…’
‘Magic?’ I say.
‘Uh-uh.’ He smiles.
‘A little,’ I say.
He points to a pillar. ‘In order to get to the registration desk, you need to run at that pillar.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
He laughs and puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know, I know. Lame, isn’t it? It’s just a stupid little gimmick that they use to impress new students. There’s a lot of stuff they just blatantly copy from books and movies. If I’m honest about it, they’re really not very creative.’
‘So it’s kinda like the veil around the Freak Quarter?’ I look at the pillar.
He clicks and points a finger at me. ‘Exactly, man. Just run at it,’ he says with a smile. ‘Trust me.’
Alarms are going off in my head.
Look at the way he’s leaning in
, a part of my mind screams.
He’s too enthusiastic. He’s not just casually giving you information.
I suppress it viciously, like a riot cop pepper-spraying a crowd. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to trust people, Baxter,’ I whisper under my breath.
I hold a case in each hand and begin to run. The pillar grows in my vision.
‘Faster,’ Hekka shouts from behind me. ‘It won’t work unless it’s fast.’
I pick up speed and hurtle towards the pillar, the wheels of the cases thunking on the concrete.
It’s at the last moment that I consciously realise what I’ve known all along. But by then it’s too late. I slam into the pillar, ricochet off at an angle, trip over my own feet and fall hard on to the platform.
Laughter explodes from Hekka and a group of cronies who have gathered around him. He saunters over and leans down next to my ear. ‘I’m the hero at Hexpoort, Zevcenko,’ he says. ‘You’re a fucking Crow. Did you really think you were going to waltz in here and take over?’
I lie there on the concrete, breathing hard.
CrowBax:
Get up! Gouge his fucking eyes out!
SienerBax:
You promised. Remember that. You promised.
A figure looms over me and I ball my fists up involuntarily. But it grips my arm and pulls me to my feet.
‘Don’t worry. Those fuckwits got me with that last term.’
‘Thanks,’ I say and look at him.
He’s a young black guy in a trilby, tweed suit and bow tie, with a fat set of headphones around his neck. There’s a restless energy about him that seems familiar. He bounces on his heels as he helps me up. I look over to where Hekka is re-enacting my stupidity, miming hitting the pillar and falling backwards in slow-mo.
‘I’m Nom, by the way,’ he says and we bump fists. He hands me a card. It features a URL and an illustration of a goat wearing Ray-Bans. ‘My street style blog,’ he says.
‘And that douche over there is Hekka Jones,’ he adds darkly. ‘Total asshole.’
‘Yeah, I think I picked that up.’
‘He thinks he’s some big shot because there’s a prophecy about him being the Chosen One or some shit. Walks around the school pretending to be all conflicted about his destiny. It’s so fucking pretentious it makes me want to throw up.’
‘The Chosen One, like for real?’
Nom shrugs. ‘Fuck knows. It’s all a little vague. Crescent scar, dead parents, born during a certain moon or something.’
‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,’ I say.
‘Come on,’ Nom says. ‘We better get on the train.’
The inside of the train is covered from floor to ceiling in graffiti; generations of Hexpoort students making their mark.
I go to sit down in the first carriage but Nom grabs my arm. ‘Nooo, kemosabe,’ he says. ‘That carriage is Pondscum’s.’
‘And Pondscum is …?’
‘You don’t know about the clans?’
I shake my head.
‘Shit, dude, you don’t know anything. There are three clans. Pondscum, Broken Teeth and Carrion,’ he says as he leads me to the back of the train.
‘Wow, very pleasant.’
‘Yeah, well, when we get to the Poort, you’ll see they’re kinda appropriate.’
‘Which one are you?’
He lifts his sleeve and shows me a hideous tattoo of a mouth full
‘Magic?’ I say.
‘Uh-uh.’ He smiles.
‘A little,’ I say.
He points to a pillar. ‘In order to get to the registration desk, you need to run at that pillar.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
He laughs and puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know, I know. Lame, isn’t it? It’s just a stupid little gimmick that they use to impress new students. There’s a lot of stuff they just blatantly copy from books and movies. If I’m honest about it, they’re really not very creative.’
‘So it’s kinda like the veil around the Freak Quarter?’ I look at the pillar.
He clicks and points a finger at me. ‘Exactly, man. Just run at it,’ he says with a smile. ‘Trust me.’
Alarms are going off in my head.
Look at the way he’s leaning in
, a part of my mind screams.
He’s too enthusiastic. He’s not just casually giving you information.
I suppress it viciously, like a riot cop pepper-spraying a crowd. ‘Sometimes you’ve got to trust people, Baxter,’ I whisper under my breath.
I hold a case in each hand and begin to run. The pillar grows in my vision.
‘Faster,’ Hekka shouts from behind me. ‘It won’t work unless it’s fast.’
I pick up speed and hurtle towards the pillar, the wheels of the cases thunking on the concrete.
It’s at the last moment that I consciously realise what I’ve known all along. But by then it’s too late. I slam into the pillar, ricochet off at an angle, trip over my own feet and fall hard on to the platform.
Laughter explodes from Hekka and a group of cronies who have gathered around him. He saunters over and leans down next to my ear. ‘I’m the hero at Hexpoort, Zevcenko,’ he says. ‘You’re a fucking Crow. Did you really think you were going to waltz in here and take over?’
I lie there on the concrete, breathing hard.
CrowBax:
Get up! Gouge his fucking eyes out!
SienerBax:
You promised. Remember that. You promised.
A figure looms over me and I ball my fists up involuntarily. But it grips my arm and pulls me to my feet.
‘Don’t worry. Those fuckwits got me with that last term.’
‘Thanks,’ I say and look at him.
He’s a young black guy in a trilby, tweed suit and bow tie, with a fat set of headphones around his neck. There’s a restless energy about him that seems familiar. He bounces on his heels as he helps me up. I look over to where Hekka is re-enacting my stupidity, miming hitting the pillar and falling backwards in slow-mo.
‘I’m Nom, by the way,’ he says and we bump fists. He hands me a card. It features a URL and an illustration of a goat wearing Ray-Bans. ‘My street style blog,’ he says.
‘And that douche over there is Hekka Jones,’ he adds darkly. ‘Total asshole.’
‘Yeah, I think I picked that up.’
‘He thinks he’s some big shot because there’s a prophecy about him being the Chosen One or some shit. Walks around the school pretending to be all conflicted about his destiny. It’s so fucking pretentious it makes me want to throw up.’
‘The Chosen One, like for real?’
Nom shrugs. ‘Fuck knows. It’s all a little vague. Crescent scar, dead parents, born during a certain moon or something.’
‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,’ I say.
‘Come on,’ Nom says. ‘We better get on the train.’
The inside of the train is covered from floor to ceiling in graffiti; generations of Hexpoort students making their mark.
I go to sit down in the first carriage but Nom grabs my arm. ‘Nooo, kemosabe,’ he says. ‘That carriage is Pondscum’s.’
‘And Pondscum is …?’
‘You don’t know about the clans?’
I shake my head.
‘Shit, dude, you don’t know anything. There are three clans. Pondscum, Broken Teeth and Carrion,’ he says as he leads me to the back of the train.
‘Wow, very pleasant.’
‘Yeah, well, when we get to the Poort, you’ll see they’re kinda appropriate.’
‘Which one are you?’
He lifts his sleeve and shows me a hideous tattoo of a mouth full
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