“One month.” I nodded. “Not a problem.”
I was so fucked.
CHAPTER 52
“It’s not fair!”
“Life’s not fair—” I started to say.
“We’re not talking about life! We’re talking about your life!” interrupted Kayleigh. “They can’t kick you out of college just because you’re still trying to figure out your power!”
I shrugged. “Nobody’s said anything about kicking me out of the Academy yet… just Nikolai’s class. But if I can’t hold my own in a fight, what sort of Cape would I make?”
“The same sort as me, I suppose.” Vibe’s voice had gone quiet, her cold fingers barely brushing against my arm.
“Not even on my best day. Unlike necromancy, your power has plenty of applications outside of combat.”
“Like what, exactly?”
“Like being able to sense if anyone is in a building before you leave it? Or picking out the handful of people in a crowd that mean your team harm? Or even figuring out the best way to avoid a fight entirely! Any team would be lucky to have an Empath.”
“Then the same should be true for you.”
I shook my head. Vibe was one of the closest things I had to a friend, but she seemed hopelessly naïve sometimes. “The only productive thing I’ve done with my power since coming here was that first fight with Paladin.”
“So you do think that was your power at work?”
“I guess so. Everything I’ve read says necromancy is an external power, but maybe I’m different. It felt almost identical to when Sally had me use my powers to dismiss the ghosts.”
“Sally!” Vibe sat straight up on the bench. “You should bring her back and ask for help!”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“She said it was your power that called the ghosts. That called her.”
“She came because of my power, but I’m not so sure she was summoned by it.” I looked down at the small Empath’s confused expression. “When has Sally Cemetery ever answered to anyone?”
“She’s dead. And she said herself that—”
“She also said that ghosts can’t talk and that they don’t have wills or personalities of their own.” I shook my head again. “I don’t know how much of what she said was true or why she’d lie about the rest of it, but something tells me I’ve gotten all the help from her I can expect.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“The same thing you’ve been doing since school started, I guess.” I shrugged and looked to the ocean. Early November in Los Angeles was only marginally colder than September had been, but the sunlight on the water lacked its usual brilliance. “Anything I can.”
•—•—•
“Are we boring you, Mr. Banach?”
For the tenth time in as many minutes—and the thousandth time in the past week—I felt the emptiness slip right through my mental grasp, frustration pouring in to replace it, like water filling a basin. I cracked open eyes that had drifted shut somewhere in the process and glared across the room at Isabel Ferra. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Perhaps we can make the subject matter more interesting for you then.” The words themselves were almost pleasant, the tone anything but. Ms. Ferra’s smile was all sharp edges, her bared teeth so white they practically glowed.
“Why start now?” Eight months since I’d started this dance with the slender Ethics professor and we disliked each other more than ever.
Ignoring my retort, Isabel turned to the rest of the class. “Who can remind your inattentive classmate what it is we’ve been discussing for the past half hour?”
Around me, almost every male first-year raised their hand, but the teacher pointed instead to the student at the front of the class. “Go ahead, Penelope.”
Winter—because of course it would be Winter—rose from her chair. “We were talking about situational ethics in Cape life. Specifically, the needs of the many versus the needs of the few.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Isabel refocused on me. “And what does that topic mean to you, Mr. Banach?”
As far as I was concerned, it meant we had another half-hour of total boredom ahead of us… but there were limits to the amount of shit I could give the teacher before our cold war went nuclear. “I guess it depends on the situation.”
“Obviously. That is why it’s called situational ethics.” More than a few of the first-years snickered, although Silt—several seats away and carefully out of Isabel’s view—rolled her eyes and yawned. “If you’re having difficulties grasping the abstract principles at work, we can always focus on specific examples.”
I shrugged away the implied insult. “Whatever you want, Isabel.”
“Those may be the first intelligent words you’ve managed all year.” More laughs, but there was no humor in the teacher’s pretty eyes. “Gather around, first-years. This may be your only opportunity to hear a Crow’s enlightened take on ethics.”
“That seems overly optimistic,” I said. “We’re all stuck attending your class until we graduate.”
“Only those who actually make it past first-year.” Her smile could have drawn blood. “I’m told that’s unlikely to happen in some cases.”
I met her gaze, tombstone grey eyes clashing with morning sky blue, determined not to let her know the words had struck home. “You were saying something about examples?”
“Let’s start with a hypothetical. Major Disaster has hidden an explosive device somewhere in the city, but the Black Hat himself is nowhere to be found. However, intelligence has located an individual who reportedly has that information locked deep within his mind. The only way to retrieve the information is through telepathy that will lobotomize the individual in question… a man who is, as far as you or anyone can tell, entirely innocent. Do you shatter one mind to potentially save hundreds?”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
“You’d let all those people die?”
“I wouldn’t have to. Major Disaster doesn’t use bombs.” I waited for the obviousness of that statement to sink in. “If there’s no
