Chapter Twenty-eight: Reprisal

 

The other members of the Council who had started to array themselves against Stavros were missing as well. The public uproar was immediate, fierce, and terrified. But the Department worked above all the countries in the Second Layer. And while the countries were scrambling, emergency appointments to the Council were made—all by the Prestige—and went into immediate effect.

“How can he do this?”

“Can he do this?”

“How have we never realized that was a power the Prestige could wield?” the media pundits said.

Within minutes of their appointments, the new Council was already sending people to find and move the Awakening containers.

We had no time left.

The first domino was flicked.

Stevens and Greyskull fell to coordinated strikes that left all within the blast range in a comatose state. The duplicitous spells took down fifteen teachers, twelve staff, and ninety students. Ramirez was one of the students, Lifen and Asafa, two of the others. Most of the victims were connected to us in some way.

Their bodies were moved to Medical and quarantined. Junior Department members slipped inside and recorded all the bodies, and gleefully spread the news and recordings. I had never seen Camille look grimmer as she watched people she had been friends with celebrate the attack.

Ramirez was laid out next to Stevens and Greyskull. They looked perfectly preserved in their inert states.

Listening to frequencies, Dagfinn reported that multiple students were claiming to the Department that they had been in on the plan. Loudon carefully took down their names. But it was Inessa Norrissing who'd been the one to spring the trap. She had secretly confessed to one of her conspirators over a “secured” frequency that she'd been given the spell by an unnamed source.

We all knew who the source was.

“Inessa always was a bit of dullard,” Olivia said scathingly.

We were all on edge.

Chancellor Barrie closed Medical to all but those with medical needs. No visitors, no guests. And the ward with our friends was put under quarantine.

“So, it begins,” Olivia said, putting a last piece into play.

Marsgrove disappeared from campus a scant ten minutes before the enforcers arrived to carry out the arrest warrant issued by the new Council.

The Council couldn't do anything about Medical—hospital regulations were tied into the fabric of society like Justice Magic. The Medical ward would stay closed until quarantine was lifted.

But they could force Chancellor Barrie to open the school's borders. Anyone could now leave.

It was a victory for all those in league with the Department.

They didn't know it would be their doom.

“Everything is moving fast,” Dagfinn said, fingers and magic flying. “No dithering, no more set up, they won't draw things out and neither can we. Both good and bad for us. We have reached go time.”

“We still need to find Mussolgranz. We were expecting him at Darpin Sloughs. And he hasn't touched the doll.”

“Do we need him?”

“He's an outli—”

“He has the cure,” Patrick argued, coiled and irritable. Alone now, it was apparent how much Patrick relied on Asafa. I had never seen them apart before. Patrick was gripping his pocket where I had seen him put the glasses Asafa had been making.

“We don't know—”

Patrick leaned forward. “If this all goes tits up, I want that cure. Stavros offered it to Crown. He offered it attached with a vow. We are getting that cure.”

Mike watched from the side, also white knuckled.

Olivia looked at Patrick, expression grim. “Yes. But it's secondary. You know that.” It took effort for her to say it.

Patrick's face darkened for a moment, then smoothed out. “Got it, Your Majesty.”

Olivia looked down, and for a moment I thought Patrick was going to drop the facade and comfort her, but he held firm, role chosen.

“What if Mussolgranz is already with Stavros?”

“In those who care little for others, power shares only while it remains convenient.”

I nodded. “Raphael said Stavros prefers to remain alone, kept company only by those he's working on.”

“So Mussolgranz is hiding somewhere separately.”

“With his scalpel and dubious grasp on morality.”

“In a place where he can use them.”

We exchanged looks. “Spartine.”

I closed my eyes.

“Part of Spartine is a research facility that conducts tests on the prisoners who are never leaving. You must have a specific clearance to enter the labs. And that clearance is controlled by the Prestige of the Department.”

We exchanged glances.

“Good place for Mussolgranz to be now that the Basement is gone,” I admitted, shoulders slumping.

“Good place for Mussolgranz to be,” he concurred.

“Someone needs to tag the waterfront there.”

Everyone looked around with the same ill feeling descending. The combat mages were currently making certain Medical was locked down.

“O'Leary and Givens, that one's yours,” Axer said, almost distractedly, gaze firmly on the prison schematics.

Everyone looked at the pair. My heart rate skyrocketed.

They need this, Axer sent me mentally, soothing some of my panic. O'Leary's been on the edge of madness for days.

Patrick's eyes had gone dark as soon as the news about Medical had come through and Mike was tight-lipped. Will was barely keeping it together whenever he looked at his roommate.

But—

You have to let everyone do their part. Axer sent another soothing stroke to soften the words.

“Mike—” Will was fretting again.

Patrick smirked. There was a lot of darkness in it. “Don't worry, Tasky. Givens and I got this.”

Will looked uneasy. “Why don't you let me—”

“Nah. You'd try saving the puppies, too. Ain't got time for puppies, Tasky. Only marks.” His language had increasingly included a lot of odd quirks over the past few hours—shedding one skin to put on another.

“But—”

Patrick stepped over to him, eyes steely. “You get caught, it's game over. The weapon only you and Crown can carry? Going to need that.” Patrick's eyes went empty. “Besides, I need to be a hero too, right? Givens and I will do it. Say your goodbyes, Givens.”

A flash of cold swept through me.

Dark determination—of two different kinds—flashed across both of their faces. Mike grabbed the back of Will's neck. “It will be okay. I'm the master at hail. We'll be back in no time. I'll even let you skim the room when we are back on campus. Maybe we'll find my shorts.”

Delia was looking at the ground, unwilling to watch. Neph tugged her into her arms.

Patrick looked back at me. “See you on the flipside, Crown. If we don't see you before...well then, you kill Stavros for us, you hear?”

~*~

And like Stuart Leandred, Mike and Patrick never returned.

 

“They aren't dead,” Neph said, one arm around Will, one hand on my knee.

“O’Leary broke the vow,” Constantine said, looking at the threads he held. “He broke his connections.”

We all exchanged grim looks.

Inside the library during our last hour, we traded in our separate tables for one large one, our numbers more than halved. The mood was tense as we waited.

 

“Stuart Leandred and his entire inner circle were pronounced missing earlier today. Sources say that they went on a call to attempt to bring his son and the Origin Mage back in line, but that they never returned. Speculation is that they were obliterated by the Origin Mage at the Leandred scion's request. Sources who knew Constantine Leandred at Excelsine say that his relationship with his father grew even worse over the last few months when he showed an interest in Ren Crown.”

 

I stared at the Department feed, numb.

Constantine roughly shoved his papers to the side. “Stop listening to that. You didn't do it. I called him.”

I looked up at him. I didn't say anything, just sent my emotions—sadness, horror, love—at him. He shuddered and dropped his elbows to the desk, roughly rubbing his fingers through his hair.

“I've hated him forever. Seven years out of nineteen is a long time to hate.”

I didn't say anything, just continued to offer my support in a steady stream of emotion, leaning in to press my arm against his. What could I say? That his father loved him? That he wouldn't blame his son? That he had worked to try to be a better man, but that didn't mean Constantine had to forgive him for what he had done?

Constantine shuddered again and let his head drop on top of mine. “It doesn't matter.”

It very obviously mattered. And dealing with death was an intimate part of my existence now. But in this, I had no words. Only comfort.

 

“As opposed to the lies being spread by the Department, Stuart Leandred had delivered a number of damaging and destructive reports mere seconds before his untimely disappearance. The Department immediately tried to hush them, but they were released to public frequencies and spread too quickly. Public fervor is starting to lean heavily toward Stuart Leandred's disappearance being a conspiracy led by the Prestige. Ironically, Department sources are trying to claim the Origin Mage's involvement. But every damning piece of evidence had to do with the Prestige and those close to him. The hunt for the Origin Mage's capture has accelerated. Some, however, are advocating a trial now, a stark contrast from—”

 

“The Department can't control it. The media is turning,” Olivia said from across the table as we all determinedly finished our last pieces of work. “Wide public opinion will be next.”

“Yes,” Axer said. I could see his magic combining with mine to twirl around Constantine.

“Bellacia is unraveling the web. Stavros has been the one running the anti-feral sentiment. He is the one who seeded it into magicist circles most strongly. It boosted the magicist agenda, which has always been about protecting one’s own people.” Olivia flipped a page. “And they don't like to be hoodwinked. They will serve him up. He's not going to wait. This is it.”

I scrolled through Constantine’s illegal confidence game device—Five Man Act, Old Man and a Firebrand, Three Man Sneak, Treacherous Don, Center Fitting, Scope of Tears, Death in a Style…

Axer leaned over and his finger flipped the list to technical gambits. He tapped one highlighting “Drill Sandwich” and it popped up a complicated series of images and specs. “This one. We’ll need your friend Dagfinn working with other darkcomm mages.”

“The labs will be gone. He’ll have to take you to where he is.”

“But he’ll have other measures in place there. Higher forms of control. He’s a sociopathic empath. He’ll know exactly what to use.”

“And he’ll rely on it.”

“That’s part of the problem with taking over the world,” Olivia said. “In order to think you can do it, you have to believe you can. And it means you approach the tipping point where confidence becomes overconfidence.”

I scanned the schematics for Spartine, running over the plan one more time.

“There are five possible paths,” Axer said. “The two for low security are less relevant. We aren't going to be looking for footpads and embezzlers. The middle tier sends to an interesting web. But the two for high security lead to a set of paths that interconnect. Level 5 will be individual cells with complete nullification parameters. Level 4, however, is for prisoners being manipulated mentally and allows for low level spells. Because the mage is trapped by the mind, a regulation of magics and a few enchantments to make the mage more comfortable are allowed.”

I looked away. “Like making the air cooler and the pillow softer? With enough food and water available?”

His piercing gaze pinned me until I looked back. “Yes,” he said resolutely, but gently.

“Do you think this will work?” Will murmured.

“It has to,” I said.

The library shuddered around us—slowly at first, then it started to pick up speed, shaking with magic. The books took flight like a thousand crows lifting from a field. Universal Motes solemnly landed in front of me.

I swallowed and closed my eyes. “He's begun.”

The time for planning was over. Stavros was initiating the first cull.

I opened my eyes and looked at the tense, beloved faces around me. “As soon as we leave the library and temporal field, we'll have twenty minutes. I went over the pattern with the books—once started, it takes about twenty minutes to complete the magic he will use.”

Twenty minutes for Stavros to wipe out twenty million people.

“I can’t start my part until he completes the setting of the grid. Which will equate to five minutes’ passage outside,” I said, trusting in math instead of falling to terror.

“We have to be in position by then.” Axer looked at Olivia.

Olivia lifted her chin. “I'm ready. I've been ready for this since the day of my emancipation.”

“Ren?”

I felt the shuddering of the library. Inside we had minutes to spare that we would not have outside of it. “Valeris let his power get out of control,” I murmured. “Kinsky let his power get under control. Valeris was too strong in his grip on the powers available to him, Kinsky too weak.”

I touched the journal. “Kinsky wanted a quiet life. A life with his projects. A life with the girl.”

I looked at Valeris’s beautiful temporal library and the palace beyond. “Valeris wanted progress and prosperity for the world.”

“Ren?”

What did I want?

If I had been asked what I wanted before, it would have been safety, security, and happiness, for those I loved. But to ignore the cost, or to ignore what happened to people outside of my family and friends was something I could no longer do. The world was greater than my circle.

Sacrifice.

My fingers drew along the edge of the journal. “It all comes back to that. For what happens to a Kinsky or Valeris or Crown without a tether? Without a center? And so… What does Ren Crown choose? Does she choose to keep her family and friends safe, or does she choose to save the world? For the saving of one is at the cost of the other. If I’m on my own, I lose my humanity, but if I’m surrounded by those I love, I thrust those I love into the center of the storm.”

“Trust in your friends’ choices,” Axer said.

I tilted my head. “I do. Of course, I do. And yet, deep down, I lose my drive to do anything except protect all of you when circumstance strikes.”

“Find a way.”

I smiled. “Do better?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “You always do. So, trust in us to do our part. That we are not pawns for you to protect.”

“I’ve been told I’m terrible with pawns.” I touched the threads at my elbow.

“You are too good with them. That is the problem.”

“Each of us has a reason we are here, Ren. And you made certain that everyone connected to you would make their own choice. Even Verisetti, with the truth spell addition, can choose not to use the connection.”

What does Ren Crown choose?

“Yes,” I whispered. “I'm ready.”

We gathered our supplies. The books arrayed in two long lines, watching us solemnly as we left.

Universal Motes blinked, and I gave it a small bow.

Then we all walked up the stairs and out into Valeris' palace.