Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Chapter 109

This was not a good thing, nor was it a bad thing.

It was whatever Cal made of it.

The critical detail, and the one he kept reminding himself of, was that they were on the same side. A close second to that was the confirmation that his mission was condoned by the emperor himself. Knowing that he wasn’t currently trespassing was a relief, and while he’d love to further process that, the woman stalking toward him didn’t leave much room for that.

As she neared, he knew one thing had to be made clear.

“I’m going to ask you not to call me that,” he said in a firm tone, keeping his uncertainty at bay.

There was a line he had to straddle. He didn’t want to be difficult, but if he was too cooperative, he was worried she’d take it as a sign of weakness and dictate the future herself. He was not willing to surrender that to a stranger.

Like last night, there was too much to lose.

“Seems you’re house-trained,” she said with silent steps. “Then if not son of death, what should I call you?”

The jab rolled off him, and the name followed. This was too important to be ruined by her.

“Callum will be fine,” he offered, noticing how her advance hadn’t slowed.

For a brief instant, he had been tempted to return the verbal barb. A very, very brief instant.

Her thick eyebrow rose, but that was the extent of her reaction.

“A snake will be a snake,” she said, shifting her next step to the right. Her weapons were held loosely in her hands as she began circling him. “In love with your subterfuge.”

Cal made the conscious decision not to track her with his eyes. If she attacked, he’d have bigger problems than losing the initiative.

“That’s my actual name,” he said, watching her head quirk from his peripherals. “If it makes you believe it anymore, I was told it was because it wasn’t recorded anywhere.”

He lost sight of her, and his senses failed to confirm whether she was still behind him. Was it unnerving? Absolutely. Was he going to show that? Nope.

Cal’s posture shifted, putting more pressure on his back foot and stuffing his hands in his pockets. With his balance successfully compromised, he kept his gaze firmly ahead. Beyond the headmaster’s abused desk was the floor-to-ceiling window leading out to campus, and his eyes roamed the scenery, pretending he was more interested in it than the predator behind him.

“That would help explain why we only recently learned of your existence,” she mused, announcing her presence at his seven o’clock.

It took a considerable amount of willpower not to point out how that was because the Empire’s foreign intelligence arm was famously inept.

“How recent are we talking?” he asked, both out of curiosity and in an attempt to ease the room’s tension.

The alternative would have been to ask what she thought about the weather, and for a woman who could summon a sandstorm at will, that was a dangerous topic of discussion.

“Recent,” she said curtly, providing nothing of substance. “You never did answer. Did you know of the conditions attached to the missive?”

She reemerged in his vision, and he noticed her fingers pressing tightly against one of her weapons.

While he was reluctant to show his ignorance, honesty suddenly felt like the best policy.

“They were light on the details,” he said, keeping his feelings about that to himself. “I was told quick, quiet, and little else.”

There probably had been some grim humor involved in sending him, but he liked to think it was overshadowed by panic.

His words seemed to give her pause, and she slowed to a stop, brow furrowed in thought.

“You’re either lying,” she said, weighing the chisel in her left hand. “Or this is typical snake behavior on the part of your superiors.”

Cal was not trying to defend the Board of all people. However, his affiliation with the Federation did act as a sort of shield, and alluding to his dissatisfaction would likely be met with further suspicion.

“Quick and quiet,” the Right continued, muttering almost to herself. Light hazel eyes flicked to him in consideration. “That’s another conundrum. Incompetent or a saboteur. Which are you?”

He had a sinking feeling that both of those options ended with him being smote. Once again, honesty won the day.

“I’m specialized,” he clarified, eyes still locked on the window. “I’ve killed more demons than I can count, but it’s usually reactive, not preemptive.”

The hells weren’t exactly the best place to count corpses.

“That tells me nothing,” she said blandly. “Tens? Hundreds?”

Cal’s left hand left his pocket, throwing a thumbs-up.

“You suggest thousands?” she said, skepticism bare. “Did you start encountering summonings at birth?”

If he were not already doing his best to portray absolute calmness, he might have frozen at that remark. Could she…

No.

Only two people knew the truth—the Third and the Fourth. One because they’d been told, and the other because she’d been there.

“Just about,” he admitted after a pause. “I cheated by taking a trip to the hells.”

The woman vanished, and before he could process what had occurred, his hand was clamped around her wrist. She stood in front of him, a single step away and looking ready to close it at any moment.

Cal did the smart thing and let the weapon of mass destruction go. It was either that or suffer a dislocated shoulder when she pulled away.

“When?” she questioned, this time leaving no ambiguity about the threat.

His scores in math weren’t that bad, but those exams were proctored by the Right.

“Years ago,” he said, giving up on trying to figure out how many. “I tried to stop a summoning midway, and the magic tossed us in. I would recommend against visiting.”

She took the step, invading his space and looming over him. Annoyingly, his eyes were level with her nose. Cal angled his chin up, looking past her distractingly crooked nose and meeting her eyes.

The Right held the stare, tilting her head to either side.

“You don’t seem mad,” she judged with narrowed eyes. “But it’s hard to tell with a snake.”

Cal wanted his personal space back, but that would involve taking a step back or pushing her away, and he wasn’t willing to do either. Well, he supposed there was a third option.

“Keep breathing on me and we’ll see if that changes,” he said evenly, dulling the warning by keeping emotion out of his voice.

He wasn’t actually sure if she was breathing, and he wasn’t about to glance at her chest.

“It occurred to me,” she said, ignoring his statement, “that this might be the closest two in our position have ever come without trying to kill one another.”

And while he appreciated the not-fighting part, a step or two would be appreciated.

“Assuming you have one of these,” she continued, clipping the hammer to her belt and lifting a shiny piece of metal to his eyes in one smooth motion. “Your version, of course.”

A golden palm, no larger than a pin, was displayed before him. The symbol of a Hand.

“Seems I do,” he said, feeling the star in his pocket. He brought it up, holding it next to the pin and noting their similarity in size.

That earned a sharp intake of breath, the woman’s focus squarely on the piece of metal. Their eyes met briefly, and despite having just met, they knew what the other was proposing.

The golden hand fell into his palm, and the star into hers.

She shifted places again, standing before Victor’s desk with her back to him. The star was held up, gleaming in the light.

Cal, in turn, inspected her emblem. Visually, it resembled William’s and Ferguson’s pins, but with all fingers outstretched instead of the one. Feeling her prodding at his bonded star, Cal wasn’t polite, injecting the metal with a sliver of his magic.

He sensed her presence there, but it didn’t impede his intrusion.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

What he found was… confusing.

Exterior appearances aside, they were exactly the same.

She placed the star on the headmaster’s desk, carefully positioned her chisel over it, and then struck it with her hammer. A metallic twang filled the air, the walls and window shuddering for a moment.

Cal stood there dumbly, pin in his hand, wondering if he was meant to do the same.

“Born of the same root,” she said with amusement, turning toward him with the unblemished star in hand. “You’d think my time in the Holy Enclave would temper such blasphemy.”

The desk behind her cracked, splitting in two pieces. He watched the hourglass tumble down one side, landing heavy side up and beginning its countdown.

Flicking the star back to him with a thumb, she summoned her pin back before knocking one half of the cleaved-through desk onto its side and taking a seat on it.

“Go on now,” she said, gesturing toward the other half. “I haven’t got all day, Callum.”

Cal sat awkwardly on his portion of the desk. Things had changed, but it was difficult to describe what exactly. They certainly weren’t casual, and there was still an underlying threat of that chisel carving out part of his skull, but he got a vague sense of acceptance from the woman.

Acknowledgement?

Yeah. That was the closest he could get.

“So…” he began, fiddling with the star. “What’s this about a root?”

While there was no doubt more pressing things to discuss, he didn’t know when he’d get a second chance to ask that.

She looked at him strangely, as if questioning his reason for asking.

“Our emblems are fragments from the Maker’s hammer,” she answered after a moment. “Cleansed and given a new form.”

That only spawned more questions, and it must have shown.

“I always forget how little your people care for the gods,” she said with an aggravated sigh, running a hand through her mane. “The gods had the ability to cast portions of themselves off. Most created spirits, but a few chose to make tools instead. Vinyir was one such god, and when he was struck down, his crystallized essence was shattered.”

Cal glanced at the star, suddenly skeeved out. Vinyir was the god of passion and was not known for modesty. Perhaps that’s why she mentioned it was cleansed.

“What we’ve recovered amounts to a cup’s worth,” she informed, eyeing his star with interest. “It seems your people have found traces as well.”

He had half a mind to dump it in a vat of disinfectant, but settled for stowing the shiny back in his pocket.

“But we’re not here for a lecture,” she said, provoking a brief instance of gratitude before flipping the table on him. “Tell me what compelled you to take the crown prince of the Empire into the Waste to fight demons and cultists.”

The very pointed statement gave him a brief stint of discomfort, but he bounced back swiftly, mentally wagging a finger at her, echoing a series of ‘no’s. That was not what happened, and he would fight anyone who suggested otherwise… well, maybe not anyone.

“You put him in more danger here than he was out there,” Cal said, severely downplaying events. “And I tried to convince him against it, but he was determined to go find—”

Cal pumped the brakes, thinking better of touching the Ferguson button.

“Pa,” she huffed, shaking her head in disgruntlement. “I’m not a delicate flower. Tell me how it is.”

Considering what he’d seen of her so far, he’d take that under advisement and not law.

Cal studied her stony expression carefully before proceeding with caution.

“It was either let him tag along or break his legs, and as you saw, his legs aren’t broken.”

Reporting him to the administration was also an option, but he was betting Rolland was squirrelly enough to sneak out anyway.

She glanced at the door, a look of regret flashing over her face.

“I would have gone for the legs,” she said with complete seriousness, as if imagining herself in the act. “However, you’re bound by different rules, and I won’t fault you for having to deal with the prince’s idiocy.”

Cal had to stop and think.

Was she being reasonable?

Suspicious.

“Pa was sent there due to sightings of his old foe, Craven,” she said, evidently unaware of the confusion she was inflicting. “Care to explain how that devolved into cultists and demons?”

He could not shake the feeling that this was a trap, and he drew his head back slightly, eyeing her with growing distrust.

Despite his misgivings, if there was a time to outline most of what he knew, surely it was now.

Taking a moment to think before he spoke, he organized his thoughts, cognizant of the grains of sand trickling down.

“Craven was working with members of Infinita Nox,” he said, feeling like he should have brought a whiteboard, “who were under the command of The Watcher. They were farming beast cores and summoning demons. Obviously, there was the big one, but there was a smaller one used to find the tower.”

It was the creepy thing that Basem had trapped in the lantern.

“We kicked the door in, killed a bunch of mercenaries, the category‑five demon, and Craven. There was also a spirit, but it hopefully died from the beast wave that fell on us. We used the relic to get out, so who knows.”

Her mouth parted, but he stuck a finger up, nowhere near finished.

“Turns out Infinita Nox is supplying a mix of beast and demon cores to a group on campus. They’re being smuggled in by the Beast Husbandry Club. There’s an accounting trail to support that, and I have two witnesses who claim three dealers are distributing cores on campus for… I was going to say recreational purposes, but really they’re just using them to get high off of foreign magic.”

There really wasn’t any pretty way to put that.

Cal felt her presence shift, magic stretching over campus. It was a delicate touch, and if he weren’t in front of her, he might not have noticed.

“Why has the campus not descended into chaos?” she asked pointedly, but with a lack of alarm. “And why do those three still draw breath?”

Because if he killed them, they’d try to execute him?

“The cores have been modified to avoid detection and slow the level of corruption. That was confirmed by the Academy’s spirit.”

He would have liked to mention how shifty it had been acting, but it could also be eavesdropping on them at this very moment, claimed restrictions notwithstanding.

“I haven’t verified the summoning itself yet, and I don’t think the club even knows what they’re dealing with because I offered to supply them with beast cores, and they seemed interested due to a sudden shortage. Once this controlled buy goes through, it should reveal more about their operation and if there’s any link to a greater conspiracy.”

Cal paused, reviewing his mental notes to see if he was done. He stole a glance at the timer, seeing that the sand had stopped trickling down. She must have used it as a mind trick—duh.

“I can’t tell if the Watcher is tangentially involved or not,” he continued, “but when I asked about a Grand Summoning, he said one was impossible without an inheritor of their power.”

He emphasized the word to convey his meaning and was about to clarify further when the lines across her face grew more pronounced. She turned, staring out into the Academy.

“That’s why then,” she murmured cryptically, her gaze lingering on campus, a degree of wariness coming over her. “I’d wondered about the reports.”

Reports?

That triggered another piece of relevant knowledge in his head.

“Are you…” he trailed off, knowing this might be a sensitive subject. “Aware that the Academy was evidently ruled out as a site for an attack?”

He’d barely finished his sentence before her eyes snapped back to him.

“What led you to that conclusion?” she asked sharply.

That would be a no.

“I’m passing on what I was told,” he said, choosing to leave the existence of Lennard and the others out of the picture. “At one point, the representative on your side changed, and they said the academy was off-limits.”

Olivia had told him that the day he replaced his blazer. He hadn’t been able to do anything with it until now, so it had felt moot.

“The error must have been on your end,” she said with a deep-seated frown. “The Emperor would have informed me had the circumstances been altered.”

He could feel the prickle against his skin, similar to before, but there seemed to be a lack of intent behind it.

“I am not doubting my side did anything underhanded,” he said, knowing part of that would have been sending an unqualified and unsupported agent into a school full of nobles. “But there’ve been—disturbing developments.”

Cal had nearly bitten his tongue there. The developments he’d been about to explain were how his killing of Petro was brushed under the rug.

“Disturbing how?” she pressed, dissatisfied with his half-hearted reply.

His lips were cracking now, which was annoying, and he let his magic repair the damage as quickly as it occurred. She didn’t put a stop to her magic, busy scrutizning him with quiet intensity.

“A pair of Justiciars came by recently,” he said, prepared to avoid the topic of what they were investigating before realizing she would absolutely find out. “It was about a student who vanished under mysterious circumstances. They claimed he was killed by a member of Infinita Nox. Which makes sense because I have witnesses in the city who claim he was involved in smuggling. I’d suggest he was either working with them, or a loose end.”

Cal wasn’t entirely sure who he was framing there. It was either the dead man, the other dead man, or his alter ego. Regardless, one of them was guilty.

“But they were a bit too keen on deciding that,” he continued, allowing his skepticism to bleed through. “Especially considering how worried the headmaster was over them using it to diminish the Academy’s position.”

He counted the cards he still had. The Adjunctor was an outstanding issue, but he had a way to work that angle himself. Not that he wouldn’t tell her about it in the future, just not at this exact moment. There was one more thing he wanted to keep in reserve due to how implicating it was. However, it was too important to remain unsaid.

“I also have it on good authority that Infinita Nox has infiltrated the campus,” he said with his best straight face. “They were targeting their former colleague, whom you alluded to—”

“Being killed by my imbecilic companions,” she cut in, grunting in a way reminiscent of Ferguson. “Yes. I told them to remove the covenants that bound him, and they decided to do away with his entire head.”

Cal wanted to criticize them, but she should have been more specific.

“Then the only option is to proceed with the controlled buy and see what happens,” he said, not vocalizing that he’d try to link up with the criminals on his own time. “Unless you have other ideas.”

He was open to suggestions. In fact, he’d be perfectly okay with her taking the lead.

There was a Hand here. The ultimate symbol of authority in the Empire. If anyone could cut across all the red tape, it had to be the Right.

The woman clipped her weapons back to her belt, pushing off the desk and rising to her full height. She inhaled, closed her eyes for a moment, and then released the breath. When her eyes opened again, they seemed lighter.

“On principle, I’m against working with a snake,” she said, staring at the window for a spell before moving toward the door. “But I can’t deny it’s somewhat refreshing.”

Refreshing? And was she just going to ignore his question?

“I’ll still have to confirm everything you claimed,” she said, walking away with her silent steps. “Starting with the Justiciar. If Petro wasn’t the criminal you described, then I’ll have to execute you.”

What did she say?

“Should it not be a lie, then we’ll need to find an occasion for a rematch. I can’t allow you to mark me without one in return.”

His hand instinctively reached up, catching a thrown pebble in his palm. When he turned it over, he saw a ring with a black gem.

“That one managed far less,” she said casually, leaving his bewildered expression to her back. When she spoke again, it was with growing frustration. “If those idiots hadn’t called on the Mother’s grace to travel ahead, they might still be alive. Now, because of them, I’m going to have to explain to my Emperor why I destroyed the city’s colosseum in my uncoordinated descent.”

Uncoordinated? Did she not plow through Combustion Man intentionally?

As she reached the door, she had one final thought to share.

“It is nice working with a professional—Callum.”

He asked again.

What did she say?