Legacy of the Claw by C. R. Grey Page B

indulged in a long sip. “Fairmount does not tolerate rule breakers, I’m afraid.”
    â€œThen how did
you
get in?” Bailey blurted out, and then immediately regretted it.
    But, to Bailey’s surprise, Tremelo threw his head back and laughed.
    â€œWell done,” he said, returning the flask to his pocket with a flourish. “You should thank Nature I’m not the headmaster, or you’d be kicked out before you could say ‘Animas Platypus.’” Still chuckling, Tremelo clapped a hand on Bailey’s back and began to steer him toward the main hall and the dormitories. “I’m unfortunately obligated to see you head back to your rightful place. Which is  …  ?”
    â€œTowers,” Bailey muttered.
    Tremelo began humming an old Gray City tune.
“I knew myself a lady, her Animas a snail!”
The fox dashed in front of them as they walked, playing her own games with the dew-covered grass.
    Bailey wondered what Tremelo was doing, wandering around the grounds by himself at night. But Tremelo was a teacher, and could wander where he pleased. As for Bailey, he’d only just arrived at Fairmount, and he’d been caught breaking about a hundred rules.
    As they passed the small, copper-roofed shed that served as the night guard’s post, Tremelo stopped.
    â€œA moment, please,” he said to Bailey, and he ducked inside. Bailey could see that Mr. Bindley, the night guard, and his two massive dogs were snoring. Bailey watched from the doorway as Tremelo sniffed the air inside the shed. He moved forward and picked up a small packet from Bindley’s table, which lay next to a thick, gear-heavy object. Tremelo caught Bailey looking at the strange contraption.
    â€œNight-vision monocle,” he said proudly. “Special lenses refract moonlight, amplifying it. I made it for him years ago. Best watch yourself, when he’s got this on  …  and he’s awake.”
    Tremelo quickly placed the small package he’d picked up in his jacket pocket.
    â€œEvery year,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked at Bailey and winked. “The Scavage team makes a habit of stealing my myrgwood to put old Bindley to sleep, so they can run amok on the grounds.”
    They left Bindley’s post and walked across the commons to the dorms. It was late—nearly one o’clock, and the entire campus was a chorus of crickets.
    Then Tremelo suddenly said: “You’re the boy with an Absence, aren’t you?”
    There was that word again. Bailey didn’t even get to think of a lie or try to avoid the question. As Bailey had suspected, Tremelo already knew.
    â€œMrs. Shonfield told you?” Bailey asked.
    â€œShe did. You are, after all, my student. But she didn’t have to. It’s plain as day to me. We have much in common, Bailey.”
    Bailey wasn’t sure what Tremelo was referring to. What could he possibly have in common with this man who, for all his strangeness, was supposed to be one of the most powerful Animas trainers in the kingdom?
    â€œIt’s just coming to me slowly, that’s all,” Bailey said.
    â€œYou don’t have to tell me about slow development,” Tremelo said. “I was well into my eleventh year when Fennel found me, and before that I’d had myself convinced I was Animas Rat, like my father.” From his jacket he removed the same pouch Bailey had seen him take from Mr. Bindley’s table. He extracted a large pinch of a dark herb that Bailey had never seen before, and packed it into a pipe. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked. He didn’t wait for Bailey to respond. Within seconds, the professor was surrounded by a sweet, slightly bitter-smelling smoke.
    Bailey’s mouth itched and his throat was dry. “Sir,” he said, “I read something before I came to Fairmount. You’ve helped people Awaken, haven’t you? You’re