Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
THANKS FOR NOTHING, SIR
His words are shouted with so much expression and menace that it reminds me of wild dogs attacking. My head says run, but I lock up, unable to move an inch.
Did he just do some supe thing to me?
The moment he shifts his attention from me to the crowd watching us, his strange hold releases, leaving me a little pissy because now I’m sure he did something.
“Listen up,” Professor Cane says. His voice is unmistakably authoritative, but it doesn’t have the same power punch as before.
“When I say we’re doing real-life simulations, I mean it.
It seems a few of you are struggling with the concept.
I’m going to talk slowly, so there’s no misinterpreting what I am saying.
From this point on, each and every session I take, I expect your best. If we are under attack and you don’t know how to work with a Nom or a Kleis, you are dead.
By all means, take as long as you need to comprehend that fact, we’re not messing around here, but don’t do it on my time. What’s the reason we train with Noms?”
His question is aimed at everyone in attendance, and there’s a subtle but noticeable shift now that the girls I was working with have left.
I’m not sure if it’s because they’re gone or the fact he threw them out of his session, but either way, everyone acts differently, more disciplined and respectful.
A young woman my age in green steps forward.
“Noms are a tool we use to hone skills as a unit. Using them shows us what we need to work on. Defensively, we learn to work around another body when we’re out on the field, and offensively they highlight additional moves required as a unit so when we’re in real-life situations, we always have the upper hand to defeat our enemy. And our Kleis is protected.”
As she speaks, she keeps her eyes locked on the horizon, and they don’t drift anywhere near Professor Cane. All those on her team do the same.
“Correct. So, let’s see you work exactly as you should. The objective for the rest of our lesson is to prove to me that you’re committed to the whole damn reason you are attending Thales.” He takes a steadying breath, looking past all the students gathered to his friends.
They don’t exchange a spoken word, but I get the sense they’re talking to each other because one minute his friends are simply watching what’s going on, and the next the one with the platinum hair smirks and flicks his hoodie up.
The other guy in their group responds too, rolling his head from side to side and shaking out his arms.
Collectively, something they do alters the atmosphere. Or it might be their presence amping the other students up, either way, there’s a noticeable shift that sweeps through everyone.
I’m suddenly anxious. Or more anxious.
No one is looking at me—they’re all sizing each other up—but I’m caught in the crossfire because Professor Cane barked like a dog at me again, and my feet are glued to the ground.
Speaking of my feet, I don’t want to overreact, but I can now feel the smallest movement. Like there are tremors. I glance around, but no one else seems to notice the earth swaying more than it was.
“Any group that gets the Nom we are using gets an individual training session with us.”
There’s no additional explanation, but it’s pretty obvious every student knows who he’s talking about.
“Give it your best shot,” Professor Cane taunts, waving on a group of green T-shirt-wearing beings.
“Can we shift?” One of the guys in the group asks. His voice carries, and no one misses the question because they all pause, waiting for the answer.
“If you were attacked in the real world, would you be asking that question or doing whatever is necessary to gain the upper hand over your attacker?”
“Kind of like try before you buy,” someone mutters under their breath.
I can’t figure out who it was because everyone grins while trying not to burst out laughing.
Professor Cane either didn’t hear them or he doesn’t care, but his taunt ups the ante and changes the enthusiasm of some students.
From all around us, some start moving slowly, indiscernibly, while others are more obvious and hustle, spreading out and using hand gestures to communicate.
I thought I’d felt the air shift before, but now it’s like we’ve gone from a cold, still night to a day heavy with humidity. All around me, things are happening, and it’s hard to know where to look as everyone is eyeing me like I’m a trophy.
By the sound of the exercise, I am.
After another obvious shift under my feet, I peer down and shriek as dirt flies up at the same time as an ear-piercing scream comes from opposite me. I twist to the side, covering my ears while jumping to avoid the vines pouring from the earth and slithering in my direction.
People around me look unaffected; perhaps they’re enthralled by the challenge.
Professor Cane’s team rallies nearby, and I get distracted from the threats in front of me by the soft, subtle hint of falling rain that they bring.
I glance up, expecting to see storm clouds, but the sky is clear.
It’s then I realize it’s because of Professor Cane’s team member who has stopped in front of me.
He stands casually, not acting like someone in the middle of a physical battle.
His hoodie is still up, his blond hair spilling from the top and overaccentuating the blue of his eyes.
I’ve only ever seen that shade of blue in the middle of a flame, so seeing it on a man all but confirms how different humans and others are.
His mouth moves, but I’ve plugged my ears to deflect the shrieking.
The noise is like no other. It worms through my brain, making it difficult to do anything else but try to escape it.
Then he touches my shoulder, and the noise cuts out.
My stomach drops, and I swear I see the faintest purple dust particles floating in the air around me.
“What did you do?” I ask, but he doesn’t acknowledge my question. He’s already turned and is walking in the same casual, nonchalant way over to the crowd of celestials, including Seraphina, holding hands and huddling close to each other.
I watch, unsure of what he’s going to do, but from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s going to join them. His hand moves, like he’s skimming a rock over a lake, and one of the girls breaks formation.
She cuts off singing and whacks her chest, gaping like a fish struggling to breathe. I swear there’s a shadow of the same light purple that draws tight around her and squeezes.
Though I mostly follow along with what’s happening with the students, I’ve also got my own issues going on.
I switch from following him and his purple mist to having fine golden-colored threads—thin and glittering like the web of a golden orb spider—blur my vision.
The threads dance across the scene I’m watching, but they’re not the only thing physically happening.
I mean, I’m mostly sure it’s physical, but it’s hard to describe the sensation. It’s like something inside me is rattling its cage, trying to break free.
The magikal who touched my shoulder did something, but I don’t know what. Perhaps he spelled me like the first lesson I had with Magikster Ballin when he stole my voice, yet even now, a neon purple haze colors what I’m seeing.
I try hard to make everything return to normal. First blinking as fast as I can and rubbing my eyes, next I squeeze them shut, then pop them open, but nothing works. And it’s the same with the gold webs; they’re still there no matter what I do.
Not one being on this field notices. Instead, everyone is involved in an all-out assault.
Between the faint gold lines and the purple haze messing up my vision, I manage to catch snippets of the fight as it surrounds me on all sides.
I catch sight of a huge black wolf fighting off a pack of smaller wolves, his maw catching them if they’re slow, throwing them like balls into a group of students in red T-shirts who are facing off with Professor Cane’s other friend.
Like the ice-haired magikal who is still fighting, this man is unworldly in his looks and presence.
His movements are nearly the opposite of the animalistic way the shifters fight—they’re sharper, more precise—but he, like his friend, also looks unchallenged by the situation.
He’s tall like his counterpart, and they share similar postures that scream to others in warning of their strength and confidence. They don’t swagger; they dominate.
It doesn’t feel like much time has passed until all the groups are subdued or racing off the field.
Mostly it’s the animals running, while the others are tapping out; some through collapse, lying on their backs, their faces red, and others simply standing around, avoiding talking and making eye contact.
I’m the only one standing in almost the same place as before Professor Cane changed the rules. For some reason, he disappeared when everything was going down; perhaps he had enough faith in his friends to teach the lesson.
Just as I’m trying to figure out if he did actually leave, he’s walking out from the tree line with a group of students, all of them dressing and talking.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I put it together, as it should have been ridiculously obvious.
I blame the gold threads for messing up my vision, as for why I missed everyone shifting.
It’s now obvious that the shifters and Professor Cane did mid fight.
Holy shit, was he the massive black wolf?