Fracture (The Machinists) (8 page)

Mouth agape, Allyn looked back at Liam. “How long have you been doing this?”

Liam shrugged. “A couple of years. I finished that bookshelf over there.” Liam pointed to the corner behind him.

Allyn followed the motion of his hand. The next bookshelf over had a hole in the center of it where a book was missing. Liam must have been working through that shelf.

“You did all that by yourself?”

Liam nodded. He was proud. And he had every reason to be. Allyn knew tedious work and transcription was tedium upon tedium. It was also priceless. The decaying texts would be saved forever.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I’m glad somebody thinks so.”

How could anyone not be amazed by this kid’s efforts?
His work could be the most important undertaking in preserving the magi’s delicate history. It would also make him the foremost expert in the field. “There’s a faster way to do that, you know. You could just get a scanner and scan it all in.”

“I like doing it this way.”

“Nobody
likes
doing transcription.”

“I do.”

Allyn laughed. “Fair enough.” He gave his family tree back to Liam. “You might be able to help me with this, then.”

“You’re serious?” Liam asked. “You actually think you might be some long-lost magi?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. There has to be a reason why everyone is after me.”

“I guess.” Liam saved his Word file, minimized the screen, and pulled open another program. He typed furiously. It was code of some kind, and Allyn didn’t understand any of it. After several minutes, Liam glanced at Allyn’s piece of paper and began typing the names into a column on the left side of the screen. He punched the keyboard and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the back of his head.

“What’s it doing?” Allyn asked.

“I built a search engine for the names on your list. It’ll find any exact matches or anything close. It’ll also flag any names that might have changed over the years.”

“You did that?”

“Yes.”

“Just now?”

“The magi family names were already in a database. Those were the first things we saved. I just built a way to look through them.”

Allyn shook his head in amazement. “How long will it take?”

“Not very long. Maybe a few—it’s done.”

Allyn leaned over the computer. “What did it find?”

Liam slumped in his chair, disappointed. “Nothing. It didn’t find anything.”

Allyn sighed, kicking himself. Of course it didn’t find anything. There wasn’t anything to find. He wasn’t part of a forgotten magi line. It had been wishful thinking.

“Maybe if we expand the search, include more variables.” Liam pulled the keyboard closer.

“It’s okay, Liam. I didn’t expect to find anything, anyway.”

“But I’m sure I missed something. This area here—your mother’s side—it’s really vague. If you can fill it in, I’m sure I can find something.”

“It’s fine.” Allyn patted him on the shoulder.

“Please,” Liam said. “Let me keep trying.” His glassy eyes pleaded with Allyn. The kid was tenacious and confident in his abilities, but there was something else—a longing. He wanted to help and not just with Allyn’s search. He wanted to be a part of something.

“All right,” Allyn said. “Keep that paper, and I’ll see what I can do to get you more names.”

“I don’t need the paper. I already have those names. If you can get me more, though, that would be even better. I can do this, I promise.”

Allyn nodded, smiling. “I know you can, Liam.”

The library door hissed open, and Graeme stepped into the Library. Liam’s smile vanished.

“There you are,” Graeme said. “I see you’ve met my son.”

Allyn looked at Liam. “Your son?”

“My youngest. You didn’t tell our new guest, Liam? Why not?”

Liam’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes to the floor.

“Liam was helping me with the list of family members you had me make. He built a computer program that allowed us to search through the histories for any sort of connection. He’s a computer genius.”

“Liam likes his computers,” Graeme said, placing his hands on the table. “What did you find?”

“Nothing,” Liam said quietly, still staring at the floor.

“Not yet, anyway,” Allyn said. “He’s going to keep looking, expand the search. Aren’t you, Liam?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Graeme said. “We’ll take it from here, but thank you, Liam. It was a good try. Now, I’d like to speak with Allyn in private.”

Without a word, Liam headed for the exit. Allyn wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He watched until Liam rounded the corner, his head hung low.

“Is this the list?” Graeme asked, grabbing the paper from the table.

Allyn nodded.

“I’ll get my people on it,” Graeme said. “We’ll find something.”

“Liam didn’t find anything.”

“I like to do things the old-fashioned way.” Graeme pocketed the family tree then tossed a newspaper onto the table. “We’re in a bit of trouble.”

Allyn scanned the headlines. A small story about a robbery developing into a missing persons case caught his attention. It named him as a person of interest. “Why haven’t I heard anything?” Allyn asked, looking up from the paper. “The police should have called me by now.”

“That’s my fault,” Graeme said. “We live in peace here, away from the outside world and all of its distractions. It’s better for us that way.”

“So?”

“So,” Graeme said. “While we sometimes need the aid of technology, we try our best to live without it. This room, for example, is climate controlled and uses a type of light that preserves the artifacts inside it. We do it out of necessity.”

“What does that have to do with my cell phone?”

“I had Liam design a jammer that blocks all cell phone transmissions within a two-mile radius.”

Allyn pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “It says I have service.”

“And, technically speaking, you do. That’s where Liam’s design is distinct, where his
genius
, as you put it, shines through. The jammer acts as a barrier, preventing a transmission from entering or leaving, but the signal itself is consistent.”

“You keep yourself in the dark.”

“It can be turned off, of course, during times of—”

“Then turn it off,” Allyn interrupted. “The longer I go without contacting the police, the more I look like a suspect.”

“That’s of little concern.”

“You won’t think so when every pair of eyes in the Portland area is looking for me. For someone who does their best to hide, that’s not a great strategy for continued success.”

“They will never find you here. They have no reason to look.”

“I have a life
outside
, one I would very much like to return to when this is over. What do you have to lose from me clearing my name?”

“Everything,” Graeme said softly. “But I understand. I wasn’t trying to complicate your life. Go back to your room. By the time you get there, the jammer will have been turned off, and you can make your call. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

By the time Allyn returned to his room, his phone was already ringing. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was local, and he answered it, expecting it to be the police.

“When I told you I was interested in seeing what you did with my attention, I didn’t expect this.” The irritated, raspy voice was familiar, and a little amused. Mr. Clarke. “Fucking Christ, son, what the hell happened?”

“You’ve heard then?” Allyn asked, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t prepared for this. The man intimidated him more than any police officer ever could.

“Of course I heard. I’ve had Portland detectives crawling up my ass since this morning.”

“I’m sorry about that. Things got out of hand,” Allyn said. “I went to my sister’s apartment because I was worried about her. I haven’t heard from her in days.”

“They say you broke into her apartment, Allyn. They say you fled the scene once the cops were called.”

Allyn sat down on the seat in front of the large window. It looked like it was going to rain at any moment. And when it started, it wouldn’t stop for days. Or weeks. “They’re not lying. Not technically, anyway.”

“You’re not helping your case, son.”

“I didn’t realize I was on trial.”

“Having a wanted man working for our firm isn’t exactly good business.”

“What are you saying? I’m fired?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On your defense,” Mr. Clarke said. “You’re a lawyer, Allyn. Persuade me. Win me over.”

Allyn struggled to string together his jumbled thoughts. Too much had happened, too many things that couldn’t be articulated easily. Where to begin wasn’t the issue. That was easy, but where to end—that was more complicated. And he didn’t know how to do it without having Mr. Clarke ask the wrong questions.

“My sister and I are very close,” Allyn began. “We’ve been through a lot together, more than most people. There’s rarely a day that goes by when I don’t hear from her. So when two days went by, three, then four, I knew something was wrong. I called her. I left messages. I texted her. When I didn’t hear back, I went to check on her.”

The part about them being so close wasn’t technically true—not anymore, anyway. They used to talk a lot more—before law school and his career. Their relationship had developed an awkwardness.

“Her neighbor came out while I was knocking on her door. She said that Kendyl had gotten in a fight with her boyfriend. The neighbor heard them and almost called the cops then, but didn’t. I wish she had. The problem is, Kendyl doesn’t have a boyfriend. Whoever the neighbor heard shouldn’t have been in her apartment
. That’s
why there was a fight. Whoever that woman heard is my sister’s kidnapper.”

“Maybe your sister had a boyfriend and just never told you. Maybe they went on a romantic getaway.”

“Never.”

“How do you know? Maybe she wanted some space.”

“I just know, okay?” Allyn said, a little too heatedly. “I’m the only family she has left. We tell each other everything. If she met someone, she would have been excited to tell me.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police this? Why the disappearing act? By the way, where the hell are you?”

Allyn winced. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry, Mr. Clarke. I really am. I know it looks bad, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one.” He didn’t want to say the words because they were so cliché, but he had to anyway. “I’m innocent.”

“I’m a lawyer, Allyn,” Mr. Clarke said. Allyn didn’t need to hear the rest. “Trust doesn’t enter the equation, only what I can prove. And right now, you’re a liability to this firm.”

Allyn tapped the phone against his forehead, sighing deeply. “I understand.”

“Good luck, kid.”

“Thank you.”

“And Allyn?”

“Yeah?”

“If you need legal representation, you know where to turn.”

The line went dead. Allyn didn’t know if Mr. Clarke had hung up or if the jammer was back online. It didn’t matter. Everything he’d worked for had just vanished. And he hadn’t had an opportunity to clear things up with the police.

Chapter 8

A
llyn hid under the thick branches of a nearby pine tree, escaping the rain. The sun had lost its battle with the heavy clouds, and the rain had begun to fall. Something sank inside Allyn. He knew that once the rain started, it probably wouldn’t stop. “We’re not really doing this out here, are we?”

“Why not?” Jaxon asked with a patronizing smile. “Afraid of a little rain?” He wore a black, sleeveless, formfitting shirt that displayed his defined frame. The white brands on his arms glistened from the water, and Jaxon, ignoring the rain that gathered in his closely cropped hair, refused to wipe away the rest that streaked down his face.

Allyn stepped out from under the tree’s refuge, into the downpour. He knew Jaxon was proving a point, but that didn’t stop him from feeling inadequate. After Allyn had been fired, Graeme had told him to meet Jaxon in the forest clearing. The time had come to find out if he could wield.

“The water will keep you cool. Its natural rhythm will keep you focused. Of course, if you’re too cold, I’m sure we can find a nursery.”

Allyn sniffed, wiping his runny nose. “It’s fine.”

“Good. Have a seat over there.” Jaxon pointed to a flat area behind Graeme’s carved-tree chairs.

Allyn took a seat, his legs crossed, back straight, and fully exposed to the rain. Looking up, Allyn saw a hole in the canopy.
He’s intentionally put me in the most uncomfortable spot he can find. Are they trying to make this more difficult?

“Before we begin,” Jaxon said, walking in a circle around Allyn, “there are a few things you need to understand. First, this is hard. It’s not something that can be learned overnight. It can take years of training to wield consistently. And some never master it.”

“Then what’s the point? If it’s going to take me years, why not just help me get my sister back and be done with it?”

“I said
consistently
. We should know if you can wield a lot sooner than that. Second,” Jaxon said, continuing before Allyn could ask another question, “I am in charge. You’ll do as I say when I say it. Wielding is dangerous, both to you and your trainer. If you die, you won’t be helping anybody. And if I die, I’ll be very, very unhappy. So listen to what I say and do as I tell you. Understand?”

Allyn shifted uncomfortably. Ignoring the rain was growing increasingly difficult. He would catch a cold if he had to stay out here too much longer.
Could they heal that, too?

“Third, training is a process. You probably have some twelve-year-old boy’s fantasy that you’ll be shooting fireballs and ice blasts out of your hands tomorrow. You won’t be. Wielding is about control. Controlling your mind. Controlling your body. Controlling your emotions. When we’re done, your lips won’t turn blue, and you won’t shiver like a baby in the bathtub when you get a little wet.”

Allyn’s face flushed with embarrassment.
I haven’t been shivering, have I?

“Do we have an understanding?” Jaxon asked.

Allyn nodded.

“The first thing you need to know is that magic comes from within. It’s the unity of mind, body, and emotion. If the mind doesn’t believe, then the magi cannot wield. If the body is injured or depleted, no matter how strong the mind or emotion, the magi cannot wield. If the magi is overcome with emotion, the body and mind become confused, and the magi cannot wield. The three have to work together in perfect harmony to make wielding possible.