Dark Light of Day (14 page)

I pulled my hood up over my head, pushed the huge iron doors of Corpus Justica open, and stepped out alone into the cold dark of night.

I
had agreed to let Ari help me learn to control my magic. It seemed the sane thing to do. Luck knew, I needed the help. The fact that Ari had declared he couldn’t stop thinking about me and I was madly over the moon about him was an added complication I could have done without. Despite how weak kneed our little romp in Corpus Justica had made me feel, the dalliance was unlikely to go anywhere good. The best I could hope for from Ari was what he had offered—help with my magic.

Infernus looked exactly like Megiddo. The rooms were the same; the only difference was that Maegesters didn’t have roommates. Ari met me downstairs and escorted me up. We met no one on the way. Because it was Saturday, the floor was deserted. That suited me fine. I’d have pushed off the day of meeting my fellow Manipulation classmates as long as possible if I could have. As it was, Ari had insisted I spend the weekend with him in a crash course designed to get me up to speed for Monday. When I had mentioned my plans to
conquer Oathbreaking remedies over the weekend, Ari had looked at me incredulously.

“Oathbreaking?” he said. “Forget about Oathbreaking for now, Noon. You need to put everything you have into Manipulation. You need to understand, starting now, that Manipulation is
everything
. You’re going to be a Maegester, not a Barrister. You could ace every single other class here at St. Luck’s, but if you can’t pass Manipulation…” He let the silence speak for itself and then continued. “You still need to
pass
all your other classes, so you can’t completely ignore them. But they’re the background. Manipulation is the forefront. Maegesters have Manipulation class every day. In one week, you may be asked to represent a real demon.” He paused, appearing to choose his next words carefully.

“Have you ever met a demon, Noon?”

I shook my head, not wanting Ari to see I was actually starting to get scared. I did want to do well. I prided myself on being strong. But I was so ill equipped for the task in front of me.

Ari sighed. “It’ll be hard for you.”

“You have though,” I said. “Obviously, since you worked for my father as a demon executioner.”

I’d meant for my words to sound casual, matter-of-fact, but the tone of my voice betrayed what I thought of demon executioners. A main reason (okay, the top reason) I didn’t want to be a Maegester was that Maegesters were all about death and destruction. Maegesters
killed
things. And I hated killing. I wanted to heal, grow, and create, not destroy.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said. “The fact that I worked for your father.”

I shrugged.

“We weren’t close,” he said. “I told you we never discussed you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was one of at least a dozen others.”

“That makes it right? The fact that others did it too?” The words slipped out before I could think better of it. Ari stared at me for a long time, his face completely expressionless.

“Why did you do it, Ari? Why did you do it before you
had
to do it?”

Finally, he blew his breath out. “Because I could. Because I needed the money. And because I don’t think it’s wrong to execute
rogare
demons.
Rogare
demons are the worst Halja has to offer. They’re lawbreakers, criminals, and unsanctioned sinners. They’re torturers and murderers. They deserve what they get, Noon.”

“Have you ever met a demon you didn’t kill?”

He glanced over at me, his expression a combination of curious and wary. I think he was wondering if my question was serious or not. It was.

“Yes. Quite a few times. Last summer I actually stayed with the Cliodna, the Patron Demon of Waves and Waterbirds.” His mouth quirked a bit and I remembered the three adjectives always used to describe Cliodna: lusty, busty, and bold. But those adjectives were said by Hyrkes, people who’d likely never seen a real demon before, people who likely would never meet a demon, and so could afford to be flippant with their descriptions—provided the descriptions were flattering.

“Why Cliodna?”
Beyond the obvious,
I thought, but didn’t say.

“I was tracking a
rogare
demon near her main devotion site. I needed a place to stay. She’s one of the demons my adoptive family adores so she offered me sanctuary for the night.”

I remembered that he’d been adopted. Raised by a Hyrke family in Bradbury. But then Ari’s ability to easily hang with Hyrkes was what had made our first meeting so comfortable. I sighed. There was a lot I didn’t know about Ari, but did it matter? My greatest risk was that his predilection for peculiarities like me would grow cold before I’d learned what I could from him.

“Do you really want to talk about Cliodna?” he asked, smiling at me.

I shook my head.

“All right,” he said, motioning for me to sit. I sat in his
desk chair, thinking it wise, after our encounter in the library, to avoid the bed. “Let’s start with some basics.”

I was more layered than usual today. I had on my usual turtleneck sweater over a buttoned tunic with a sleeveless cotton shell under that. My hair was tied back in a casual knot and my only makeup was petroleum jelly on my lips. The last thing I wanted was for Ari to think I would get gussied up for a study date with him. I tried to assume a look that was all business but it likely came across as a scowl. Ari started pacing the room, playing the part of an instructor.

“You know most people with waning magic can sense one another, right?”

I nodded. My parents had at least told me that.

“Well, that feeling is different for each magic user. It’s called a signature.”

“So does each signature have different characteristics that tell you something about the… uh… signer?”

“Actually, yes. You can tell a lot about another magic user by their signature. People with strong magic have strong signatures—they’re better senders. They’re also better receivers, so they can more easily pick up on a weak signature.”

“What does my signature feel like?”

Ari smiled and looked at me. “It’s intense.”

“
Intense.
What does that mean?”

“Let’s just say Peter’s spell didn’t have a chance of cloaking your signature from me.”

“Does that mean I’m a strong sender?”

“Yes, but I’m also a strong receiver. Only the strongest magic users can sense a signature cloaked by a well-cast spell.”

“So Peter’s spell was well cast?” I said, trying not to get too hopeful.

“Noon, I know what you’re thinking,” he said, sighing. “But you don’t need a spell to help you. Nothing is wrong with you.”

I made some noncommittal noise and tried to figure out where to look. I didn’t want to look at Ari. His stare was unnerving. But I didn’t want it to look like I couldn’t meet his
eyes either. I settled for a quick glance and then looked out the window. A heavy mix of icy sleet and wet snow rained down. Every now and then, a splatter hit the window and fell, leaving a slurry, blurry trail. There was really nothing to see out there so I turned my attention back to Ari.

“Can Maegesters cloak themselves?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t call it cloaking. It has nothing to do with a spell. But, yes, you can learn to control the wattage of your signature. Although you’d never be able to hide yours from me.” He laughed, a short barking sound that made me think it had been involuntary. He resumed pacing. He reminded me of a caged beast, which did nothing to ease the anxiety I was starting to feel.

“Why not?” I said sharply. It suddenly dawned on me that my days of fading into the woodwork were over.

“Like I said, I’m a strong receiver,” he said, but I sensed there was more to it than that.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?”

He shrugged. “A signature is personal going out, but it’s also personal coming in. How it feels depends on the subjective interpretation of the receiver.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He struggled for a moment, apparently trying to find the words to explain. Finally, he pointed. My gaze followed. “Look at that book on my desk. What color is it?”

“Green. Dark green.”

“And pretty much everybody would say that, right?”

I nodded.

“It’s not red or blue. It isn’t light green and I don’t think you’d get many people arguing with you about that.”

“Okay…”

“Well, Maegester signatures aren’t like colors. You may say my signature looks—or feels—dark green to you, but not every Maegester will agree. In fact, most won’t. Everyone will have their own interpretation of how my signature feels to them. And it’s not because we’re simply using different words to describe the same thing. Maegesters from the same family often experience tranquility in the presence of their
kin’s signatures. And their descriptions of each other’s signatures are remarkably similar.”

I considered this new information.
Tranquility
was never something I’d experienced in the presence of my father.

“So what does
my
signature feel like to
you
?” I finally said.

Ari stopped pacing and sat on the bed, across from me. It reminded me of how our library encounter had started. I fidgeted.

“Noon,” Ari said simply, patting the spot on the bed beside him. His meaning was clear. Instead of blushing, this time I blanched. If I’d thought I’d just be able to use Ari for his knowledge and somehow keep my feelings separate, I’d been unbelievably stupid.

“Your signature, as you call it, feels like lots of things,” he said. His voice had lost that dry professorial quality. It was now full of emotion. “But right now there’s one feeling in particular that’s dominant.”

“What’s that?” I said, swallowing hard.

“Arousal.”

I had to stop this. I didn’t want to be Ari’s new fetish. I realized then that I felt too deeply about him to be anything but cruelly hurt when the inevitable rejection came. It was better not to let anything get started than to suffer that eventuality.

I cleared my throat. “Ari, I came here to learn. What happened yesterday was a mistake.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, grabbing my hands and pulling me over to him. I yelped, from surprise rather than pain, and he flipped me onto my back and leaned over me. I lay beneath him on the bed, panting, trying not to get angry. He grinned at me.

“Do you want to get up? I’ll let you up. Or, better still, you can unleash your magic and we can have our first real lesson.” A fissure of alarm raced down my back.
He wanted me to lose control?

“Noon, that day I laid my hand over your demon mark, I only wanted one thing. If you hadn’t pushed me away…”

“But we’re the same,” I said, trying to instill a little sanity back into the conversation. That was really hard to do with Ari’s hard body looming over mine. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sight of him. “We’re like two negatives, instead of a negative and a positive. We’re not made to fit.”

“Like attracts like,” he said dismissively.

“
Opposites
attract,” I countered.

“Why is it so hard to believe that I’m attracted to you?” One of my hands was pinned at my side and the other was caught in Ari’s grip. I made a fist and he squeezed back, somehow making the aggressive gesture affectionate.

“Noon, open your eyes.” I did.

“Ari,” I said, defiantly meeting his gaze and sitting up. “If you are attracted to me, I’m sure the novelty will wear off.” We sat on the bed facing each other, no longer touching. “Before long, you’ll go back to dating Mederies from the Gaia Tribe. They suit you. I don’t.”

To his credit, Ari looked confused.

“You forget,” I said. “I saw you with her.”

“Who?” Now he looked positively thrown. But I was losing patience.

“The redheaded beauty, the Mederi from Marduk’s the night I found out you were a student here. The one who was attacked by a
rogare
demon just before classes started.” Luck, I hated sounding jealous. I don’t think I ever had been before. It was so unbecoming.

“Oh, her.”

We stared at each other for a moment, all former feelings completely dashed. Ari looked upset, but I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d mentioned the as yet unpunished
rogare
demon who was responsible for the attack, or because my words implied I had the right to comment on other women he’d obviously been attracted to.

“Her,” I said, scooting to the edge of the bed, intending to get up.

Ari put his hand on my arm. He didn’t grab me, only made it clear he didn’t want me to go. “I stopped seeing her that night, right after I knew you were a student here.”

I gave him what I hoped to be a sardonic expression.

“Noon, I swear I’m telling the truth. Mederies are all the same. None of them stand out. Not like you.”

“Yep, that’s me. I stick out like a sore thumb.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, managing to sound frustrated. Neither of us spoke for a moment. Finally, Ari broke the silence with a complete non sequitur.

“Noon, did your mom ever bake coffer cookies?”