Chapter 37 #3
"Drakeward!” he exclaims in an overly hearty manner.
“There you are—you're late. Where the hell have you been?
" Then, the obviously insane Kormovian turns to the assembled group with a semi-convincing wide-eyed innocence. “Hello, Dean Crankshawe, lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” He gestures vaguely towards the building site. “How's progress coming along?"
There’s a momentary stunned silence, and I begin to think I’ve underestimated Feniks. He saw I’m in trouble and is trying to get me out of here. Hope his acting skills are up to it.
“You're not needed here, Professor,” Singleton-Smith says, flicking his eyes dismissively in Feniks’ direction.
“Many apologies,” Feniks coughs, “but I’m afraid I'm going to have to disagree with you.” Holy shit, Feniks is a ballsy fucker.
“This student,” he continues, “is in detention for the remainder of the day and has the distinct pleasure of assisting me with some tasks.” Feniks gives a toothy smile to the assembled party.
I look down at the ground, not trusting my own expression.
After a moment of silence, I glance up just in time to see Singleton-Smith’s jaw clench as he speaks again.
"I'm sure you can let the boy off the rest of his punishment.
" The smile on his face is no smile at all.
“He's a family friend, and as such, I'm taking him out for the afternoon…so we can catch up.”
Yeah, no fucking way do I want to be ‘taken out for the afternoon’ by that psychopath.
"I’m sure Mr. Drakeward would love that, but no can do.
" The professor clicks his tongue as he muscles in between two security guards and grips my neck. “This young man has stepped over the line too many times, and I own him this weekend. Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m sure you understand, rules are rules. Right, Dean Crankshawe?”
The dean looks like she’s about to shit her pants. "Feniks, do you even know who this is?” she shrieks. “This is Mr. Singleton-Smith. From the WMO.”
Feniks gives a shocked-Pikachu face. “Oh, an honor to finally meet you, sir.
Well, I know a man of your stature will certainly understand that here at Validus Vale, we adhere to the WMO's academy guidelines to the letter.
No student is exempt from expectations of conduct, regardless of standing or ranking points.
A wisest of rulings from the council, wouldn't you agree? "
His bullshit is tiptoeing towards the unbelievable. How the fuck do I rein in Feniks’ inner theater kid? “Mr. Drakeward," Feniks says, tightening his grip on my neck, "have you finished the activities I assigned in this area?"
Activities in this area? Think fast.
I shrug in an ‘annoyed’ manner. “Yeah, whatever, Professor. It took me longer than I thought and was a real pain in my ass.” When I look up, Feniks has a subtle glint of amusement in his eye.
Unlike Singleton-Smith, who looms closer. “Yes, exactly what task had you set Cosmo out here by the building site?”
Feniks seems unruffled. “Mr. Drakeward volunteered to help out with some new Defectivum freshmen's training; magic challenges set around the edge of the forest. Isn't that right, Drakeward?"
I put on a particularly convincing sneer. "Hardly call it volunteering. You said I had no choice."
“Ah, and yes, how true that is,” Feniks nods as he snags my collar in his hand once more.
“Come along then.” With me dangling from one hand, I watch as Feniks gives a fucking bow.
“Dean Crankshawe. Gentlemen.” With a cheery wave, he frogmarches me quickly across the grounds.
"Keep walking," he mutters under his breath, “they’re watching up.”
A long, involuntary exhale leaks from my lungs as I round the corner. Feniks quickly bundles us inside Defectivum. “What did they want? Wait, don't tell me yet. This way." He heads down some narrow stairs to a dingy basement.
"What the actual fuck are we doing down in here?" I grumble; the damp air clinging to my skin makes me shudder. “Is this where you keep your gimp, Feniks?”
“Yes, exactly that, Drakeward. I’ve got a latex suit and ball-gag all lined up for you.” He pulls a rickety chair out of a pile of debris and skids it across the floor to me. “Sit down.”
I guess this is as good a place to avoid the dean and Singleton-Smith as any, so I slump into the chair and watch as he takes another couple of chairs and places them around the small space. “How long do we have to hide out in this shithole?” I ask.
“Shithole? That’s not a nice thing to say about my dorm room,” a voice says from behind me. The little dud is walking down the stairs, packets of sandwiches loaded in her arms. "Feel free to leave as soon as you like,” she adds.
“He’s not leaving,” Feniks growls. “I just found young Drakeward in a tense meeting with the head of the WMO, the dean, and some men from the building site. I’m anxious to know what that was all about.”
The dud looks confused, “Wait, what?” She moves further down the steps, and that’s when I see the fucking janitor behind her, balancing cups of takeout coffee.
"I've officially entered the goddamn Twilight Zone," I mutter under my breath as the dud starts rummaging in a takeout bag, pulling out packets of chips. She tosses some food in my general direction, and against my better judgment, I snag it one-handed.
“You met with Jordan’s dad?” the dud asks, at the same time giving Feniks a huge roast beef hoagie and a sickly sweet smile. I look down at my own sandwich—PBJ on white bread. I hold it out to her. “Give me something else.”
Without acknowledging me verbally, the dud raises a middle finger in my direction. The overgrown ape stares me down, while Feniks snickers.
Fuck this shit. “I’m done with this Scooby gang bullshit.” I stand to rise, but the next second, a wave of magic slams me back into the chair.
What the fuck?