- (A little behind the scenes that you won't see anywhere else...)
It isn't fair.
It isn't fair that Melanie and Lara are dead.
It isn't fair that Ezrael abandoned them.
It isn't fair that he doesn't have any family left alive.
It isn't fair that the only person left, the only <******** person left on the planet that Andrew can trust, has to be James goddamn Shireswift.
The Council didn't seem to think they needed to waste space on the beaten Unit, so Andrew and James are tossed in a single cell, with tight security. Cameras, guards, and walls two feet thick. Their wands are taken, presumably snapped. Andrew wonders when the execution date will be.
"Ah, this isn't so bad," James says, inspecting their surroundings. Andrew can't stand this guy and his easygoing nature. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world. No, not seems to, he doesn't. This a*****e slacks on his patrols, half-asses his perimeter checks and cracks dirty jokes in tense situations. Out of all the members to survive, why him?
"Look, we have a view," James says cheerfully, gesturing to the tiny barred window. It's set high in the wall. Andrew can barely see the sky. It's pitch black, similar to his emotional state. "And a bed!" the blond a*****e continues, gesturing to a bunk bed with hard mattresses. (Andrew wonders if they're just slabs of concrete with sheets pulled over.)
A door flap creaks and a tray with two plates is pushed in. James swings around, smiling broadly.
"And room service!" he says jovially. "Could be a hell of a lot worse, Drew."
"Our leader abandoned us and three of our teammates are dead," Andrew notes in a dry tone, "including my sister. And we've been captured without completing our mission."
"Ah, you gotta look at the positive side, Drew!" The former Tank takes a seat on one side of the tray. Andrew glances at the plates; they're spattered with a grayish mush that doesn't look appetizing, or even edible.
"What positive side?" Andrew mutters. "This is the worst case scenario, James, we need to concoct a plan to escape and return to base."
"What's the point?" James mumbles around a mouthful of mush. "They'll just kick us out for failing so spectacularly and we'll have no roof over our heads. Might as well stay here and negotiate a deal with the man, right?"
"We are Blood Pact!" Andrew snaps. "We do not negotiate with anyone! Will you for once in your life take the situation you're in seriously?"
"I am," James replies, gulping.
"You're not! And that's the problem! You never do!" Andrew bangs his fist on the floor. "You're a disgrace to the Pact, Shireswift, you really are."
James looks up at Andrew, and for the first time in Andrew's memory there is genuine anger in James's eyes. He's gone a bit too far this time.
"Panicking isn't gonna solve anything, Drew," James says softly, his voice low. "It won't bring Mel and Lara back. It's not gonna make Ez hop out of the air and solve all our problems. No point in freaking the hell out like you are, so I'm not going to." He blew a tuft of blond hair out of his eyes. "And 'sides, I'm not a disgrace to the Pact. Pact's a disgrace to me."
Before Andrew can work out the logic of this sentence, the door slides open and a redheaded man steps in. "Evening, gentlemen," he says briskly. James immediately gets to his feet, and Andrew is only a second behind. "The Committee of Education Enforcement would like to discuss a few matters with you."
"Who's the head of this committee?" Andrew asks cautiously. Education enforcement didn't sound very good.
The redheaded man smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He may as well be showing off his teeth. "I am."
"And what exactly are we discussing?" James asks, beating Andrew to the punch.
The redheaded man shows off more teeth. "Surely, Mister Shireswift, you do not wish to rot in this prison cell for very long. That's quite a waste of someone of your talents, no? The same to you, Mister Dickinson." He pauses. "I am here to discuss the nature of your sentence. Naturally, the Council refuses to let you simply walk free, but perhaps something else can be arranged."
"Something else?" Andrew asks, narrowing his eyes.
"An... exchange," the man says, waving a hand. "Limited freedom in return for your skillset. It would take some time to organize, which is why I am here so early. I would like your answer sooner rather than later."
Andrew opens his mouth to get specifics, but once again James beats him to it. "We'll take it," he says instantly. "We don't have a choice - if we don't take your offer, we'll get executed, correct?"
"That is correct, Mister Shireswift," the man says, looking amused. "You seem more intelligent than your records imply."
James just offers a shrug, but somehow that comment makes Andrew furious. How dare he imply James was unintelligent? James was annoying, difficult to work with, and slacked off, but he was by no means unintelligent. Andrew has half a mind to sock this guy. He refuses to show it on his face, though, and says in an even tone, "When do we start?"
"September," the man says. "It will take some time to request your transfer to my department, of course, so please be patient. Fret not, gentlemen, you'll be as close as free men as you can get soon enough." The man turns to go.
"Just two more things," Andrew says. "You said this is education enforcement, correct?"
The man pauses. "Yes."
"What sort of education are we enforcing?"
The man gives Andrew a smile that seems genuine, for the first time, but it sends shivers down Andrew's back. "The magical kind, Mister Dickinson. The kind where quite a bit more is at stake than just education."
"You're sending us back to the Academy," James prompts.
"Correct. And your second question, Mister Dickinson?"
"You're our boss. Are we allowed to know your name?"
"Certainly." The man turns back around and gives a theatrical bow. Andrew rolls his eyes. What a drama king.
"You may call me Benjamin Lockwood, and I'll be heading the committee along with a dear friend of mine."
"Can we know his name too?" James mutters.
Lockwood turns to go, but he speaks a single word as he does.
"Slater."
And then he's gone.
