fractures," he said, staring with disbelief at the quiet arch. "We might have to shut down operations until we find out what went wrong."
The people at the front of the departures line groaned when they heard the operator's words. One man demanded they let him through the arch so he'd be home in time for dinner. The operator held up his hands and waved them at the line of disgruntled travelers. From the corner of my eye, I saw a minder drifting our way. I turned and saw several more on approach, their ghostly tentacles flailing with what looked like excitement.
Shelton's lips curled. He grabbed my sleeve and pulled me well away from the creepy mind twisters.
"I take it you don't like Dean Buckley?" I asked.
He chuckled. "That jackass is not only in charge of educating kids, but he's one of the old bigots on the Arcane Council."
Thinking of Dean Buckley reminded me of the term Shelton had used to turn the dean from an admirer into a total hater. "What, pray tell, is a bloomer, besides an old style of women's underwear?"
Shelton gave me a sideways glance. "It means something different to everybody, but to the elitists, it means you never had formal training and came into your powers late." He shrugged. "There are plenty of nom kids in the world who have abilities, but don't even know it."
"Uh, I don't mean to be nitpicky, but I'm not human, so I was never a nom at any point in my life." It felt strange to say that aloud, but it was true. Supers called normal humans "noms", not only because of their normality, but because to supers like vampires, normal humans were nom-noms—self-aware snack packs.
"Yeah, well there's a reason I told him that."
"Because you want me to be an outcast?"
He shook his head. "I don't want people like him getting their hooks into you, or taking an interest." Shelton's eyes narrowed. "Believe me, when those kind of people are interested in you, it's usually gonna end up bad."
I rolled my eyes. "You're one of the most anti-social, anti-establishment people I have ever met."
"If you knew about my past, you'd understand."
My curiosity lit up like a beacon. "I'd love to hear that story."
He snorted. "Maybe someday."
Judging from how my every day went, I'd likely be dead before someday ever arrived.
Chapter 7
I took in the scene near the door to Queens Gate—the dwindling line of people entering and the roped-off crowd to the right. I read one of the signs someone waved in the air. "We have the right!" it exclaimed in red letters. Another read, "Arcanes Don't Own Queens Gate!"
"What in the world is this about?" I said as Shelton and I stopped next to the rat maze of ropes designed to herd people through the line to the entrance. Thankfully, the line had shrunk considerably since our arrival. A man in a dark suit inspected papers given to him by an older gentleman. He ran his wand along the older man, grunted, and tapped the wand to the papers before waving the man toward the doors.
The man in the suit looked us up and down. Raised an eyebrow. "You have business here?"
Shelton's jaw went tight. "Yeah. What's it to you?"
The man's eyebrow went up a notch. "The Arcane Council is restricting access to all relics dominated by Arcane school zones. As you may or may not know"—he sniffed as if we were complete idiots—"vampires attacked two novice schools." He held up a wand. "Therefore, you must be screened and approved for entry."
"You've got to be kidding me," Shelton said. "Why not set up an automated screening ward outside the entrance?"
The man shrugged. "The council plans to, but the Overworld Conclave is balking." He sighed and looked at the crowd of protesters. "The bloody vampires think they own the place."
I thought back to the last time I'd actually walked the cobblestoned streets of the Grotto. I'd seen plenty of vampires there, though I hadn't been through any of the Arcane school zones. I assumed they considered the entirety of Queens Gate a school zone. "So
The people at the front of the departures line groaned when they heard the operator's words. One man demanded they let him through the arch so he'd be home in time for dinner. The operator held up his hands and waved them at the line of disgruntled travelers. From the corner of my eye, I saw a minder drifting our way. I turned and saw several more on approach, their ghostly tentacles flailing with what looked like excitement.
Shelton's lips curled. He grabbed my sleeve and pulled me well away from the creepy mind twisters.
"I take it you don't like Dean Buckley?" I asked.
He chuckled. "That jackass is not only in charge of educating kids, but he's one of the old bigots on the Arcane Council."
Thinking of Dean Buckley reminded me of the term Shelton had used to turn the dean from an admirer into a total hater. "What, pray tell, is a bloomer, besides an old style of women's underwear?"
Shelton gave me a sideways glance. "It means something different to everybody, but to the elitists, it means you never had formal training and came into your powers late." He shrugged. "There are plenty of nom kids in the world who have abilities, but don't even know it."
"Uh, I don't mean to be nitpicky, but I'm not human, so I was never a nom at any point in my life." It felt strange to say that aloud, but it was true. Supers called normal humans "noms", not only because of their normality, but because to supers like vampires, normal humans were nom-noms—self-aware snack packs.
"Yeah, well there's a reason I told him that."
"Because you want me to be an outcast?"
He shook his head. "I don't want people like him getting their hooks into you, or taking an interest." Shelton's eyes narrowed. "Believe me, when those kind of people are interested in you, it's usually gonna end up bad."
I rolled my eyes. "You're one of the most anti-social, anti-establishment people I have ever met."
"If you knew about my past, you'd understand."
My curiosity lit up like a beacon. "I'd love to hear that story."
He snorted. "Maybe someday."
Judging from how my every day went, I'd likely be dead before someday ever arrived.
Chapter 7
I took in the scene near the door to Queens Gate—the dwindling line of people entering and the roped-off crowd to the right. I read one of the signs someone waved in the air. "We have the right!" it exclaimed in red letters. Another read, "Arcanes Don't Own Queens Gate!"
"What in the world is this about?" I said as Shelton and I stopped next to the rat maze of ropes designed to herd people through the line to the entrance. Thankfully, the line had shrunk considerably since our arrival. A man in a dark suit inspected papers given to him by an older gentleman. He ran his wand along the older man, grunted, and tapped the wand to the papers before waving the man toward the doors.
The man in the suit looked us up and down. Raised an eyebrow. "You have business here?"
Shelton's jaw went tight. "Yeah. What's it to you?"
The man's eyebrow went up a notch. "The Arcane Council is restricting access to all relics dominated by Arcane school zones. As you may or may not know"—he sniffed as if we were complete idiots—"vampires attacked two novice schools." He held up a wand. "Therefore, you must be screened and approved for entry."
"You've got to be kidding me," Shelton said. "Why not set up an automated screening ward outside the entrance?"
The man shrugged. "The council plans to, but the Overworld Conclave is balking." He sighed and looked at the crowd of protesters. "The bloody vampires think they own the place."
I thought back to the last time I'd actually walked the cobblestoned streets of the Grotto. I'd seen plenty of vampires there, though I hadn't been through any of the Arcane school zones. I assumed they considered the entirety of Queens Gate a school zone. "So
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