Free Obsidian Sky by Julius St. Clair Page A

it was really her talking, or just some part of a master plan she was in the middle of implementing. Aidan didn’t have enough evidence to outright call her a manipulator, but he couldn’t deny that the label had crossed his mind several times since their meeting.
    “Can I borrow a pencil?” one student asked another in the back. The room was so empty and bare besides the students and their desks that even the whisper echoed, but Bailey gave no sign she had heard the innocent request. Aidan sighed and closed his eyes while he waited. He hadn’t brought a writing utensil, but he didn’t need it. Being in the wild had taught him that you had to remember everything yourself. You couldn’t refer to notes in the heat of battle. 
    “Where’s your pencil?” Bailey finally asked the student in the back, as if the echo had done a loop around the room and finally reached her ears.
    “I left it on my couch at home,” he said quickly. The waver in his voice was undeniable.
    “If it was your weapon, would you have left it behind?”
    “No Ma’am.”
    “Then why a pencil?”
    “Because it’s not important. It’s just a pencil.”
    “So you’re telling me that you can remember everything I’m about to say?”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “That’s not good enough. Stand up!” she barked. He shot up to attention and Aidan decided to peer backwards. It was George. A new student to the class that probably wouldn’t bother attending again after Bailey made an example out of him. There were few enough students there as it was.
    “How many Yen do you have, George?”
    “Um…two.”
    “Two currently, or have you already used one?”
    “I used one.”
    “Then you have one Yen left, Couch. Your laziness reminds me of a couch. Do you mind if I call you Couch, George?”
    “I don’t mind.”
    “That’s because you’re a piss stain. You’re the residue of someone relieving themselves. Do you mind if I call you piss stain?”
    “I’d rather you didn’t.”
    “Couch, can you make your way over to the front? I have several writing utensils here on the desk.”
    He was fuming as he obeyed the teacher’s command, muttering “excuse me” as he navigated around the other students. When he finally made his way to Bailey, she placed her hands on her hips and stared him down like he was a fly daring to invade her space. Surprisingly, George was not backing down from her glare. Aidan and the other regulars tough enough to survive Bailey’s hazing snickered in anticipation.
    “You want me to shut up, don’t you, Couch?" she sneered. George balled up a fist.
    “I do,” he said through grit teeth. A murmur went throughout the classroom.
    “Then hit me…stain.” George leapt forward, aiming his left fist straight for Bailey’s face, but her reflexes were like a crack of a whip. She reached behind her, grabbed a pencil from the desk and slammed it as hard as she could through his balled up fist. The few students who were there winced in response and a scream of unbridled agony erupted from George. He shrieked in pain as he clutched his trembling hand, blood already seeping from the wound. Bailey didn’t soothe him or even send him to the infirmary. She just grabbed his collar and yanked him towards her until his face was right in hers.
    “That pencil just cut your assault short, Couch. Suddenly, that little pole of lead doesn’t seem so innocent, does it? It almost feels like a weapon. Now that I’ve made myself clear, don’t even think about going to the infirmary until my lesson is over. If you leave before then, I don’t ever want to see you come back. You hear me?”
    “I heard about you,” he said lowly just as she let him go. She scowled and leaned her ear in close.
    “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
    “I said that I heard about you,” George replied boldly, raising his head. “You intimidate your students because you still want to be in power. I heard you used to be an Elder and you lost the