Chapter 17
I can’t help it.
It’s just not possible to stay here in the tower without checking in on my Bully.
And my Sparkles.
Wes, Dono and Cos are all asleep.
Hmm, I did manage to get out and pull my Ludo-switch OK, so a little jog over to Defectivum shouldn’t be a big deal.
Dressed all in black, I slide out the main tower doors.
Tee-hee, can’t catch me.
Suddenly, something hits me in the head.
I swivel, ready to get into it, when I see it’s my cousin.
Lexi cuffs me around the ear again.
Cuffs me!
Like I’m a little tike.
“What about ‘inconspicuous’ means sneaking out of Electus during curfew?” He pushes me against a wall as a patrol goes past.
They don’t notice us because we’ve got Kormovian commando power.
“Get back inside,” Lexi hisses. “Crankshawe has called me to her office.”
“Trouble?” I ask. “Maybe I should go with you.”
“We can’t assume it’s anything but a regular staff meeting,” he replies, boringly. “Please just go, and keeping your fucking head down.”
Fine.
“Never fear,” I tell him. “I’ll be a good boy.”
But I still might just pop in to see Sparkles and Lu.
Alexis gives me a skeptical look then disappears into the darkness.
I wait until his shadow is completely swallowed into the night before I slide in my earbuds, turn on some tunes, then move.
Being a "good boy" is a relative term—right?
I’m thirty feet from the Defectivum entrance when the world decides to be a dick.
"Hey! You!"
I freeze, then slowly turn my head.
Standing by the fire exit is one of those matte-black stormtrooper goons. He’s got his baton out, the blue electricity dancing along the rod like a caffeinated snake.
"ID. Now," he barks.
My voice drops into that tone that usually means someone is about to get a concussion. “I don’t show my papers to guys who dress like mall-cops."
The visor steps forward, his boots heavily stomping on the gravel, like that will shiver-me-timbers. “I said, ID.”
I flash him my middle finger. “I’ll see your ID and raise you a JK.”
“You’re refusing? Then down on the ground. Hands behind your head."
“What about a third acronym?” I ask, not moving. “How do you feel about a KO?”
He lunges—fast, but he’s fighting a guy who’s fueled by adrenaline and Christina Aguilera.
This is what a girl wants.
I duck under the first pass of the shock-baton, the ozone smell singeing my nose hairs, then come up swinging.
My fist connects with the side of his helmet.
CRACK.
Holy hound dogs, talk about a mistake.
My knuckles scream, but his head snaps back. I don't have a second to recalibrate.
I wrap my hand around the wrist of his weapon arm and twist until I hear that satisfying pop of the joint. He gives a muffled yell and tries to knee me in the gut.
Nope-a-dope.
The blow lands on my thigh, spinning me around. I slam face-first into the rock wall. The sound of his baton fizzing comes close to my ear.
Asshole.
I rear back full force. He lands flat on his back with me like a toppled turtle on top.
“Eat shell, asshole.” I lift up slightly then slam down again. And again.
Ooh, something just snapped. I bet it’s his ribs. A couple more upside down body slams, then I flip over, pull his visor and go to punch.
Wait, my fucking hand is busted to shit. I guess I’ll have to take him out like a Conclave pussy. Picking up the baton, I fry his ass.
"And stay down," I huff, shaking out my throbbing hand. "Dickmunch."
The music changes. Nice one. I do a hip wiggle.
Yep, I’ve got the moves like Jagger.
I drag the twat behind some handy, and very spiky, bushes, then dust myself off.
“Mr Larsen…”
The voice cuts through the darkness. I swivel on a heel, ready for some more KO action.
But, shit.
It’s the dean.
“Follow me to my office,” she says.
And…I guess that’s what I’m doing.
???
As we enter into the dean’s offices, the first thing I see is some chick with classic Karen hair. And then my dear cousin.
The Karen is leaning deeply into Lexi’s space.
“That will be all, Tina Marie,” the dean sighs. “Please take the rest of the evening off.”
The woman looks up, and I get a glimpse of my cousin’s relieved face.
“Are you sure, dean?” this Tina Marie chick asks. “I’m happy to take notes, or just provide refreshment. I was just telling Alexis that he looks like he needs some…care.”
The side-eye she gives him is so horn-dog it makes my dick shrivel.
Tina Marie is an official dick-shriveller. Like enough to bury my cock inside my own body backwards.
A shcrick-diveller.
Hmm, note to self, trademark Schrick-diveller?.
Dono thinks he’s got the monopoly in naming things, but fuck him. And it’s even funnier because of Tina Marie’s TM initials.
“Max? What are you doing here?” Lexi frowns, pushing Schrick-diveller? away as he stands.
"Just checking in. I heard there was a Schrick-diveller? on the loose," I say, leaning against the doorframe and acting cool despite the fact my hand is pulsing in time with the bass in my head.
The dean ignores me and continues to frown at her admin. “I won’t tell you again, Tina Marie. Please leave.”
With a huff, the Schrick-diveller? flounces past me, smelling like desperation and synthetic-musk perfume.
I make sure to give her a wide berth so I don't accidentally catch whatever mid-life crisis she’s leaking.
Once the door clicks shut, the Dean indicates we follow her into the main office.
Then she looks at my hand.
My purple, swollen, very-much-not-okay hand. "Sit down, Maximus," Crankshawe says nicely. It’s not even sarcastic or her 'you're in big trouble' voice.
No, the dean has a tone that says 'I’m tired of everyone’s shit'.
I feel ya, dean.
I plunk into a velvet chair.
Through the darkened window pane, high-beam search lights swoop and flash. Good luck, fellas. You’re not going to find shit.
Lexi glances from me to the window, looking like he’s tempted to push me through it. After a beat he squares his shoulders and opens his mouth.
I sit back, ready to be impressed with whatever bullshit story he’s about to weave. This has always been one of Lexi’s strengths, making up tales to cover my ass.
Bless him.
“I’m sorry, Dean, that this student wasn’t following curfew,” Alexis says. “I didn’t check…”
"Let me stop you right there,” Crankshawe says, raising a hand. “I’m too tired for more lies and gameplaying. I know more than you think, Feniks, so much more."
She stops pacing and looks at us—really looks at us. “I know you both are cousins, and that you are not actually a professor, Alexis. I know many of your secrets, because I'm the one who’s doing their best to bury them.” She swipes a hand over her forehead. “And you idiots are not making it easy."
I blink.
Wah?
Beside me, Lexi goes deathly still.
“Maximus Larsen. I know that you and the twins have not been partying in Thailand for the last year,” she says to me. “I suspect you have been somewhere much more interesting.”
Ho. Lee. Shit.
She turns her red-rimmed beady eye on to Lexi next. "I know exactly who you are, Alexis Feniks, and I’m glad you are here. Glad you found your cousin, and extremely grateful that Theodora has you as her protector.”
I flick my eyes to Lex, but his gaze is firmly pinned on the dean. “Explain,” he growls.
Crankshawe gives him a wan smile then takes a seat at the far side of her wide desk. "For some time now, I’ve been the one scrubbing the digital footprints you leave behind, and trying to keep the rest of the student body safe at the same time.”
Huh?
“Why do you think I’m so insistent that the kids stay away from the building site?
” she asks. “If one gets in, they are not going to be allowed to reappear and tell tales, are they?” She rubs her face with a hand then exhales heavily.
“At least, that’s what I thought. But then you came back, Maximus.
And the Hart boys. I’d feared you’d been…
exterminated like anyone else who stumbles on the Conclave's secrets.”
My brain is having trouble keeping up with this personality reverse-Uno.
She reaches into a hidden drawer in her mahogany desk and pulls out a small, tattered photograph.
After gazing at it for a moment, Crankshawe slides it across the wood toward us.
A picture of two women, young and laughing, standing in front of an academy.
I don’t know the older girl, but the second is a younger, softer version of Crankshawe.
"Gwrachod Academy, in Wales,” she says. “I was a freshman and given a senior peer mentor called Annabelle Williams. We instantly became best friends. It was ironic that she was my mentor, as her flame was low and magic moderate at best. I, on the other hand, was obviously headed to Elite status. But our differing power levels didn’t stop a close bond forming. ”
I roll my eyes. Storytime is all fine, but not really what I’m interested in right now.
Nonetheless, she continues. “We tried to keep in touch after graduation, but you know how it is. Paths go in different directions. Then I was reading the background check on last year’s lottery student.
One Theodora Wilson. Father, Kevin Wilson, mother Anne Wilson, née Williams. Anne Wilson was my Annabelle Williams.”
Ooh, there’s the bombshell.
“And Theo is her adopted daughter,” the dean adds.
Lexi leans forward in his seat. “Why didn’t you tell Theo you knew her mother?”
Crankshawe looks down at the desk, then back up again.
“I watched her carefully for the six week lottery study. The poor thing was so out of her depth, no spark, floundering in classes. I was going to step in, but why? She’d never make it in our world.
Best to let her just slide back to London.
I was already aware that the Conclave was trying to shift towards totalitarian control. This is not a world for the weak.”
“So why bring her back again?” Alexis demands. “She was safe in England. Why bring her to the heart of darkness?”