Demon Accords 8: College Arcane (17 page)

“How do you figure?” she prompted, an obvious
ploy to draw me out. The fact that the other kids were all paying
attention to my answer kept me from pulling away.

“You can argue that lycanthropy, vampirism,
and the inherited ability to control energy are all diseases or
medical conditions. Discriminating against someone based on medical
or physical condition is illegal,” I said.

“But government can quarantine individuals
whose condition pose a threat to society, like an Ebola-infected
traveler,” one of the wolves, Matthew, said.

“They can and have, but there are a ton of
cases where they’ve stepped on individual rights and been sued
successfully. Much of it has to do with degree of contagiousness,
and the articles coming out about the benefits of vampire proteins
are pounding the point about how hard it is to actually get
infected with vampirism. Lycanthropy requires the virus to
penetrate the skin and cannot be transmitted by kissing a were or
even having sex with one,” I said.

“Thank Goddess,” Erika muttered.

“And witchiness can only be passed on by
sex,” Michelle said, “—at least to the next generation.”

“All of which is true, and none of it is an
absolute protection,” Gina said. “Like any other legal right or
privilege, it can be taken away by the stroke of a pen.”

“So we need to be vigilant about new bills
and try to build a base of public support. I like Declan’s idea
about all the New Agers, Wiccans, and other practitioners of
pagan-based religons. Plus there’s that whole Satanism church that
sprang up, which is arguably a greater threat to national and
global safety than anything else,” Paige chimed in.

“That, dear, is a very interesting point. The
New Church of Satan is a danger because of the threat of opening
new portals to Hell, correct?” Gina asked. Most of the class nodded
or made affirmative noises. “Well, by extension, so is witchcraft.
Even non-witches have successfully opened gates, at least before
the Large Hadron Collider was adjusted and turned down. How the
country treats the NCS will set precedent for a lot of things. Ever
heard of slippery slope theory?”

The discussion trended toward things like
camel’s nose under the tent and other potential snowballs of
legislative peril when I turned to Caeco and muttered, “Nuclear
weapons and the Internet.”

“What was that, Declan?” Gina asked, snapping
her attention to me. Wow, good ears.

“Just a comparison. Having the knowledge and
ability to produce something dangerous is not inherently a crime.
It’s the act of doing so that is. I can pull up detailed plans and
instructions on my phone for explosives, bombs, even nuclear
weapons, and none of that is criminal. But if I start actually
building bombs, then I’m in trouble,” I said. On my other side,
Mack suddenly slid down a bit in his seat.

“Knowledge of rituals and spells is widely
available. Hell, my aunt’s website sells a half-dozen books that
have viable spells and charms in them. Several touch on demon
summoning. It’s the same thing.”

That touched off a fierce debate on whether
my example was apples-to-apples or something else. The result was
yet another assignment, this time a written essay of
fifteen-hundred words on one side of the argument or the other.
Then Tami asked an off-topic question.

“Mrs Velasquez, can you explain the ranks you
spoke of our first day? Paladin, Knight, and Champion?”

“Sure, Tami. I think I mentioned that we
would touch on it. Oracle ranks untrained operatives as either
Plebian or Noble. Plebian will likely never reach a field operator
status, but may end up as support personnel, guards, admin,
analysts, and the like. Noble indicates a strong potential to
achieve Paladin rank, which is the standard operator
classification. Ninety percent of Oracle active field agents are
Paladin class. Only ten percent are Knight class. Before you ask,
there are no strict definitions of Knight class, only a general
concept that each Knight operator is strong enough to be the
equivalent of three or more Paladins.”

“What about Champions?” Britta asked.

“Champion was a theoretical classification
for individuals who might have the abilities of ten or more
Knights. It was recently decided to be a viable theory and two
Champion class individuals have been identified by Oracle senior
management.”

“Chris and Tanya,” I found myself saying.

“Yes Declan, Chris and Tanya. There may be
others, but none have been clearly identified. However, both Chris
and Director Stewart feel that
all
of you have the potential
for Paladin, if not Knight classification.”

“What about Champion?” Delwood asked, clearly
already in love with the title.

“Chris feels that at least one of you has
that potential, but he says it’s just a feeling and he refuses to
say which of you he thinks it is,” Gina said. “Now, it’s getting
late, you all have plenty of work to do, and your survival class
comes early in the morning, so let’s adjourn, shall we?”

Speculation on the potential class Champion
ran like wildfire around the group as we left the classroom and
split off into our friend pods. I mostly ignored it, still bothered
by the idea that groups of citizens might face discrimination
because of accidents of birth or infection. I had never paid
attention to politics before, not seeing a value in it. But as our
discussion struck close to home, I was beginning to see its
importance. Suddenly, the idea of having rights taken from me made
me wonder at the sheer balls of the original colonists who dared
take on an empire for freedom.

There’s a song about high school never ending
and how the struggle for popularity, status, and the control of
public opinion carries through to adulthood. I had thought it
hilarious when I heard it. Now I was chilled at the
implications.

Chapter 17

Friday marked the end of our first week at
college. It was also the worst day of my life.

Survival class started with the same workout
as Wednesday. Ariel tried to get me to stand near her and Ashley,
but then I saw Mack wave to me from across the room near the were
pack.

True to his word, Jenks pushed us just a bit
further with the PT. Then he and Caeco handed out the eskrima
sticks and he led us through a set of swings and strikes to loosen
up. Next, we spent fifteen minutes on the same partner drills, only
faster. He also added a few more patterns.

Mack and I were hitting a rhythm, getting
smoother and faster. Only the giant were douche and his punching
bag… er… partner next to us impeded our pace. Delwood kept crowding
our space, backing into us and making wild backswings that promised
pain if we got clipped. We moved over twice, yet there never seemed
to be enough room for him.

Jenks stopped the class and with Caeco as a
partner, demonstrated how to block a swing and disarm your
opponent. We used single sticks at first, going back and forth and
trying it both left and right handed. It was an oddly intuitive
drill. It just seemed to make sense. After stopping the force of
the swing with your own stick, you wove your free arm over and
under your opponent’s stick, twisting your upper torso and yanking
their stick free with superior leverage. It was going great until a
free-flying stick hit me in the shoulder.

A glance sideways showed that Delwood had
disarmed his opponent so violently that his stick had actually shot
through the space between us. Picking it up, I tossed it to
Matthew, who was unlucky enough to be partnered with Dullwood. A
baton slashed through the air and knocked my toss back at me.

“Don’t throw sticks at us, shithead,” Delwood
snarled.

“Actually, it’s his stick and
you
hit
us,” I said, picking up the stick and handing it to Matthew.
Delwood’s eskrima stick thundered down and smashed it free from my
hand, the end of his baton sliding down the stick and smacking my
knuckles. I reflexively smacked him on the elbow with my own right
hand stick. He growled, actually growled, and swung on me again,
knocking my stick almost out of my hand. The force of his blow was
enormous, reminding me of his power.

“What’s this?” Jenks suddenly asked, standing
ten feet away.

“Declan’s throwing sticks at us, sir,”
Delwood said, his snarl replaced by a mask of righteous
outrage.

“O’Carroll, I warned you not to pick fights
you’re not prepared to win, yet you refuse to listen,” Jenks said,
studying me.

“Sir, that’s not what happened,” Mack started
to explain.

“Quiet please, Mr. Sutton. I don’t need your
help to run my class. Got it?” Jenks said, fixing Mack with a
stare. Then he snapped back to me, coming to a visible
decision.

“Clear back. Okay, Mr. O’Carroll. Maybe
you’ll understand the differences between weres and non-weres if we
have a little demonstration. You two stand here and here,” he said,
putting Delwood and me together, facing off.

“Alright, wait one,” he said, turning and
trotting to the bag of gear he kept on the bleachers. He took out a
light-colored wooden box and opened it, revealing two metal bands.
They twisted my vision hard as he pulled them free from their
cushioned resting places and came back to where we waited in the
center.

“Hold out your hands, Mr. O’Carroll,” he
said, looking at me expectantly. I didn’t know what those bands
were, but I didn’t want them anywhere near me.

“Hold out your goddamn hands.”

I finally did and with two swift movements,
he snapped a band around each wrist.

It felt like he tore half of me away. Part of
me was gone, the part that sensed magic, just snipped off like I’d
never had it. Was this how normal people felt?

“Can’t have any temptation to cheat, now can
we?” he asked, raising one eyebrow at me. “Okay, sticks up.”

Still struggling with the loss of so much of
myself, I put my sticks up and tried to concentrate on the smirking
giant in front of me. The hair on the back of my head was lifted
and what senses I had left were screaming that this was all
wrong.

“Now, try to block his strikes, Mr.
O’Carroll. It’ll hurt if you don’t,” Jenks said. “Fight!”

There was a blur, a sharp smacking sound, and
my right hand went numb. My rattan stick went flying and when I
lifted my lefthand stick, it was pummeled out of the way by a
truck. Delwood gave me a vicious grin, just before his massive leg
came up off the ground and hit my left side too fast to dodge.
Searing pain lanced through my ribs, stopping my breath in my chest
and freezing me for a second. The world slowed to a crawl as I
watched Delwood’s right hand back swing at my face, the end of his
baton hitting the side of my jaw with a dull crack. Things went
blurry and I felt myself falling.

My next clear moment was on my hands and
knees, feeling my opponent pressing down on my neck with a massive
hand. Instinct took over and I pulled at Power, only nothing came,
just pain.

The jumble of sounds around me cleared in
bits and pieces as the ringing in my head dulled slightly.
Delwood’s whisper reached my brain. “You’re my bitch, witch, and
next I’ll take your girl.” Then his massive presence was gone,
pushed back by others who crowded around me.

“—insane? What the bleeding ‘ell was that
about?” an angry Irish voice demanded.

“Enough, Miss Flynn. That was not the intent.
Delwood simply got carried away,” Jenks said, his own anger
evident.

“Carried away? He just about killed him,”
another voice hissed. Jetta’s, I think.

“Mr. Jenks, just what is going on here?”
Gina’s voice.

“He had the fucking monster wolf beat the
shit out of Declan, that’s what went on,” Jetta said.

“Enough, Miss Sutton. Another word and you’re
gone from this class,” Jenks said.

“If this is how you teach—using your favorite
monsters to half kill your students, then I don’t want to be here,”
Jetta said.

“Especially when you’ve gone and crippled his
Craft with those bloody things on his wrists,” Ryanne agreed.

“You two can both leave,” Jenks said, but
Gina’s voice overrode his.

“You both stay, until I say otherwise. Jenks,
get away from that boy and let Dr. Rosewell look at him. You’ve
done more than enough damage already,” she said in a cold tone.

Hands helped me upright, the world weaving
and waving. Pushing against them, I struggled to find my enemy,
pulling at the bands on my wrists.

Delwood stood back, a self-satisfied smirk on
his face, Caeco in front of him like she was keeping him away.
People milled around me, an older lady checking me over. Gina
looked worried, a scared looking Ariel next to her.

“Jaw’s obviously dislocated. What are these
things on his wrists? Can we get them off?”

“No,” Ryanne said, sharply. “Don’t be taking
them off just yet. He’s fecking pissed. Not that I blame him, but
ye don’t want a dead student on yer hands, now do ye?”

“Take them off. I can handle any sparks he
can throw,” Delwood said and I tore harder at the bands, trying to
suck a breath that didn’t burn like fire.