Read Online ARC: Crushed by Eliza Crewe - Free Book Online
Authors: Eliza Crewe
Tags: Urban Fantasy, Survival, ya fiction, soul eater, Meda Melange, Crusaders, enemy within, infiltration, inconspicuous consumption, half-demon
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hopefully.
Jo taps her fork on her plate. “Maybe,” she concedes but she doesn’t look like she believes it. “But if anything, it’s probably both.”
“Can they just do that? Take me?”
“I don’t know, but they’ve got a good argument. Think about it.” She leans in a little. “They’re the most important, most powerful chapter, while we’re a tiny half-constructed outpost. They think they can keep you from the demons better than we can.” Her face sours. “Plus, your mom was Mary Porter and you have friends here. They think we’re biased on your behalf.”
I sit back, trying to digest all the bad news I’ve just been fed. Suddenly there’s no room for breakfast – even if it wasn’t broccoli.
“But they’ve been discussing me for months. Why now?” I look at the group of suits at the head table.
The answer is so obvious, Chi gives it. “The war, Meda. You’re a greater asset now than ever.”
I look to Jo to confirm. Her eyes are troubled. “And a greater threat.”
Chapter 8
I manage not to faint. The others talk around me, but it’s hard to hear their words over the buzzing in my head as I work through the bad news. The Corporates want to take over my custody. If the Crusaders here are considered biased towards me, I can’t imagine what it’d be like at a chapter that’s biased against me. Not good. Not good at all.
Then, on top of that, there’s the minor issue of the good-versus-evil epic war about to be unleashed, and I’m stuck right in the middle of it.
Seriously not good.
I’m caught in my internal drama so it takes a minute before I realize my friends have grown quiet around me. I glance up, but none of them spare me a look. All their attention is spread out over the cafeteria. Jo sits upright with a “try me” expression, while Chi and Zee both lounge against the table while managing to look distinctly coiled. Mags’s face is redder than usual and I imagine the expression she’s going for is tough, though I have to say she doesn’t quite hit the mark. They all look ready for a fight – and that’s when I notice they aren’t the only ones. The cafeteria is filled with fighty expressions, most of them pointed at yours-truly – the half-demon in a room full of Crusaders.
Crap. The war’s not going to help with my popularity. I wince. “Guess my dreams of being voted prom queen are out,” I murmur. No one laughs.
As soon as the bell rings announcing the end of breakfast, I hop to my feet, figuring it’s better to stay out of the crowds as much as possible. Chi and Jo must have the same idea as they also leap to their feet and walk ahead of me, like a pair of bodyguards clearing the way. We stride between tables of students collecting trays and shuffling to their feet. Some glare as I go by, some avert their eyes. It’s going be a long day.
For most of my classes, I’m without friends or even tolerating-acquaintances. Chi, Jo and Zee are all seniors, while I’m pretty horribly behind, even in the non-Templar classes. The two years I spent on my own before landing with the Templars were spent doing whatever the hell I wanted – and, surprisingly, what I wanted was not to study Western Civ or Advanced Algebra. Mags, only a sophomore, should be in some of my classes, but she apparently got brains instead of beauty, and isn’t. That leaves me alone in hostile territory for most of the day.
Usually not a position I’m opposed to, except that I’m not allowed to eat anyone.
The only exceptions are the physical classes – Combat Training and Strength and Conditioning – and my first class today, English, which I share with Jo.
Me can read good.
Unfortunately it only barely counts, as the professor uses that cruel and unusual punishment known as assigned seating. As we enter class Jo stops at the Bs while I head back to the Ps, for Porter. I tried to explain my last name is Melange, but the Crusaders prefer to pretend I spontaneously spawned from
Jo taps her fork on her plate. “Maybe,” she concedes but she doesn’t look like she believes it. “But if anything, it’s probably both.”
“Can they just do that? Take me?”
“I don’t know, but they’ve got a good argument. Think about it.” She leans in a little. “They’re the most important, most powerful chapter, while we’re a tiny half-constructed outpost. They think they can keep you from the demons better than we can.” Her face sours. “Plus, your mom was Mary Porter and you have friends here. They think we’re biased on your behalf.”
I sit back, trying to digest all the bad news I’ve just been fed. Suddenly there’s no room for breakfast – even if it wasn’t broccoli.
“But they’ve been discussing me for months. Why now?” I look at the group of suits at the head table.
The answer is so obvious, Chi gives it. “The war, Meda. You’re a greater asset now than ever.”
I look to Jo to confirm. Her eyes are troubled. “And a greater threat.”
Chapter 8
I manage not to faint. The others talk around me, but it’s hard to hear their words over the buzzing in my head as I work through the bad news. The Corporates want to take over my custody. If the Crusaders here are considered biased towards me, I can’t imagine what it’d be like at a chapter that’s biased against me. Not good. Not good at all.
Then, on top of that, there’s the minor issue of the good-versus-evil epic war about to be unleashed, and I’m stuck right in the middle of it.
Seriously not good.
I’m caught in my internal drama so it takes a minute before I realize my friends have grown quiet around me. I glance up, but none of them spare me a look. All their attention is spread out over the cafeteria. Jo sits upright with a “try me” expression, while Chi and Zee both lounge against the table while managing to look distinctly coiled. Mags’s face is redder than usual and I imagine the expression she’s going for is tough, though I have to say she doesn’t quite hit the mark. They all look ready for a fight – and that’s when I notice they aren’t the only ones. The cafeteria is filled with fighty expressions, most of them pointed at yours-truly – the half-demon in a room full of Crusaders.
Crap. The war’s not going to help with my popularity. I wince. “Guess my dreams of being voted prom queen are out,” I murmur. No one laughs.
As soon as the bell rings announcing the end of breakfast, I hop to my feet, figuring it’s better to stay out of the crowds as much as possible. Chi and Jo must have the same idea as they also leap to their feet and walk ahead of me, like a pair of bodyguards clearing the way. We stride between tables of students collecting trays and shuffling to their feet. Some glare as I go by, some avert their eyes. It’s going be a long day.
For most of my classes, I’m without friends or even tolerating-acquaintances. Chi, Jo and Zee are all seniors, while I’m pretty horribly behind, even in the non-Templar classes. The two years I spent on my own before landing with the Templars were spent doing whatever the hell I wanted – and, surprisingly, what I wanted was not to study Western Civ or Advanced Algebra. Mags, only a sophomore, should be in some of my classes, but she apparently got brains instead of beauty, and isn’t. That leaves me alone in hostile territory for most of the day.
Usually not a position I’m opposed to, except that I’m not allowed to eat anyone.
The only exceptions are the physical classes – Combat Training and Strength and Conditioning – and my first class today, English, which I share with Jo.
Me can read good.
Unfortunately it only barely counts, as the professor uses that cruel and unusual punishment known as assigned seating. As we enter class Jo stops at the Bs while I head back to the Ps, for Porter. I tried to explain my last name is Melange, but the Crusaders prefer to pretend I spontaneously spawned from
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