The Good, The Bad and The Undead. Ким Харрисон

      Ozone from Dr. Anders’s hastily constructed circle caught at me. The circle was gone, but my sinuses tingled at the remnants of power. I glanced at its source at the front of the room.

      Dr. Anders sat at an ugly metal desk before a traditional blackboard. She had her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. I could see her thin fingers trembling, and I wondered if it was from Denon’s accusations or that she had pulled upon the ever-after strong enough to make a circle without the aid of a physical manifestation. The class seemed unusually quiet.

      Her hair was back in a severe bun, gray streaks making unflattering lines through the black. She looked older than my mother, dressed in a conservative pair of tan slacks and a tasteful blouse. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I slipped past the first two rows of tables and sat beside Janine. “Thanks,” I whispered.

      Her eyes were wide as I tucked my bag under the table. “You work for the I.S.?”

      I glanced at Dr. Anders. “I used to. I quit last spring.”

      “I didn’t think you could quit the I.S.,” she said, her face going even more full of wonder.

      Shrugging, I pushed my hair out of the way so Jenks could land on his usual spot. “It wasn’t easy.” I followed her attention to the front of the room as Dr. Anders stood.

      The tall woman was as scary as I remembered, with a long thin face, and a nose that wouldn’t be out of place on a pre-Turn depiction of a witch. No wart, though, and her complexion wasn’t green. She reeked of tenure, gathering the class’s attention by simply standing. The tremor was gone from her hands as she took up a sheaf of papers.

      Dropping a pair of wire-rimmed glasses down to perch on her nose, she made a show of studying her notes. I’d have been willing to bet they had a spell on them to see through ley line charms as well as correct her sight, and I wished I had the gall to put my own glasses on and see if she used ley line magic to make her look that unattractive or if it was all her. A sigh shifted her narrow shoulders as she looked up, her gaze going right to mine through her spelled glasses. “I see,” she said, her voice making my spine crawl, “that we have a new face today.”

      I gave her a false smile. It was obvious she recognized me; her face had scrunched up like a prune.

      “Rachel Morgan,” she said.

      “Here,” I said, my voice flat.

      A wisp of annoyance flashed over her. “I know who you are.” Low heels clicking, she came to stand before me. Leaning forward, she peered at Jenks. “Who might you be, pixy sir?”

      “Uh, Jenks, ma’am,” he stammered, his wings moving fitfully to tangle in my hair.

      “Jenks,” she said, her tone bordering on the respectful. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance. You’re not on my class list. Please leave.”

      “Yes ma’am,” he said, and much to my surprise, the usually arrogant pixy swung himself off my earring. “Sorry, Rache,” he said, hovering before me. “I’ll be in the faculty lounge or the library. Nick might still be working.”

      “Sure. I’ll find you later.”

      He gave Dr. Anders a head bob and zipped out the still open door.

      “I’m sorry,” Dr. Anders said. “Is my class interfering with your social life?”

      “No, Dr. Anders. It’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

      She pulled back at the faint sarcasm. “Is it?”

      From the corner of my sight I saw Janine’s mouth hanging open. What I could see of the rest of the class looked about the same. My face burned. I don’t know why the woman had it in for me, but she did. She was as nice as a hungry crow to everyone else, but I got the ravenous badger.

      Dr. Anders let her papers fall to my table with a slap. My name was circled in a thick red marker. Her thin lips tightened almost imperceptibly. “Why are you here?” she asked. “We are two classes into the semester.”

      “It’s still add/drop week,” I countered, feeling my pulse increase. Unlike Jenks, I had no problem fighting authority. But as the song went, authority always won.

      “I don’t even know how you managed to get the approval for taking this class,” she said caustically. “You have none of the prerequisites.”

      “All my credits transferred in. And I got a year for life experiences.” True enough, but Edden was the real reason I had been able to skip right to a five-hundred-level class.

      “You are wasting my time, Ms. Morgan,” she said. “You are an earth witch. I thought I had made that very clear to you. You don’t possess the control to work ley lines beyond what you need to close a modest circle.” She leaned over me, and I felt my blood pressure rise. “I’m going to flunk you out of my class faster than before.”

      I took a steadying breath, glancing at the shocked faces. Clearly they had never seen this side of their beloved instructor. “I need this class, Dr. Anders,” I said, not knowing why I was trying to appeal to her stunted compassion. Except that if I got kicked out, Edden might make me pay the tuition. “I’m here to learn.”

      At that, the prickly woman picked up her papers and retreated to the empty table behind her. Her gaze roved over the class before settling on me. “Having trouble with your demon?”

      Several in the class gasped. Janine actually shrank away from me. Damn that woman, I thought, my hand going to cover my wrist. Not even here for five minutes, and she alienates me from the entire class. I should have worn a bracelet. My jaw clenched and my breathing increased as I fought to not respond.

      Dr. Anders seemed satisfied. “You can’t reliably hide a demon mark with earth magic,” she said, her voice raised in the sound of instruction. “You need ley line magic for that. Is that why you’re here, Ms. Morgan?” she mocked.

      Shaking, I refused to drop her eyes. I hadn’t known that. No wonder my charms to disguise it never worked past sundown.

      Her wrinkles went deeper as she frowned. “Professor Peltzer’s Demonology for Modern Practitioners is in the next building over. Perhaps you should excuse yourself and see if it’s not too late to change classes. We do not deal in the black arts here.”

      “I am not a black witch,” I said softly, afraid if I raised my voice, I would start shouting. I pushed up my sleeve to show my demon mark, refusing to be ashamed of it. “I did not call the demon who gave me this. I fought it off.”

      I took a slow breath, unable to look at anyone, most of all Janine, who had pushed as far from me as she could get. “I’m here to learn how to keep it off of me, Dr. Anders. I will not take any demonology classes. I’m afraid of them.”

      The last was a whisper, but I knew everyone heard. Dr. Anders seemed taken aback. I was embarrassed, but if it kept her off my case, then it was embarrassment well spent.

      The woman’s footsteps were loud as she clacked to the front of the room. “Go home, Ms. Morgan,” she said to the blackboard. “I know why you’re here. I did not kill my past students, and I take offense in your unsaid accusation.”

      And with that pleasant thought, she turned, flashing the class a tight-lipped smile. “If the rest of you will please retain your copies of eighteenth century pentagrams? We will be having a quiz on them Friday. For next week, I want you to go over chapters six, seven, and eight in your texts and to do the even practices at the end of each. Janine?”

      At the sound of her name, the woman jumped. She had been trying to get a good look at my wrist. I was still shaking, my fingers trembling as I wrote down the assignment.

      “Janine, you would do well to do the odds on chapter six, as well. Your control in releasing stored ley line energy leaves something to be desired.”

      “Yes, Dr. Anders,” she said, white-faced.

      “And