Page 2 of Failed State

We continue walking in silence until we reach the steps. The line is stretched down them as the guards run the wand over each student to check for weapons. After that, we put our bags on the conveyor belt for the magical detection while the security mages in government issued loyalty collars scan us for anything the wands wouldn’t catch. It’s not quick, but it keeps fights in the schools non-lethal most of the time.

That’s the official reason, but the real purpose is to allow the staff to abuse students if they step out of line. The Markers not only brand and track us, but they siphon energy and power in small bits to keep us all weak enough to be controlled. Weapons would even the score and the humans who run these stupid ass brainwashing cults would be at risk.

“Look who’s last at the trough again.” The wry voice of the only demon in Tempest Seven gets my attention. Huck Monroe saunters up, tilting his worn black cowboy hat back as he smirks at me. “Y’all are just cruisin’ for a bruisin’. I swear, you don’t have the sense that the Devil gave a goose.”

My eyes narrow at him briefly, then I turn forward and shuffle along as the line moves. “You don’t have to hang out with us, Huck. In fact, it’d be great if you fucked off and stayed there.”

Thad laughs, bumping his shoulder against the annoying fear demon’s and I sigh. Huck was sent here during the First Sweep, like us, and he’s been a Southern bramble in my side ever since. It’s my bad luck that Thad enjoys his folksy charm and it means he sticks to us like glue during school hours.

“Sometimes you’re meaner than a wet panther shifter, Sydney Jolie. I should take you at your word and mosey off, but I like your boy.”

Huck’s pitch black eyes are hidden by his Ray-Bans, but I know they’re sparkling with amusement. He finds my dislike funny, and I don’t get why. But then, I don’t get a fucking thing about men, especially supes, nor do I want to. Life in oursector is hard enough without having to consider birth control or babies or even finding privacy. I’ll save that for the day when I get the fuck out of here.

“I heard they’re bringing in a new group of students today.” Thad changes the subject quickly, knowing I’ll continue to needle Huck and vice versa until one of us loses their temper. “The rumors say the shipment has vamps, losers, and traitors. I’m worried this sector is turning into a dumping ground for psychos.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if the humans started segregating the camps by species, value, or even criminality. Even after they corralled us into the sectors, the leaders have continued to exert their influence and power over us. The Markers were first, then the lockdowns for the ones they deemed dangerous, and now they’re shuffling people weekly at random . I’ve often wondered if all of this is covering up something like what went on in the 1940s among the humans, but I haven’t seen any proof.

Our media is monitored and curated, so unless you know someone with a highly illegal device, you have no idea what’s happening outside of the FHSA.

“Next! Keep it moving, you little shits,” the yell from the front of the line brings me back to reality again.

“Wicker is the fucking worst,” Thad mumbles as we ascend the steps to stand behind the person being inspected. “Watch his hands, Syd.”

“I’m aware.” Despite thinking we’re the scum of the earth, some of the human staff and enforcement in the sectors are fucking creeps. Some supes are willing to trade sex for perks, but that doesn’t stop the predators from being creeps to those who don’t. “I’ll let you go first so Bishop gets me.”

“Got it,” he says as he muscles in front of me. “Huck, stay behind her.”

“Why, I’d be delighted, Thaddeus.”

I guess he’s useful sometimes, but he’d better not let it go to his head.

LIFE IS NEVER FAIR

THADDEUS

“Next!”

I step up to the open spot in front of Guard Wicker, noting his frown when he realizes Syd won’t be in his line. The dude is a fucking sleaze and I’d like to punch him right in the mouth, but I don’t want to end up in the ‘Self-Awareness’ room. Misbehaving students from elementary to college level get thrown in these isolation cells and basically renditioned until their spirit breaks. Usually, people last about a week before they at leastpretendto be reprogrammed. If you end up there often enough, they pull you from F.E.A.R. to be fitted for the lockdown version of a Marker.

Who knows whatthat is because those people never speak of it, nor do they mix with the general populace afterward.

“Hold your arms out, Calvin,” Wicker grunts in irritation. “I don’t have all day.”

He actually does, but I’m not going to let him rush me through in an attempt to get to Sydney. I put my bag down, lifting my arms slowly as I give him a fake apologetic look. “Sorry, boss. Spaced out for a second there.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I harness the anger of my grizzly at being treated like I’m lesser by a guy who couldn’t punch his way out of a paper bag. The damn Markers are the only thing keeping these fuckers alive, especially with the way they treat beings who could tear them apart bare-handed. Our world is topsy-turvy at the moment and nothing is fair—I don’t know if it ever will be again.

Wicker is human, so he doesn’t sense my fury, but I know the chained magic user scanning my bag does. The small witch raises dead eyes to me, and we share a long look as she casts. Her voice is low, almost too low to hear, but I think she’s ignoring the plastic blade I have zipped into the lining of the satchel. My lips quirk for a brief moment, then I go back to frowning at the moron who points me to the body scanner.

It’s dangerous to smuggle weapons into the academy, but I have someone besides myself to keep safe.

“Move it, Calvin.” The guard rolls his eyes as I lumber forward and he groans. “Fucking Monroe. Of course I’d get you.”

I can almost hear Huck’s shit-eating grin behind me. He shuffles up as I enter the body scanner, whistling under his breath. I know he’s in place when he coos, “Oh, Wicker, I didn’t know you cared. Are you offering to be my hombre?”

“Shut it, demon. No one wants anything from a crazy ass fear fucker who thinks he’s Doc Holliday.”

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