The Nightmare Dilemma

3 The Will Guard

I woke exhausted the next morning, but was glad to be awake. Glad the dream was over. I slapped the wooden lever on the side of the alarm next to my bed, engaging the snooze spell. The alarm clocks at Arkwell were standard-issue and one of the few fully magical instruments on campus. The school administrators didn’t want students blaming tardiness on the animation effect. Shame, I could’ve used such a handy excuse this morning.

Sighing, I rolled onto my back. I raised my hands and squinted at them, my eyes stinging from lack of sleep. I half expected my hands to be covered in sores from a night spent clawing at a stone plinth, but they looked as normal as ever.

I should’ve been relieved but I wasn’t. I felt empty on the inside, my body hollowed out, as the need to know what those letters spelled lingered like the hangover of some powerful drug. I lay there for a couple of minutes, picturing the faint imprint of letters on the plinth. Maybe my waking mind would have better luck discerning them.

When my alarm went off again, I gave up and got out of bed. Typically, Selene was still asleep. As a siren, she didn’t need to spend as much time getting ready in the morning. Her alarm would go off in twenty minutes, and she would roll out of bed with her dark hair looking perfect and shiny and her skin aglow. She had to bathe as regularly as anybody, of course, but she didn’t have to worry about hair dryers and flatirons, and she hadn’t worn makeup regularly since her turn toward tomboy-hood. She didn’t even wear it to hide the long thin scar running down the side of her face from where she’d been attacked by Marrow’s familiar, the black phoenix. Not that she needed to. If anything, the scar gave her a wild, fierce look that only enhanced her beauty.

I gathered my things as quietly as I could then headed for the shower. But when I returned a half hour later, Selene was still in bed. I poked my head through the door. “You getting up?”

Selene rolled over, turning toward the wall. “Sleeping in,” she mumbled. She sounded as exhausted as I felt. I supposed it made sense, considering she’d been out half the night. I considered confronting her about it right then, but I already had one tough discussion to accomplish today. Just how I was going to broach the subject with Eli, I didn’t know.

I headed down to the cafeteria still trying to figure it out. I approached the table I usually sat at with Selene and Eli, but he wasn’t there. I scanned the room for him, but the chaos of people and activity made it difficult to see much.

Mealtimes at Arkwell had become even more interesting since The Will broke. Paper airplanes flew complicated loop-de-loops in between the tables, obeying the magical commands of their makers as they delivered notes or dive-bombed unsuspecting victims. A girl across the way was manipulating the water in her goblet to make it flow upward in an inverted waterfall. The boy sitting behind her juggled a half-dozen glowing magical orbs that changed color every time he touched them.

Two tables over, a crystal goblet half full of some white liquid drew my attention as it hovered above the heads of several unsuspecting students. I watched it tip sideways right over Nick Jacobi. Milk—at least I hoped it was milk and not some dangerous potion—splashed downward. Nick raised his hand a split second before the liquid hit him, freezing it with a spell. Everyone at the table applauded his quick thinking. Nick started laughing at the boy across from him who had been controlling the goblet.

No sooner had Nick vanished the milk with a second spell than a saltshaker appeared above him and dumped its contents into his hair. This time several other people laughed as Nick leaped to his feet and tossed his head, flinging salt.

Stifling a smile, I glanced at the next table over, fully expecting to see Lance Rathbone behind the saltshaker. Lance was a wizard and Arkwell’s resident trickster. Only he wasn’t at his usual table either. What, is this Sophomore Skip Day and nobody told me? The real culprit, I saw, was a dryad by the name of Oliver Cork.

I glanced past Oliver, continuing my search for Eli. No luck.

He couldn’t have done it without magic, I reminded myself.

I went through the breakfast line and sat down at our table alone. Still no Eli. Where was he?

As if the thought had been an incantation, I spotted Eli coming through the massive wooden double doors of the cafeteria. He looked the same as any other day in his faded jeans and a dark, long-sleeved tee with a band logo on the front. But going by the huge yawn he tried to hide behind a raised fist, I guessed he hadn’t slept well. All my speculation ceased as Eli’s eyes alighted on me and a wide, cocksure grin slid across his handsome face. My stomach did a little flip at the sight of it, and a funny, achy feeling went through my knees. Good thing I was sitting down. If any ordinary had a diluted strain of siren blood, it had to be Eli Booker. Forget Bob Dylan.

As he walked toward me, I tried to recall all the openings I’d considered for asking him what he’d been doing last night around 11:45. But I abandoned the endeavor by the time he reached me. The whole thing was absurd. Even if Eli could do magic, he wouldn’t hurt Britney. That sort of thing just wasn’t in his nature. He would more likely beat the crap out of whoever had attacked her.

“Hey,” Eli said, sliding into the bench opposite me.

“Hey.”

He reached across the table and snagged a piece of bacon off my plate and popped it into his mouth. “Where’s Selene?” he asked a couple of chews later.

“She’s … sleeping in.”

A single dark eyebrow rose on Eli’s face. “Yeah? That doesn’t sound like her.”

I dropped my gaze from his face. “She, um, didn’t sleep well, I don’t think.”

“That makes two of us.” Eli yawned again.

It was the perfect opening, so I started to ask him why, when a loud bang stopped me. I jumped, my heart rate going from resting to overdrive in a split second. My eyes searched for the source of the noise.

Nick Jacobi had knocked over the bench he’d been sitting on. He and Oliver Cook stood across from each other, both shouting and with hands raised in a defensive position. Magic hummed in the air between them like a live wire. The two looked fit to kill. It seemed their little magical roughhousing had gotten out of hand. Neither was playing games now.

Nick’s glamour had slid off him, revealing his true form beneath—black, scaly skin, a single stubby horn on his forehead, and eyes that glowed red. He was an Ira demon, a rage demon, the kind that fed off the anger of others. Consequently, Iras had hot, dangerous tempers themselves.

Oliver, too, was looking more his natural self, his body thinner and taller, oddly treelike, and far less intimidating than Nick.

“This is bad,” I said.

Across from me, Eli had already stood and was heading for the demon and dryad.

I moved to stop him. “Don’t!” Without magic he would get crushed.

Too late, Eli had grasped Nick’s arm and pulled him around before he could attack Oliver. A howl of rage exploded outward from Nick. He shoved Eli in the chest with both hands and Eli flew back, crashing into the upturned bench.

Nick’s rage remained focused on Eli. He charged toward him, ready to strike again. I jumped up, my mind racing for the right spell to stop the demon, but panic made it hard to think.

I raised my hand. “Alexo.” The shield spell burst out from my fingertips in a streak of purple light. But before it could form over Eli, it vanished. But that was impossible. Stuff like that only happened when The Will was in place.

I opened my mouth to cast the spell again, but before I could, Nick froze mid-attack. His body was jerked into the air as if hoisted by an invisible pulley.

I gaped up at him as he struggled against whatever unseen bonds held him.

Eli got to his feet and stepped over to me. “You all right?” He touched my arm, sending tingles over my skin.

I huffed. “Oh, right. Worry about me, because I’m the one that just got tossed like a football by a pissed off—”

I broke off when I saw four strange men entering the cafeteria. They looked as if they’d gotten lost on their way to a Renaissance festival. They wore waist-length red robes like some kind of tunic over black pants. Sweat broke out on my skin, and all my muscles contracted from a sudden spurt of terror at their appearance—bloodred on black, just like Marrow had worn.

“Who the hell are they?” Eli moved closer to me as if he intended to shield me with his body.

The men marched farther into the cafeteria, silence spreading out before them. I looked around for a teacher or staff member, someone who could tell me whether or not it was time to make a run for it, but I didn’t see anybody.

The nearest man headed right for us. He carried a wizard’s staff that he held before him, pointed directly at Nick’s floating body.

A few feet from Nick, the man came to a stop. He looked like a retired prizefighter with his massive square jaw and squashed nose. His shoulders seemed wider than his arms were long. The scowl he leveled first at Nick then at Eli, and finally at me, made the hairs on my arms and neck stand up.

“That’s enough rule breaking for one morning.” The man made a downward slash with his staff, and Nick crashed to the ground with a loud thud. He let out a groan then scrambled to his feet. His black, scaly skin and horn vanished as his glamour slipped back into place.

“Who are you?” Eli demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

A low murmur echoed around us. I wanted to disappear into the cracks in the stone floor. I didn’t know who this guy was, but one thing was for sure—he wasn’t somebody you should challenge unless you could back it up. In the ordinary world, Eli was badass enough to take on anybody, but this was the magical world.

A wide, toothy grin stretched across the man’s face. “Me? Why, I’m the Captain of the Will Guard.”

Will Guard, like Will-Workers. Well, at least I could dismiss my original fear that these guys were Marrow supporters come to take over the school. The gold insignia on the left breast of the man’s tunic bore the Magi Senate crest of the tree, wand, and flame, symbolizing the three sects of magickind: naturekind, witchkind, and darkkind.

“What’s the—” Eli began.

The man tapped his staff against the floor, and Eli made a choking sound, reaching for his throat. Some kind of powerful magic crackled in the air around us. I grabbed Eli’s arm, trying to steady him.

“What did you do?” I took a step toward the man, outrage belying my better judgment to stay quiet.

In answer, the man tapped the staff again. An invisible hand seemed to grip the back of my throat and tongue. I tried to shriek, but no sound came out. It was some kind of gagging spell. I remembered my mom using the same spell on me whenever I started to make a scene in public when I was little. I knew from experience it was best not to fight it. I forced my body to relax, and at once the pressure in the back of my throat eased enough that I no longer felt like I was going to hurl.

With a self-satisfied glint in his eyes, the man turned away from me. Resentment made my skin burn. This guy had no right to come in and start casting spells at students. And after all the stuff with Marrow, I wasn’t about to just cower down to him because he might be here on Magi business. I reached out with my mind-magic and tried to grab the staff from his hands. Without access to their magical instrument, a witch or wizard couldn’t perform most magic.

Some unseen force blocked my way. The man jerked his head in my direction then smirked before turning back. He motioned toward the overturned bench with his staff and it righted itself. He stepped onto the bench and then on top of the table. He turned in a circle, surveying the room.

The cafeteria was absolutely silent, all eyes turned on this stranger. In a loud, gruff voice, he said, “My name is Captain Gargrave. I am head of the Will Guard. We have been sent to Arkwell by the Magi Senate to perform the duties of The Will. This means that all the combative magic violations you students have been perpetuating these last few chaotic months have officially come to an end.”

Another murmur went through the crowd, this one tinged with something like defiance. It wasn’t that we couldn’t do magic before The Will. It was just that people didn’t dare try most spells for fear they would be restricted. I didn’t think this Will Guard was likely to have much luck reinstating that kind of fear, not now that everybody had gotten used to the freedom.

Captain Gargrave must’ve sensed that rebellious spirit as well for he said even louder, “If you dare to challenge my authority or the authority of any of my men, you will reap the consequences.” He made an upward slash with the staff.

Nick let out a yell as he was hoisted into the air again. This time Captain Gargrave spun him around in several fast, nauseating circles. Eli and I both backed up instinctively, in case Nick tossed his cookies.

Just when I thought Nick was going to lose it, Captain Gargrave let go and Nick dropped to the floor again. He landed hard, but still on his feet. Gargrave stepped down from the table without another word. As he passed me, I felt the gag in my throat lift. The captain joined the others, and they started patrolling the cafeteria.

Eli and I exchanged a look. I could tell he was anxious to talk about what just happened, but we both knew it was better to let things settle down so we weren’t overheard.

His stomach grumbled. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Eli said, before stalking off to the breakfast line.

I sat down again as the silence in the cafeteria slowly began to dissipate. But the conversations remained subdued and nobody was doing any magic, legal or otherwise. I glanced at Gargrave who was eyeing the crowd like a hawk on the hunt. Way to make a nasty first impression, dude.

I had a feeling the nasty was only getting started.