fingers into a fist, I caught the strands, flung out my other hand, and grabbed the collar of Shelton's leather duster. We jerked to a stop barely a foot away from the rift. Shelton fumbled his wand and shouted a word.
A large blob of energy coalesced at the end of his wand, undulating like water in zero gravity. He flicked the rod, and the mass floated lazily toward the rift, seeming to ignore the incredible suction. It splatted against one edge, creeping over the glasslike cracks in the air, clogging the portal. With a high-pitched whistle, the last hole closed. The inexorable drag vanished. Shelton pumped a fist in the air and whooped.
I heard another cracking noise. My eyes flicked toward the noise in time to see another of the fractures straining the fabric of reality. Without another thought, I released the glowing strands from my fist, scooped Shelton under my arm, and blurred out of the ring, nearly plowing into a group of spectators who were snapping photos and taking videos of the event with their arcphones.
I set Shelton down and bent over, panting like dying dog while the tremendous hum of the Obsidian Arch wound down. As it powered off, the fractures mended, sealing themselves until nothing remained but clear air.
"Are you okay?" said a utility Arcane.
I nodded even as my knees buckled.
"Holy bulls in a blender," Shelton said, straightening and wiping at his forehead. "Good thinking, kid."
"Good thinking?" said an older man in a long gray robe, his accent that of a proper British gentleman. "I'd say that was exceptional." He tilted his head and regarded me. "Which academy did you graduate from, young man?"
Technically, I hadn't even graduated from high school, much less an arcane academy. I hadn't even been back to school for months after Maximus's attempts to draft high school students into the vampire corps had turned several into the zombie-like vamplings and incited a bloodbath that had claimed the principal, football coach, and other unsavory characters. "I haven't graduated," I said, wincing.
"Ah, of course, you're coming to the university for orientation or a prep course, aren't you?"
"I'm here for the assessment," I said.
Shelton's upper lip curled in distaste as he took in the man. "He's a bloomer."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Surely, you're joking."
My friend made a non-committal gesture. "Nope. The kid hasn't had any formal training, but he's pretty good, isn't he?"
At this, the man's attitude changed completely. "I believe you'll find there's no place for his kind at the university."
Shelton's lips curled into a feral grin. "Yeah? Well, tough, buddy. 'Cause he's already in."
"Perhaps you don't recognize me," the man said, raising his nose to lofty heights. He directed a severe gaze down its length at Shelton. "I am Andrew Buckley, Dean of Admissions, and I am the judge of who we admit and who we don't."
"Oh, so that's why lycans and other supernaturals can attend the university?" Shelton said. He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, that's right. The Overworld Conclave found the exclusion of others in violation of the Covenant."
Dean Buckley's jaw tightened. "The filth should stay at the Science Academy where they belong." He spun on his heel and strode toward a set of large ornate doors which presumably led into the pocket dimension of Queens Gate.
A mob of people with signs stood in a roped-off area to the right of the doors, shouting slogans and waving at a long line of people who appeared to be waiting for admittance through the doors. The dean strode past the line and the shouting mob without looking. Two men in what looked like the big puffy hats and red uniforms of Buckingham Palace guards opened the door for him. Beyond lay a shimmering green vista with snow-topped mountains. The guards closed the doors and took up positions again.
The arch operator asked us a dozen more times if we were okay and begged us not to tell Eliza Conroy about the incident. "I've never seen so many Gloom
A large blob of energy coalesced at the end of his wand, undulating like water in zero gravity. He flicked the rod, and the mass floated lazily toward the rift, seeming to ignore the incredible suction. It splatted against one edge, creeping over the glasslike cracks in the air, clogging the portal. With a high-pitched whistle, the last hole closed. The inexorable drag vanished. Shelton pumped a fist in the air and whooped.
I heard another cracking noise. My eyes flicked toward the noise in time to see another of the fractures straining the fabric of reality. Without another thought, I released the glowing strands from my fist, scooped Shelton under my arm, and blurred out of the ring, nearly plowing into a group of spectators who were snapping photos and taking videos of the event with their arcphones.
I set Shelton down and bent over, panting like dying dog while the tremendous hum of the Obsidian Arch wound down. As it powered off, the fractures mended, sealing themselves until nothing remained but clear air.
"Are you okay?" said a utility Arcane.
I nodded even as my knees buckled.
"Holy bulls in a blender," Shelton said, straightening and wiping at his forehead. "Good thinking, kid."
"Good thinking?" said an older man in a long gray robe, his accent that of a proper British gentleman. "I'd say that was exceptional." He tilted his head and regarded me. "Which academy did you graduate from, young man?"
Technically, I hadn't even graduated from high school, much less an arcane academy. I hadn't even been back to school for months after Maximus's attempts to draft high school students into the vampire corps had turned several into the zombie-like vamplings and incited a bloodbath that had claimed the principal, football coach, and other unsavory characters. "I haven't graduated," I said, wincing.
"Ah, of course, you're coming to the university for orientation or a prep course, aren't you?"
"I'm here for the assessment," I said.
Shelton's upper lip curled in distaste as he took in the man. "He's a bloomer."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Surely, you're joking."
My friend made a non-committal gesture. "Nope. The kid hasn't had any formal training, but he's pretty good, isn't he?"
At this, the man's attitude changed completely. "I believe you'll find there's no place for his kind at the university."
Shelton's lips curled into a feral grin. "Yeah? Well, tough, buddy. 'Cause he's already in."
"Perhaps you don't recognize me," the man said, raising his nose to lofty heights. He directed a severe gaze down its length at Shelton. "I am Andrew Buckley, Dean of Admissions, and I am the judge of who we admit and who we don't."
"Oh, so that's why lycans and other supernaturals can attend the university?" Shelton said. He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, that's right. The Overworld Conclave found the exclusion of others in violation of the Covenant."
Dean Buckley's jaw tightened. "The filth should stay at the Science Academy where they belong." He spun on his heel and strode toward a set of large ornate doors which presumably led into the pocket dimension of Queens Gate.
A mob of people with signs stood in a roped-off area to the right of the doors, shouting slogans and waving at a long line of people who appeared to be waiting for admittance through the doors. The dean strode past the line and the shouting mob without looking. Two men in what looked like the big puffy hats and red uniforms of Buckingham Palace guards opened the door for him. Beyond lay a shimmering green vista with snow-topped mountains. The guards closed the doors and took up positions again.
The arch operator asked us a dozen more times if we were okay and begged us not to tell Eliza Conroy about the incident. "I've never seen so many Gloom
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