“Well, I’m no shrink, spooky or otherwise, but I know two things for sure. First, you seem way less crazy now than you did before break.”
Next to me, I felt more than saw Vibe nod vigorously. Apparently, Alexa hadn’t been the only one to notice something was wrong.
“And second?”
“Next time they give us a few weeks off, I’m staying here on campus where the action is.”
“You didn’t have fun in Phoenix?”
“Have we met?!? I have fun everywhere I go. But who would choose cheap beer over a showdown with an army of ghosts and a long-dead, ultra-infamous Crow?”
“Is everyone from Texas insane or just you?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Silt’s wide grin made a triumphant return.
“You’re not a Necromancer, Sofia,” said Vibe. “You wouldn’t have been able to see any of them.”
“Oh. Right.” Silt shrugged heavy shoulders. “Sounds like a nut that Boneboy will have to crack before next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” I said. “Everything’s good now.”
“Sure it is.” Silt’s smile was oddly gentle. “But next time it isn’t, you’re going to make sure we’re in a position to help, right?”
I took another bite of my sandwich and nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
Of all the promises I ended up breaking that year, that’s one of the very few I take no responsibility for. None of us—Crows or otherwise—have as much control over our lives as we want to believe.
Sometimes, the world spins, and all we can do is hold on for the ride.
CHAPTER 49
The first semester at the Academy is kind of like sparring a Stalwart. Orientation hits you before you’re ready for it, like a jab to the face that leaves you reeling. The weeks that follow are a barrage of body blows and by the time you’ve regained your footing, your wind is shot, your limbs are heavy, and the faint hope of victory has been replaced by the inescapable reality of your defeat.
The second semester is different. For most first-years, the second semester feels like the prize earned for making it that far.
Most first-years.
See, that first semester is all about making sure every Cape has a basic foundation in certain skills; self-defense, weapons-work, even meditation. Winter or Poltergeist having to punch their way out of a fight seemed every bit as unlikely as me dating either of them, but there’s a big difference between unlikely and never-fucking-happening. As Nikolai says, it pays to be sure, because if you’re not sure, you’re gonna pay.
It sounds better when he says it.
Anyway, that’s the first semester. In the second semester, we’re assigned classes according to our respective powers. In addition to continued classes in Control, Close Combat, and Weapons Training, there’s Mobility, taught by Macy Johnson. If your life totally sucks, you might wind up in one of Emery Goldstein’s courses; Projection or Perception. Every first-year has to take at least two powers classes—Control and one other—but nobody takes more than four.
That’s what the handbook says anyway. Turned out that part was bullshit too. Six powers classes, and every one of them was on my curriculum.
Every.
Single.
One.
•—•—•
“Why is he here, Nikolai?” asked Orca, nodding in my direction. Wherever she’d gone over the break, her dirty blonde hair was now a shade or two lighter than usual, and set off even more spectacularly by olive skin that was a an equal number of shades darker.
In addition to looking amazing, she sort of had a point.
Six of us had made it into second-semester Combat, informally known as Hell’s Second Coming. Me, the Viking, Paladin, Orca, Alan-fucking-Jackson, and my roommate, Stonewall. Five had enhanced strength, durability, and/or speed. The two Shifters even had accelerated healing.
I could see ghosts. And maybe talk to them, in the case of Sally Cemetery.
You do the fucking math.
“Discounting powers, Damian is one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in your class,” answered Nikolai in a baritone rumble.
“Discounting powers? Does that mean we’re not reducing the dampeners?” That was my roommate, who’d spent most of the first semester getting his ass kicked because of those same dampeners.
“The dampeners will still be active, to keep some of you from accidentally destroying my classroom, but they’ll be turned down sufficiently to allow both you and Alan to shift.”
Five sets of first-year eyes turned back to me, but I kept my face a mask. Low dampeners didn’t just mean Alan Jackson and Jeremiah would be able to turn into their secondary forms. It meant Paladin and Orca would be that much faster and more agile. It meant Erik would be that much stronger and more durable.
Four of the five had kicked my ass back when the dampeners were at full power. Now, even Jeremiah was going to be a nightmare. What chance did I have of survival with the playing field completely uneven?
Surprisingly, it was Alan who spoke. “How do we keep from accidentally killing him?”
“The same way you’ll do it in the field,” said Nikolai. “Control. Anyone who tells you Capes never kill is a fool or a liar, but we make the choice. We don’t allow our powers to choose for us. The dampeners are down so you can learn to utilize your gifts in combat, and so you get experience fighting against powered opponents, but I’ve never lost a student in the arena, and I don’t intend to change that now. Training will be done at reduced speed and intensity until you understand and can control the movements you are making.”
My roommate nodded, but it was Nadia’s turn to frown. “We still get to spar though, right?”
“I was getting to that, Orca. Starting with today’s class, you will each spar once every two weeks. All matches will be full speed and full intensity, but lethal blows will not be permitted and combat will end at my discretion. Any more questions?” Nikolai waited for half a breath, then nodded. “Good. First up, the Viking and—” He paused, beady eyes fixed on me. “Have you picked
