Page 87 of Validus Vale Academy 1
"We’ll discuss this later," he replies dismissively. The answer is infuriating, and my fingers twitch.
Fuck. I begin to grind my teeth as he throws his cigarette on the ground and starts walking away. "Where the fuck are you going?" I snap.
Feniks arches a brow. "To get a couple of things from my car, then to Defectivum, to meet Theo and Ludo, like we just agreed. Paranoid, Drakeward?” The look of amusement on his face makes me want to gouge his eyes out. “You can follow me if you like,” he continues. “Make sure I don’t make any deviations.” With that, he strides out, leaving me in a quandary.
It’s demeaning to chase after him like a puppy, but I also don’t trust the bastard one little bit.
Fuck. I head across the quad; Feniks is a few yards ahead of me. I’m so consumed by my thoughts that I almost get run down by something speeding up the driveway, a fucking Cybertruck of all things. And by ‘almost run down’ I mean the thing would have hit me if I hadn’t jumped out of the way.
The urge to unleash my frustration onsomethingis overwhelming. Destroying some little prick with terrible taste in vehicles might be just what the doctor ordered.
You don't nearly take out a Drakeward and just drive off. I succumb to my road rage and stalk after the truck speeding towards the far side of campus. It blows past Defectivum, disappearing around the corner. I jog in the same direction, watching as it hums to a halt next to the building site.
I’m preparing to unleash my anger as the razor wire-topped gate of the building site automatically slides on its track and a distinctive-looking stranger, flanked by a couple of rent-a-cops, exits. I say distinctive, because even from here I can see the scar that dissects his face from the hairline, through his eye, down to the jaw. It’s quite the statement; I’m sure a healer couldhave improved the look, but the thug chose to keep the slash aesthetic.
Scar-face and the guards walk towards the Cybertruck as the driving door opens. The man who exits has bodyguard written all over him. The cheap black suit plus holster bulge is a dead giveaway. He stands on guard as the passenger side swings upward and Alistair Singleton-Smith slides out.
What the fuck is Jordan’s father doing here?
The posse from the building site huddles with Singleton-Smith. I’m extremely intrigued.
ME:Can you hack a Cybertruck's camera?
STRIKER:Y
I thumb in the registration and current location.
STRIKER:$$$?
ME:Yes.Can you do it now? I need eyes and ears asap
STRIKER:?_? 7
I take that as a yes and lean back into the shadows. Maybe I’ll see something useful. Blackmail, along with manipulation and threats, are all things I learned at my father’s knee, and I’ll happily stoop to some snooping if it gives me a one-up on Singleton-Smith. My cashmere snags against the rough stone wall, but I keep my gaze fixed on the little pow-wow. I’m out of range for an extended hearing spell.
Fuck, I need to get closer, so I cut across the overgrown grass that separates the back of Defectivum from the construction chaos. I angle my path, pretending to head for the woods to the east. When I reach the treeline, the security fence is barely thirty feet away. Singleton-Smith and scar-face have already gone inside the compound.
Before unleashing the spell, I scan my surroundings. There are just the usual campus dregs in the distance, a couple of bored-looking laundry drones, and a rent-a-cop patrolling the far perimeter.
Here we go. Stretching out my arms, a classic sonic enhancement spell hums beneath my fingertips. I send a thick tendril of my magic snaking towards the compound's defenses. Immediately, it hits a solid ward and dissipates. Access denied. There’s a heavy-duty ward around the place.
So, along with the razor wire, guard dogs, and gun-toting watchmen, there is extreme magical protection around the site. Odd.
Hidden by the shade of old-growth trees, I shift tactics, channeling Wes and Donovan's ridiculous air dart obsession. Sometimes an air dart can find a weak spot in a magical shield and work its way through.
Here goes.
The results? The hairs on my arms stand on end as an intense force of magic repels me.
Interesting.
I try again, keeping the spellwork going for another fifteen minutes.
It’s fucking magically exhausting, and I haven’t found a single chink in the security wards. I’m about to give up when the security gates swing open. Jordan’s dad and the scarred man emerge, deep in conversation.
Finally.
I immediately cast; I’m a little too far for either to be 100% effective, but at least I’m getting something.
