I didn't respond.
She hummed. “If your magic registers in the First Layer, Prestige Stavros has received permission and been given emergency powers for the praetorians to be there as well. There is no reason for him to end those powers, and every reason for him to extend them.” She walked around me, scenting prey. “They are blaming you for the event. But it’s fascinating that I noticed a blip in Alexander Dare’s presence on campus just prior to the event. I didn’t report it, of course, and most people don't have my observational skills, but do be more careful. Though they are so very careful, combat mages have a certain...style they can't hide.”
I closed my eyes in resignation.
“Quite a burden, my observation, because it would make a strong story—the defection of powerful mages who were pledged to the safety of our layer. But with Camille caught in the crosshairs... And, you. You are such a thorn sometimes, dear one. With the scent of the strongest story dangling from your precious fingers. The other must be relegated to a piece for the right time.”
“And you'll choose the right time.”
She shrugged delicately. “You need me to choose. Deceit is not your skill.”
Pictures of all the feral Awakened mages in the past six months flashed on screen—the ones I had rescued, and the ones I’d had no chance to save. “I just want to help.”
She tapped her curved lip. “I know your intentions. The problem is that only those who have been touched by you do.”
I looked at the hologram of Stavros giving a refined, fatherly speech about protection and action. Protection and action against me, the world’s ultimate villain.
“But if we bring her under our protection, think of the good she could do. She needs guidance and a firm hand controlling her magic,” he said paternally. He was a master of grandstanding and self-promotion.
Bellacia watched his speech, switching her sharp gaze back to me. “You possess the ultimate story. You are where the lines lead. What headline will carve your epitaph?”
I watched Stavros’s talented dance. I had no answer that didn’t end with the world.
Chapter Nine: When It All Breaks
Darkness, death, destruction.
I sat straight up in bed, pushing the covers to the side. My breath heaved in my chest, and I flailed for purchase as I unconsciously tried to call socks to me.
My socks hit me in the face as the world ending magic between the layers drew inward like a sieve, spilling its dream sand onto a single point. Adrenaline fought against the grogginess of four hours’ sleep. I called my cloak with a flick of my wrist. It smacked against the wall and disappeared into the bed crack.
“Another Awakening?” Constantine looked up from where he was fiddling with a drawing, legs crossed at the ankle on top of the desk. “That's the seventeenth. Rather boring, this same tune.”
His shirt was open and rumpled, his hair looked like his fingers had passed through it one too many times, and he was barefoot. If I posted this image of him, I'd be rich in a week. I frowned as I shoved my hand between the bed and the wall, grasping the priceless garment with sleep-numb fingers.
I sent the coordinates to Axer. First Layer Botswana was about to have a wild ride.
I looked up into the early rays of light pouring through the windows above, unhampered by anything in flight. Ori had been disappearing for longer periods of time. Guard Rock was gone, too. He’d been leaving more often, the more I’d been allowing others to do my duties.
I looked at Constantine. “Have you been up the entire time? No sleep?”
The first few Awakenings had been riddled with traps. But the last few had been surprisingly free of them. The simplicity of the rescues had increased everyone's tension.
Constantine hadn't been immune.
“Don't cast stones in a gravity field, darling.”
I pulled a hand over my body, concentrating on the battle tested clothes I wanted to change into and subsequently on where I wanted my nightclothes to go. A moment later, one arm of my t-shirt flopped from the drawer it was supposed to be neatly tucked into.
“Go back to sleep,” Constantine said, eyeing my clumsy result. “Alexander and his minions will handle this one just as they’ve handled the other ten. The Awakenings are getting positively boring for them.”
“I know, and that’s what worries me.” I tugged at the awkwardly hung trench cloak encasing my shoulders, and moved quickly to secure the spells I'd need. “I just like to be prepared.”
Dressing for battle had been a useless task since the combat mages had taken over. But...being prepared just made me feel better.
I was especially jittery tonight.
“I'm fine,” I said.
“As fine as you always are,” he said, one brow lifting at how shoddily I had dressed myself.
“What's that supposed to mean?” I tugged my boots on quickly and manually. There were some misplaced dressing spells that weren't worth the pain, especially during battle
He surveyed me, sighed deeply, then waved a hand over his own frame. His own version of a battle cloak settled perfectly upon his shoulders in response.
“You can dress yourself better than I can.” I pulled my last boot all the way up. “Congratulations. I can make it so that you’re glued to that chair for the next two days.”
“And deny the world two such glorious buttcheeks? Besides, you give obvious tells in your connections. I know what you are going to do—”
I shot a stunning bolt before he finished, and he grabbed it from the air, coiling the magic in his palm. He looked at it, smiled, and turned the magic into a blue iris, which he then pressed into his skin. “—before you do it. Thank you, darling.” He stroked his connection threads in his mercurial way—in a combination of contentment and irritation.
I grabbed the last device I needed, slinging the band around my frame, and stepped into the hall.
Constantine closed the door behind us, and followed me toward the room I used as a port. “Come, darling, do we really—”
My heart stopped beating for one second, two, three, and waves of panic swept through me. My knees buckled, and I pressed a hand against the wall to keep myself upright. Constantine was next to me instantly with a hand tucked beneath my arm.
“What is it?” he demanded, all playfulness and antipathy gone.
“Another. Another Awakening.” My brain focused on the energy swirling around the layer system schematic in my brain to pinpoint the location. “It just started in Honolu—”
Pain. This time, only Constantine's grip held me upright. “Ren,” he growled.
“Samoa. Madrid. Niger.” I looked up at him, clutching his arms as he held me up. “Too many.” Horror and overwhelming guilt brought me low.