“It’s a problem,” he admitted, “as is your particular power, of course.”
I frowned. “Mr. Grey seemed to think my admission was all but guaranteed.”
“Mr. Grey?” Bard glanced down at the sheets of paper on his desk. “Ah yes, your Finder. While the Academy works in conjunction with the government, we are not under their authority. A Finder may designate a candidate for consideration—a right infrequently exercised, mind you—but I am the final arbiter when it comes to enrollment.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that this is your opportunity to persuade me that you deserve an exemption to attend my school, that the potential gains outweigh the very real negatives, and that you are more than a foul-mouthed, poorly attired, obnoxious troll.”
“Takes one to know one,” I couldn’t help but shoot back, proving his point.
“I suppose it does. But my future is secure, while yours is anything but. Now, do you want to continue trying to impress me with your attitude, or would you like to make an actual effort to convince me that you belong here?”
I winced. It was a week for getting my verbal ass handed to me. One word from Bard would doom me to a short and ugly life on the streets.
Or worse; turning into my dad.
“What do you want to know?”
“Where did the blood on your clothes come from?”
“We were attacked coming down from the north.”
“You and Mr. Grey?”
“No. He and I parted ways at the testing station. Said he had more kids to find.”
Bard picked up a pen, made a quick notation, and continued. “So who escorted you from there?”
I told him the story, sticking mostly to the truth, although—mindful of my promise—I replaced Her Majesty with a burly male mercenary who had taken down our attackers by more conventional means.
“And this mercenary left you before you reached the school?”
“He dropped me off around the block,” I lied. “I thought if I showed up alone, then…”
“The other students would think you cooler than you are?”
I shrugged. I didn’t give a shit what the other students thought, but if that worked for him… “I guess so. I didn’t expect the guards to go nuts though.”
“Security here is extensive because it too often needs to be. As for impressing your classmates, they won’t be arriving for another day. Still, it wasn’t the dumbest scheme I’ve heard.” Bard shook his head. “That honor goes to the first-year who attempted to parachute into orientation, was nearly atomized by our automated defense systems, and still managed to break a leg crashing into the cafeteria.”
“And this guy had already passed all your tests and screenings?”
“It was a woman, actually, but I’ll admit that our screening remains a work in progress.” He made another notation and then flipped to the next sheet. “Anyway, onto the standard intake form. I already have your name, of course, as well as date of birth—happy almost-birthday, by the way—and measurements.”
“Measurements?”
“Height, weight, body mass, and other diagnostics, courtesy of one of the many scans you endured upon arrival,” he replied absently, still working his way down the form. “And thanks to yesterday’s testing, we know you are both a Crow and Category Three, so that piece of the puzzle is likewise taken care of. Which leaves only your basic psych profile and academic evaluations.”
I didn’t like the sound of any of that.
“Now, I’ve retrieved the records filed when you were a resident of the Bakersfield Home for Lost Children—”
“Already?” That was the official name of Mama Rawlins’ orphanage, though there wasn’t a kid there who called it that.
He nodded. “Not all of the scans you underwent were necessary, but security stalled until I had your paperwork in order. On the bright side, I can also inform you that you are not, and never have been, pregnant.”
I was too pissed to even roll my eyes. Bard was damn lucky they hadn’t gotten around to the anal cavity search.
“As for Mrs. Rawlins, she described you in her records as moody, withdrawn, and prone to violence.”
Mama Rawlins had never been the sort to sugarcoat the truth, even when it hurt.
“I particularly liked this line,” he continued. “Whenever there is any manner of confrontation, it is a given that Damian will be in the middle of it—”
But there was such a thing as taking honesty too far.
“—but although he does everything the hard way, his heart is in the right place. The little ones look to him as a leader and a protector, and he has stamped out the vast majority of bullying and abuse.”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. Maybe the old woman had been paying more attention than I’d thought.
Bard nodded at whatever emotion he saw in my face. “That quote is the primary reason we’re even having this interview, Mr. Banach.”
I made a big show of shrugging. “People shouldn’t pick on those who can’t fight back.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” he agreed. “I always preferred this one: ‘What use strength, if not to defend those who have none? What use power, if not to promote peace?’”
“It’s a bit wordy,” I decided.
“Should you meet Dominion, you can tell him so.” Bard made another notation. “As I said, what records we have of you suggest you might have the instincts to be a Cape. However, it takes more than just will to be a Cape… it takes power.”
I winced and nodded.
“When did you first realize you were a Crow?”
“Nine.”
“Weeks or months?”
I frowned. Who the fuck got their power nine weeks after they were born? “Years. But it wasn’t until yesterday that the idea of being a Cape even seemed possible. While the other kids were talking about which power they wanted, and how they were going to be the next Paladin, I was busy hoping that the power I already had stayed small, so that I at least wouldn’t cause too much damage when the madness took over.”
Bard stared at me, eyes wide.
“Well, excuse me for oversharing,” I said, suddenly embarrassed.
“Nine years?” At my nod, he frowned, and scanned the papers
