Spycraft Academy by B. Miles (sites to read books for free .txt) 📗

"Makes sense, I guess. Considering where you come from," Delcan continued.

Stating the obvious—that Sam was a gutter rat—was not going to hurt his feelings.

"I wonder what those girls are doing hanging around with you. I guess they don't know any better, poor things." Delcan grinned this time. "I suppose I'll just have to teach them a thing or two. Tell me, how hard do you think it would be for me to get that little redhead bouncing on my lap? I was thinking two days at the most, less if I have a bag of specs in my hand, but since you know her best, I'll defer to your judgement."

Sam's eyes narrowed. He knew he shouldn't have given Delcan the satisfaction of a response, but he was talking about Sam's crew. Delcan could have insulted Sam's dead mother, or his toothless bootlegger of a father, wherever he was. He could have insulted Sam in any way he wanted to, but nobody talked about his crew like they were worthless. Especially not Mattie.

"Now Drina . . ." Delcan lifted his hand, flat palmed to the sky. He yielded. Sam might have gotten off of him by then, he should have, but he was tensed and waiting. Daring him.

"I know Drina would bend over for me in the hallway before the next class. If she's so cock-hungry that she's letting you between her legs, I bet she'd let my whole crew pound her into the wall. All I'd have to do is dangle mine in front of her face and she'd come drooling for it."

Sam's jaw hurt from the amount of pressure he had on it. He tried to stop his hands from shaking, but all he wanted to do was lay into Delcan's face and make him apologize for the words so easily falling from his lips.

"Ivrir!" Hilda's hand was on Sam's shoulder. "I said to get off when your opponent yields. Are you hard of hearing or just daft?"

Delcan grinned and Sam tried not to, but he pictured the disgusting scenes that the other man so thoroughly painted. Don't do it, Sam.

Then the other man's tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek a few times, making the skin bulge and flatten as if he were thrusting a cucumber into the side of his mouth.

One moment, Sam had control, and the next, his knuckles crashed into Delcan's jaw and the other man's head snapped to the side.

Before Hilda could do anything about it, Delcan bucked Sam off and then swung him around into a chokehold. Sam kicked backward and cracked Delcan's knee. Then there was crushing pressure on the back of his neck before he was yanked away from Delcan, his feet suddenly dangling a few inches from the ground.

Hilda held both of them by their scruffs, hanging them in midair like damp laundry. Just as swiftly as she grabbed them, she grunted and tossed them to the ground.

"When I say enough, I mean enough."

Hilda was standing above Sam, tall and strong like some cursed mountain. "And as I said before, using your magical hoo-ha is forbidden. That means totally, not just in my classroom. If any other teacher catches you, you'll be expelled quicker than you can pay a blood debt."

Delcan sat up with a huff. Despite the quick swelling of his jaw, he still managed to shoot Hilda a saccharine smile. "I apologize profusely, honored elder. When I disobeyed you earlier by speaking to my . . . brethren while you instructed us, I must have missed that rule."

Sam seared the side of Delcan's face with a heated look. What a disgusting display of opportunism.

"I swear," Delcan pressed a closed fist to his chest, "by my ancestors that it won't happen again."

Hilda nodded, her face softening as she stared Delcan down. She was actually buying his cow dung. When her eyes swiveled to Sam, he considered doing the same as Delcan so he wouldn't be outdone, but he didn't need to manipulate his instructor.

"I am also sorry." Sam averted his eyes respectfully, as he would any elder. "I was aware of the rule, but it was the only way I could defend myself."

Hilda snorted and Sam grimaced. He realized it sounded like an excuse only after it had left his mouth.

"You see these scars on my arms, boy? Go on, don't be shy, look at them. I said look at them."

Sam's eyes snapped to her arms as she held them out for his inspection. There were so many, too many to count.

"These marks honor the souls I have sent to the beyond. There are three hundred and twelve of these lines, three hundred and twelve people that I have slain between the ages of nine and twenty-five. These marks can only be applied by a priest of the True God. Since I left my homeland after I received my last one, I have not been marked by a priest in twenty-seven years. If it took my child-self sixteen years to kill three hundred and twelve people, how many more do you suppose I've destroyed in twenty-seven years, at the peak of my physical prime, hm? And how many of them do you suppose had magic, hm? Do you want to guess how much magic hoo-ha I can cast? None, boy. So, if a brat of thirteen can open a man's belly while being struck with lightning, then a brat of twenty can do the same. I don't ever want to hear that you can't beat magic without countering it with magic. If I hear you say it again, I'll slice one of your fingers off and eat it in front of you. Don't think I won't, either. It's been a while since I've had man-flesh, and it was always one of my favorites."

Sam swallowed and nodded. He didn't know how much of what she said was true, and he didn't care as long as he could