The Rise of Ren Crown (49 page)

Long and tedious motions could be made to accomplish this. Nicholas Dare could do it in seconds.

“He does tend to make himself more affable so that people forget what he is capable of.” He looked at me as if he were making a statement about more than just Nicholas.

“No one forgets what you are capable of.”

“Me? No. It would be wasted energy to try.” He shrugged, then looked to the side again, body twitching again just the smallest bit. “And I dislike most people who try to gain favor anyway.”

“Why do you save them, then? As a feint for some larger plan?”

“I save them because they need saving. Plans are worthless if the end goal isn't a positive one.”

A positive one for whom, was the question. Most people thought it was for the Dares.

I examined him. “What are you going to do with my team?”

He smiled. “The same thing you are doing now. Use them.”

“You always have two or three plans in the works, don't you?” I said, voice trailing off as I thought about it.

“Always.”

I opened my mouth, but watched his eyes shift left again and his body twitch. There was something familiar about those twitches...like the start of a movement I had seen many times...

“Are you...are you
fighting?
Right
now?
”

“Yes,” he said, as if I should have known this.

I stared for a moment, then reached toward the dragon. “You are insane.”

He nodded, distracted now that he was pulling his attention back elsewhere, but said, “Ren, don't forget to take the vine when you go.”

Chapter Thirty-nine: Department of Justice

Standing as close to the Midlands as I could come—two mountain circles up—I gave a whistle.

Nothing.

Why I had thought that might work, I didn't know. It wasn't a dog.

But Axer had said that it wouldn't stay in the Midlands long. That was both a blessing and a curse. Which, speaking of the Midlands, they looked
way
better. Maybe the vine had been helping out in there?

Actually, the mist almost looked
too
thin—like the chaos was being normalized.

I gave another whistle, just in case it would answer. Nothing.

I contemplated what I knew of the vine. It wasn't much. I had a feeling that I could call it with paint, but it would have to be good paint, and the tube would get taken away. But...there
was
something else.

I made a small cut on my arm, just enough that a drop of blood welled up, then dripped onto the ground. I gave another whistle, because, well, I didn't know why.

A rupture sounded as the vine broke through the ground, bursting from under the Midlands' border. Shaking itself, it headed my way, dolphining into and out of the ground lazily. It was
way
fatter—like a six foot boa constrictor now, in girth and length.

“Hey, so, I was thinking, how does a nice excursion to—” I started to say as it approached.

It lunged forward and clamped around my arm, sinking its thorny teeth into my skin.

“Argh. No.” I tried to pull it off, but it remained firmly attached, thorns curving painfully inward like the fangs they resembled.

Great. I let it finish, gritting my teeth at the pain. It released me moments later and plopped its bottom quarter down on the grass, the rest of it undulated in the air hypnotically, waiting.

I sighed. “That's really unpleasant.”

I got a mental flash containing images of dozens of thin vines biting a girl, then injecting magic into the ground. It was a mishmash of half-formed images, but the same girl was featured heavily in most of them.

“Yeah, okay, that's...weird. Listen, I have a little task for—”

It hopped upward, folded into a jackknife, and dove into the ground.

Great
.

I ran a finger over the puncture wounds. If I had to bleed again, I was going to be really irritated. And I had no idea why it needed to come with us. Though, now that I was thinking about it, I could totally use its recycling capabilities in the harsh Third Layer landscape.

I scanned the mountain, trying to determine the vine's direction, so I could chase after it. But it wasn't surfacing, and only the shadows from the clouds and sun were changing shape on the grass. Stupid, rotten—

A hand grabbed me on top of the wound and jerked me around.

Tarei smiled down at me.

I hadn't heard him coming.

That thought was followed by the sure knowledge that those shifting shadows hadn't been from the sun.

On someone else, I would have labeled his smile as smug, but on Tarei, combined with the coldness of his gaze, it looked far more sinister. Almost like I could see a different face overlaying his.

“Ah. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Criminal types can't, you know.” And there was that voice again, a blend of two different people.

“Let go of me.”

Tarei wrapped his hand more tightly around my arm. The same power—though weaker—that Kaine had had was present in Tarei's grip. “Now, Miss Crown, I think you will answer a few questions about your Blood Magic offense, and then we will be making a
short
trip off this bloody campus.”

Coldness gathered in my limbs. I had forgotten about Blood Magic offenses. Blood Magic was used in a lot of things—I'd used it extensively when trying to bring Christian back—but, like with anything, certain usages were off limits. It was the first Justice call I had ever made to Constantine.

Whatever the vine did when it bit me, obviously provoked the Justice Magic to respond.

And I hadn't been thinking of that at all. When the vine had bitten me before, we'd been in the Midlands—one of the only places where Justice Magic didn't register. The place where I'd always done most of my tests.

Shadows shifted in Tarei's eyes, hiding a second presence, and he smiled in triumph as ice froze me in place. “Finally.”

“Ren Crown, you have registered a Level Three offense,” a familiar, pinched voice said.

Tarei, who was painfully holding onto to me, stiffened. Peters was standing behind us, canary yellow tablet in hand, expression resolute.

“Go away, boy,” Tarei bit out, dismissing him just as quickly, as he looked down at me. “Or, better yet, report to your Provost that I am escorting this student off campus.” His vicious, triumphant smile started to curve again.

“I cannot do that, sir.”

“Excuse me?” Tarei said coldly, turning back to Peters again.

“This student has registered a Level Three offense, sir, and needs to be dealt with.”

“I have the student in my custody.” Every word was clipped and icy. Threatening.

“Absolutely, sir. I thank you for holding her. I will take it from here.”

Tarei gave him a contemptuous glance. “You will leave.”

“My apologies, sir, but I cannot. Campus Justice Magic needs to be satisfied. Rulebook section 192.453.2 states that once a Level Three has occurred I must detain the perpetrator, then issue a punishment to be served within a reasonable timeframe. No detainment can be made following that punishment. I
do
have ten minutes to issue said punishment, so you may still ask any questions of the offender that you might have. Rulebook section 35.24.5 states that a recording device is to be used in these matters, however, and that all parties must be made aware of that.”

He tapped the small blinking blue light on his yellow tablet. “I have informed both of you and activated the record. You may commence your questioning.”

He maintained a solid gaze with Tarei, perfectly respectable and respectful in attitude, but I could see moisture sliding down the back of Peters' neck.

Peters wasn't doing anything extraordinary, per se, as Tarei couldn't say that he was being belligerent or standing in his way—Peters was following the letter of the law. Several laws.

And that was a very Peters thing to do.

What
wasn't
a very Peters thing to do, was helping
me
in any way. And by standing there, issuing a blatant statement to a very powerful Department member concerning how long he could speak to me before he had to let me go, was helping
me
remain on campus.

Peters didn't have to be recording. The rulebook stated it was
preferred
. Since I almost always let miscreants off with lesser punishments, I generally chose to be on the “it is not mandated” side of that rule.

If he wanted, Peters could defer to the Department and stand to the side for eight minutes, recording device nowhere in existence.

Instead, Peters was standing witness, and
recording
, and there was nothing subversive Tarei could do while he was.

This time.

Tarei smiled unpleasantly and something in his eyes shifted, taking hold of him and changing his actions into something far more controlled. His voice took on that same odd tone.
Stavros.
“Following your protocols, are you, boy? What is your name?”

That
voice issuing from Tarei's mouth was far more clinical and removed from emotion. The kind that stepped on people like ants in one's path, thinking no more on the actions than that.

“Joseph Aldwin Peters, of the Seddenbury Peters', sir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

In any other circumstance, I would say that Peters was being sycophantic. But with another sweat drop rolling down his neck—and the absolute assurance that Peters hated me—that was not what this was.

Peters had always been ballsy. Defiant in his rule following, even. And I was going to need to dial back my scoffing for his rule following tendencies from this point forward.

“I never forget a meeting, Mr. Peters.” Tarei abruptly let go of my arm. “We will meet again, I'm certain.”

“I do so hope so, Praetorian Tarei.” Peters sounded absolutely sincere.

Tarei disappeared into a shadow, and I massaged the muscles and bones he had been crushing.

I stared at Peters.

He met my gaze head on. He always had. Joseph Aldwin Peters was a rule following prick, but he
believed.
He believed in his path.

“Why?” I asked.

He required no specification. “Because you saved campus. And after, you helped people and made things better. There's an entire club now dedicated to duplicating those roses you've been handing out. And I might think a lot of things about you, most of them negative, but that action—those actions—require a boon.”

Like Camille and Bellacia and my “dispensation” and “grace period.”

He continued—“I thought it was an absolute disgrace when you were paired with Mr. Dare at the beginning of term.” Never Axer, not for Peters. “I reported you,” he said frankly.

I hoped my expression conveyed how
not
surprised I was.

“But then...” His expression took on a sort of constipated cast. “You worked hard. You were combing campus all of the time,
far
outside of what was expected. And shadowing Mr. Dare into the worst places.”

As fantastic as I found the Midlands, the levels deserved their reputation.

Peters examined me in a dissecting manner. “We aren't cut out for campus protection in that way on the Justice Squad. We follow the letter of the law. We help society stay even and on the right track by focusing on mage related crime inside of the system, not monsters or war.”

I remembered Peters’ reaction to being in the Midlands that first day. As a shadow to Lox, who was one of Dare's teammates, Peters had been in there more times than he'd desired this term, a few of them with me.

“You...you were a part of the
solution
to a number of things that the combat mages alone should have handled. Mr. Dare actually had the two of you solving things together instead of deferring to his team. And you
did
them.”

Peters and I had rarely talked during group patrols, and those group outings had barely registered on my continuously sleep-deprived and Dare-driven days. But Peters had obviously registered those outings.

I rubbed at my arms, uncomfortable with any words approaching kind from Peters. “It was expected. You...you shouldn't have helped me with Tarei. You are going to be punished for it.”

“I am following the letter of the law,” he said. “If the makers of those laws have trouble with that fact, than I'm going to need to rethink my path in life, won't I?”

He said it as if it was that simple. Maybe for Peters it was.

“This is a pass, Miss Crown, do you understand? If you bring additional trouble to Excelsine, we are going to have to deal with you as a community does.” He looked at me through narrowed eyes.

I nodded. I did understand. “Thanks, Peters.”

He dealt with my Level Three—adding on service hours—and walked away.

I stared after him for long moments.

“His older brother was waylaid in an Outlaw Territory years ago,” Delia said, materializing behind me, as she was wont to do. “Didn't survive. Peters took up the Justice Magic mantle the next day. Justice is important to him.”

I swallowed and clenched my fingers into fists. Peters and I didn't like each other, but respect wasn't out of the question.

“How do you know these things?” I asked her.

Delia shrugged. She always knew everything and she always seemed to pop up where I least expected. “Knowledge is social power, Crown.”

“Did I bat signal an alert or something?”

She smiled, kohl drawing itself on her eyelids underneath her black bangs. “Let's just say that we might have put a small addition into your armband in order to keep track of you.”

I sighed. “Great.”

“It only registers if someone from the Department touches you. I was waiting to see if I was going to need to call in the Omega plan,” she said lightly.

“What plan?” I said suspiciously.

She waved it away. “So what were you doing? Blood Magic only registers if you are doing something egregious.”

“Yeah.” I sighed again. “Listen, do you have some time?”

She spread her hands, palms down. “I'm all yours. What are we doing?”

“I need you to help me hunt down a killer vine.”

Chapter Forty: Friday Night Lights