A Practical Guide to Sorcery (Book 3)

Chapter 97 - Properties of Explosive Materials (Part 1)

Sebastien

Month 1, Day 29, Friday 10:30 a.m.

Sebastien recognized one of the girls gossiping about Newton from Practical Casting. Some time ago, the young woman had tried to flirt with her, hinting that Sebastien should buy her a gift from the offerings in the Great Hall with her contribution points. Sebastien had forgotten her name.

"But Moore always seemed so nice!" one girl exclaimed in a scandalized tone, leaning further into the huddled group. They had either not realized Sebastien was standing nearby or were too oblivious to realize how rude they were being.

Another girl tittered. "Well, obviously he was involved in...questionable activities. The revelation might be sudden, but there's too much evidence to deny it. I mean, how else do you find yourself entangled in a battle with gang members and the Raven Queen, and then turn into an Aberrant?"

Sebastien's breath was coming fast. She curled her hands into white-knuckled fists, her short nails digging into her palms with a welcome sting.

"He must have corrupted his Will," said a third girl. "What kind of magic do you think he was dabbling in? And what about the other student liaison, that Canelo girl? I hear she's refusing to talk."

The girl Sebastien recognized from Practical Casting shook her head. "She was cursed to be unable to speak of it, from what I heard. As for Newton Moore, he probably did it because he needed the coin. People will degrade themselves in a lot of ways when they need coin."

The first woman sneered. "He didn't fit in here, did he? If he was going to end up so desperate to stay that he let his Will be corrupted, perhaps he shouldn't have been admitted in the first place."

Perhaps cued by some change in Sebastien's bearing or expression, Ana reached out for her arm, but it was too late. Ana's fingers slipped off as Sebastien strode toward the group. Her breath came hard, her wide-eyed gaze tracking over the women's amused, scandalized expressions, taking in every nuance as if preparing for battle.

Sebastien's voice was deep with anger, and she could feel the rumble in her chest, but couldn't quite hear it past the rush of blood in her ears. "Newton Moore was worth more than the entire lot of you."

The women spun to face her, their expressions ranging from surprise to dismay. The girl from Practical Casting blushed, then paled.

Sebastien's slow, bitingly enunciated words came faster as she continued. "It is clear you have no idea what you are talking about, yet find some kind of sick, self-titillating pleasure in spewing vile opinions and allegations about others who aren't around to defend themselves. It speaks more about you than it does about Newton. I feel like I'm being made dirty just standing in your presence, but putting you in your place is a service to the entire world that everyone else in your lives has obviously neglected."

There was a short, stunned silence, and conversation began to die out around them as people turned to watch the altercation. "Excuse you? We were just talking!" one girl retorted.

Sebastien let out a sharp laugh. "I am also 'just talking.' The difference is that I do not pretend my words are harmless. My words are meant to slap you across the face in lieu of my hand."

The girl flinched back, looking at the fists balled at Sebastien's sides.

"I'm sorry, Sebastien, we shouldn't have..." The girl from Practical Casting trailed off, biting her lip.

"Do not sully my name by letting it pass your lips," Sebastien hissed. The crowd was growing thick with onlookers.

One of the women looked around as if for help, then burst into tears.