Novel - Arcanum 101 (with Rosemary Edghill) (11 page)

Lalage raised her hand. “Why don’t we know?” she asked. “I mean, if an agent has already seen whatever it is—”

“Because the agent probably hasn’t seen it,” Eric answered. “What the agent is doing is almost always identifying an anomalous power-signature remotely, and then verifying how strong it is, also remotely. Kind of like spotting something on radar and getting a feel for what it is.”

He didn’t mention something that VeeVee was pretty sure most of the kids here didn’t know: that the agents in question mostly worked for LlewellCo. Ever since Ria Llewellyn had decided she’d had enough of being called into situations long after they’d become emergencies, there’d been a sea-change in the way those mages allied with the Elfhames Underhill and some of the Guardians started to operate. Thanks to what Eric and Ria and a small group of Guardians in New York City had started, there was an uneasy, but real, alliance among the three groups, with LlewellCo Mage-tech watching for problems, LlewellCo agents monitoring the tech, and a LlewellCo “Coordinator” deciding who or what needed to deal with said problems. No more vague “disturbances in the Force.” No more vague feelings of impending trouble. No more tea-leaves or crystal balls or card-reading…

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Stuff could still crop up out of nowhere almost overnight. And there were Guardians and other Mages who refused to work with a corporation, with Ria, or both. But for most hot-spots, at least in North America, LlewellCo now provided the early warning system for magical trouble. The “Defense Against The Dark Arts” had finally moved into the 21st century.

VeeVee’s parents loved this, but there were plenty of Guardians who thought they were crazy for trusting an outsider. VeeVee was going to stay out of the argument; not only was she a non-Guardian and a teenager, no matter what she said, the fact she was attending a school also sponsored by LlewellCo would be held against her.

“Now, much as I would like to haul all of you along on this, the limit this time is going to be those with combat-oriented talents,” Eric concluded. “VeeVee, Lalage, Ethan and Brian. The P-track teachers will be picking the Psis, but one I can promise will be going will be Kurt. Never, never, never go on a Hunt without a medic.”

Well. Combat-oriented, hmm? There was one P-track candidate VeeVee could think of that fit that description. The question was, did he have his power under enough control?

Well, that would be for the teachers to decide, and if they had decided he was ready, he’d probably been told. Annoyingly, she was not going to have a free time-slot or a class with him in it until after lunch. So talking to Tomas was going to have to wait until lunch, and he might not show up for lunch. He spent an awful lot of time on that car of his, and yet it always seemed to look exactly the same whenever she went down to the garage: still stripped down, no paint, no interior, no—well maybe the engine looked different. She couldn’t really tell.

There had been a time a couple of weeks back when she’d thought he reason Tomas spent every free minute down at the garage was because he intended to use the car to make a run for it. She’d thought about warning him the techno-mages here had ways of making sure anything built on the grounds didn’t leave the grounds without their permission, but then she’d figured he wouldn’t believe her. He still really didn’t believe in magic. He thought it was all psionics—and it had been hard enough to get him to believe in that. Well, if he did go on this hunting trip, maybe what he saw then would convince him.

VeeVee’s next two classes weren’t much different from the ones any ordinary high school student would take: World History and Biology. History she enjoyed, Bio was a pain. There was a lot of memorizing involved and none of it was intuitive. She could not imagine how anyone with three brain-cells could look at the biology of the world and see the hand of intelligence there. “Intelligent Design” indeed! If the world had been designed by the Powers, then the Powers sure as heck were a bunch of slackers. Take human spines, for instance… she could have come up with a better design in half a day.

VeeVee bolted from the classroom like a shot when the bell rang and made straight for the dining hall, then slowed down as she reached the door and tried to glance nonchalantly at Tomas’s usual table.

The effort was wasted. Tomas wasn’t there. Grumbling to herself, she got into line.

She ate her lunch quickly, trying not to seem as if she was hurrying through it. She casually took her tray back up to the front and dumped her garbage, then sauntered out as if she had no particular place to go. Only when she was out of sight of the windows did she run down to the garage, and once she was within sight of the garage she slowed down to a walk again.

Most kids in Auto Shop took months to earn themselves just one of the basic hulks from the junkyard. Tomas had gotten his car within his first two weeks here. But then, Dottie described him as a “natural wrench”—someone with an instinctive understanding of automotive mechanics. But now that he had his wheels, Tomas didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to make them functional. And yet, he spent most of his free time down here. There was something in this equation VeeVee was missing.

Well she’d have to ask him about it. But not today.

She heard him grinding away on something at the back of the otherwise deserted shop. He was the only one allowed to work here unsupervised, another indication of how capable—and even trustworthy—Dottie deemed him to be.

He finished just as she approached his section of the garage, and caught sight of her as he turned. He pushed up his protective visor and grinned.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.” She looked at the piece of metal in his hands and could not identify it. “You need to eat.”

He shrugged. “I ate,” he said. She looked at him with skepticism. “Dottie keeps sandwich stuff here,” he elaborated.

“Okay, I guess,” she responded, feeling awkward in his presence. A little off-balance. A little fluttery inside. Maybe even a little shy. “But I’m your mentor, I’m supposed to keep track of you.”

He smirked. “Chica, I don’t need no babysitter.”

Stung, she frowned. “Fine, then. Don’t come whining to me if you miss a meal.” She turned on her heel and made one step towards the door.

“Hey, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” she snapped, without turning.

“Like that.” She turned slowly and he shrugged. “Look I want to ask you somethin’. This monster-hunting trip—”

So he had been tapped to go!

“This’s all just phony, right? I mean, this is like Blair Witch. There ain’t nothin’ out there—”

She sighed with exasperation. Was he never going to learn? “No, it’s not phony. There’s something dangerous in this area we need to take down. You should be pleased they’re letting you go along—”

He snorted. “Chica, this’s what you call a “snipe hunt.” Teachers are tryin’ t’ scare you. Ain’t nothin’ out there but trees.”

She shook her head in exasperation. He’d go right on believing that until the moment whatever it was attacked. And maybe that was why the teachers wanted him along.

Not because he was ready.

Because he wasn’t.

And it would be her job to keep him safe.

On the one hand, she could hardly wait to see his face when he was rescued by a girl. On the other…that girl was going to be her, which was not going to do a lot for his ego or their relationship. Such as it was.

Great. Just great.

But on the third hand—could you have a third hand?—maybe he’d finally start believing.

He still hadn’t decided one hundred percent that he was going to stay at this crazy school, even though he’d been here a month now and had not only gotten his room fixed up pretty nice, but Señora Davies had helped him pick out a sweet little junker—the body was crap, but the frame was tight—that was going to be a thing of beauty some day. The schoolwork was still pretty annoying, and the homework really sucked, because there was absolutely no way he could skate on it without getting his extra time privileges at the Garage revoked, but even that he could deal with.

But the thing that really bugged him was that every time he though he had this place figured out, they threw something else loco at him. Like this “hunting trip.’

They were supposed to be out here looking for monsters, like they were in some kind of TV movie. He’d tried to get VeeVee to admit it was all some kind of joke the teachers were playing on them, but she wouldn’t, and that really annoyed him. A lot.

And then he’d found out it was some kind of stupid camping trip, too. They’d all gotten backpacks and camping gear—he’d gotten a pair of hiking boots a couple of days before; Chris said they counted as school supplies and if he didn’t break them in he was going to regret it—and climbed into the back of one of the old pickups late in the afternoon on Saturday, and Mr. Bishop and Mr. Songmaker had gotten into the cab, and they’d driven down the road for a few miles and then way back up into the hills along something that didn’t even look like a road to Tomas. And then after that they’d hiked for miles. That was bad enough, but along the way they’d gotten a history lecture from Mr. Bishop about how the Hudson Valley had been a hotbed of what people had called ghosts and hauntings since before European settlement, and how European settlement dated back to the 1600s when the Dutch arrived to start fur-trapping in the Upper Hudson region. And then Mr. Songmaker had explained about how they didn’t know exactly what was out here, but they did know something was, so their task was going to be to find it, identify it, and neutralize it—or decide whether it was too strong for them to deal with, in which case they should gather as much information as they could and call for help.It all sounded like hocus-pocus to Tomas, and it was really irritating that all of the other kids were taking everything Mr. Songmaker said completely seriously.

Besides him and VeeVee, there were six other kids along on this so-called “hunting trip,” and he only knew a couple of them even to speak to. There was Kurt and Lalage—and then there were Brian Walker and Ethan Harris.

Both of them were M-track, which meant they were supposed to be magicians. He’d never seen either of them doing anything—not even at the Friday Night Dance—but he didn’t really know them well enough to bust their chops about it. They looked really ordinary. But Aaron Clark down in Auto Shop was a skinny little Black guy with an accent so thick that Tomas couldn’t understand him half the time—and one day when a jack had slipped on one of the cars, Aaron had just reached out and held the whole thing up until they could get the jack seated properly again. Aaron hadn’t even popped a sweat. Señora Davies hadn’t batted an eyelash, either, just given them hell for not taking proper precautions.

Tomas was pretty sure Ethan and Brian couldn’t be magicians, though, even if they could Do Stuff, because there wasn’t really any such thing as magic. They had to be something else.

The two girls he didn’t know at all. He hadn’t even known their names until they’d all been introduced to each other today. Aimee King wasn’t his type at all—pale and washed out, and freckled besides. Worse, she’d looked at him as if she’d known exactly what he was thinking, and made a scrunched-up face that did nothing for her looks. She spent a lot of time after that whispering to VeeVee and Lalage—and to the other girl, Annabelle Young—and all four of them had done a lot of giggling. By the time Tomas had started to wonder if they were just going to hike into the next county, they finally stopped.

“This looks like a pretty good place,” Hosea Songmaker said, looking around at the open field. He slipped off his pack and dropped it to the grass. “We’ll set up camp here, have a bite to eat, and wait for dark.”

Annabelle raised her hand. “Excuse me, but why are we waiting? There’s a couple of hours of light left. We could start looking now.”

Mr. Songmaker smiled at her. He was a really big guy—bigger than Kurt—and had a Southern accent thicker than Señora Davies’. Tomas didn’t have any classes with him, so he really didn’t know anything about him at all—except he got the same kind of “don’t mess with this guy” vibe off him he’d gotten off a few of the teachers here. It was a funny thing—another funny thing—because Tomas had never seen anybody here—at least none of the teachers—go out of their way to impress anybody with how tough they were. Oh, sure, some of the other kids tried the “malo hombre” thing on, but Tomas hadn’t seen anybody take them seriously. He kind of got the impression that real all-out bad attitude wouldn’t go down well with anyone at St. Rhia’s.

“Well now, you wouldn’t want to have to hike up here in the dark, but the kind o’ critters you’re usually going to be looking for are just naturally easier to see at night; less background noise and distraction,” Mr. Songmaker said. “And some of them just don’t come out in the day at all. Ah cain’t rightly say what you’re looking for this time, since Ah don’t know, so you’d best go hunting when you’ve got the most chance of catching it.”

“There’s a full moon tonight, too. That’s another important point,” Mr. Bishop added. “Whether a disturbance is magical or not, all kinds of instability peaks around a full moon. So you’ll wait until moonrise before starting your search. The light will be better then, anyway.”

Terrific, Tomas thought grumpily. He could see how this was going to go now. They’d all be sitting here in the dark, and then one of the two teachers—probably Mr. Bishop, since he didn’t think someone Mr. Songmaker’s size could sneak anywhere—would creep off into the dark to play the “monster,” giving everybody a good scare.

Well, he didn’t intend to be scared.

Even though he knew what was coming later, he had to admit the rest of it was kind of fun. Mr. Songmaker had them all go gather firewood and stones for a firepit while he dug out a nice clear space to build it. They’d come back and put up their tents—fortunately none of this stuff was too heavy, since they’d had to carry it all in—and then Mr. Bishop asked Tomas if he wanted to light the fire.

Tomas had actually felt a little bit shy about that, but he knew he had enough control of his power by now for that, so he’d pointed his finger at the firepit, concentrating—he just wanted to start the fire, not burn the pile of logs to ash—and there was a whoosh and a crackle of flames and everybody had applauded. Even VeeVee.