ARC: Crushed by Eliza Crewe Page B

thought demons and Crusaders weren’t supposed to fight each other directly.” That was something I’d been taught in my Crusader History class. Demons and Crusaders are supposed to fight over neutral souls, not with out-and-out warfare.
    “Things have changed,” she says faintly without turning.
    Obviously. “But why now?” I ask. Seriously, am I just that unlucky? Centuries of little skirmishes, and I happen to show up when full-scale war breaks out. Before she has time to answer another thought cuts in. “And you knew!” I hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    She finally looks at me. “I didn’t know , I guessed . The demons have been attacking us directly for months – war was the next logical step. Why did you think there have been so many wounded?”
    There have been a large number of injured Crusaders winding up in our infirmary, but I didn’t think anything of it. If anything, I chalked it up to us having a brand-new facility. “I don’t know what’s normal around here!”
    Her mouth sets. “Not this,” is all she says.
    “But why now?” It comes out a bit like a whine.
    She pauses, as if she’s considering how much to tell me. The Sarge begins speaking before Jo can, apparently tired of waiting for us to shut up.
    She doesn’t waste any breath on reassurances, but instead jumps right into logistics: what the war is going to mean to us, how we will prepare, how we can help, how selected seniors may be drafted early.
    At that, Jo’s hand clamps on Chi’s.
    A year ago, even six months ago, a statement like that last would have earned an excited cheer from the students. Now, after the brutal battle at the school, they are not so naïve. Grim faces fill the hall.
    The Sarge ends abruptly with a, “That is all.” Despite her words, it takes a moment for the hall to realize she’s finished. The Headmaster takes over for his wife, introducing the Northerners – not that anyone cares at this point – and then leads the prayer. It’s full of all the reassuring platitudes and inspiring nonsense that we didn’t get from the Sarge. Finally he, and the rest of the hall with him, chants the Crusaders’ motto: dum spiro spero ; which means something along the lines of “in life, hope,” then an obligatory “amen”. The students explode into conversation before their butts even hit the seats.
    “War? War?” I sputter, my gaze darting among my friends.
    Zee’s the first to answer. “Relax.” I wait, baited-breath, for her to explain why, but the tall black girl only shrugs. I hate the stoic, hero types.
    “She’s right, Meda. You need to calm down,” Jo says, but she looks barely calm herself. She picks up her fork but grips it so hard it’s shaking in her hand. “You heard the Sarge, we’re safe here.” Then she looks at Chi and Zee, almost certain to be among the first drafted, and corrects herself. “ You’re safe here. They’ve worked really hard to keep the location of this school a secret.”
    That does calm me a little.
    “And Meda, as far as you’re concerned there’s a silver lining.” Her eyes move back and forth across her plate, as if they’re keeping pace with her equally rapid thoughts. She then looks at me, who is waiting with baited breath for good news. “With the war coming, I bet Headmaster can use the fact that this location is a secret to keep you here, under his custody.”
    If she meant to calm me, she failed. Spectacularly. “What do you mean? Where the hell else would I go?”
    She sets her fork down carefully with a clack. She has that doctor-with-bad-news expression. “The Corporates, Meda.” She takes a breath. “I think they’re here for you.”
    “ What? ” It’s more squeak than word. “But the war, they could just…”
    But Jo’s already shaking her head. “They wouldn’t come here to discuss the war, they’d just call. We’re not that important. Except for one thing: you.”
    “And the Beacon Map,” Chi adds, and I look at him