Summoned Chaos (18 page)

But Blood Oath or not, there were too many similarities between Devon’s report and recent events. Mimics gone wild, squirrel pumas on the prowl, rifts that were wacky because they were so stable.

I’d bet a month’s paycheck there was a connection. Somehow all the pieces touched. The problem was finding out how. But if I could find that, maybe I could figure out who was behind it.

Pell peered at me. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I’m trying to connect the dots. Maybe it’s all a coincidence, but I’m having a hard time believing it. There are too many oddities for people not to notice, yet no one seems to be noticing.”

“Careful, Marcus,” Pell warned. “Those kinds of comments sound almost like treason.”

Anger warmed my insides. “Messing with reality, especially when people get killed,
is
treasonous. So too is burying information, no matter what the reason.”

“Which is why you must be careful. I’m not denying my own suspicions, but you simply cannot throw around accusations without cause.” Pell leaned forward. “Don’t forget that you have been on the receiving end of such suspicions in the past as well. Others may use that against you.”

“I was just a kid,” I said, hotly. “It was an accident.”

“That is the only reason you were allowed to resume your training. But there were many who, at the time, wondered if the rift you opened was intentional. And if that was the case, whether or not you could be trusted.” He leaned forward, locking eyes with me. “You, more than anyone, understand that power is a blessing and a curse. Our Skill allows us to perform an impressive array of spells, but it can also leave a large swath of collateral damage. It’s the unintentional acts that tend to do the most damage, after all.”

The anger boiling inside me threatened to bubble over. It was hard enough to learn from my mistakes, but others holding that against me was downright infuriating. What more did I need to do to make amends?

But deep down, I knew Pell was right. Someone in the Skilled world would question my actions for the rest of my life. It didn’t matter that I was just a kid. That I’d been desperate to prove myself and, in doing so, was willing to extend beyond my training. A lot of people had died—including Healer Jenkins’s wife, Sparrow. He’d long since forgiven me, but others hadn’t.

Some never would.

The reality of his words stung more than I cared to admit.

Pell patted me on the arm. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. It’s all in the past. You’ve done a lot of good for the Skilled just in the last year. Defeating the Agents of Quaos, killing a Hellcat, risking your life to close these rifts. Your actions speak volumes and many, myself included, know your true soul.”

I nodded absently, too moved to say anything. All these years I’d felt like an outsider to the Council. Listening to Pell, I began to wonder if that wasn’t the case anymore. Could it be that after so many years hating the Council I was beginning to grow closer to it?

That terrified me.

My phone rang, shaking me from my thoughts. I cleared my throat before answering. “Hey. Any news?”

“Only bad,” Arbent said with a touch of anger.

I felt sick. “The blogger kids?”

He paused. “Dead. The police found both their bodies in a ditch near the girl’s home.”

I swore. I hated when my hunches were correct. Fire burned in my chest. “I want in on the case.”

“You got it.” He sounded determined. Maybe he was just as pissed as I was that more innocent people had been killed. “We can meet anytime you’re free and I’ll give you what I have. Sadly, it’s not much.”

“Something is better than nothing,” I said, heat filling my veins.

“Then you’re going to be sorely disappointed with the rest of this conversation,” Arbent said. “The team arrived at the location you called in, but we didn’t find anything.”

Confusion mixed with the flames. “Nothing?”

“Oh, plenty of dead creatures and some annoyed R&D folks who didn’t appreciate me disrupting their ‘crime scene,’ but no rift. They denied its existence.”

Even a dead man would have heard the ire in his voice.

Red-hot fury bubbled inside me. First the oddity with the rift in the farmer’s field, now a “missing” one in the Maryland woods. Add in an old report that hinted there was a connection between the phenomenon and crazed Mimics.

The latter of which was tied to the murder of two of my friends.

Someone was hiding information, had been for a long time. I was sick of being in the dark.

It was high time I got some answers.

“Marcus?” Arbent asked.

“Thanks for the info, bud. I need to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Pell asked when I hung up.

I relayed Arbent’s information.

The old man sighed. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I wish I could be of more help with all this.”

“That’s okay,” I said, brimming with rage. “I know someone who might be.”

* * *

“The Elder is unavailable,” the Admin Witch said in her frank, professional tone. “The first opening in his schedule isn’t until noon tomorrow, though.”

I stepped around her desk. “No, he’s going to have an opening right now.”

The Witch reached out with her Skill to trap me, but I slammed through the door to the Elder’s chambers before she unleashed it. I closed the door behind me, locking it with a basic defensive barrier. Granted, it was a weak one since I was already low on energy, but it gave me enough time to storm up to the large, wooden desk.

“What’s going on, Devon?” I snapped.

The Elder stared at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

“I’ll call you back,” he said into his phone, then set it aside. “Hello, Marcus. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

I seethed with fury. “You know damn well what this is about. The rift in the woods. The same woods that you investigated during the Mimic attack seventy years ago!”

“I heard there was no rift,” he replied evenly. “Plenty of corpses, but no tear in reality.”

“Stop screwing around, old man,” I yelled, slapping my palm against his desk. “I’m smarter than that!”

“Your recent actions say otherwise,” he snapped.

“I read your report!”

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror. He blinked, inhaling deeply. Behind me, the Admin Witch pounded on my defensive barrier with her Skill until it finally collapsed. The door flew open and she stumbled in.

“Leave us,” Devon said curtly.

The Witch started to protest, but the look on Devon’s face caused her to disappear immediately.

“Sit,” he ordered.

“I’d rather not.”

The Elder sighed. “Suit yourself. So, am I to understand you’ve discovered similarities between what you think you saw today and a file that’s almost a century old?”

I bristled at his condescending tone. “Seems a bit ironic how surprised we all were when the Mimics attacked HQ. Apparently it’s not the first time something like this happened.”

When he didn’t respond, I leaned forward. “What’s the matter? Blood Oath got your tongue?”

The old man glowered. “It’s way above your level, Marcus.”

“I’m getting real sick and tired of people saying that,” I snarled. “Two more people are dead because of these things and no one seems willing or able to talk about them. At least, not yet.”

It was Devon’s turn to bristle. “Is that a threat?”

“Absolutely. You spill the beans on this whole matter or I
will
go to the media with everything I know.”

“What do you have to go on? An old report that I can promise you will be gone tomorrow morning and a handful of oddities that may or may not relate? Sounds like fantasy more than facts.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to plant the seed and the press will do the rest. I am, after all, quite the popular guy at the moment. If me taking a Minotaur to the Ambassador’s home made a huge splash, imagine the reaction when I give the media this juicy morsel to run with.”

“That would be...unwise for your career.”

I actually laughed. “You honestly think I care about climbing the Council ladder? I’ve been working here as a favor to Dad, not because I felt any loyalty to the uptight jackasses that run this place. I’ve been blackballed before, Devon. Shunned by the so-called elite of our little dysfunctional Skilled family. And you know what? I got along just fine. So too did most of the Normals I met. Seems they didn’t need our help to survive day to day.”

The Elder went crimson. The air around him crackled with an electricity that popped and fizzed against my own Skill. It was like standing in front of an electrical transformer that was about to overload.

I flinched, but he inhaled deeply. The charge faded and his color slowly returned to normal.

“I do not appreciate you coming here at this hour simply to push my buttons, Marcus,” he said evenly. “Do you have a purpose other than petty blackmail?”

I wanted to keep needling him, but the information I sought was far more important than the joy I got out of pestering an Elder. “I want to know what’s going on with these Mimics. If it’s obvious to me that there’s a connection between recent events and the ones seventy years ago, then someone else must think it as well. You give me that and I’ll keep playing along as your poster boy. You don’t and I’ll gladly have a long conversation with the press hanging outside my home.”

Devon’s beard twitched. “As much as you think you are in control here, the fact is, you’re not. One day you’ll learn that some things are beyond your influence. Suffice to say, I cannot, and more importantly,
will not
talk about what happened seventy years ago. Those files were sealed for a reason.

“You should also learn some self-control,” he continued, interrupting when I opened my mouth. “The gruff, bitter exterior you present to the world grates on a lot of people’s nerves. And while you claim you don’t care about your career with the Council, I believe you do. But even if what you say is true and you could care less about your career, you should realize that your actions affect more than just yourself.”

I blinked, catching the veiled threat. “You’d screw Dad out of an Elder position just because I piss you off?”

Devon ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away his annoyance. “You must be pretty obtuse to think one person can do something like that. Elders are elected by a majority vote of sitting Councilmembers. Your father is very popular among his peers, but storming around, embarrassing all of us like you do tarnishes his reputation. Like it or not, you’re the heir to his empire. If you want to act like a child, fine, but realize that it is not without consequence.”

For the first time since arriving, I was completely nonplussed. The conversation hadn’t gone the direction I’d expected.

Worse, I was being forced to admit how much of a negative impact I was having on Dad’s career.

The Elder put his arms on his desk, steeping his fingers. “Listen, I get that you’ve had a hard road the past few years. The attack by the Agents of Quaos didn’t help matters. But the reality is that you’re doing the Skilled and Normals a lot of good by playing the role of media darling. That said, you simply cannot continue acting like a spoiled brat because you’re not getting what you want.

“As for your demand for answers, you’re barking up the wrong tree. None of that is any of your business and you’d be smart to leave well enough alone. You are accusing Elders of impropriety when you have nothing but conjecture. That is bordering on treason. Please tell me you don’t need to reread the tomes covering the professional conduct for employees of the Council.”

I finally found my voice. “Unnecessary.”

“Good. I knew there was some level of intelligence buried beneath all that stupid bravado. If you want to play detective on your own time, I don’t care. But bring unsupported accusations against any Councilmember and you’ll dig your career a grave. Now then,” he added, leaning back in his chair, “is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Dammit, I’d been outmaneuvered.

“No,” I said between clenched teeth.

“In that case, you may see your way out.”

I stood and made for the door.

“Oh, and, Marcus?” Devon asked as I reached for the handle. I turned. “If you ever barge in here like this again, I will strip you of your Warlock title and personally throw you into the gutter. Are we clear?”

I nodded absentmindedly.

“Excellent. Now get the hell out.”

Chapter Fourteen

Re-Research

Steve found me an hour later at the bottom of a pint.

“Hey, big boy,” he said, leaning on the table. He immediately picked his hand up and wiped his palm on his sleeve with a sneer. “Gross.”

I was seated in a dark, corner booth of a filthy, local bar. The floors and tables were equally sticky and the room smelled like moldy beer. Despite the decrepit surroundings, the pub carried a wide range of beers on tap, most of which were from a local micro-brewery.

It was the perfect place to drown one’s sorrows or hide from the public eye—or both.

I glanced up from my drink. “How’d you find me?”

He grinned. “Magic.”

I didn’t laugh.

“Sheesh, tough crowd.” He slid into the seat across from me. “My arm’s better, thanks for asking.” He showed me the bandage. “Healer Jenkins fixed me up.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Our waitress came over, but froze when she saw the behemoth of Greek mythology.

Steve pointed at my dark, heady beer. “Three of whatever he’s having.”

The waitress blinked several times, then backed slowly to the bar.

The Minotaur gave me the once-over. “So, trying to solve the world’s problems?”

“Sulking.”

“Anything I can help with?”

I gave him a quick run-down of my meeting with Devon.

“You’re an idiot.”

I glared at him. Friends were supposed to support you, not point out the obvious.

“Seriously, Marcus,” he continued, not even bothering to cover his distaste for my actions. “What kind of moron does that sort of thing?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Deep down I knew whatever he was going to say was likely right. I didn’t want to confront my behavior. I just wanted to sulk.

The Minotaur snorted. “Well, I’ll give you this, you certainly have a knack for destruction. Both physical and professional.”

My face flushed with embarrassment. “Drop it.”

“Fair enough,” he said as the waitress brought us our drinks. She deposited them on the table. Steve downed two of them like they were shots. He pushed the third toward me and held his fingers up to the waitress. “A couple more, please.”

The girl returned to the bar quicker than before.

“So, what’s your plan now?”

I wiped the condensation trickling down the side of the glass. “No idea.”

“That’s...not like you at all.”

“What do you want me to do, man?” I asked, exasperated with him. With everything. “I thought I had some leverage on Devon and instead, got outmaneuvered. He knows something, but isn’t telling. Worse, he basically told me that if I don’t toe the line and play nice, Dad’s chances of becoming an Elder are zero.”

“He said that?” he asked in disbelief.

“Not directly, but it was a heck of a hint.”

“But he didn’t
say
it.”

“So?”

“So maybe he’s just screwing with you. Playing mind games.”

I shook my head. “Devon’s an old-school fuddy-duddy and world-class bureaucrat, but he doesn’t seem like the type to manipulate people like that. If anything he’s the most straightforward of all the Elders.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know Council matters, but I do know that all high-level bureaucrats are manipulative in some way. You can’t reach a position of power and authority without playing the game.”

I huffed. “Maybe.”

“No
maybes
about it. Hell, it’s like that with my clan. Our Alpha didn’t get there by being sweet and charming. She did it by maneuvering her way to the top.” He sipped his beer. “Well, that and killing almost every competitor along the way. But that’s just semantics.”

For the first time all evening, I chuckled.

Steve nodded. “There’s the Marcus we know and love. I was wondering where he was hiding.” He glanced at a nearby table of frat boys arguing loudly about comics. “Why are you hiding in this sinkhole, anyway?”

“No press.”

“Ah.”

My phone chirped.

“You gonna answer that?”

I silenced the ringer. “It’s my PR guy. I’ve been avoiding him all day.”

“Why?”

“Because I just don’t have the energy to do this anymore,” I said heavily. “I’m tired, dude. Tired of being the Council’s pet and tired of not getting anywhere with this Mimic situation. All I want is to sit here, drink a beer and bury my head in the sand for a while.”

Steve took a swig from his drink. Then he reached over and smacked me on the back of the head.

“What the hell was that for?” I demanded as my brain rattled around inside my skull.

“You’re gonna act like a child, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“You don’t hit kids!”

“Really?” he asked. “‘Cause that’s how my species rolls. Might explain why Minotaurs are complete bad-asses while humans are such sissies.”

My ears rang as I blinked to clear the stars.

He leaned his massive arms on the table. “Seriously, dude, you’ve been a royal pain the past few days. Edgier, darker, short-tempered. You’ve gone from lovable scamp to Grade-A brooding tool. And don’t feed me this crap about the Council, media, or Mimics. I’ve personally seen you deal with apocalyptic forces without allowing a dent in your armor. So what gives?”

I wanted to tell him how terrified I was that I’d enjoyed killing the Mimics at HQ and the excitement I’d felt when we’d faced the mutant pumas—or whatever the hell those things in Maryland were.

I wanted to spill my guts about the guilt I was carrying for the two dead bloggers. Guilt that only added to what I was already carrying from the mistake in my youth. And how all of that made me doubly aware of the current instability of my emotions and Skill.

Then there was the issue of the media and protesters, both of which made me feel exposed in my own home. Try as I might, their presence meant my townhouse was no longer a sanctuary. Not to mention, they were always there, ready for one of my inevitable screw-ups.

Piled on top of all that were my concerns regarding me and Quinn—especially now that I’d exposed her to the one thing she was trying to avoid. Where were we going? Could I give her what she needed? And her me?

And as the cherry on this sundae of crap, my frustration at Devon’s threat. It was one thing to skip along in life, worrying only about your own reputation. Sadly, I was no longer flying solo. Dad’s career was hinging on me being a good little Warlock.

All of this rattled around inside my head, begging to be released. More than anything, I wanted someone to listen as I unloaded all the baggage I was carrying.

But pride is a huge, stupid speed bump on the highway of relationships and mine was the size of a mountain. So instead of venting like I should have, I stayed silent.

Eventually Steve frowned.

“Fine,” he said, downing his beer in one shot then standing. “You want to keep this crap bottled up, that’s your choice. But failing to talk about it doesn’t mean it goes away. In fact, that kind of stuff will eat at you from within if you don’t let it out. It doesn’t have to be me, Quinn, or your folks, but you do need to let stuff go.” He leaned forward. “But keep in mind that if you shut people out of your life long enough, they’ll eventually get the hint.”

He tossed a gold coin on the table and stormed out of the bar, slamming the door behind him. The waitress stared at the bent doorframe, then glowered at me. I immediately focused on the condensation sliding down my glass.

As much as I hated to admit it, Steve was right—I was being a jerk.

I was keeping both him and Quinn at arm’s length, despite the fact that they were the ones I needed closest to me. I was avoiding Andrew for no good reason and intentionally poking Devon and the Council’s nerves.

Holy hell, jerk didn’t even begin to describe me.

My phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Having ignored him long enough, I decided to answer it.

“Hey, Andrew.”

“Marcus, thank goodness.” He sounded less relieved than I’d expected. “I’m doing the best I can with damage control, but you and I need to come up with a battle plan.”

My spine tingled with concern. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Andrew paused on the other end. “Have you seen the news?”

“Just the tabloid article that questioned my preference of species.”

He cursed, something that sobered me up immediately.

“I’m sending you a link to the video. Watch it all, then call me back.”

He hung up. I clicked the link as soon as my phone buzzed.

A minute into the video, I was sick.

The news piece was from a local station. A plastic anchorman in an expensive blue suit stared intently at the camera.

“Relations between the Normal and Skilled governments took yet another hit earlier this evening when Carla Jones, Ambassador to the Skilled, was attacked at her home in McLean. Although no fatalities were reported, the Ambassador had few words for reporters.”

The scene switched to a frazzled, albeit still graceful Carla standing outside one of her many garage bays.

“What can you tell us about the attack?” someone asked off camera.

Carla shook her head. “Honestly, not much.”

“Rumor has it the animals were paranormal beasts. Can you confirm that?”

“The local authorities are on the case, so I think it’s best to wait until they submit their report before making wild conjecture.”

“Some people have already questioned if this event, paired with the other recent attacks, will strain relations between the Normals and Skilled.”

Give Carla her due, she didn’t miss a beat. “That relationship is stronger now than ever before.”

“But not everyone shares the Ambassador’s opinion,” Plastic Man said as the image switched to a neighborhood. Another reporter was talking to a man with large glasses and an enormous amount of forehead wrinkles. He leaned into the microphone at the bottom of the screen.”This is
exactly
the kind of thing that we knew would happen joining our societies. These attacks come from paranormal beasts that we never had to deal with before the reformation.”

“So who is to blame?” Mr. Plastic asked as the scene switched again. This time, to my horror, I recognized the group of protesters outside my home.

A pretty girl with red hair stared wide eyed into the camera. “The Skilled. They brought these abominations with them and we’ll never be safe while these freaks are allowed to practice their dark magic.”

The video ended with a long shot of the protesters and Mr. Plastic asking, “Just a few random incidents or are we seeing a growing trend of danger to Normals because of the Skilled? We’ll put this question and more to our panel of experts at the top of the hour.”

“Holy hell,” I muttered to myself, dialing Andrew. The second he picked up I said, “Tell me this is fixable.”

“It is, but it won’t be easy. Remember how I told you that part of the cross you bear in the limelight is becoming a lightning rod for antagonists?”

“Yeah.” Then, for good measure, “Dammit.”

“Fame is a bitch, Marcus. This is just the tip of the iceberg compared to what my Hollywood celebrities deal with every day.”

I made a mental note to never get into movies.

“The good news is that all press, even negative, generates buzz. That increases your and Elsa’s stock ten-fold. We’ve had two more shows reach out for interviews.”

“Yeah, about that...” I wanted to say that I had no interest in being in the hot seat, especially not now with these targeted attacks against me, but I decided to remain political. “I’m not comfortable leaving this mess the way it is. I need another couple of weeks to patch things up.”

“Marcus, you are operating in a very small window here. You’re a hit with the media for now, but that will fade quickly, especially after the Reformation Ball. The news has a short attention span and once this big Skilled event is over, they’ll be looking for fresh stories. I may be able to push your appearance with Falls another day or so, but that’s it. Shows like the ones we have lined up have literally hundreds of guests waiting in the wings. If we miss this opportunity, it will be gone for good.”

“I’ll do my best.” Not that I’d lose any sleep if things didn’t pan out. Heck, I’d sleep better if they didn’t.

Andrew was either a mind-reader or simply as good at his job as he claimed because he sighed. “Thank you.”

After we hung up, I spent another beer re-watching the video several times. Something in the first viewing had bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t until my third viewing that I saw it. Just a glimpse from the news cameras, but there was no denying the body of the creature that had attacked the Ambassador was the same one I’d run from in Maryland.

The engines of conspiracy in my mind went to warp speed.

A single act of violence was one thing, but a paranormal strike against Carla on the heels of the attack at HQ smelled more like an assassination attempt than anything. And a persistent one at that. Someone was hell-bent on taking her out—they’d tried with Mimics and again with the puma-things.