact that Ryanne had my phone number.

“We will tell you what you need to know, if you but make a promise,” the man suddenly said.

“No, Papa. Not like this,” Zuzanna protested.

“Hush, child.  Declan, if you promise to hear me out without an act of violence toward me or my daughter, I will tell you about your Ariel,” he said.

Not liking the direction this was going and not liking someone who bartered with the safety of a girl, I reluctantly nodded.  “Say it please,” he requested.

“I promise,” I said, getting angry.

“My name is Perun,” he said.  Wait, that sounded familiar.  “I am your father.”

Right, that’s where I had heard it.  The man who raped my mother.  Got it.

The cop car’s lights died, the traffic lights all went dark, and four eastbound cars and five westbound cars all stalled.

“You promised,” Zuzanna said, jumping up to put herself between me and her father.

“You do need to hear of your friend Ariel,” the man, Perun, said.

“Declan, we need the intell,” Caeco said from her new position ten feet away.  Damn, that girl can cover ground.

I took a deep breath and released it, simultaneously releasing the borrowed power.  The cop’s lights came back on and the drivers of the stalled cars were able to start them just in time for a red light.

“What did you do to her?” I asked.

Zuzanna looked offended, but her father… I refused to think of him as mine… waved his hand.  “We did nothing.  We could do nothing.  There were too many of them.”

The campus cop killed his lights and drove away.  Ashley, her father, and Neeve all headed our way.

“What do you mean them?” Caeco asked.  “Who?”

“The Fae.  Like her,” Perun said, waving a hand toward Neeve.  “But different.”

“Different how?” Neeve asked.

“They all either wore red and black or had it painted on them.  There were seven on some type of steed, like great lizards.  Then there were the goblins.”

“They took her?” Caeco asked.

He shook his head.  “No, your aunt pulled up into that same circle.  The same policeman came along and then you aunt took Ariel and headed that way,” he said, pointing east, toward Castlebury.

“How did the cop not see the Fae?” Mack asked.

“Glamour,” Neeve answered.

Perun nodded. “They looked to be men on motorcycles and the apes appeared as children.”

“How did you know them?” I asked, suspicious.

“My mother—your grandmother—is German.  She had experience with the Fae as a child.  She made me this necklace and I have always worn it,” he said, holding up a iron medallion around his neck.  “I sensed something off about them and held it.  Then I held your sister’s hand so she could see them, too.”

Sister.  Zuzanna was my sister.  I had a sister.

“Who are they?” Caeco asked Neeve.

“The Wild Hunt,” Ian answered instead, his voice angry.  “The last time I met them was when they took Ashley.”

“They killed my grandparents to get me,” Ashley said.

“Why are they after Ariel?” I asked.

“She is a Seer.  Their skills are valued above all others,” Neeve said.

“How did your aunt happen to be here?” Jetta asked me.

“Ashling Irwin is an Air witch of much renown and as such is also a seer.  It would be very like one of her caliber to feel the need to be here,” Perun answered before I could.

Jetta raised her eyebrows at me, clearly not trusting Perun.

“That’s true.  She feels things all the time.  It’s why she always seems to show up when I’m either in trouble or causing it,” I said.

“The police officer said that he had just chased out a lady who picked up a girl here.  She was in a Prius,” Ashley said.

“Why did she head east?” Ian asked.  “Why not down the hill?”

“More of them came up the hill moments after she fled.  Maybe thirty or forty,” Perun said, again jumping in before I could.

“She headed home, to Rowan West.  She’ll activate the wards and hunker down.”

“Will that keep them out?” Jetta asked.

“We seriously beefed up the wards since last year, when we had an incident.  I’ve made some other modifications to the security as well.  But we have to get going. I’m not going to rely on wards,” I said.

“You are greatly outnumbered.  There were well over fifty that I saw, which means others as well,” Perun said.

“Right.  Anyone wants to stay, it might be a good idea.  I’m going,” I said, heading for Beast.  Caeco, Mack, and Jetta were right beside me.  Ashley was racing to catch up, her father and bodyguard alongside her. Justin was closest to the cars, so he just turned and headed back.  That answered that question.

We whipped out into traffic and raced toward home.  Neeve looked out the window and muttered “adexe eache.”

“What?” I asked.

“The steeds.  They leave marks on the roadway.  I should have noticed,” she said, pointing over my shoulder from her spot directly behind me.  A quick glance showed a patch of ripped asphalt, just three holes and crumbled blacktop.

“Their claws leave those marks,” she said.  “It’s distinctive.”

They rode horses with claws?  I had heard of the Wild Hunt, but discounted it as fable.  Now it was after my aunt and friend on claw-footed steeds.  We were grossly outnumbered and racing the clock.

But they were going to be facing two witches on their home turf and here’s a little piece of ageless wisdom for you, boys and girls: never, ever face down a witch in her home.  Witches are, by training and genetics, a paranoid lot.  We tend to build layer after layer of spells, wards, and traps for any who would attack us in our beds.  After last year’s revenant infestation, Aunt Ash and I had gone all out.  The Wild Hunt was in for some schooling.

Ve vill kill them all!

WTF?  Spoken words, in English, with a creepy German accent, echoing through my head.  I reached down and pulled on the book.  It pulled away from my skin with a wet reluctance, not the clinginess it had displayed before, but the sticky yucky feeling of drying fluids, like… blood.

Chapter 41

“They took you, Ashley?  This Wild Hunt?” Caeco asked. I stealthily poked and prodded at the book under my shirt.  She glanced around at the motion, so I quit.

“Yeah, a couple of years ago,” Ashley said.  Her father looked scary grim beside her.

“What happened?” Caeco pushed.

“My father and grandfather killed about a third of them.  Then the dragons showed up,” Ashley said.  “Declan, you’re speeding. We can’t get pulled over.”

No sooner had Ashley said the words than a cop car came over the hill, hit his lights, and started to turn.  I was in no mood for cops. Pretty certain I was bleeding under the book and I don’t really like to bleed.  Makes me grumpy. I waved my right hand and the lights died, the cruiser stalled, and the cop was forced to pull to the side of the road.

“Oh,” Ashley said.

“That’s handy,” her dad commented.

“Emergencies only,” I said.  “So what do we need to know about them?”

In the rearview, I could see Neeve press her lips together and look out the window while Ian answered.

“They’re tough.  Real tough and real fast.  Steel and iron is best for damaging them.  There will be hounds—like giant Irish wolfhounds that have no fur and teeth like scissors. Then there are goblins—short, squatty ape-like things made of muscle and more muscle with wicked claws and teeth.  They’re much faster than they look, stronger than a man, and will rip you to shreds.  The steeds are more lizard than horse: claws, teeth, and a long, whipping tail.  The riders are elves like Neeve.  Faster and lighter than a human.  All of them have decades of weapons experience since they live so damn long,” he said.

“Not today,” I muttered.  Both Neeve and Caeco heard me, but I didn’t care.

“You are just a boy—you know nothing,” Neeve said.  “You get my Speaker killed and I will finish you myself.”

Schweinehund!  And we were back to German.

I couldn’t help it… I laughed.  “Lady, you got no idea what goes on under my skin.  Big shot elf.  Your countrymen?  Associates?  They’re threatening my only family and one of my friends and they’re doing it at my home.  On my territory.  You don’t ever, ever come onto my ground and think you’re going to get away with that.”

“Idiot boy, they have an army,” she said, arms crossed, hard eyes meeting mine in the rearview.

“They better.  Forty or so isn’t worth the gas to get here,” I said, pulling off the road and stopping Beast.

Everyone looked around in confusion, not seeing Rowan West or a parking lot or really anything but a small paved area with trees all around.  I got out and the others exited both Beast and Mack’s pickup, looking at me expectantly.

“Where are we?  Where is the restaurant?” Jetta asked.

“Right over there.  You just can’t see it ‘cause my aunt powered up the wards,” I said, looking at Neeve as I said it.  “The wards hide the property, act like a Star Trek shield, and make people forget there was ever a restaurant here.”

I picked up a stick and threw it at the restaurant that only I could see.  The stick exploded into flame, vanishing in a puff of smoke and ash.  “I added a few touches of my own while my aunt worked the camouflage and Forget Me spells.  Let’s go; Aunt Ash will want to take down the wards in time for the dinner crowd.”

“Aren’t we going in?” Mack asked.

“No, I don’t want to breach the wards. It’ll cause them to fall completely.  Besides, I gotta throw some trespassers off my property.  Nobody needs to go with me; you can all stay here,” I said.  My friends looked at me like I was an idiot, then started to gather weapons.

Caeco had her Estwing axe and at least two big combat blades, Jetta and Mack were unlimbering a pair of well-used but well cared for Ruger Mini-14 rifles, Ashley accepting a pistol from her father, who still had three guns under his Carhartt jacket.  I glimpsed two big Glocks with extended mags in shoulder holsters and some brand of 1911 .45 which looked custom on his belt.

“You have any steel-tipped ammo for those Rugers?” Ian asked the brother-sister team.

“Yeah, Caeco texted me in the car.  We’ve got a whole bunch of cheap Russian steel clad ammo we use for target practice,” Jetta said, holding up a thirty round mag with the distinctive dark lacquered cased ammo visible in it.

“Good.  You’ll be amazed at the effect it has on them.  My .45 ammo and Ashley’s .40 are hollowpoints with iron filings glued into the cavities.  Works awesome,” Ian said, pulling a massive Bowie knife from a hidden sheath on his back, inspecting it and putting it away.  Neeve just stood with arms crossed, frowning, her weird weapon bracelets wrapped around both wrists.

“Ready?  Where’s Justin?” I asked.  On the far side of Mack’s truck, a massive black bear stood up, shook itself, looked me in the eye, and grunted.  Okay.  All accounted for, including Justin, in fur.

“There’s a well-cut trail that follows the edge of the wards and goes all the way around the property.  We’ll walk it till we find this Hunt and then we’ll send them home, either on their feet or in body bags,” I said, already aware of where the intruders were.

“They sorta melt,” Ian said.

“What?” I asked.

“If you kill a denizen of Fairie here on Earth, they melt, turn into little sparkly lights, and evaporate.  I think the same thing happens to humans who die over there,” he explained.

“Oh, so no bodies.  Cool,” I said. “What does this Hunt want with Ariel anyway?  I thought her brand of precognition was mostly linked to the portals?”

Ashley cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Neeve.  The elf woman seemed majorly reluctant to speak to any of us, and me in particular.  After a moment of enduring Ashley’s relentless stare, she spoke.

“Our world has three major factions.  The Winter Court, ruled by Queen Morrigan, the Southern Court, ruled by Queen Zinnia, and the dragons.  The Wild Hunt is a far distant fourth.  They occupy mountains that no one else really wants and they take in the outcasts and criminals of our societies.  From time to time, they hire themselves out to various nobles of each court as mercenaries of sorts.  My guess is that having a Seer who could predict Portal openings would give them a major boost in power and status.  As it is, they would have had to pay the Keepers to use the local portal to get to this realm.”

“How do they even know about Ariel?” Jetta asked.

“Our world is in upheaval.  Since Ashley’s arrival, the dragons of Fairie have a Voice among the Courts, and trade and negotiations have changed drastically.  It has been a thousand years since the dragons had a Speaker.  Everyone is very interested in her, hence my assignment as her guard,” Neeve said, her tone even.  I glanced at Ian to see how he handled that last part about Neeve being Ashley’s guard.  He winked at me and rolled his eyes at Neeve’s back.

“Information about her attendance here is in great demand and was especially so at the beginning of your term.  Much of my world knows all about Arcane.  You had your own introduction when you met my cousin, Eirwen.  She came away from that more than a little bit annoyed.”

“So they know about witches and weres?” Mack asked.

“In theory.  They know little of the reality.  They have heard that you play games with little constructs and think it a waste.  I have watched the games and understand it is training in reaction and cunning, not raw power.  But they think it the limit of your abilities.”

“Oh… well, today will be a learning experience for them,” I said, leading the way through the slumping March snowpack and onto my well-beaten trail, my witch senses already linking up with my home ground.

First was the Rowan tree that anchored our property and wards.  I felt it immediately, pervading all of our property.  It welcomed me, and I could swear it was brightened by my presence. It also told me about the intruders.

Next, I felt the solid earth that was our property, ancient and stable.  Then I started to pull in the more modern, manmade energies.  The propane-fired boiler that heated the restaurant was an ember in my mind, as was the woodstove burning hard in our family quarters, and the restaurant’s ovens.  It was a mild day, yet Aunt Ash had the heating systems at full bore.  That could only be for my benefit.

Fifty feet into the woods, Caeco’s head swiveled to the left.  My slower reaction caught a flash of black and red.  Something long and lean, bounding over the snow, then it was gone.

Another twenty-five feet, and her head snapped up to the trees on our left.  A muscular red and black shape jumped from tree to tree, tracking our progress.

“They’re all around us now,” Caeco said in a casual tone.  Black and red flickered regularly now.  Further back, larger shapes moved in on us.

“Not really. Just behind us, to the left, and ahead.  They aren’t inside the wards,” I said, trudging ahead. On our right side, the ward shield was a blurry shimmer, arcing up high over the property.

I got within ten feet of the spot I wanted, almost there, and wouldn’t you know a man just suddenly popped up.  Impressive, really.  He was in my woods, with a foot of snow on the ground and here he was, horseback… well creatureback, suddenly appearing only twenty-five or thirty feet away.  I plowed ahead, studying him as I covered the distance to my chosen ground.

Tall and lean, like weathered wood, his clothes black and red, his face striped in the same two colors.  Two antlers grew from his head—a small rack, maybe four points.

“You’re on private property,” I greeted him, setting my feet into the snow, twisting and working them down till the frozen ground was just underfoot.

“Princess Neeve, Speaker,” he greeted Ashley and her guard.  “Father to the Speaker,” he nodded at Ian as his massive lizard beast held itself still in a way a horse never would. Meanwhile, I was ignored.

“Hunt Leader,” Neeve said.  Ian and Ashley said nothing.

“Dude, get off my property—now,” I said, keeping my tone even.

This time, he glanced my way, his overlarge green eyes measuring me and seeing a lanky kid in a green UVM sweatshirt, jeans, and hiking boots.  I was the only one not carrying weapons.  That should have been his first clue.

Two long, freaky hounds slunk around his riding beast, eyes fixed on me.

The ground underfoot warmed and thawed as I fed it borrowed heat.  On the other side of the wards, I could hear wings flapping toward us from the barn.

He kept his eyes on me but his question was totally for Neeve.  “Do you intend to fight for this boy?” he asked her.

“I intend to protect my charge,” she said.  “However, I would advise caution, Hunt Leader.  I do not believe you understand what faces you.”

“I see a weaponless boy, two children with weapons of dishonor, our esteemed Speaker, a furred beast, an old man and, of course, yourself.  While I have the Wild Hunt at my back,” he said, gesturing.  Black and red filled the forest as at least a hundred riders, goblin things, dog things, and horse things appeared.

“Hunt smunt.  I have golems,” I said.  Something the size of a basset hound flew out of the wards next to me, landing in the tree over his head.  Then I frowned because Draco had been beagle-sized last I had seen him.  He was definitely larger.

“Here be dragons,” I said.

The assembled Fae stared at him, truly startled at his appearance, which looked suspiciously like the Hungarian Horntail from the Harry Potter movie.  What can I say?  I was influenced by the arts.  However, Ashley had told me he was uncannily like her real dragons back on Fairie.

“Small ones,” the Leader observed archly.  Draco breathed a twelve-foot lance of fire into the air, the flames falling to the snow and burning on top of it like jellied gasoline, which his belly might have been full of.

“Oh, you want bigger?” I said, sending out a thought.

The wet, melting snow erupted under the two hounds as four-foot long arms of earth and stone smashed free and enormous earthen hands crushed their throats.  Robbie stood up where I had buried him.

“I thought your aunt made you get rid of him?” Mack asked, eyeing the eight-foot tall wall of man-shaped dirt.  He too was bigger than when I had entombed him in the ground just outside our wards.  He also never had rusty barbed wire from the old farm fence wrapped around his left arm before.

“She said he had to go, but never said where.  I put him out here where it’s nice and quiet.  Couldn’t really bear to disassemble him,” I said, enjoying the reactions my giant golem was getting.

“Just give us the Seer and this may all be avoided,” the leader said, studying Robbie who was motionless, holding both crushed dogs at arm’s length without effort.

“Dude.  Leave.  Now,” I said, losing patience.

Ignis Solis, Sorrow said in my head.  A new spell swam before my eyes.  It used my own power, not borrowed, but it looked—rad.

“Young man who will grow no older,” the antler-headed leader began.  “If this is your property and the spellcrafter inside is your blood, then I do not need a key to get in.”

“Oh no?” I asked.

His white-toothed smile against the sharp red and black of his painted face was not pleasant.  “No… for you are my key.”  His hand flicked a signal and shapes flew at me from four directions.

Steel flashed by the side of me as Caeco swung her axe and a hound head rolled up to my feet.  At almost the same time, my shields reacted to an impacting body. The Sutton kids instantly fired four shots each into the goblin as it got kinetically booted back into the woods.  High in the branches above me, Draco jumped from his perch to fly straight through the second goblin to leap at me.  I mean straight through its chest.  Rock and dirt beats muscle and flesh.  The little dragon screamed in triumph as it flapped its blue-blood-covered wings, blue mist spraying everywhere.  The fourth one to attack me never made it past Robbie’s giant arm.  The golem dropped the dog in his left hand and grabbed the elf so fast, it was scary.  Especially for the elf, who started to melt and scream as his face came in contact with the rusty barbed wire around Robbie’s arm.

“Clever.  Four attempts at shoving me through my own wards, so you could be free to kill my aunt and kidnap my friend,” I said. “Here—try this.”

There was likely no real lag between the time I spoke the words and the spell igniting, but a bunch of stuff went on in my head really fast.

Ingis Solis was Latin for Sunfire, and the spell promised to be hot. But something, instinct maybe, made me hold back, not committing to the spell to the extent the book wanted.  I didn’t trust Sorrow.

The spell was ridiculously easy—head-palming easy, as in why hadn’t anyone ever thought of that.  I tried a tiny bit.  Couple of milliseconds.  Right at the bastard who had just ordered the attack.

I pulled a measure of power from my reserve, fed it through the spell, and held up my right hand.

A flash like the inside of the sun blinded everyone. A feeling like a short, sharp bolt released from my palm. I felt sudden emptiness inside, a weariness that struck me as the spell went off.  Next, I heard a loud wet pop and the patter of wet stuff hitting snow.

A second later, my vision cleared. In fact, I may have had my eyes shut when it went off, coached by the spell.  I looked at the Hunt Leader, but he was gone.  From the waist up, he was just gone.  Blue mist coated the snow in an arc spreading out behind the leader’s remains.

The lizard steed was frozen, eyes rolling with alarm, its rider now just a pair of legs and an ass, all of which started to sparkle and hiss.  Behind the steed, the rest of the Hunt was frozen as well, blinking rapidly to regain their vision.  Higher up, the top third of a medium-sized beech tree toppled over and fell to the forest with a ground-shaking thump.  The upright base of the tree had a perfect smoking half-circle cut through it.

Little sparkles of light began to float upward, from the legs on the lizard, from the blue blood on the snow, from the spatter on the elf woman who had stood closest to her boss.

The Hunt looked at me and I looked back.

“Damn D, that’s kinda new, isn’t it?” Mack asked.

Before I could answer, voices could be heard behind us, then the crunching of snow as more than one person approached.

Keeping a wary eye on the Hunt, I glanced back.  Huge brown shaggy shapes bounded down our trail and in the woods near it.  Five massive forms, upright, but more wolf than man.  The lead wolfman was the biggest, eight or nine feet tall and covered in black fur.  Delwood and four of his wolves had arrived.  Behind them came much smaller shapes and in a moment, I could see that the witch pack was here, too.

The wolves spread out in an arc around us, facing the Hunt, crouched with one or two arms touching the ground.  The girls, Britta, Zuzanna, Erika, Jael, Michele, Paige, and Ryanne came silently into the clearing, hair floating around their faces as they all held their power at the ready.

I looked back at the blue-goo-spattered elf-woman whose face was sparking as the blood of her boss ignited into primal energy and floated off our planet.

“This is College Arcane, ” I said, waiving a hand at the my friends around me. “Don’t fuck with us.”

It was the lizard with the legs still on its back that made the decision for them.  It suddenly curved its body and flowed out of there in one sinuous, snakelike motion.

Peace out.

The woman watched it go, her eyes a bit envious at its speed, and then gave me a cautious nod, backing up.  The rest of the Hunt evaporated into the forest and within moments, they were gone.

Chapter 42

My aunt took down the wards almost immediately, revealing a rifle-packing Darci standing on the other side, dressed in her uniform, sharp eyes studying my crowd.

“Hi, Darci.  Can I have some friends over after school?” I asked, wiping some sweat off my forehead. “We might need snacks.”

I followed her gaze behind me. Her eyes were locked on the werewolves and the big-ass bear.

“They just Changed, so it might be a bit before they can change back.  They’re gonna be hungry, too.  How’s Aunt Ash and Ariel?  Everyone okay?” I asked.

She brought her eyes back to mine and raised one eyebrow.

“Everyone’s good, Declan.  Are those others gone?” she asked, looking into the forest where the snow was trampled.

“Yeah, they left.  Most of them.  A few stayed behind but they won’t be a problem unless they’re still sparkling after dark,” I said, glancing at Ian with raised eyebrows.

“They should be gone in the next ten minutes. Or so,” he said.

Darci took him in with a measuring stare, then looked over the rest of the party, noting Jetta and Mack, who were holding their rifles muzzles down.

“You two clear those chambers before coming in,” Darci said.  “But everyone, thank you and welcome to Rowan West.  Come on in.  Declan, the mud monster and the mud dragon stay outside.”

The weres all looked uncertain, and I thought they might be uncomfortable with the tight quarters.  Odd, I was introduced to werewolves a scant six months ago in New Hampshire and here I was interpreting their beast form body language.

“Maybe we can use the tables outside for some of us.  The restaurant’s a little small till they’re ready to change back.  It’s sunny and warm out, so it should be okay,” I said.

She just looked at me.  “Kid, life with you gets weirder by the day.”

“Love you too, Deputy,” I said with a grin.

I noted that she was holding Levi’s treasured AR-15 SBR, or short barreled rifle.  Darci had coveted it from the moment Levi had paid the tax stamp and filed the paper work with the BATF.

“How’d you get that?” I asked.

“We had a bet.  I won,” she said, striding ahead to get things ready.  I was going to have to get the details of that little wager.

My aunt and Ariel were waiting just outside the back of the restaurant and when Ashling saw us, her eyes got shiny.

Erika spoke up in her brassy way.  “Hi, Miss Ashling.  We heard that someone was giving our favorite teacher and best precog a hard time.  We all came to straighten them out.  Some of us—” she looked my way, “—didn’t tell the rest of us what was happening, so we got here just after the action.  Some of us are action hogs.”

“Nope, you guys were right on time,” Ashley said.  “They were desperate for a reason to beat feet, and having you guys arrive when you did was the perfect excuse.  Your nephew might have terrified them just a bit, Miss Ashling.”

“Me nephew?  Me wee little Declan?” Aunt Ash asked.  “Well now, that don’t hardly seem possible, now do it?”

The kids laughed and Delwood made a strange hacking noise in his beast throat that must have been the werewolf equivalent of laughter.

“Actually, it was Caeco with that badass axe, Mack and Jetta with their sharpshooter skills, and Robbie and Draco,” I said.

“Well I believe that more, I do.  And jest what’s that great lump of dirt still doing about?” she asked.

“Guarding,” I said.  “Robbie, please drag up that tree that fell, then guard.  Draco—perimeter patrol.”

The giant golem headed into the woods and the dirt dragon flapped off through the trees.

Caeco looked at me and shook her head.  “Jesus, you’re a real menace, O’Carroll.”

“That’s for sure,” Jetta agreed.  “Did someone say there were snacks?”

We did better than just snacks.  Darci, my aunt, and I threw together lunch with the speed of long familiarity with the restaurant and each other.

In short order, there were trays of sliced roast beef, ham, and turkey, along with three kinds of soups left over from the night before and a big tray of mac and cheese that the chef had premade for a birthday party on Saturday.  He’d just have to make it again.

The weres had all caught the scent of the hot food and as one big pack, including Justin, headed back to the cars to Change and put on clothes, despite the pain it caused them to do it so soon.  They were now in culinary heaven, scarfing down massive sandwiches and big bowls of soup.

Aunt Ash moved about the dining room, talking to my classmates as well as Ian and Neeve, charming them all with her wit and brogue.  With everyone occupied, I snuck away to pull off my sweatshirt and see about the wound Neeve’s weapon had made.

Maybe I shouldn’t have used my aunt’s little office to do it, but I thought I had time.

She caught me as I was putting a Band-Aid over the little puncture wound in my left abdomen.

“When exactly were ye going to be telling me about being all stabbed and such?” she asked.

“Well, it’s just a little wound.  Not really deep.  But I don’t think the wound itself is the problem,” I said.

Her eyes went from my stomach to my face.  “What be ye talking about?”

I reached to her desk, shoving aside my sweatshirt to reveal the grimoire.  She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Is that the Sorrow book then?”

“It was,” I said.  I opened the cover and showed her the bloodstained pages and the little round hole that went all the way through the upper corner.

“I don’t understand?  Where be the words and spells and such?” she asked when she saw that every page was blank.

I held up my left palm and thought about a spell, a simple one.  Black cursive appeared on the skin of my hand, scrolling through the spell.

She just raised her eyebrows at me while her face went white.  I explained the book’s presence when I threw down with the witch and the fact it wouldn’t let me put it down.  I explained that we tried to burn it and cut it but couldn’t.  I explained that it spoke German to me by making the words appear in my head, only now it was speaking them in English.  That Neeve’s otherworld weapon had somehow pierced it and me and now Sorrow seemed to be inside me.

“Declan, that spell you used outside the wards, that I could feel right through them, be that one coming at the suggestion of the book?”

“Yes, Ignis Solis.  Aunt Ash, I don’t trust the spells it shows me.  I used that one only because it was simple, and then I used only a tiny bit of it,” I said.

“Show me the spell, lad, and don’t ever trust the book.”

I pulled up Sun Fire on my palm and showed her.  She sucked a breath.  “Declan, don’t be showing your fellow Fire witches this spell, ever.  It uses only your reserves, and it be using them up completely if you go a second too long.”

“What could happen?”

“The massive destruction from that much raw energy aside, it would like to either kill or permanently drain a witch of her power. At the least, it would leave a witch vulnerable to anyone. Even with your bigger bucket o’power, you would only last a few tens of seconds longer than, say, Tami.  This spell is dangerous.”

Well, yeah.  I mean, I knew that from the Hunt Leader, whose blue blood must have been superheated to steam in a microsecond.  And I had sensed an issue with the structure of the spell when Sorrow had presented it.

“Why would the book go to all this trouble to find me and bond with me and then drain me useless?”

“I don’t know, me boy.  Unless draining yerself would leave clear a path for the book to take ye over, complete like.”

“Okay, how do we get Sorrow out of me?” I asked.

“I don’t know, lad.  I don’t know,” she said, then she firmed up.  “But I will.  Count on it, lad.  Between Levi’s library, his connections for other rare books, and me own small knowledge, I’ll be finding the heart of it, don’t you worry.”

I actually was worried.  Quite a bit.  But I also had faith in Aunt Ash.  If anyone could find the answer, it was her and she had one of the best rare book hunters in the world as a resource.

“Does the book try to control you directly, lad?” she asked carefully.

“No.  It sorta hangs out and throws in comments from time to time, then when things are tense, it’ll offer up a spell, like when I met Macha and her girl.  The book gave me a spell to extract their power right through that shield.  I’m not gonna be some witch equivalent of a vampire, Aunt Ash,” I vowed.

“No, no yer not.  You already showed that you can ignore it, but tell me, lad, what made ye choose to use the Sun Fire spell?”

“We were pretty outnumbered.  I didn’t know the other witches and Delwood’s pack was coming.  I didn’t want to lose any of my friends, Aunt Ash.  The Sun Fire spell seemed like a nuclear option.  If I used it once, for a short burst, maybe I could stop any more fighting.  At least that’s what went through my head in that instant.”

“Declan, ye made a good decision, but I fear the book will look for ways to trick ye, particularly in time of stress and strife,” she said.  “Promise me ye’ll use yer mom’s grimoire for spells and not what Sorrow offers ye.  Don’t go asking it for spells, either.  It’s an evil book.”

I nodded, then changed the subject.  Abruptly.  “Aunt Ash I have a sister.  Zuzanna is my half-sister.  I met her father… my father just before coming here.”

“Did ye now?  Tell me that tale, if ye would?”

I explained about seeing a man watching me on campus a few months back and then meeting Perun.

“The bastard still be alive, do he?” she mused.  “Ye did leave him alive, right?”

“Yes.  Zuzanna made me promise before he told what he knew about Ariel.”

“That’s fine, lad.  I don’t want ye thinking about killing yer father, Declan.  Ye are not him and ye never will be.  Unless he be threatening ye or yer friends, ye should not be killing yer own father.  It’s not a right thing.”

“Jeeze, Aunt Ash.  You put conditions on everything,” I mock protested.  “Can’t blow up towns with my death ray spell, can’t let Sorrow teach me spells of mass destruction, not allowed to maim or kill my rapist dad.  Where’s my freedom to express myself?”

“I’ll knot yer head if ye be expressing yerself in any of those ways,” she growled.

“Miss Ashling?” Ryanne called.

“Yes, dear?” my aunt responded.

“Oh, there ye be, and Declan too,” Ryanne said, coming into the kitchen with the other witches behind her.  “Darci was telling us that Declan has a picture of his mum in his room.  We wondered if we could may like get a peek at her?”

“Ye all be wondering about me sister, are ye?” my aunt asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Erika said from just behind Ryanne.  My aunt was the only teacher that the bossy blonde treated with real respect.

“What say ye, lad?  Would ye let them into yer inner sanctum?”

I was busy pulling my hoodie back on and had to wait till my head popped through.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” I said.

“Oh, is that a grimoire?” Jael asked, spotting the bloodstained book.

“No, it’s just a ruined old book with nothing of any matter to it,” my aunt replied.

I led the witch pack outside to my shipping container room and showed them my man cave.

“This is cool and all, but isn’t it lonely?” Paige asked as the others looked at my mom’s photo and the painting she’d done of the Cliffs of Mohr.

“When I hit puberty,” I began, ignoring the smirks that shot my way at that image, “ I had trouble with thunderstorms.”

“Scared of them?” Ryanne teased.

I smiled, not taking the bait.  “Not really.  More like I was scared of burning down the restaurant or blowing up our apartment.  Lightning seeks me out.  Before I learned to control it, we had some near misses with catastrophe.  This container is all steel and quadruple grounded. Actually, it grounds into our wards.  If I forgot myself, the lightning just hit the container and bled out into the grounds.  Nowadays, that doesn’t happen, but now I like the privacy.”

“Ummm, yes, it’s very private and well insulated.  Soundproof?” Erika asked with a sultry voice.

“And now it’s time to go get the others.  You all have a game against Delwood’s crew in an hour or so.”

“Wait.  Lightning would strike you?  And not kill you?” Britta asked.

“It never really hits me.  Just looks like it.  It runs down around my aura and then into the ground or wherever I choose to send it.  Unless I direct the strike first.”

“You can direct lightning?” Ryanne asked.  “Fer fecking real?”

“Only in a storm.  I can’t just call it out of thin air.  But if the condtions are right, then yeah.  Just a bigger taser, that’s all.”

“Yer a fecking menace O’Carroll,” she said, shaking her head but smiling.

“I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

Chapter 43

The Were-machines beat the Witch Slap by the hair of their backs.  Matthew grabbed the witch flag two seconds before Britta grabbed the weres’ own flag.

T.J.’s mechanical avatar made the difference, his construction of steel and titanium stronger than dirt people and pretty resistant to magic.  Lots of players had protested his unique avatar to my aunt over the last few months, to no avail.

“Anything in this game that pushes ye harder, makes ye think faster and smarter, and causes ye to build yer abilities is a good thing, don’t ye agree?” she’d responded.

It was true.  Teams went out of their way to come up with counters to his robot and he, in turn, kept building a better machine.

So the final game came down to Delwood’s crew versus Caeco’s Commandos on Saturday afternoon.

Caeco and I hadn’t fully sorted out where we stood, but it definitely wasn’t the same.  I think we both knew that we needed space but before we could figure it out, we needed this last game behind us.  Whatever anger I’d held toward her before was long gone, cut away by a sweep of her ax when she’d had my back against the Hunt.  We could work together, particularly in the face of Delwood’s trash talking.

So I had listened while she outlined our strategy and nodded when she told me I was the flag’s keeper for this game.  She didn’t have to explain, but she did anyway.

“If we leave you to guard the flag, the rest of us are clear to hunt the weres and their flag.  By yourself, you are enough of a pain-in-the-dirt-posterior to keep them off our flag.”

This was the final match of the tournament, and the two sets of bleachers were packed with additional chairs set up in front of a bank of monitors for the overflow.  They were full, too.

General Creek was there with his cronies, as were Agents Krupp and Mazar, and, of course, Nathan Stewart and Adine Benally.

Neeve and Eirwen flanked Ariel and Ian. Every parent and all our other classmates were crammed in like crayons in a box.  The werewolf parents carefully sat in different parts of the room; there was more than one Alpha present, which could create a dominance situation if care wasn’t taken.  Luckily, care sat in the middle of the main bleachers in the form of Chris, Tanya, Stacia, and the rest of their crew.  Every person in the room, with the possible exception of the players and my aunt, were watching him and them.  The camera flashes that went off were more often in his direction than ours.

Aunt Ash sent us to our opposite sides to start the game.  Caeco had won the coin toss and selected the side nearest the bleachers, furthest from the outside overhead door.  I had wanted this end because it had the windy plains and a lot of sand.

I chose an open spot in soft sand and set the flag upright for all to see while Caeco gave the team their final directions.  Next, as the whistle sounded and they trotted off, I set a ring of spelled rocks around the flag.  Then another further out and finally a third.

With everything set, I stood in front of the flag and mentally worked through the new spells and tricks I had put together just for this game, specifically with T.J.’s monstrosity in mind.

After about five minutes, I heard the crowd oooohh at the same time the sounds of fighting broke out over the mountain range.  Thirty seconds later, T.J.’s metal creature came spidering over the side of the closest mountain, all six legs clicking as it moved.  A black-painted dirt dude followed it, this one with a molded canine snout and stainless screws placed as fangs.  Delwood.

They paused and looked over my situation, appropriately cautious.  Then the crowd ooohhhed again at something on the monitors and they headed forward, pushed by the time.  Caeco was giving the rest of the weres hell and they knew it.

“Hi guys.  Ready for a whupping?” I said with my human mouth on the bench.  Microphones placed in front of the bench broadcast my words to the crowd, which threw me for a second.  I had been counting on werewolf hearing and mechanical amplification for my words to reach them.  The public broadcast was a new feature of the games.

“We didn’t want you to sit out here crying in loneliness,” Delwood said, his avatar rubbing its blank eyes with little hands in a boo hoo move.

This time, the microphone and speakers worked for my benefit, making it easy to hear him.

“Looks like you’ve had a lot of practice making those motions, Smellwood,” I said.  “Lonely childhood?”

“Reusing old names, Decimate?”  he asked.

The robot spider cocked itself slightly toward Delwood’s avatar and T.J.’s voice came over the sound system.

“Dude, do you know what that word means?” T.J. asked his partner.

“Yeah, it has two meanings:  to kill one in ten, which is the old Roman meaning; and the newer meaning, to kill or destroy a large portion of something,” Delwood said.  “I’m not stupid, nerd.”

“No of course not. It just doesn’t sound like an insult?” T.J. backpedaled

“It isn’t.  I’m giving credit where credit is due.  Declan vaporized that elf dude and a big-ass tree behind him.  I’m giving him props before we kick his ass,” Delwood said.

“Hello, still standing here un-ass kicked,” I said.

A loud crash sounded back over the mountain and the crowd cheered or booed  at whatever had happened.

“We best get on with it before your girlfriend wipes out the rest of our team,” Delwood said.

“Yeah, time is not on your side,” I replied.  “What’s your line?”

“Me?  I’m gonna let you and the robot duke it out and stroll on over to yonder flag,” Delwood said.  “T.J., quit farting around and get to it.”

The robot rumbled forward, slowing as its pointed feet sank into the deep, soft sand, raising its single shot gauss guns.  One shot from either of those would shatter an avatar completely.

I activated one of my surprises by raising DD’s hands over his head and corkscrewing down into the sand below.  The dried clay fell off his frame, letting my brass skeleton twist through the soft grainy sand like a corkscrew, going in at an angle under the robot.  The seismic rocks I had placed told me where the robot was and as I counter-screwed back up the surface, the skeleton picked up sand as a replacement for the dirt.

I came up under the bogged robot and placed DD’s left brass hand, the one with the rune Cen newly carved into it, on the robot’s underside.  A moment later, I was chatting with the software that ran it.  After reaching an understanding, the robot powered itself down and left me facing a surprised Delwood.

“Shit!” I heard him say while T.J. cursed and made sounds like he was beating hell out of his controller.

Delwood took off at a sprint for the flag and I moved to follow.  DD wasn’t as quick or surefooted with sand for a body, but I wasn’t far behind and Delwood had a lot to occupy him.

A kinetic shield stone went off, throwing him up, but he twisted and came down on the other side near the second ring of rocks.  I slipped through the gap and closed the distance.

The next rock opened a gaping chasm at his feet but the bastard jumped sideways, bounced off the sidewall of the hole, and landed inside the second ring.

I was slowed by needing to go around the hole, and now he was at the final ring, which ignited into a white hot ring of fire as he approached.  The rocks were all actually made of compressed aluminum and magnesium powder in a mixture more commonly known as thermite.

Delwood paused to grab some rocks from his own loadbearing gear and throw them at the inferno.  A sharp blast of compressed air exploded, blowing the burning material up, back, and sideways in a big enough arc to make me glad I had reinforced the protective shields around the game course.  Burning thermite in a crowd would be spectacularly bad.

The resulting gap in fire was just big enough for him to dive through and I threw myself on his back, a seismic grenade slapping on his dude and beginning to shake it apart just as his hand touched our flag.

“Game to the Were-Machines for control o’their opponents flag,” Aunt Ash announced.

I pulled myself back to my body and looked at her, meeting her expectant gaze.

“What?  I just killed his avatar!”

“But he controlled your flag afore his demise.  This be Capture the Flag, Declan.  He captured it, if even for a few wee seconds,” she said, completely without sympathy.

“Hah!  We won!” Delwood crowed, standing up from his team’s bench.  The crowd applauded as I turned to meet the disappointed faces of my teammates.

“I killed him, just not quite fast enough,” I said.

“We eliminated the entire team, but couldn’t find the flag,” Justin said with a shrug.

“So according to the rules, they won, even though their entire team died.  That’s fucked up,” Mack said.

“Nonetheless, they won,” Caeco said.  “We played awesome and destroyed our enemy, but as luck would have it, we lost the game.  That’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Delwood’s family was congratulating him, and the other families were coming over to the team area.  I was struggling with my disappointment so I turned back to the game to clean up.

With a thought, I gathered all eleven dirt avatars and T.J.’s robot in a telekinetic lift and pulled them to me.  As they floated over, I separated them, sending each to its cubby, but only after affecting repairs.  It only took a few seconds, and then I pulled down the wards protecting the audience.  Turning back around, I found myself the center of attention of a pack of wolves.

“Not fair, Diced Lung,” Delwood said, looking menacing.  “I win the game and you still steal the show.”  Then he was on me, grabbing one hand and giving me a furious bro hug.

“Good game, huh?  I thought you had me,” he said, grinning as he released me from the bone-crushing man embrace.  “Hey Mom, Dad, this is Declan O’Carroll.  He’s that bully witch kid I was telling you about.”

I had no idea what he meant by that and his grin could have been for me or for my eminent demise at his parents’ hands… err, claws.

“Good.  It’s nice to meet the kid who put Delwood in his place.  He needs a regular thumping, especially when I’m not around,” Delwood’s father said.  He had the same dark hair and eyes and while maybe an inch shorter than his son, out-massed him by at least thirty pounds.

“Ah, nice to meet you Mr. Singer,” I said, shaking a hand that made three of mine and had the power to jelly my bones.  His mother stepped up and shook my hand almost as powerfully.  She too was tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes.

“This is our daughter Clary,” Mr. Singer said, directing my attention to the tall, pretty brunette next in line, who was maybe a year younger than Del.  I shook her hand, uncomfortable with her direct gaze and sly smile.

“I’m a big fan of anyone who beats up my brother.”

Delwood growled and I turned to him.  “Ah, just what have you been telling them?”

“You know.  How we’ve traded some blows and then you sucker kicked me in the junk and crushed my throat.”

“Oh, and did you mention caving in my ribcage and breaking my jaw?” I asked.

“I love it!” Mr. Singer clapped his hands.  “He gives it right back to you,” he said to Delwood.

“Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass.  But how many others here, besides me, can say they got to fight with the only Champion class student?” Delwood asked.

“What?” I asked.  “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, my.  He’s humble, too?” Mrs. Singer exclaimed.

“Yeah, still a pain, though,” Delwood said.  “Hey let’s go eat. They’re setting up for dinner upstairs.  The food here is really good.  Clary, you’re going to love next year when you get here.”

Their attention shifted to food, the family Singer moved as one toward the stairwell, Clary smiling back at me over her shoulder.

The space they vacated was suddenly filled with Chris and Tanya.  Stacia, Katrina, Lydia, Nika, and Arkady all appeared on either side of them.

“Declan, that game was magnificent,” Tanya said.  She looked genuinely excited by it.

“Yeah, but we lost.  I lost for us,” I said, trying to smile as I did.

“Bah, you destroyed your enemy, who died touching your flag,” she said.  Over her shoulder, I met T.J.’s stare.  It was shockingly full of hatred.  For a split second, I didn’t understand, then I remembered turning off his robot.  He was furious with me.

“Yeah, that was really good tactical work by both you and that werewolf kid, Delwood,” Chris said, pulling my attention back to the conversation.

“He’s actually a really good strategist.  I’d rank him and Caeco as the top two in the class.  Me, I’m more of a close quarters tactics guy.”

“Yeah, we saw the footage from your semi-final game.  You brutalized almost the entire other team by yourself,” Stacia said.

“I was in the middle of a fight with Caeco and I sorta took it out on them,” I said.

“You guys okay?” Chris asked.

“Well, yes and no.  We’re having some issues, but we’ll figure them out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stacia said.  “Hey, changing the subject completely, is there any way I could run one of those things?”

“Yeah, me too,” Lydia asked.

Fifteen minutes later, I had them all, except Chris, hooked up with our spare avatars.  They were tumbling about the course, tackling each other and climbing things, running around like little kids, Katrina showing them how it was done with her own avatar.

“Can we chat a minute, Declan?” Chris asked.  I nodded, still watching the dirt dudes cavorting on the game course.

“So do you have any plans for the summer?” he asked.

“No, it’s only March.  I’m just trying to get through my courses,” I said.

“Well, we’d like you to work for us this summer, sort of an internship, but nothing that formal.”

“Would it pay?” I asked, then mentally kicked myself for being an ass.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think I’m an ass.  You’re paying for my entire college; the least I can do is help you this summer.”

“Well, you’re wrong.  It definitely pays and the scale may surprise you, but we can talk later. I just want to get my offer in before all these others descend on you with offers of jobs, money, and concubines,” he said, waving to the people who were still mysteriously still down in the basement when the action had long ended and the dinner was getting started.

“You think I’ll get other offers?” I asked.

“I think you’ll get dozens.”

“Well, don’t worry.  I see myself with a Demidova t-shirt and a Team God Hammer hat,” I said.

“You’re damned right!” Tanya said from her spot on the bench, her eyes closed and her avatar turned our way.  Lydia’s avatar dove onto Tanya’s back, taking her to the ground.  They were physical equals in Wytchwar, Tanya’s vast powers cancelled out by the dirt.  Tanya rolled Lydia off her, came to her feet, and executed a perfect spinning back kick that knocked the dirt girl sideways.  Okay, maybe not all her skills were negated.

“Good, glad we got that figured out,” Chris said.  “Now, do you have any left for me to drive?”

“Well, how would you feel about running mine?  I can jury rig my own better than someone else’s.”

“That would be awesome,” he said, sounding like an excited mid-twenty year old and not at all like an Angel of God.

Epilogue

“You’ll need to be very still for this, which might be hard as the solution burns a bit, so I’m told,” I said.

“You tested it on your werewolf friends?” Stacia asked, sitting stiffly, facing forward.  We were all in one of the empty classrooms at Arcane the day after the big game.

“Well, I tested it on Delwood, so no worries,” I said, dipping the first rune stamp into the beeswax, iron dust, wolfsbane, and silver nitrate mixture.  The stamps came from my aunt’s online shop, a complete runic alphabet.  They were perfect for applying the glyphs that would allow Chris’s team to escape any cuffs or explosive collars should they ever be captured again.

I had already inked the vampires, each sitting like a statute and with no visible reaction to the mild silver content of the solution.  But Stacia was a were, and they don’t sit still very long.

“What’s the deal between you two anyway?” she asked as I applied Cen, the base rune, at four equidistant points around her slim neck.

“Well, underneath all the aggression and bluster, he’s still something of an asshole, but an okay one.  He has no real filters, jumps at any challenge—which makes him easy to manipulate—and has an ego big as a dump truck.  He’s also fairly smart, a good strategist, fearless, and pretty much has the back of any student at Arcane.  We have a mutual respect thing going on.”

“But you insult each other?” Lydia asked.

“Of course.  That’s how guys do it,” I said.  Another dip of the special sauce and I started on Gar, the spear.  “Does it hurt?”

“It stings a little, but that’s fading,” she said.

“I put just a hint of silver and aconite in it to fix the iron dust.  I think the whole thing will fade to just a faint mark, but the magic will stay strong,” I said.

“You think these will really work?” Chris asked, looking at his wrists.

“They worked for me.  Let me get the last two runes on Stacia, and we’ll go over how to use them,” I said, working as quickly as possible without making a mistake.  It wasn’t easy to concentrate with all the scented tan skin exposed by her tank top.  She must use a tanning bed to stay this dark in winter, I thought, which formed an image in my head.  My hand shook a little as I applied the last rune, Stan or stone.

Shaking out my stiff hands, I stood up and grabbed a pair of handcuffs which I started to snap onto Chris’s wrists.

“Don’t break these. They’re just for learning. I had to borrow them from Darci,” I said, snapping additional pairs on Arkady, Tanya, Lydia, Nika, and Stacia.  They just sat there, cuffed, looking at me expectantly.

“Now mentally say the word aperi, as you think of your wrists,” I said.

“Latin for open?” Arkady asked, even as six sets of cuffs popped open.

Next I pulled out some plastic wrist restraints, which I put on them.

“Again, these obviously wouldn’t hold any of you, but it’s the thought that counts,” I said.  “And the thought is scalpere.”

“Slice?” Lydia questioned.  They tried it and all six restraints each fell into four pieces, but not at the same time.

“We’re using Latin because you don’t think in it all the time.  Can’t have you thinking of slicing something and your favorite necklace or bracelet falls into four chunks, right?”

I grabbed some plastic neckbands for them to practice with.  On the second runthrough, Chris counted down from three and they all sliced their bands at the same time.

Then he grabbed a nearby duffle and produced seven sets of fancy metal collars with lights on them.  He gave us each one and then pulled out a square plastic box with two lights on it, one green, one red.

“These are linked to each other and the box.  Put them on. You too, Declan,” he said.

We each snapped the simple clasp shut on our necks.  It didn’t bother me, but only an idiot would miss the hesitation that they all showed at the collars.  When all seven were on, the green LED on the box lit up.

“If we touch these or mess with them, the red light comes on and the collars all buzz,” Chris said, reaching up and tugging his own.  Instantly, my collar buzzed and I felt a shock.

“Ow,” Lydia said.

“Oh yeah, we also get shocked,” Chris said with a grin.  The light was red, but after a few seconds, it went to green.

“Alright.  On the count of three, think of the Latin word for slice.  One, two, three,” he counted.

All seven collars fell apart and the green light never changed.  Awasos picked up a broken collar in his jaws and started to chew it.

“Too easy,” Arkady rumbled.

“I agree.  It should have taken more practice to synchronize,” Tanya said, turning to me.

“Ah, I made the spell so that it sorta self-synchronizes if everyone is pretty close to the same mark.  You told me about the bomb collars and I thought we shouldn’t leave it to chance,” I said.

Chris turned to the others.  “See?”

“Yeah, kid you’re gonna fit right in,” Lydia said.

“Provided you’ve decided to play for team Demidova this summer?” Chris asked.

“Yeah about that,” I began.  The vampires went very still, only Chris and Stacia still showing human movement.  I quickly held up both hands.  “I still want to, but I’m not sure you’re gonna still want me.”

“Why, Declan?” Tanya asked, cocking her head and frowning.

I reached into my book bag of magic supplies and pulled out Sorrow’s previous home, tossing it to Chris.

“I found the Book of Darkest Sorrow.  Well, actually, it found me.  Only it’s not in there anymore,” I explained as he pawed through the blank pages.

“Where is it?  And how did you get it?” Tanya asked.

I explained that the witch fight, which they knew about, was actually driven by Sorrow and was fully directed at me.  Then I told them about the elves, Ariel, Neeve’s Black Frost blade as Ian had called it, and the wound in my side.

“But it was indestructible?” Chris asked.

“My aunt feels that it allowed itself to be punctured in such a manner that my skin got opened, too.  Then it could transfer itself inside me,” I said, pulling up my t-shirt so they could see spells in black ink appear on my stomach as I thought about them.

“What does this mean?” Stacia asked.

“That I have a semi-sentient five-hundred-year-old grimoire from an evil German witch inside me.  We think it has an agenda and it wanted me for that agenda.”

“That explains your aunt’s rather cryptic comment.  I asked her if you had mentioned the summer job and she said we probably didn’t want two for one,” Chris said.  “When I pressed further, she said that you would tell as what she meant.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine you’d still want me for an employee,” I said.

“Why?” Tanya asked.

“Hello, evil book trying to take over my powers and then the world?” I said.

“Hello, vampire who craves your blood where you stand,” she said back without any sarcasm.  “Any others here want to bite Declan?”

Arkady, Lydia, and Nika all raised theirs hands.  Not gonna lie, it was a more than a bit creepy that they all wanted to drink my blood.

“I have to work real hard to keep from ripping the hearts out of men who make obscene comments to me,” Stacia said.  “Somehow, they think it will make me want them and it does—torn open and bleeding out.”

“I have days when it’s best I don’t drive in traffic because my road rage is not like everyone else’s road rage.  Grim would really like to clear traffic and his proposed methods are… outside the box,” Chris said.

“Okay, I get what you’re saying.  But this is different.  What you’re talking about is part of you.  Sorrow isn’t part of me.  It’s alien and aware and constantly trying to influence me or trick me.  I can’t trust its spells and if it wins, things will be really bad.”

“I presume your aunt is working on getting it out of you?” Chris asked.

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“Well, we can offer her unimaginable resources.  There are books in private vampire collections that haven’t been seen in a thousand years.  Plus, where better for you to be than in a group like us if you do get taken over.  You are aware that Nika is one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, right?” Chris argued.

“Wait, you still want me on the team?” I asked.

“Yeah, we do.  Listen Declan, aside from the fact that we like you, I don’t think you understand the value that you bring to us.  You are the most powerful male witch known, as well as one of the most powerful witches, period.  Beyond that, your particular skillset is uniquely suited to help us deal with a threat we feel is fast approaching all mankind,” he said.

I must have frowned because Tanya answered my unspoken question.  “Technology, Declan.  Particularly artificial intelligence.  Like Stephen Hawking, we feel the achievement of AI might be an extinction-level event.”

“Now with the global awareness of the supernatural, governments all over the planet are putting more resources into finding counters to the threats of vampires, weres, and demons, mostly with technology,” Lydia said.

“You think it’ll happen soon?” I asked.

Chris and Tanya exchanged a glance.  “We think it may have already happened, at least once, maybe more.  We need your help to find out,” Chris said.

“Me?  You must have the best hackers?” I asked.

“We do.  But we don’t know of anyone that can do what you do, though—what you did with that robot during yesterday’s game,” Lydia said.

“Oh, yeah.  I can see how that might be helpful in tracking the ghost in the machine,” I admitted.  “What makes you think there is an AI out there?”

“Do you remember the Tomahawk missile?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, it was on the news.  Supposedly a training accident.  That’s bullshit, right?” I asked.

“Thing is, we tracked down the captain of that boat.  The Navy cashiered him after that, but it was all a cover-up.  Nika read him like a book.  He has no idea how the missile launched.  It just launched itself and assigned itself the exact coordinates that we happened to be occupying.  He was thoroughly disturbed by what happened, which was supposed to be impossible,” Chris said.

“Then, during the battle for Washington, or rather, at the end of it, that Star Wars weapon opened fire.  Again, we haven’t been able to find out where any order originated to use it.  Everyone with supposed control was left baffled.  Our lead computer guy, who you will meet, is of the strong opinion that a powerful government program got away from its tenders,” Stacia said.

“And you think I can help?”  I asked.

“Can you?  If we put you onboard that sub, could you look for traces of something like that?” Chris asked.

I thought about it for a moment, remembering things I done in and to my high school’s computer.  “Yeah.  Very possibly I could.”

“Can he be trusted?  Stealing the witch’s book may have been his plan,” Arkady suddenly interjected.

“What?  I get myself stuck by some Fairie death weapon so that an alien book can invade me, all to steal it from you, after it came looking for me, and then I tell you about it?  That’s insane,” I said.

“Is insane?  Or clever like fox?” he asked.

“Oh,” I said as the answer came to me.  “Oh, you’re saying that to prod me into opening up my shields so that she,” I pointed to Nika, “can probe my brain.  Clever.”

“Clumsy.  I told you so,” Lydia said to the giant vampire.

Chris frowned.  “You didn’t tell me, though, did you?” he asked, angry.

“Because you would have said no.  You are biased where he’s concerned,” Lydia said, not backing down.

“But that doesn’t give you the right to—” he started, but I interrupted with, “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Tanya asked me, forcing the others to stop glaring at each other.

“I’ll do it.  Open my shields.  Here,” I said, turning toward Nika and dropping my mental protections.

Keine!  I paused, frowning.  The others looked baffled, but Nika looked fascinated.

“Internal conversation.  Somebody is backsliding into German again,” I said.

“He is open and honest.  Very brave too, telling us about the book.  He thought we might kill him.  There is… another.  Odd, it slips away from me.  This is fascinating,” Nika said.

“You thought we might kill you?  And you came anyway?” Chris rounded on me.

“That’s not how we taught you, Declan,” Tanya admonished. “You don’t go headfirst into dangerous territory.”

“You do all the time, and anyway, I only thought it was a possibility.  A low one.  I didn’t think you really would.  I was pretty certain that you wouldn’t hire me, though.”

“Satisfied?” Chris asked Lydia and Arkady, his voice cold.  They both glanced at Nika, who was still staring at my head, eyes focused like she was trying to peel it telekinetically.  She nodded once without looking away.  They, in turn, looked back at Chris and nodded without any sign of self-consciousness.

“Declan, I’m sorry.  I’ll understand if this changes things,” he said.

“I actually like that they will protect you even if it pisses you off.  That’s cool.  I’d want to check me out too if I were you guys,” I said.

“Really,” he said.  “You’re still on board?”  I nodded.

“And the tattoos really work.  We’ll be testing them further and you can tweak or adjust them if we need to, right?” he asked.

“Something like that.  We’ll see how the magic holds in them.  I may boost them every few years or so,” I said.

“Okay, great.  Anything else we should go over?” he asked.

I hesitated.  There was, but I didn’t know how to approach it.

“Head on,” Nika said to me.  I glanced at her and she nodded encouragingly.  Still,  this was touchy.  How would he react?

“Go on.  You saw how he was with them,” Nika said.  Curiosity was killing the rest of them.

“I, ah, wondered if there was something you might let me try… on you?” I asked Chris.  He raised both eyebrows, first at me, then Nika.  She just smiled.

“When I study for tests, there’s a spell I use.  It helps me during the tests.  I don’t think it’s cheating; it just helps me… remember,” I said.

Stacia sucked a deep breath and the vampires, other than Nika, all went stock still.  Chris rocked back, eyes locked on mine, face unreadable.

“It’s very light.  Very safe—it’s my mom’s spell, from her book.  Not Sorrow’s,” I said.

Sorrow flooded my mind with better spells, much more powerful memory enhancers.

“You think it could help?” he finally asked.

“When we study stuff, most of us retain or remember bits and pieces.  This spell helps bring them all together.  Someone mentioned, maybe it was you, that you’re getting bits and pieces back, but they’re all jumbled.  I think this could help, and I really don’t think it could hurt.”

He looked at me for a second, then nodded.  “Do it.”

Arkady growled, but Nika’s hand blurred out and her finger went over his lips.  “Hush. You have no idea.”

Nervous, I grabbed my book bag and pulled stuff out.  “Here, take a swig of this and hand me back the bottle,” I said, handing him my UVM water bottle.

He did without hesitation.  “Water?”

“Water you drank from.  It’ll form the base fluid,” I said, lighting a bundle of sage and wafting it around him.  An idea occurred to me.  I turned to Tanya and pointed at her chest.  Actually, the necklace she wore.  An arrowhead lying on a partial eagle feather.  “Did he give you that?”

She nodded, frowning.

“May I borrow it?  I’ll give it right back,” I said.

The feather made wafting the sage smoke easier, but it was the symbolism and the connection between them that I wanted.

Next, I snuffed out the sage into a ceramic bowl I had picked up at a cool store on Church Street.  Then I poured a small amount of water from the bottle into the bowl.  I added a drop of Jasmine oil and a drop of Lilac oil.  A single Aricept tablet that I had gotten from a pharmaceutical salesman who frequented the restaurant went in, along with the powder from a ginko biloba capsule.

I stirred it with the flint arrowhead, then used the tip of the arrowhead to draw my runes on his forehead with the powdery, ashy fluid.

“Most spells are simply frameworks for the witch to wrap his or her mind around the effect they are trying to achieve.  A lot of symbolism is involved.  The sage purifies the air you breathe to remove all negative energy.  The water is you, the feather and arrow is your connection to Tanya, and the pills are symbols of memory.  The runes I draw are for knowledge, gifts, the Sun, and the yew for protection.  With my will invoked, I direct your mind to pull together all its knowledge, memories, and experiences.  To put them in proper order, to open them up to your conscious mind for your inspection and review.  I will it so,” I said, putting my left hand on his right temple and my right on his left temple.  As I said the word so, I felt a rush of power leave me and enter him.  Nothing huge, just a small mental shove.

I let go and sat back.  He looked stunned, eyes wide and mouth open, sitting frozen.

“What did you do?” Arkady demanded.

Tanya’s hand was on his chest before the giant could move.  We both looked her way.  She was staring at Chris, tears streaming down her face.  She didn’t react except to smile.  The kind of smile that could stop traffic.

“He is remembering… everything,” Nika said, eyes wide as well.  Chris was staring straight ahead, looking at nothing but still smiling. Awasos stood up and moved over to him, putting his massive head on Chris’s lap.  Without seeming to be aware of it, Chris started to pat ‘Sos’s head.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the power of the emotion in the room, I hurriedly packed my bag and stood up.

“Looks like it’s working, at least to some degree,” I said.  The vampires ignored me, still watching their young leaders, but ‘Sos rolled his eyes my way without turning his head.  Stacia got up and followed me to the classroom door.

“Right, well I should get back to my room and get some homework done.  Spring break is over and school starts tomorrow,” I said, rambling.

“Declan,” Stacia said, grabbing my arm.  “That was huge.  Unbelievably huge.  His memory has been a giant issue.”

“Yeah, well, I could see that, so when I was studying for mid-terms before break, it occurred to me that this might help.”

“If half of what I think is happening, then you did way more than help,” she said.  I didn’t know what more to say, uncomfortable with her gratitude on Chris’s behalf.

“How are you and your girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“Well, we decided to take a break for a while.  Things have been difficult and all the attention I’m getting from the witch world really strained us.  Her in particular.  But we agreed we’re both too young to get super serious.”

“Your idea or hers?” she asked.

“Ah, hers,” I said.

She nodded.  “Was it friendly, or tense?”

“Pretty friendly, although I know for a fact she’s not going to work for you guys this summer if I am.  I wasn’t really surprised when she suggested a break.”

“What will she do?” Stacia asked.

“I think she’s going to work for the FBI this summer.  Use her skills for something less deadly.”

“You thinking of dating the Irish girl?” she asked.

“I’m not exactly boyfriend material while I have this thing inside me,” I said.

“Declan, does anyone else know about Sorrow?” Stacia asked.

“No.  Just you guys and my aunt.  I told everyone else that the book got destroyed, which is true, just not the full story.  I don’t think it would be a good idea for it to be general knowledge.”

“Ya think?  Super eligible boy witch who comes with fully installed ancient and priceless grimoire?  How do you think the circles would react?” she asked.

Before I could answer, Larry the party kid came whipping around the corner, headed for the entrance.

“Hey Declan.  Delwood’s gonna try to bench press a car,” he said, then caught sight of Stacia.  He slammed to a sudden halt, looked at his cell phone and then looked up at her.  “I’ve lost all my numbers… can I have yours?” he asked with a sly grin.

She laughed.  “Points for originality.  Well played.  Not happening.  See ya, Declan.  Get good grades ‘cause we need you this summer,” she said, kissing my cheek and sliding back into the room.

“Duuuuude!  You got game!” Larry said.

“Nah.  So whose car is Delwood lifting?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  Some green Jeep or Land Crusier thing,” he said, heading to the door.

I rushed after him, ready to save one Beast from another.  Halfway through my first semester of college already.  What did the second half hold?  Or the summer, for that matter?  No way to know, but it beat the hell out of high school.

The End.

Author’s Note:

Declan and Chris will be back in God Hammer or as I like to think of it, the most exciting college internship ever.

Many thanks to Marty Munson, Ryan Bibby and Susan Gottfried, whose hard work help my scribbles become a book.  The idea for the cover that Ryan skillfully created came from my wife Robin.  The college world was copied from my observations of my daughter’s experience… from a safe distance.  My younger daughter supplies much of the snark and wit expressed by Declan and company.

Finally, I want to dedicate College Arcane to Mark W. Merritt, lifelong friend, patriot and shadow warrior.  Rest without pain my friend.