Summoned Chaos (22 page)

“Not the only reason,” Pierce said, “though certainly an important one to us. But yes, there is another. To be blunt, we can’t survive otherwise. It is no secret that religion has slowly been slipping out of the lives of the average person. People turn to technology or money as their new gods. Churches, temples, synagogues all struggle to fill their walls and their tithing plates. Many have had to close their doors. Oftentimes those are in poorer neighborhoods where people need both our spiritual and physical help the most.”

“And formally apologizing for a thousand years of murder will solve this problem?” Rancin asked.

Pierce shook his head. “No, but it will prove that we are not the heartless, inflexible monsters that many make us out to be. Every year we lose more and more patrons, many of whom look to other forms of worship. In the last twenty years, magic has shot to the top of the list.”

“We are not a religion,” Elder Queen replied with an edge to his voice.

The Father held up a hand. “I apologize if it sounds like we’re accusing you of being one. The reality is that people these days place their faith in technology and magic more than they do in actual religions. Requesting, and more importantly,
receiving
your collective forgiveness for our past indiscretions will go a long way to moving us back to the forefront of humanity’s minds. It may even help to heal the lingering prejudices on both sides.”

I cleared my throat. “There are a lot of your ‘people’ outside my house who seem to believe otherwise.”

The entire room turned to me.

“I mean, it’s not like they’re burning us at the stake,” I added. “But protesters screaming about how evil we are isn’t something that can be cured by simply saying we’re all friends again.”

“There are extremists on every side of every coin,” a regal gentleman from the Mosaic Group said.

“Shaykh Hussein is correct,” Father Pierce added. “Listen, we’re not asking for perfection here, just the chance to regain some of the influence we lost along the way. And, perhaps, regain some of the faith we lost in both the public eye and among our Skilled brothers and sisters.”

The room fell silent once more. Then Devon rose. “The Council will need to discuss your request in greater detail.”

“Of course,” Pierce said. “I just wanted to get the offer on the table.”

Devon nodded. “We understand. In the interim, if you all would care to join us this Saturday, we’re hosting our annual Reformation Ball with our Normal counterparts to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the peace accord. It would, at the least, be a show that we are also not as rigid and unforgiving as people think.”

Most everyone in the room laughed, including Rancin. I stared at her, completely unable to process the sight. This same woman had never cracked a smile in all the months that I’d been at HQ. It was uncomfortable and awkward.

“I’ll leave it to the individual members on whether or not they can attend,” Pierce said.

Devon addressed the room. “Well, I think this was a very productive first meeting. I’ll open the floor up for questions.”

That was my cue to leave. The last thing I wanted was to listen to a bunch of Councilmembers embarrass the Skilled with their ignorant or blatantly offensive questions. I caught Dad’s eye and he titled his head toward the exit. Together, we slipped silently through the small group and out the doors.

“Well that was fun,” I said once we were in the hall.

“Indeed,” Dad said, in a neutral voice.

I glanced around. “Where are the strap-hangers?”

“Probably went home once they realized they were not as important as they thought they were.”

I chuckled. “Poor saps.”

Dad fixed me with a knowing gaze. “You’ll have to learn to deal with these ‘saps’ someday, Marcus.”

“Not if I have any control over my life.”

Dad patted me on the shoulder. “You’d be surprised how quickly you can rise through the ranks when you know how to handle those above and below you.”

I was having a hard enough time learning to be the bottom rung of the Council ladder. The last thing I wanted to think about was
leading
people someday.

As we passed Devon’s office, I noticed the Admin Witch. The smile was gone and her shoulders were slumped. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”

Dad nodded and continued down the hall.

“Everything okay?” I asked, entering the office. The Admin Witch sat up, quickly covering the emotion on her face with a mask of professionalism.

“Absolutely fine.”

I leaned against the desk. “You’re as good a liar as I am.”

She smirked.

“This about that Mage’s comments?”

The Admin Witch grew serious. “Yes,” she admitted.

My heart went out to her. “Yeah, kinda’ figured. I’m Marcus, by the way.”

She accepted my outstretched hand. “Robin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

I took a breath, trying to pick the right words to make her feel better. “Listen, I know how you feel. People take shots at my Skill all the time and it sucks. But you can’t let it get you down.”

“No offense,” Robin said, “but I know your family. Weak Skill is not an issue for you all.”

She was right. But she was also wrong. “Yes, my family is powerful, but believe me when I say I’ve been in your shoes. I walked away from our world for a few years and suffered complete magical atrophy. Couldn’t do a basic spell, not even the ones they teach us in our Intro classes.”

“Whatever barrier you put up against me the other day was pretty powerful.”

The spell had been a throw-away and not nearly as strong as it should have been. Not that I could admit that to her. “Well, yeah, but I’ve also been busting my hump to get back in shape. Hasn’t been an easy road.”

“What’s your ranking?” she asked.

“Exalted, but only within my gaming guild.” I was hoping humor would help dissuade this line of questioning.

She didn’t laugh.

“You know what I mean. The Shifters are one of the most powerful families, so I’m betting you’re somewhere in the top five percent of our generation.”

“Somewhere around there.” I was considered in the top one percent of my generation during my early days of training. It was anyone’s guess where I fell among my peers now.

“I’m more in the middle,” the Witch said. “Barely passed my basics, then was deemed too ineffective to train in anything except Wizarding. So while you have a world of options before you, mine are limited to the handful of positions that don’t require a lot of Skill. All thanks to my grandmother marrying a Normal.”

“Before the peace accord?” I asked, completely surprised. “That’s rare.”

“It’s a sweet story, but doesn’t change the fact that our family bloodline is watered down. My mother wound up with mediocre Skill which I inherited despite her marrying my father who was in the top ten percent of his class.”

There was no official name, but a lot of people called it the Generation Curse. Whatever gene, molecule, or DNA sequence that powered our Skill was recessive which meant the child of two Skilled parents would almost always inherit an equivalent level of power. The child of a Skilled and Normal, however, had a one-in-ten thousand chance of it.

Back before the Delwinn Council, families inter-married to ensure powerful bloodlines. It was easier back then, but as the world shrunk, more and more of my people cross-pollinated. The Reformation increased the issue exponentially, making people like Robin more common.

And yet, for all our bravado about equality across the board for both Skilled and Normals, we were just as guilty of prejudice. More so against our own than anyone else. Some folks eked out a decent living doing what they could for the Council, but many of our weaker practitioners fell by the wayside, drifting to the Underground where crime or drink were the most common occupations.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could muster.

Her face softened. “I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just, people like that Mage make you wonder how we’ll ever achieve peace with the Normals when we seem to be unable to get over our own issues.”

“You don’t have to have a lot of Skill to know that lady is just a bitch.”

For the first time since I’d met her, Robin offered me a real grin. It was small and sad, but there nonetheless.

“There we go.”

“I should get back to work,” Robin said, the smile fading.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“I know. It’s just...you can’t change what you can’t change. But thank you for the chat. And for trying to make me feel better.”

I departed, glad to have at least attempted to do my good deed for the day. But I couldn’t help feeling bad for Robin. She was a victim of prejudice from her own people. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t at fault, a lot of the Skilled still looked down on her because her powers were so limited. Having made the slow, painful climb to overcome my own atrophy, I could sympathize. Difference was, someday I’d be at full strength once again. Robin would forever be stuck in a pigeon-hole. It was unfair, but she didn’t need to wallow in self-pity because of it.

I stopped in my tracks. The hypocrisy was raw and bitter in my mouth. I, too, was so focused on my own issues that I was slowly blocking out the people I cared about, even when they reached out to me.

I’d also been ignoring the ones that I’d let down.

Steve was right. I
was
acting like a child.

Well enough of that
, I thought, jogging to my car.

It was time to behave like an adult.

Chapter Sixteen

Visitation Hours

The drive to Old Town was short thanks to minimal traffic of midday. I hit the waterfront area in less than twenty minutes, dumped the Senior Mobile in a parking garage, and walked briskly along the timeworn streets to a row of tall, expensive townhomes.

Double-checking the address, I walked up to the gate and rang the callbox.

“Yes?” a voice said.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Shifter. Is it okay for me to see Alistair?”

The box was silent. I stood there, willing to wait as long as necessary. I owed the kid as much. He might have been the annoying new guy, but a team was supposed to watch out for one another.

And we’d failed.

A minute later, the door buzzed as it unlocked. I turned the handle and walked inside. My senses tingled as I crossed the barrier of the home.

A young butler greeted me.

“Good evening, sir. If you’ll wait here one moment, please.” He disappeared before I could respond.

I killed time inspecting my surroundings. Considering how large the townhouse seemed from outside, the entryway was surprisingly small. But what it lacked in size it more than made up for in elegance. On one side was a mirror framed in gold leaf, on the other, a gorgeous wood side table that looked centuries old. The marble floors were polished to a shine, reflecting my image like a mirror.

So much beauty in the small palace. But if you were stuck there for the rest of your life, it would only ever be a prison.

“This way please,” the butler said, appearing out of thin air.

I followed him down a narrow hallway, guilt picking at my heart. I’d received a lot of attention recently, even a few accolades, yet I hadn’t spared a thought for Alistair. The last few days I’d only cared about my own petty problems, not about the one team member who’d been grievously wounded.

That last thought filled me with trepidation. How bad off what Alistair? Was I really ready to see him?

Ready or not, I sure as hell was going to do it. Because he deserved it and because that’s what teammates did for each other. Steeling myself against the fear of what might come, I pressed forward.

The butler escorted me into a bedroom at the back of the home. Unlike Normal hospital rooms, the Skilled tended to rely more on holistic and magical techniques. As such, technology was eschewed for things like burning herbs and healing balms. I’d expected as much at the Monroe household.

What I hadn’t expected was Jethrow.

“What the hell?” The words were out before I could stop myself. My old friend looked up from the bedside. His eyes were red and his face deeply lined.

Jethrow broke into a weak smile when he saw me. “Marcus.”

I buried my surprise, focusing instead on appearing calm. Letting Jethrow’s presence get to me at HQ was one thing, but it was quite another under these circumstances. We both owed it to Alistair to be on our best behavior.

Which meant
I
needed to be on
my
best behavior since the grudge between me and Jethrow was very lopsided.

“What are you doing here?” I asked evenly.

Jethrow turned back to Alistair. The kid was pale and his face gaunt. His breathing was labored. Even asleep it seemed like he was in pain.

“I left the meeting with the Mosaic Group right after you slipped out. Thought I’d swing by here on my way home.” Jethrow placed a hand on the bed. He stared at Alistair, swallowing hard. “He was one of my students, you know?” he whispered. “Had him for some basic Warlock training. He was cocky, arrogant, headstrong. We never could see eye to eye. But deep down, he was a good kid. Passionate, determined. Funny thing, he reminded me of someone else.” Tears filled his eyes. “Maybe that’s why I took a liking to him.”

I was too uncomfortable with Jethrow’s display of emotion to find any words. He was always in control when we were younger. Never lost his temper, never broke down. A bit of a hothead myself, I’d been so envious of his composure.

Watching him cry over the kid, I wondered if that composure was nothing more than an act. Could he have simply been bottling his emotions? And if so, was releasing them, like he seemed more willing to do these days, the better option?

I also wondered just how damaging his own injury must have been. To nearly be killed by your partner was the kind of betrayal that could leave a long, bloody scar. Physically and emotionally.

Maybe, after everything that had happened between us, it was time to let the past go.

Maybe he needed a friend.

I moved next to him. “So, been here before?”

He wiped his eyes. “I stop by as often as I can.”

“Do you help with the healing?”

He shook his head. “I just sit and pray.”

The man was full of surprises today. “Since when are you religious?”

“Not every problem can be solved with science or magic, Marcus. Sometimes we have to ask for outside help. Care to join me?”

I shifted, suddenly uneasy with the conversation. Thanks to our history, my own emotions were complicated enough around him without bringing God into the equation. Even so, if this was his normal routine, I’d feel worse disrupting it. “No thanks. I’ll just stand here and listen if that’s okay.”

He nodded, then bowed his head. The prayer was short and sweet. When he finished, he touched Alistair’s hand.

“Sounds like you’ve done that before.” I meant for it to sound earnest, but I was so out of practice with him that it might have come across as snarky.

He stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s not the first time I’ve prayed by the bedside of someone I care about.”

Tears filled my own eyes, but before I could answer, he yanked me into a hug. I was so stunned that I simply stood there, arms at my side.

“See you,” he said, releasing me and walking out of the room before I could react.

I watched him leave, shaken by his affection. Even at our closest, we’d never even man-hugged, let along real-hugged. His intense sentiment, the physical contact, it was an emotional punch in the gut that was accentuated by the sudden realization that I was alone with Alistair.

Like the aftermath of a tornado, the quiet that fell over the room only made the destruction of my own feelings that much more raw. I slowly picked up the pieces, still numb from the shock of what had transpired with Jethrow.

I took several deep breaths, reminding myself that this visit was supposed to be about Alistair, not about my estranged relationships.

I moved to the bedside.

I wanted to offer words of solace, but I had no clue if he could even hear me. Instead, I just stared at him, silently begging a higher power to cut the kid some slack.

A light tapping jerked me from my trance. I jumped, then turned to find Councilman Monroe standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I struggled to get my breathing and heart rate under control. “It’s okay. Thank you for letting me see him.”

He entered the room. “I appreciate the request. It’s comforting to know that he made friends on your team despite being so new. When I was a rookie, it took months before my team accepted me. Apparently times have changed.”

Pangs of guilt stabbed at me, but I wasn’t about to admit that we’d all agreed Alistair was weapons-grade annoying. That was the last thing the poor guy needed.

“So, how’s the prognosis?” I asked, unable to ignore the question that had been on my mind since arriving.

Monroe deflated slightly. “Stable, but still very weak. The Healers have been able to neutralize most of the venom, but his body is slow to recover. They’re not sure about the extent of the damage, but R&D is working on an anti-venom from the samples your team recovered. They’re hopeful they can make something to help Alistair over the long-term.”

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I released the sigh of relief. Damaged was much better than dead. From the grim expression on Monroe’s face, I wasn’t sure he agreed with me.

Monroe took an unsteady breath. “His mother is having a hard time understanding all of this. Most of the Skilled society still baffles her, even after all these years. But this,” he waved his hand. “No parent can understand this.”

We stood in silence.

“Join me for a drink,” he finally said, heading for the door before I could decline. I followed him to a small room filled with bottles. He heavy-handed two glasses of very old scotch, gave me one, then motioned for me to sit in one of the luxurious, burgundy leather chairs.

He raised his glass. “To hope.”

“To hope.”

The liquid was warm and buttery, sliding over my tongue like a lover.

“Whoa,” I said.

Monroe smiled. “I take it you don’t drink good scotch.”

“I’m more of a quantity than quality kind of guy.”

He chuckled. “You’re missing out.”

“Apparently.” I glanced at the liquid, then up at Monroe. “Listen, Councilman, I appreciate the drink, but don’t want to eat up more of your evening. I’m sure you have a lot on your plate.”

“I do, but this opportunity to talk with you in private is fortuitous, so I’ve moved it to the top of my list.”

I frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Monroe swirled his drink, eyeing me. “What are you opinions about the way the Council has handled this whole rift situation?”

I hesitated, debating how honest I should be with the man. Aside from the occasional nod in the halls of HQ, Monroe was an unknown entity to me. Not to mention, I didn’t trust the average Councilmember to tie my shoes, much less share my inner thoughts.

But his question seemed leading, as if feeling me out. Considering the state of his son, I was willing to roll the dice that he’d appreciate brutal honesty over sugarcoated BS.

“It’s all one big, bureaucratic circus,” I admitted. “Your son was hurt because the Council delayed making a decision. Then they made the wrong one. My team was punished because the Elders wanted to save face.”

Monroe’s silence in the aftermath of my comments worried me. Had I made the wrong call about him? Did I just drive the nail in the coffin of my career? The thought of being drummed out of the Council once again terrified me.

“There is plenty of blame to go around,” he finally said. “But none of it deserves to be directed at your team. Every one of you should be commended for your actions. You in particular.”

I was uneasy with where this conversation was headed. “The team, yes.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Monroe countered. “From what I heard, you were instrumental in closing the rift, despite orders to the contrary. Suffice to say, your willingness to question authority rather than blindly follow it likely saved many lives. Who knows the damage those creatures might have caused if you hadn’t sent them back to where they came from?

“Leaders make decisions, Marcus,” he continued. “Good leaders have the courage to stand by those decisions, even when those around them question the actions in hindsight.”

Goosebumps ran up my back. “I’m not sure that applies to me.”

Monroe waved a dismissive hand. “Your willingness to stand up to the Council took courage. That has not gone unnoticed. Granted, you rub most of the Elders the wrong way, but change cannot happen without friction. And you, my friend, are going to cause a lot of friction in the years to come. When you do, the people who believe in you will be there to fight for you. Suffice to say, you have an ally in your camp. When the times comes, most likely in the near future,
I
will have your back.”

Red flags went up in the back of my mind. If these words were spoken to the wrong people, Monroe could be accused of plotting treason.

I smiled, trying to mask my discomfort. “With any luck, I won’t be on the Council.”

“That may not be of your choosing,” he said bluntly. “There’s a changing of the guard coming, whether the Elders like it or not. The old ways are dying out and we must either learn to modernize or we’ll simply fade away like morning fog. The days when men and women gloss over the ugliness of reality are numbered.”

That last comment caught my attention. I sat up. “Gloss over?”

Monroe sipped his drink. “How many times have you reported dangerous findings to the Council? Begged for more help with dealing with them?”

“Every time.” Anger bubbled to the surface as I thought about my past debriefs.

“Yet support has been reluctant and begrudging. Why?”

“Bureaucracy, I suppose. Or laziness.”

“What if it was something more intentional?” Monroe asked.

I thought of the lack of data Seamus and I had found. “Like maybe people don’t know what’s really going on?”

“Perhaps you’re more astute than people give you credit for. There are some of us on the Council who feel that we have been receiving filtered information.” Monroe peered at me. “Case in point, I demanded to see the incident report concerning Alistair’s injury, but have been stonewalled. Every request to R&D is met with red tape or a pathetic excuse about needing more time to compile the facts.”