Chapter Two
Just Outside of Tokyo
"Hey, Clarice. Wake up."
Clarice stirred, grunting as the motion awakened a sharp crick in her neck. She sat up straight, rubbing the sore muscle. "Huh?"
Joseph looked back at her. In her current fuzzy state, he looked something like a small chocolate-brown blur sitting on a larger bluish blur. "We're almost there."
"Oh, good." She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. "How long have I been asleep?"
"About four hours." Joseph stretched as much as he could in the seat. "You didn't miss much; after that stopover in Honolulu, there was pretty much nothing but ocean down there. Some islands, but mostly ocean." He shrugged. "I tend not to get excited about water."
"Makes sense." Clarice covered her mouth to hide her yawn. "Neither one of us has sea-Fae blood." Her mouth tasted furry. "Ugh."
"Dry mouth?" Joseph dug a water bottle out of his backpack and held it back to her. "Here; this'll help."
Clarice accepted the bottle. "Thanks. But what I could really use is some food." Her stomach growled, complaining about how long it had gone on a few snacks. "Do you still have anything? Like, those really awesome sandwiches you broke out earlier?"
Joseph grinned and dove back into his backpack. "I sure do. Great-Aunt Harmony made two, for both of us."
"You have a seriously awesome great-aunt." Clarice took the wrapped sandwich, trying hard not to drool. She had heard of Harmony Thestanwen's sandwiches before, and she knew they were supposed to be legendary. But hearing about and actually eating one were two different things—though she could now say with perfect sincerity that she would, indeed, be willing to fight someone for one of them. She unwrapped it, noting yet again that Harmony was not above using wards for something so small as making sure a sandwich didn't dry out, even over a ten-hour flight, and bit into it with a slight growl of contentment.
Joseph watched her devour her sandwich and chuckled softly. "You sound like a wild cat when you do that, you know."
"Do what?" Clarice raised an eyebrow at him.
He demonstrated. "Hunch over your food and growl while you're eating. You've never seen a feral cat eat something you put out for them? They snarl and growl the whole time, like they're afraid you're going to take it away from them or something."
"Not just wild cats." She took another bite. "We had a cat once who automatically started growling when you put her in front of food—even if she wasn't eating it." She paused. "That might actually be where I picked up this habit."
Joseph shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Not that I really blame you; these are some good sandwiches. Great-Uncle Gabriel is one heck of a lucky guy."
Clarice wiped a dab of secret sauce off her lips. "Isn't Gabriel the Guardian that your dad was squire to?"
"Yep. And he probably would never have met Aunt Harmony if it hadn't been for Dad, so they're both pretty...um...grateful to him. And us, by proxy." He held up the sandwich. "Explaining why she was so willing to provide us with food, even though he's still stationed in San Francisco, and we were staying in the Puyallup Valley."
The Fasten Seat Belts light dinged overhead, and the pilot spoke over the comm system. In Japanese. Joseph and Clarice looked at each other, then, as one, reached for their amethysts and tapped them. The stones began to glow with a soft purple light, and immediately, they could understand him.
"-landing in Tokyo in fifteen minutes. Please fasten your seat belts, raise the trays, and return all seats to the upright position."
Joseph looked out the window, down at the city, and instantly felt his agorophobia kick in. He had never seen that many people in one place before, even in the airport or at the disastrous concert when he was thirteen. "Ye deposed gods of war," he muttered. "I seriously hope Yokai Academy is not down in that."
"It's not." Clarice finished her sandwich and pushed her purse under the seat in front of her. "I looked at the brochure. It's somewhere out in the country." She paused. "It's a big place, though, and I don't know how many other students will be there. Probably a lot."
"There would have to be a lot, if the Manitatsukarera are so worried about this place." Joseph fixed his eyes straight ahead and started breathing deeply as the plane tilted down and began to descend. "I hate this...Sceath aren't meant to fly."
"We couldn't have gone by boat, though; it would take too long."
"And I get seasick three times as bad as I get airsick." Joseph swallowed, not moving his head. "We tried it once, on the ferry at Puget Sound on a trip to Vashon Island. The girls were relatively all right; Dad and I turned absolutely viridian, and we were at the rail the whole stinkin' time. We can't even go canoeing at Lake Mackenzie, down in Texas." The plane bumped as it touched down, and he gulped. "Oh, this is the worst part."
Fortunately, the runway was smooth, and by the time they pulled up to the gate, Joseph's face had lost its greenish tint. As they gathered up their gear, Joseph glanced jealously over at Clarice. "You don't get airsick, do you?"
"Demon-Seeming." She shrugged. "I can't get sick at all, and neither can Dad. Makes it a little easier during flu season, though Mom comes down with something every year. I got so good at taking care of her that it was really surprising when my staff turned out to be birch instead of elder."
"Pure and queenly," Joseph muttered. "My staff is just yew wood."
"Combat," Clarice identified. "I wonder if Mr. Morisaki knew about that when he contacted us."
"Probably not." The plane finally stopped, and Joseph stood gratefully. "He just knew we were Sceath and Demon-Seeming."
"With any luck, that will be enough." Clarice dug in her purse, looking for the photograph of Furumiya. "I wonder where he'll be waiting."
Joseph looked at her purse with a bemused quirk of his eyebrows. "Is there a ward or something on that purse? Any time my sisters got something that covered in glitter, there was always a snowstorm of it following them around whenever they used it."
"No ward." Clarice looked down at it. "Two gallons of clear fingernail polish. Mom said she wasn't cleaning up after all that glitter, so if I wanted it, I was finding some way to keep the glitter on it. I spent five week's worth of chore money on the fingernail polish, but it doesn't shed anymore."
Tokyo International was worse than Sea-Tac. Clarice looked around at the crowds, back at Joseph—who looked like he was going to turn into a cross between treed cat and porcupine at any moment—and sighed. She reached into her purse, activated the Unnoticable ward, and pulled her staff out.
"Stay close to me," she said to Joseph. "I'm going to activate a light shield."
"What's a light shield?"
"A name more sophisticated than 'Don't-Bump-Me'." She tapped the ward. "It just activates courtesy levels, and should give us some breathing room."
"Thanks." Joseph moved close—way too close. She wondered if he knew how light his shirt was, because she could feel all the ridges along his torso.
"Give me some breathing room, or you're getting the Elbow of Death in the ribs," she growled, stepping away from him. "Sheesh. At least I didn't try to bang into you in Sea-Tac."
"Sorry." Joseph still looked as tense as a cat in a dogcatcher's wagon, but at least he was no longer gluing himself to her. "Let's try to find Mr. Furumiya."
"Easier done than said."
Joseph looked at her, puzzled. "You mean said than done, right?"
"No." Clarice nodded toward the bottom of the escalator. "There he is."
Joseph followed her nod and saw him: a tall, neatly-dressed man with unusually slanted eyes and long, silky hair that seemed to ripple in a breeze every time someone walked past him. He would have stood out anyway—and was attracting glances from every female that passed him—but, just to be sure, he was holding a sign that was not in kanji. And the sign had their names on it. "That was easy."
"Mr. Morisaki probably remembered that neither one of us is used to big crowds." Clarice stepped onto the escalator, holding her staff lightly in one hand. "Come on; let's go meet up with him."
Furumiya had clearly seen them at the same moment that they saw him. His eyes—there was an Elf-like brightness to them, as their turquoise color was visible even from the top of the escalator—tracked them all the way down. But he didn't move until they came up to him, at which point he lowered the sign and bowed slightly.
"Clarice, Joseph," he greeted. "Welcome to Japan."
Joseph awkwardly bowed back, remembering just in time that the Japanese did not shake hands. Clarice, her hand zipping up to her neckline, followed suit. "Mr. Furumiya."
He smiled. "Come with me." His eyes lingered on Joseph for a moment. "I am surprised; I understood that Sceath did not bow."
Joseph straightened. "I've never been in the Underlands; but according to my dad, down there it's a good way to get killed." He shrugged a little. "I'm not used to it, but you're not used to shaking hands, so."
Furumiya's smile widened. "So indeed. Come, then; let's claim your luggage and get out to the car."
"So what can you tell us about Yokai Academy?" Clarice asked as they got settled in the silver-blue minivan.
Furumiya slid behind the wheel, the motion oddly sinuous. She couldn't decide if it reminded her more of flowing water or a snake, though she hoped it was the former. "I? Not much more than has already been told. The Headmaster—though our ally in name—is very careful not to allow Manitatsukarera to join, and we cannot make our way to it without invitation."
"Where is it?" Joseph stretched out in the back seat, not quite preparing to curl into a fetal position. "Somewhere in the country, I hope."
"It is. It's actually in a spatial pocket realm, not quite part of the world. We know where it is physically located, but the property was...packed away."
Clarice scrunched up her face, trying to figure out what she had been told. "So...is it in Faerie, then?"
"Perhaps on a similar plane, but no, it is not part of the Perilous Realm—though it is quite perilous enough itself." Furumiya steered into the river of traffic. "It is in its own little pocket of the universe. There is a sort of tunnel that will allow you to reach there; I will have to leave you before the bus comes to take you, since I don't want you connected with us. I, in particular, am fairly well-known in the Spirit Realm."
"Why's that?"
Furumiya laughed. "For very nearly the same reason you and your parents are well-known in the west." He looked back at them, and they were both struck again by how clear and bright his turquoise eyes were. "My father is a river-spirit: a transformed Lung dragon."
Clarice stared, mouth open, and Joseph sat up in astonishment. "A Lung river dragon?" he demanded. "How the heck does that happen?"
Furumiya laughed. "In the same way a Half-Sceath or half-Demon-Seeming happens: a very strong-willed mother. My father was somewhat...boisterous, and prone to causing trouble. So my mother, Aoyama, took it on herself to stop him. She was a powerful Judge, and I believe she would have gladly killed him if he did not come around. But he was fascinated by this tiny little woman who faced him unafraid."
"Tiny?" Joseph looked pointedly at the top of Furumiya's head, which was visible over the car seat.
"My height does not come from my mother," he answered calmly. "She was barely four feet tall. But she was fierce, and she was going to stop the river-spirit who thought it amusing to flood and wash away villages. They never said if there was a fight, though there may have been. But she defeated him in the end, and, rather than perish, he swore never again to overflow his banks and imperil human lives. She was satisfied, and returned to her home. It was barely five months later that he came to court her, having taken a human form. She strung him along for a while, but it intrigued her that the river-dragon she had defeated would take on the shape of a man." He smiled. "They were married, and I came along a few years later."
"Wow." Clarice shook her head. "I guess it never occurred to me that stories like that happen all over the world. Jakob Werstenszwisch and the Vila, Hilda; my parents; Joseph's parents; and now yours. I'd love to gather them all someday."
"Perhaps you will have a chance." He turned off the highway and down onto a more lightly trafficked road. "I am sure there are many who would tell you their tales. For the moment, though, it would be wiser to focus on your own. Morisaki-sama did tell you what to expect of your schoolmates?"
"Creatures from myth, legend, and even dark tales," Joseph quoted.
"And he gave us a pretty extensive list," added Clarice. "Are there really going to be vampires and werewolves there?"
"Oh yes. I don't know how many, but there are a number of werewolves, and at least one vampire." Furumiya laughed. "She doesn't know it, but the vampire, Moka Shuzen, is related to a Manitatsukarera: Finn Hashiao, a good friend of mine."
"I'm guessing there's quite the story behind that name." Joseph sat up, no longer having trouble now that they were leaving the city.
"You're right. His father is Liam Padriac Thestanatween, from Ireland, who grew up in the courts of the Tuatha de Dannan. Liam was never clear on what brought him to Japan three hundred years ago; but that was when he met Asamori Shuzen. And in their case, it was the strong and stalwart manwho tamed the monstrous woman. Her brother, Issa Shuzen—" a frown crossed Furumiya's face, "The patriarch of the clan, and none too fond of They Who Stand Between—was furious about it. Since he couldn't go up against them without falling under the Covenant, something he's been exceedingly careful to avoid, he did the next best thing and cut his sister off, completely disowned her."
"What a jerk!" Clarice's eyes flashed.
"He's dangerous." Furumiya glanced at her seriously. "With any luck, the closest you'll come to him is his daughter; but if he involves himself with you two in any way, shape or form, do not try to take him on by yourselves. Call us for backup. If you invite us, we can get into the pocket, and we will come."
They both nodded. "What else will we have to look out for, do you know?"
"There have been rumors of a succubus, and there are a number of incubi. Certain creatures will not be kindly to Elves of any sort, and possibly less friendly to a Sceath—though coming to Japan makes it more likely that they will not know exactly what you are. And there is an orc." He glanced at them both again. "Saizo. Watch out for him. He was sent to Yokai Academy to keep the Judges—and more than Judges—off him, as he's a serial rapist. It was his last chance to escape execution. I don't know if he's changed or not, but I wouldn't hold my breath."
Joseph growled, reaching back to rub Tellemaera's hilt. The power of the blade rushed along his arm. "I'll try to control myself. I hate rapists." He glanced to the seat ahead and saw that Clarice had gone rigid. "You all right?"
"A succubus and incubi," she answered in a voice that had gone brittle. "Great."
"Uhhh...is there a problem?"
She held up her arm, showing off the silver band. "You know that Demon-Seeming just look like demons, right? Dad and I are both actually angelic in nature. And since Dad was sired by an incubus..."
Joseph stiffened. "You're the angelic opposite of succubi and incubi, aren't you?"
"Yes. It's going to be hard not to unleash myself and attack them." She took a deep breath and swallowed. "I'll try to keep away from them. Anything else?"
"Nothing more earth-shaking than what I've already told you." Furumiya looked ahead. "There's your bus stop. He'll be here to pick you up in less than half an hour." He steered to the curb and parked, then looked back at them. "I can't block the stop, and it's not wise to let the driver see me...but would you want me to stay in the area and keep an eye on you until you're on the bus?"
Joseph and Clarice exchanged glances. That was a no-brainer if anything was. "Yes. Very much so."
He nodded. "I'll park around the corner and up the street a bit, then. Let's get your luggage out."
Joseph attempted to bolt out of the seat, only to have Tellemaera snag on the strap and bring him up short. "Uh—I think I'd better try to take my—"
It was too late. Furumiya gripped the handle of the old-fashioned traveling trunk and pulled. Then he stopped and stared at it. "What in the name of nine hells is in this trunk?!"
"Just about everything from my room but the furniture." Joseph finally got himself disentangled. "My sisters helped me pack. I have no idea how they got the thing onto the plane, but I think it involved a forklift." He came around the car and grabbed it. "Mom and Aunt Paige put a spell on this a long time ago, when it became clear we were going to spend a lot of time moving back and forth between Washington State and Texas; I can haul it around no matter what's been stuffed in there. But I'm sometimes the only one who can do it."
Furumiya eyed the trunk speculatively. "It's certainly been a while since I've encountered something I couldn't lift. Your sisters must have been...enthusiastic."
"They stripped my dang room. Virtually everything I own is in this trunk." Joseph set it on the curb. "I hope this bus has good shocks."
Clarice's bag was much smaller, but appeared ready to burst at the seams. "Mom and I did almost the same thing," she confessed. "There's a void in this, though, so it doesn't weigh three tons." She glanced at the overstuffed appearance ruefully. "It was my first time adding a void to something, though, so I didn't quite get it right. That's why it looks like this."
"I would be uneasy about opening it," Furumiya admitted. "It almost looks like it's about to blow up." He glanced up and down the street. "I'll get into position. If you need anything, I'll be in earshot. Just yell."
He looked at them one last time, then entered the car and drove away. Joseph closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the car's engine. When it stopped, he opened his eyes again and looked. Sure enough, he could still see the minivan, just visible behind a scrubby tree. Knowing they hadn't been abandoned helped a lot. He sat down on the trunk, leaving room for Clarice to join him, removed his backpack, and dug out the book he'd had to stop reading while on the airplane. If it would take thirty minutes for the bus to arrive, he was going to spend his time wisely.
They heard the bus coming well before it arrived. At the sound of the squeaking, chuffing and grinding, Joseph looked up from his book, and Clarice lowered an intricate needlepoint project. It drew closer, and they exchanged worried looks.
"You think that's the bus?" Clarice asked uneasily.
"Murphy's Law says yes," Joseph answered grimly, looking down at his case. "We might have some trouble here."
When the bus came into sight, they both stood, staring in dismay. Clarice was the first to speak. "I...am not confident in that thing getting us halfway down the road, let alone all the way to a school—especially with your trunk in it."
"Hopefully it's sturdier than it looks." Joseph frantically combated the look of the bus with the image of a Louisiana relative's ancient, clattery Model T Ford that was actually stronger and more powerful than some semis. "Some of the students probably aren't lightweights."
"I hope you're right." Clarice resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to where Furumiya still waited in the minivan. "I also hope this isn't a bad idea."
Joseph touched her shoulder, hoping that he wouldn't come across as creepy. "Good idea or bad idea, I'm going to stick with it and you all the way."
The bus shuddered to a stop, and the door creaked open. Joseph and Clarice exchanged looks. Then he slung his backpack over his shoulder, she tucked her needlepoint back into her purse, and both grabbed their luggage.
"Come on in," invited the driver, turning a little in his seat and giving them a smile that was a cross between a knowing smirk and a leer. "On your way to the school, are you?"
"Yep. Transferring from America." Joseph hauled his trunk along until he reached the middle of the bus, where he shoved it in between two seats and crawled in on top of it. He wasn't willing to risk himself to the back of the bus, let alone the wheels. Clarice sat in the seat opposite him, rubbing her armband and sitting stiffly.
The driver closed the door and put the bus in gear. "Odd folk go there. Are you odd folk?"
"I've heard us called that." Joseph had already guessed that the driver was some form of goblin, and he refused to allow himself to be intimidated.
"Hope you two are prepared," he chuckled as they wobbled away from the curve. "Yokai Academy is a scary place."
Joseph clutched the edges of his seat. This time he didn't answer, instead throwing all his effort and willpower into not getting sick. Clarice spoke, her tone an odd, sinister softness that matched the driver's.
"We're scary ourselves."
"Are you then?" He glanced back at them, chuckling.
Clarice smiled, moving her hand away from her armband. "Oh yes." Joseph glanced over at her and held back a shudder. A shadowy cloud rippled around her form, and the armband glowed brightly to combat it. At the moment, she did not look at all like his pretty cousin. "Oh, yes."
To his surprise, the bus driver's tone turned almost respecting as he glanced back at her. "Hmmm; you are, aren't you? Keep that armband close. And stay away from some of your classmates. Not everyone will be impressed."
"Not everyone was impressed with Bruce Banner," she answered coolly.
The bus lurched on. Clarice sat still; Joseph sprawled over his seats, his eyes closed, hoping he wouldn't be sick.
"Watch yourselves," the driver rasped. "We're about to enter a loooong tunnel."
"How long will it be?"
The driver just chuckled. "Have to wait until we get in there, won't you?"
Joseph just hoped the ride wouldn't last much longer. The stupid lurching and swaying of the darn bus was almost as bad as the ferry trip. He wished he'd stolen one of the unused airsickness bags from the plane.
There was a lurch, a feeling of weightlessness, and darkness fell. Then—Joseph choked and closed his eyes again as a swirl of psychedelic colors broke on the windows. From somewhere behind him, Clarice squeaked a word that sounded...he hadn't been listening, but he could have sworn she just said something obscene.
Joseph didn't care about the colors. He was just grateful that the shaking of the bus had stopped. The colors outside the windows he ignored; focusing on them made him wonder what he had been drinking, or if the fumes of the bus were hallucinogenic. But wherever they were, and whatever this place was, driving through it was smooth and easy to take. His stomach began to settle down.
"We're approaching the end of the tunnel." The driver sounded almost smug.
Joseph sat up and then wished he hadn't when they dropped almost three inches to a rough dirt road. Once his heart rate returned to normal, he looked outside, and noticed...a scarecrow. Not a friendly, Oz-type one, either; it looked more like what someone would set up outside of a scream factory. A sign had been draped across its arms. He gripped his amethyst and, since he couldn't exactly reach out to tap the sign, concentrated on it. The words swam and blurred, but he was able to make them out.
Yokai Academy.
A thrill of anticipation ran down his back. We're here.
The bus rattled on for a few more yards before it finally stopped. The door creaked open. "Well, kids, we're here."
Joseph was the first out. He stood on the faint path, his head tipped back, breathing deeply, and thanking God that the earth was not moving. Clarice followed.
"Well. This is...welcoming."
Joseph opened his eyes and looked around. He hadn't noticed his surroundings at first, being too eager to get out of that dang bus, but now that he was less motion sick...she was right.
"School for monsters," he muttered. "I am suddenly very glad I am not a surface Elf."
"Me too." She looked around, taking in the sullen overcast sky, the gravestones lining the path, and the dead trees clustered in spooky, scraggly groves. "This would be beyond depressing for the Faerie-kin—even the Unseelie."
Joseph grimaced. "Not all of them. I can just see a Red Cap or a troll lurking around here." A flicker of red caught his eye, and he peered through the trees. "Ugh, and that lake would be the perfect home for a Nuckelevee or two." He shuddered. "Great. Now that I've said that, I'm not going to be able to go near it."
There was a loud thud behind them, followed by a softer plop. They turned to see the bus driver straightening, looking down at Joseph's trunk with a bemused air. He looked up at them.
"Kid, next time let your sisters know they don't have to pack the house. Never met a suitcase I couldn't handle, but that came close."
"I did tell them. They just didn't listen." Joseph picked up the end of it, then stopped. "Wait a minute, how did you know my sisters packed this?"
The smug look was back as the driver went to his seat. Just before he closed the door, he grinned at them. "You kids have fun now; watch your backs, and don't burn the place down."
"What?" Clarice picked up her bag.
The driver simply closed the door and turned the bus around. Clarice and Joseph exchanged looks, shrugged, and turned back up the path. Then Joseph whipped around, his eyes wide.
"What's wrong?" Clarice tipped her head and looked at him.
"That guy's weird." Joseph shuddered. "And he knows what we are; pegged us as Sceath and Demon-Seeming. I know we didn't mention it."
"I have a pretty good idea of what he is," muttered Clarice. "But I'm not sure, so I'm not going to start throwing names around."
She picked up her purse, shouldered her bag, and started down the path. Joseph pitched his backpack over his shoulder and followed, dragging his trunk behind him.
The path was long, but neither one was in a hurry this time. They walked at a steady pace, talking of various small things, and trying hard not to let the gloomy settings get to them.
"YEEEEK! Get away from me!"
Both heads snapped up at the same time, and, without looking at each other or even wondering what they should do, Joseph and Clarice bolted toward the sound. In a few seconds, they were past the trees and saw what was going on: a little girl in a witch outfit struggling with a group of thuggish-looking boys, who were shoving her and laughing.
"Oh, no you don't," Joseph growled. "Clarice, get her out of there!"
"On it!" She slammed her staff onto the ground, sending a shockwave toward the thugs, and used her left hand to trace a glowing pattern in the air. "Come away, o little child," she whispered, "to the waters and the wild, with a fairy hand-in-hand, for the world's more full of weeping than thou shouldst understand."
The Call worked, as did the opening provided by the shockwave. The girl darted through the staggering goons and raced toward them. The thugs turned, yelling with anger. Joseph hefted his trunk up onto his shoulder.
"Here!" he shouted, stepping forward as the girl darted past him. "Catch!"
With that, he hurled the trunk directly into them. It was like bowling with a rectangle, and all the pins obligingly went down. He grinned and flexed. "Got you! How do you like Mjolnir, boys?"
"Mjolnir?" The girl looked up at him, puzzled.
Clarice laughed. "Thor's hammer," she explained. "Only he could move it. And that trunk of Joseph's is so heavy, it's a little like that."
A chorus of startled, obscene howling rose from the squashed cluster as they discovered that indeed, it was like trying to lift the fabled hammer. Joseph grinned cockily and traced a rune of his own in the air above them.
"Oh, come now! Such language, and around women and kids too!" The Silence ward took effect and shut off the swearing. "There, that's better."
The girl giggled. "Thanks! Those guys are always picking on me." She glanced at Clarice. "What did you do back there, to make me come to you?"
"Its name is The Faerie Call," answered Clarice. "We're only supposed to use it to call people out of danger." She glanced wryly at Joseph. "And since I guessed he was about to throw that packed elephant he's been hauling around, I figured that counted."
"The Faerie Call." She looked up, an impish gleam in her eyes. "Could you teach me that?"
"Wouldn't work." Joseph strolled toward them jauntily. "I think I'm going to wait to retrieve my trunk until there's someone else around to keep those goons under control, and definitely until you're out of their reach. They are pretty darn mad. The Faerie Call only works with people who actually have Fae blood. I might be able to do it, but Clarice is way better at that sort of thing."
"So you have Fae blood?" She tipped her head to the side, considering.
"Pure Dark Elf." Clarice shrugged and giggled. "That's not all I am, but it's a pretty considerable part. And Joseph is half-Sceath."
"I'm Yukari." The girl bowed. "And, if I can give you some advice? Don't go around telling people you're half-breeds." She scowled over her shoulder at the cluster writhing under the trunk, now howling inaudibly. "They're not the only ones who'll use that as an excuse to pick on you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Joseph picked up his backpack and rested his hand for a moment on Tellemaera. A vicious smile flitted across his lips for a moment, then he smoothed it out again. "Want to walk us to the school? We're brand-new here, and I don't exactly want to get lost."
The school was big. That wasn't the surprise. The surprise was what it looked like.
"That's a school!?" Clarice gaped. "It looks like—looks like someone stole a Victorian nob's manor house and transplanted it!"
"No kidding." Joseph looked up, squinting. "Is that a walkway on the roof?"
"Yep." Yukari grinned at them, proud of the school. "What should I show you first?"
Joseph shouldered his backpack. "I don't know. But I do know we need to visit the Headmaster first. Transferring in the middle of the semester...I would imagine there are some problems to be ironed out."
Yukari cocked her head to the side. "Probably. All right then; I'll see you two later." She dashed off, waving over her shoulder. "Thanks for helping me!"
Clarice waved back. "She's a cute one. Probably the closest thing we'll find to Stand Between for here; she may be a witch, but at the moment she's just a kid."
Joseph glanced back to where his trunk was just visible, still pinning the thuggish group to the ground. "That was more fun than it should have been, especially since I've got a bad feeling that those guys are not going to forget that quickly. I may have made my first set of enemies."
Clarice glanced at him as they stepped through the door. "Do you have so many you have to keep track?"
"Not yet." Joseph sighed. "But if Dad kept records of how many people wanted him dead, we'd be swimming in papers. At the very least, ninety-five percent of the Underlands wants his head—and not just because Mom killed Hecate to save him before I was born."
"You've got a point. It probably isn't easy for a Sceath to go through his life without picking up enemies." Clarice sidestepped to avoid a hurrying female student, exchanging nods with her as she darted past.
Joseph turned to watch her go. "Pink hair," he mused. "I wonder what kind of dye these girls use to get that particular color. That was bubble-gum pink."
Clarice made a face. "I hope I don't have to dye my hair something weird to fit in around here." She stroked her long, silky, blue-black locks. "I like my hair color."
"Hopefully not." Joseph tried to picture Clarice with hair that color of pink, and instantly wished there was such a thing as mind bleach. "Uh. Let's see if we can find the Headmaster's office."
"Clarice and Joseph Thestanwen." The deep, rolling voice was meant to impress and intimidate, as was the room: a cavernous place lit only by a few candles and its walls hung with magical artifacts of varying types. Joseph and Clarice tried not to look at each other, but if he had to guess, he would suspect that she felt like him: not sure whether the effect was actually intimidating, or a bit on the silly side. "You probably realize that this is a bit on the...unusual side."
"We're quite aware, sir." Clarice appeared to have elected herself spokesman, which was just fine with Joseph. He was more likely to say the wrong thing—and looking around at some of the artifacts was distracting him.
"A Sceath Elf, and a Demon-Seeming. Those are rare; we've never taken your kind on before. Were you causing trouble, that they decided you had to be sent here?"
Clarice shook her head. "No sir. Our parents simply decided that it would be good training for us to come to a school before we went out into the world, and they were persuaded not to wait before enrolling us."
That's true. Joseph was grateful that she was talking. He would have said something about missions and blown everything out of the water before they even got to their first class. Clarice, however, seemed to have the skill to tell the truth without telling all of it.
The Headmaster, his expression apparently unchanging—it was hard to be sure under that bizarre veil hiding his eyes—leaned back into his seat. "I see." What exactly he saw, he did not explain. Instead, he handed them both a sheet of paper. "Your schedules and classes are on this. You will be allowed an hour to settle in; I'll have the staff show you to the dorms. Be aware, it is forbidden to reveal your monster forms on school property. If you have a score to settle with someone, the woods and the lake are big enough for that without taking it into the school."
"Er—about that." Joseph touched Tellemaera. "I, ah, threw my trunk at a group of students who were picking on a little girl while we were coming up to the school. It's...heavy. Heavy enough to have pinned them there. Could I have one of the staff come with me when I go retrieve it, so they don't decide to gang up on me?"
That got a reaction. "You pinned a group of students under a trunk?"
"Yes sir." He tried not to grin as he recalled the moment they had gone down. "The way they were swearing, I don't think they were really hurt, but they weren't going anywhere, either."
"I see." The Headmaster seemed to be wondering if he wanted to know the full story, then shook his head. "Yes, I will send one of the security committee with you so you don't have to...pin any of them again. But be aware, your first class starts in an hour."
"Yes sir."
Naturally, Clarice and I have different classes. Joseph looked glumly down at his paper. I hope I don't flub this completely.
Inside the classroom, someone else was being introduced—someone who didn't sound happy about it. "Fine, if I have to. My name's Kazuken Dramorgon. You already know my twin brother, so there's not much to say."
Wow, another new kid. He sounds like a sweetheart. The door opened and the teacher beckoned him in. He took a deep breath to quell a sudden surge of stage fright, touched Tellemaera's hilt again, and walked in.
The kids in the room looked fairly normal—with the exception of...that had to have been Kazuken. Besides the unusual hair and eyes, and the expression that would have curdled fresh milk at twenty yards, he was also the one the other kids kept stealing glances at. Joseph tried not to feel delighted that the other new kid looked so obviously different; it might take a little of the pressure off him.
He realized that the others in the room were expecting him to say something. Touching Tellemaera again for the needed burst of confidence, he grinned awkwardly. "Uh...hi. I'm Joseph Kalvary, a transfer student from the States. I just...hope I can have a great year here." He resisted the urge to give that surly kid glaring at him his dad's patented Scorcher, nodded at the others, and found the most inconspicuous seat in the class.
Fortunately, Joseph was good at English, even if he did have to tap the paper and the pens with his amethyst every time they were switched. Even more fortunately, he was passing under the radar. A black kid in a Japanese school was unusual, but not as unusual as the increasingly grouchy kid with silver-striped hair in front of him. His twin seemed to be enjoying himself, though.
That Kazuken looks like he would be as much fun to be around as a porcupine on rocket skates, but his brother... Joseph wondered what the easiest way to get acquainted with the twin would be.
He heard a muttered exchange between them and bit back a laugh. They sounded almost like Rachel and Melody getting geared up for one of their incomprehensible squabbles. Nice to know that twins are the same the world around.
About that time, he felt eyes on him, and glanced over to see...great. At least two girls were sneaking glances at him, and one of the thugs—recognizable by the imprint of a luggage band on his face—was giving him the evil eye. Joseph raised an eyebrow and looked back down at his paper. A few seconds later, something hit him behind the ear. A spitwad. He flicked it off and ignored it. The second one hit his paper. That one he returned, with a touch more velocity.
He heard a smothered giggle and sighed, realizing that the spitwad war wasn't going unnoticed. If he throws another one at me, I am using the Scorcher. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, whispering a few words to lift his glamour just a little. It was a trick Breagan used when he wanted to get the full force of his personality and bloodline across without lifting his glamour altogether—and, as someone who had been on the receiving end of it more than once, Joseph could attest to how effective it was.
Splat. A wet, juicy glob smacked him right in the neck. He didn't even have to think about it. He turned and glared.
The thug jerked back so hard he fell out of his seat, and everyone who'd been watching gasped and turned quickly back to their papers. Joseph kept the Scorcher up a few more seconds, then looked back down at his desk, reasserting the glamour. He heard a soft chuckle ahead and looked up to see Kazuken looking back at him. "Something wrong?"
"Good job." He turned around again.
Joseph eyed his back, then shook his head. I don't want to know. And I'm not sure I want his approval. He went back to his work, more than a little pleased that there were no more spitwads.
There was a problem, though; one he was trying not to think about too much. For the most part, his uniform fit. The pants were fine, the jacket was loose enough to move in, and even the tie, which he found corny, worked. The problem was his shirt. I don't know how they did it, but they measured my glamour instead of me. The shirt would have fit perfectly on the lanky teenager he appeared to be. But his real self was almost twenty pounds heavier—all of it muscle, and a lot of that concentrated around the chest and shoulders. He could move, as long as he didn't button the shirt up all the way. A fancy rearranging of the tie and the help of a quickly added glamour kept it from being seen.
Avoid tight shirts. Sorry, Dad; I wish I could.
At last, the lesson was over, the bell rang, and everyone stood up. Joseph grunted a little as he stood; he wasn't used to sitting for so long. Next class? He looked at his sheet and rolled his eyes. He honestly didn't need that one, but...well, it might be helpful to listen in on, anyway. He looked around, hoping he would be able to find his way to it.
"Sst! Joseph!"
He looked around, startled by the whisper, and not entirely sure where it had come from. It repeated, and this time, he caught a glimpse of a hand beckoning him over from inside a nearby room.
"Uh...Clarice?"
"Yes. I need your help. Really need your help."
Puzzled, he pushed open the door, and instantly stopped dead, his eyes bulging. "Uhhh—that isn't the uniform, is it?"
Clarice frantically tried to tug her itty-bitty skirt down lower. "Yes, it is. I hoped it would be all right, all the other girls are wearing ones this short...but it's—I—they were ogling me all through class. I need to do something about this!"
"Uh..." Joseph's cold-water charm blasted him again, and he swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Glamour!" She was so agitated she was bouncing, which...really wasn't helping matters. "Can't you make it look longer?"
"Well...that's a kind of finicky thing, but...I can try." Joseph knelt down, grateful that he had shut the door behind them, because this was going to look weird. Whispering under his breath, he touched the hem of the skirt and drew his hands down, focusing and releasing his power into it. The skirt responded. Enthusiastically. "Uhh...oops."
Clarice looked down and smiled in relief. "That's perfect. Thank you so much!"
Joseph blinked at his work. He had taken it from a dinky miniskirt to a maxi that barely let her ankles peep through. "I...meant to just take it to the knees. Or calves."
"Trust me. This is better." She grimaced. "That orc Mr. Furumiya warned us about? Saizo? He's in my class, and I've been his eye candy ever since I walked in."
"Ugh." Joseph grimaced. "One of the thugs I flattened with my trunk is in my class, and he started throwing spitwads at me. I used one of Dad's tricks, so he may back off...but there's another new kid, too, and I got his attention as well. He's...let's just say, not real friendly."
"Good luck with that." Clarice scowled. "You know, this may be against the rules, but even with the glamoured skirt, I am not going back in the same room with that creep without some way to keep him off." She held out her hand. "Lorien, to me!"
There was a flash, and her staff appeared. Joseph stared. "I didn't know you named your staff."
"Mom said it would probably be a good idea, if I was going to leave it places and find I wanted it." Clarice tapped the Unnoticable ward. "And I want it now." She smirked at him. "Aunt Bodie did the Anti-Stalker ward."
"Yikes. That should do the trick." Joseph was well acquainted with Aunt Boadiciea Thestanwen, who came from a much earlier era and was stricter than seven Victorian matrons put together. She did not disapprove of young men, as such, but she did believe that young men and young women should not mingle until the young men were settled and looking to court a wife. Delilah Oakheart-Thestanwen was the foremost wardcaster; but Aunt Bodie's Anti-Stalker wards were in a league of their own. He could not think of anything—even a golem—who would willingly stay in the area where one of those had been activated. "Okay, I'd better run. I don't know when the next class starts, but I don't want to start things here by being late to half of them."
"I'll see you later."
Joseph dashed out the door and down the hall, hoping that he could find his way to his next class now that most of the others had already left the area.
Clarice walked to her next class with a bit more spring in her step. Her legs were modestly covered, and, now that Lorien was in her hand, she felt a lot more confident about her surroundings. The fact that her next class was math took a bit of the joy out of the day; it wasn't her favorite subject, though she wasn't abysmal at it by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, she was...pretty good at it. The problem was getting her mind out of it afterward.
Demon-Seeming. It was going to be her catchphrase for just about every weird thing about her.
She entered the classroom with everyone else and gasped, jolting a little as she realized that the temperature had abruptly plummeted. A moment of concentration brought a soothing warmth curling around her limbs—another perk of her nature—but she wondered why this particular room was so cold. She glanced around stealthily, failed to see Saizo, and chose a seat near the back of the room. The girl across from her, a quiet-looking miss with shoulder-length purple hair, glanced up at her and smiled timidly, working a lollipop around in her mouth.
"Uh—hello."
"Hello." Clarice nodded to her, resting Lorien against the back wall, within easy reach if she needed it. The other girl glanced at it and stiffened, just a little. Clarice raised her eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing." The purple-haired girl lowered her voice. "Are you They Who Stand Between?"
Clarice stilled, and turned to her slowly. "How did you guess?" She kept her voice low enough to be nearly inaudible.
"I'm a yuki-onna." The other girl had started to tremble. "We're under the Covenant—I feel the power in your—your staff. Why are you here?"
Clarice looked around. "The Manitatsukarera are worried about the others here," she said quietly. "The ones that aren't under the Covenant. They want me and my cousin Joseph to find out exactly what's going on—and possibly place some other races under the Covenant, so that they can be stopped in case of trouble."
"Okay." She calmed down a little. "I was afraid—afraid it was me, actually."
"Not that I know of." Clarice glanced to the front of the class and scowled as one of the thugs from earlier entered, along with Saizo. He picked her out instantly and grinned, running his tongue along his teeth. "He's the one more likely to cause trouble." She curled her lip, reaching back unobtrusively to grip Lorien, her fingers close to the Anti-Stalker ward.
The purple-haired girl shivered. "A lot of girls have had trouble with him," she whispered, glancing at the invisible staff. "What are you going to do?"
"This." Clarice whispered a few words to direct the staff's power and activated the ward. Saizo strode along the aisle toward her, smirking, oh so confident—then stopped ten feet away, as if he had run into a wall. His eyes blanked out, and he retreated a few steps, taking an empty seat some distance away from them. Clarice smirked. "Heh."
The girl stared in awe. "How did you do that?"
Clarice grinned at her. "Special ward on my staff. I could make it work on all the guys, but I'm just worried about him, so that's who it's working on."
"That's cool." The girl smiled at her shyly. "I'm Mizore. What's your name?"
"Clarice." She noticed the other thug scowling at her and lifted her chin, daring him to make trouble. His glared darkened, but he turned away. "Hmm; I wonder if that's the one Joseph had to deal with earlier."
"Silence in the classroom, please."
The teacher entered. And in spite of her request—or order—for silence, a buzz swept the room. Clarice stared, her mouth sagging open in shock, her face burning scarlet. She had never seen anyone dressed like that before—at least, not inside. And she certainly hadn't expected a teacher to be wearing—wearing—
The woman glanced over her class, her eyes hooded, then turned to the blackboard and started her lesson. Clarice wasn't sure what it was about. She would have been very surprised if anyone could tell what she was saying. With her back to them, the enormous gap in front revealing...revealing everything you'd expect to see on a remarkably buxom woman with her shirt half-unbuttoned, was not visible. But the thigh-high leather skirt was just as bad—worse, actually—in the back. She could hear the boys gulping, gasping, and hyperventilating all over the room. Grimly, she looked at the blackboard, relieved to see some familiar mechanics being explained.
Good thing Joseph's not in here. Good grief. I'm going to have to warn him about this. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. All right. Math. I can do this. She stuck the tip of her tongue out, scowling. I hate doing this, it takes me forever to get out of it. But if she wanted to stay sane, and not pass out from blood loss, it would be necessary. She looked at the problems written down on the blackboard, focused on them, and considered just how...rational the world was.
The resulting mindset was not exactly cold, emotionless, Vulcan logic—but it was pretty close. And it wasn't affected by teachers who thought their true place was the top of a Babylonian ziggurat. Clarice calmly applied herself to her work.
Joseph, meanwhile, was having his own problems. The class itself was easy (it wasn't as if he didn't know how to behave in public, even if he generally didn't go out in it,) and the teacher, Miss Nekonome, while not quite conservatively dressed, was both chipper and not...attractive in that way. The way the giggling, blue-haired girl trying very hard to get his attention behind him was. He had nearly bumped into her on the way in, and had noticed...would have been hard-pressed not to notice...how well-endowed she was. And she was very, very well-endowed. The charm had worked faster that time—not to mention she looked to be about Rachel or Melody's age—and he had managed not to gape, drool, or stare.
But for some reason, she now seemed interested in him. Two oddly-folded notes had flipped over his shoulder into his lap, and, since those had gone ignored, she had moved up to flicking pencil erasers at his back to make him look at her. Using the Scorcher on a giggly, bubbly girl seemed wrong, so he just hunkered down and hoped she would finally leave him alone.
At least she quit trying to pester him when Miss Nekonome turned around. And since the cheerful teacher wheeled around like a revolving door, that was fairly often. The bigger problem was that everyone else, by now, was aware of how hard the girl was trying. The boys were looking at him like he was crazy; the girls were leaning together to whisper.
Finally, the pink-haired girl he'd passed earlier took pity on him. "Kurumu," she hissed, leaning over to jab the little hussy in the shoulder. "Knock it off. Leave him alone."
"Moka," Kurumu whined, "you're no fun."
Joseph felt an odd...ripple behind him and stilled, wondering what the heck had just happened.
"No, I'm not. Knock it off. Leave him alone!"
Pouting audibly, Kurumu backed down. Joseph turned to glance at the pink-haired girl, Moka. Didn't I hear that name before? "Thanks," he mouthed.
She smiled back. Moka was quite pretty, with a slightly more...wholesome appearance than Kurumu. Even better, the sheepishly-grinning kid beside her seemed to have a protectively hovering air when it came to her. She's already got a boyfriend, so she won't be looking for another one. Good. He started to look down at his desk again when he felt it.
"What the..." Slowly, Joseph looked back over at the other boy. He closed his eyes and sensed. I wasn't wrong. He looked quickly back at his desk, grinning so broadly that the black-haired minx sitting next to him eyed him curiously. I wasn't wrong. That kid isn't a monster of any sort! He's human!
He reached back, wrapping his fingers around Tellemaera's hilt, and drinking in the power rush. I Stand Between. And thank God and all his angels, there is someone here I can Stand Between for! He lowered his hands, still smiling. I can't wait to tell Clarice.
"Hey! You! American!" It would have been hard to put more venom into any four-letter word. An added advantage was there was no doubt as to who it was meant for.
Joseph turned, irritated, to face the thug he'd roasted earlier. "What? Back for more?" He touched Tellemaera, deliberately not gripping the hilt. He'd been worried about facing three of them. One wasn't scary.
He thought he was, though; strutting and growling like a tomcat gearing up for a fight. "Don't think I don't know what you were doing to Kurumu back there!"
"What, you mean ignoring her while she flicked pencil erasers at me?" Joseph waved it off. "Sorry if I didn't give her what she wanted, but I'm not exactly good with girls."
"You were stringing her along!" The thug jabbed him in the chest, growling.
Joseph swatted the offending hand away. "Actually I wasn't, unless crouching over your desk and praying for deliverance is called 'stringing someone along' here. Back off. I'm not looking for a fight."
He leered in his face. "Why not? You ssscared?"
Joseph coughed and shoved him back, fanning the air in front of his face. "Point that hot air somewhere else. Ye gods, you've got a great career as a weed exterminator ahead of you."
Several people in the gathering crowd choked back a laugh. Someone else didn't bother muffling it. Joseph glanced up, noting familiar silver-striped hair. Oh, him. He went back to eyeing his opponent.
The thug finished looking around to see who had laughed and turned back to Joseph. "You think you're funny, American?"
"I don't know. My sisters never laugh," he answered, straight-faced. "I just don't think you're that scary."
The thug stared for a moment. Then his mouth gaped startlingly wide, he snarled like a teed-off alligator, and lunged. Joseph wheeled easily to the side, avoiding the blow by a good two feet. He dropped to the fighter's crouch, ready for just about anything.
In all his lessons with his father, Breagan had always insisted that Joseph learn to read his opponents, to guess at their next moves. Joseph had done his best, but he failed so often that he had begun to suspect he was a dunce. Only now, he realized that he was actually good at it: it was just that trying to read Breagan's moves was like trying to read the Iliad translated into Runic, upside-down and backwards. In contrast, this thug was like the funny papers. There was no mystery, nothing to wonder at—just the punchline.
And in this case, the punchline was that there were no punches, at least none that connected. Joseph whirled, ducked and dodged, a foot away from every telegraphed blow, and wondering if it could actually be called a fight when no blows were exchanged. He also wondered how long it would be before the excited yelps and cheers from the crowd drew someone in authority.
He dropped under a wild haymaker, rolled, and came up again, balancing on the balls of his feet. There wasn't even the temptation to draw Tellemaera; using an enchanted blade on someone this pathetic would be like using a sledgehammer on an ant. He did find himself wondering what he could do with a bo staff or a bokken...but didn't dwell on it. He whirled away from another clawing blow, and finally gave in and lightly slapped the thug on the back of the head.
The thug roared, losing control of his glamour—if it was a glamour—and revealing himself as a remarkably ugly lizard-like humanoid. Oh, joy. A Reptoid. Joseph didn't slow down, having known all along that he was facing a monster. "Well," he quipped, ducking under a swipe, "I guess that explains the lizard breath."
"RRRAAAHH! I'LL KILL YOU!" The thug wasn't joking. Just one blow from those huge, long-clawed hands would deal serious injury, and could easily tear someone apart.
Joseph's eyes narrowed as he slipped entirely into combat mode. No more playing around. This guy could really hurt someone. I need to find a way to stop him before there's collateral damage. He noticed a single opening—one gap in the pattern, and took it. The Reptoid's claws hissed by his face. He seized its arm and twisted, up and over, slamming it to the ground with all the force he possessed to knock the wind out of it. It worked.
Joseph stood over it, breathing deeply, watching to make sure it didn't come up again. That was when he noticed how quiet it had become. He looked up to see a student in a black uniform watching them, having parted the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea. The Reptoid saw the newcomer and whimpered, quickly shriveling back into human form.
"Oh, no," he whimpered.
The green-haired, slant-eyed boy smiled coldly. "You really seem to have trouble remembering the rules, don't you?"
The Reptoid rolled over, pointing at Joseph. "H-he started it!"
Joseph snorted. "Of course I started it: when I dropped my trunk on you louts earlier, after I caught you picking on a little girl. That's what this was actually about, wasn't it? You're mad that I stopped you." He nodded to the black-clad student, recognizing him as the same one who'd gone with him to retrieve his trunk earlier. "Hello again, Takata."
"No one's going to believe you!" The Reptoid snarled. "Think you're so smart, with your weird eyes and fancy moves!"
Takata returned Joseph's nod. "Fancy moves?"
"He's also annoyed that I wouldn't let him land a punch." Joseph glanced over at the other students, who were flattened against the wall and watching with wide eyes. "You can ask them; I'm pretty sure I heard someone taking bets on how long I'd last during the scuffle, before his claws came out."
"He's right, Takata."
Joseph stifled a groan as Kurumu appeared, bouncing every inch of her anatomy, her eyes wide and fluttering. "It was the Lizardman who started it. Joseph only attacked when he revealed his monster form."
"Did you?" Takata turned his eyes back on Joseph, who nodded.
"Yes. He was charging and swinging his hands around so wildly I was afraid he would really hurt one of the others. I used a wrestling move my mom taught me to knock the wind out of him." He met the student's eyes. The kid was unsettling, but an angry Breagan beat him hands-down. Or a battle-eager Breagan, who looked almost the same, just more excited. "That and a...ornery swat to the back of the head were the only times of contact."
Takata smiled thinly. "You're an honest one. You do know you could have left out the swat to the back of the head? I wasn't here to see that."
Joseph snorted. "If you'd ever faced my mom after you told a lie or hid an important detail, you'd realize how crazy that sounded. Dad is not the scariest member of my family."
There was silence for a moment as the two regarded each other. Then Takata nodded slowly. "All right," he said at last. "Don't understand that, but I imagine you'll tell me later." He turned his glare on the Reptoid. "You, on the other hand, aren't getting off so easy. Regardless of who started the fight, you were the one who revealed your monster form." His hand snaked out, shockingly fast, and snagged the thug as he tried to dash away. "You're coming with me."
He nodded to Joseph, the Reptoid squeaking and whimpering in his grasp, and headed off down the hall. Stunned silence followed in his wake. Joseph glanced around at the other students, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. I wonder if I've just revealed myself as Dragonborn, he thought, trying to find some humor in the situation.
"Oh, wowww!"
He jerked back, half-strangled as Kurumu hurled her arms around his neck and squeezed. "You're so brave! That was one of the security team, and you stared him down! You're amazing!"
"Gurk!" He scrambled to pry her arms off his neck. "I'm also—selfishly addicted—to breathing! Loosen a little, please!"
She moved downward, now threatening to break his ribs. He was mildly astounded that he didn't need the cold-water charm, but the imminent threat of bodily harm seemed to be its own deterrent to hormones.
"Kurumu..."
He glanced to the side to see Moka standing there, her hands on her hips. "What did I say about leaving him alone?"
She pouted again, squeezing him a little closer. Now he noticed what was shoving against him. He began looking around, trying to find a window, a drainpipe, or...just something he could climb up once she loosened her grasp enough for him to get away. "Oh...fine." She actually let him go. Joseph had never been more grateful for his natural agility; otherwise, scrambling backward would have knocked him tail-over-teakettle into a goofy-looking heap.
Kurumu eyed him with considerably more interest than he wanted. "Funny...you didn't feel..." Her voice trailed off, but he could guess what she'd felt: a trained swordsman's muscles, which were only concealed by the glamour, not removed. He watched her cautiously, ready to bolt if she came after him again.
"What happened, Joseph?"
He looked up and tried not to melt with relief. Her illusionary maxi skirt swishing around her legs and Lorien clacking softly on the tiles, Clarice approached, her unusual garb and weirdly emotionless face making her look almost like...he couldn't decide exactly what she looked like, though the priestess of some alien religion came pretty close.
"One of the thugs from earlier," he answered. "He tried to pick a fight with me. It didn't quite...turn out the way he wanted."
"If that was who we saw being hauled off by Takata, it certainly didn't." This was a girl walking behind Clarice. Joseph noticed the temperature starting to drop and grimaced. Clarice could ignore wild thermostat fluctuations; he could not.
"Yeah, that was him." Joseph nodded to the other girl, hoping she wasn't as grabby as Kurumu. He frowned at Clarice's expression. "Um...math class?"
"You've seen that before?" The other girl glanced at Clarice. "Yes, we just came out of math. Do you know what happened?"
"I haven't seen it happen, but she mentioned something about this. Kind of a...reason lock, I'd call it. Don't know how to snap her out, though."
Clarice looked dispassionately over the other students. Suddenly, her eyes cleared, focused—and sharpened into a pair of laser beams. Startled, Joseph followed her gaze.
Right to Kurumu.
Poster's Note: Yes, this is taking place at the same time as my story 'Behind Blue Eyes'. The plots will intersect every now and then, but for the most part, they'll stay in their own stories. As always, please review and keep it appropriate.
