Page 50 of Phoenix Academy: Madness

So I grit my teeth and plant my feet with as much determination as I can muster, reminding myself that I have to be strong to get revenge for my mother and sister's gruesome deaths.

"You can do this." Stepping in behind me, Xavier places a hand on my shoulder, his fingers curling towards my skin. "It's nothing you haven't done before against anactualperson, after all. That day in the woods you used your magic; you said so yourself."

In front of us, the figure it beginning to get human features, arms and legs forming from the murk, a head beginning to sprout a nose and chin. It'd be fascinating if it weren't so horrifying.

"That was different than this," I point out to Xavier. "I didn't even know what I was doing then. It was all instinctual. This...thisis something else."

Feeling hard eyes on me, I glance to my left to see David glaring in our direction. Even though ostensibly it's Reggie he claims is attracted to me and would be jealous of me and Xavier, the wolf shifter is the one currently boring a hole in the space where Xavier's hand rests on my shoulder. When I meet his eyes he doesn't let up, just glares some more, huffing a little.

How he keeps that much anger going all the time, I have no idea. But it does at least distract me for long enough that when I turn back to look into the center of the rune, I'm staring at a man, and not just a figure shaped from mud.

He has smooth brown skin the color of, well, clay, and hair a similarly average brown shade. Holding himself stiffly, he wears simple clothes that don't seem to have any fasteners: a white T-shirt and straight dark grey pants. His eyes stare blankly ahead, straight at Mage Auerbach, who has put enough effort into raising him that there's a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

This is it, then. This average, middle-of-the-road, man built from clay, is what I'm going to use my powers on for the first time in months.

Somehow he's a little less scary now that he looks like the average extra in a sitcom instead of shapeless, formless clay.

Until, that is, Auerbach says, "Animate!"

The clay man startles a little, then turns his head to observe us with cold, dispassionate eyes.

And I see my fa—theHeretic'sgaze echoed in his muddy brown irises.

It's all I can do not to turn around and run, reminding myself that this isn't the same man. The simulacrum never had a soul to begin with, whereas the Heretic had his taken from him. And Mage Auerbach controls this thing, while my sister's killer was never controlled by anything except his own hatred and bloodlust.

Still, it's uncanny how similar the dispassionate expression they wear is, especially from this close. If it weren't for the different face, hair, and body frame, I might actually think this was the Heretic before me.

Thankfully, this one doesn't speak at all, and even more thankfully, he doesn't have an army of mind-washed followers. He's just an empty vessel for me to pour my magic into and see what happens next.

"Alright. He's good to go."

Mage Auerbach steps back and folds his hands down in front of him, then removes one of the bracelets from his wrist and tucks it into his pocket. I've seen him do similar things with other of his baubles, and suspect is has something to do with how mages store and use magic, but I haven't had the courage to ask and get inevitably shut down.

Staring atGilgamesh,I ask, "So, what now?"

"Use your powers on him." Auerbach studies me. "We're inside a warded building, so the magic won't go anywhere. All you have to do is channel it towards him—which I realize is a difficult task, but there's no other way to do it but try and fail, then try again."

I'm not sure I like the idea of failing. I've always had trouble doing things I'm not good at. Mom used to scold me for it, and would force me to chop lumber or mix a potion until I showed no fear of my own inevitable failure.

This is like that, but so much bigger that it's hard to know where to start. Especially when there's no Blue Phoenix to guide me—the ones in my dreams mostly seem interested in scolding me, not teaching me.

"Just remember what you did the first time," Xavier suggests. "How you felt, what you said, any motions you made."

"The first time. Right."

The first time, I was wild and newly reborn in the flames. My anger was all-consuming. It poured out of me, along with fire and feral magic. All I had to do was touch the men and they went mad.

Just like I touch the trio whenever I need to channel the magic away from its chaotic state.

Maybe touch is the key to getting the magic to go where I want. Glancing over at Auerbach, I ask, "And what if I get in the rune circle? Will it be dangerous?"

"He won't do anything without my command," he reassures me, "and he can't leave the circle. I can't predict exactly what effect your magic will have on him, but if anything happens, I'll simply cut his strings."

Like a puppet.

"Alright." Taking a deep breath, I tell myself more than anyone, "Time to do this."

Stepping forward, I walk into the boundaries of the rune, and try not to shiver when the simulacrum looks over in my direction. His eyes are passionless and lifeless, and he turns his head to look rather than glancing my way—freaky.

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