Chapter Eight: Reminders of Others

 

Olivia immediately picked up my holocall—her perfect image sitting primly on the edge of my table with her arms crossed.

“Never hang up on me again,” she said.

“Right. Sorry, Liv.” I dragged a hand through my hair. It felt like days had passed. Maybe years upon which to put white in my hair. “I painted. Then there was another Awakening.”

She looked me over. Some of her embattled expression softened. “Yes. You relinquished control and let Dare's group take it, even if it was a bit rocky. I'm proud. Greyskull said the three made it back and checked out of Medical with permission. How are you?”

“I'm fine. Really.” Lies. “They are going to be caught, though. Constantine is going to get caught. You have to convince him to return.”

“We are all going to get caught,” Olivia said, bluntly. “And if you think anyone holds sway over Leandred but you, they need to check you for fever. What we do before we are caught is what counts.”

I shut my eyes hard. “Not helping.”

“You called the wrong person,” she said mercilessly. “If you want pleasantries and enabling, you should have called Nephthys or William.”

“I, yeah. Axer tagged the hunters. Any hits?”

“Of course, nearly twenty. The boys are tracking them now and logging everything. They’re looking for patterns and oddities.”

“That's good.” I ran my fingers along my brow. A step closer. “Axer does it far more efficiently than I do.”

“Of course, he does. He was born and raised for this,” Olivia said, crisply.

And the Department wanted him. Desperately. They'd do much to obtain him. And knowing he was out there for the taking? How long would it last? How long until the others were caught and tried for treason? Axer, for one, would never be incarcerated in a normal prison.

I tried to cap such thoughts from drowning me. “How's campus?”

Olivia gave a decisive nod. “Fine.”

The good thing about my exile was that the Department had to leave Excelsine mostly alone, now that I was no longer a registered student. They had worked too hard at pinning campus events on me to keep pinning anything to campus once I was gone.

Their internal media machine churned on ad nauseum about all the sympathizers I had there, but thankfully it wasn't yet illegal to like someone, so my friends were safe for the time being, as long as they stayed on campus. On the other hand, the Department was aggressively inferring that Marsgrove was complicit in my actions and therefore should be ousted.

Fortunately, Excelsine was under the purview of greater Europa, a collective government that was resistant to Department intervention, and Marsgrove had years of grabbing everyone by the balls.

“Fine, but on edge,” she clarified. “The vast majority of students support you, but there is a vocal minority who are doing exactly what you think they are doing. But Phillip gave us...some leeway in skirting the justice magic, even though it cost him. Patrick is having a terrific time.”

That gave me a smile. “What about you?”

“I don't know what you mean.” Her expression didn't change, but her eyes held a sadistic glow. “Inessa Norrissing is in Medical due to an unknown ailment. I'm studying. Finals are the week after next.”

Melancholy tugged at me. It seemed like only yesterday we were studying for winter exams.

“Marsgrove is keeping you safe?”

“Phillip is being a tyrant.”

I nodded in relief. That meant Olivia had tried to leave campus and been unable. It was the downside in being a ward of the school—or a muse of the school. Open campus or not, it made it nearly impossible to leave without permission. Such rules were a decided upside for me, though. Unlike Constantine, the slippery fish, Olivia and Neph couldn't just walk off to join me on suicidal ventures.

“How is Leandred?” Olivia asked.

“Angry, but physically fine. You just saw him.” Treating campus like the revolving door it was to no one else but him. Campus was open again—students could leave—but no one connected to me had taken the chance yet. Marsgrove had harshly stressed they shouldn't. The Department had eyes on all of them.

Constantine never followed any rules but his own, though. And his father held power Marsgrove did not.

Constantine was also very, very slippery.

She tilted her head. “On campus, he keeps mostly to himself still. Professor Stevens and Dare are the only ones who have continuous contact.”

Both powder kegs in different ways, both with unresolved issues.

She continued. “Leandred comes to strategy meetings, but only speaks if one of our plans is going to interfere with his own. And those plans, he never shares, so it is left to me to piece together what insanity he is brewing from the ideas that he strikes down. He has given each of us a number of things, though,” she said grudgingly. “Materials, properties, aides, enchantments. William sometimes goes over there to consult. Before he left, I saw Leandred trap a mage in the Midlands who tried to hex William—though William remains as oblivious as always.”

“Has Will been targeted?” I asked sharply.

“No more than anyone else, and there are...plenty of people who step in when his head is deep in a book or device. The combat mages, Greene especially, and all the Bandits are fond of him. And people continuously underestimate Michael when it comes to protecting his roommate. Then there's Nephthys to contend with. A muse on rampage thwarts many plans.”

The rest weren't a surprise, but—“The combat mages are helping?”

“Including Dare, when he's around, which is even less than Leandred. All for the better, really, since when we have a strategy meeting together...” She grimaced. “They rarely speak aloud to each other, but, it's obvious they are communicating, and well, there's no lack of tension.”

I couldn't contain a mirrored expression. “They've lived together for, what, two years, almost three? They work well together—seamlessly—when their goal is common.”

They'd be fine. If, in a few weeks, Axer really did leave campus to spirit us away, the boys would be...fine. Everyone would be fine.

I'd be arguing about not going to Itlantes, Constantine would be making evil, veiled threats at Axer, and Axer would probably handcuff us both and do whatever he planned.

Olivia shook her head. “I don't know what happened before you left... But it's like the two of them vehemently agree on one thing, but not something else, and that makes for...tension. A manifested type we can all feel.”

I rubbed my chest. “They have issues, and I have a feeling Dare is going to join us sooner rather than later.”

Something in the way he had looked at us made me certain of it.

“Good luck.”

“That's not funny.”

“It's not meant to be. Alexander Dare is as scary, ruthless, and untrustworthy as Leandred, but in far different ways. Lox has been fielding more and more responsibilities on campus, stepping in as the leader. Dare has plans for something. I trust those plans not. But at least Nephthys isn't giving Alexander Dare magic like she always gives Leandred.” Olivia looked resigned to the latter.

“You trust Constantine.”

“I trust his motives. There's a difference. So, where is he?”

“In one of the rooms off the atrium that we constructed with vortexes, golems, and whatever else he slips to the Ophidians on the side. I sent him to check in with his father and manipulate his golem publicly. I had to make a sealed vow that I was calling you and staying here, though.”

If there was an emergency, Constantine could release me from it, otherwise I was stuck during the duration of the vow. It was the only way I could get him to check the golem and keep himself safe.

Why had I ever, ever, let him talk me into creating a golem for him?

I pulled fingers along my forehead.

Because he had asked.

Loneliness.

Terrible life choices.

“Good.” Olivia’s smile was tight.

“No, not good. Stavros knows he's the one with me,” I said. “It's only a matter of time before undeniable proof outs him to the world. Rumors are growing. Wild ones.”

“No one ever says it too loudly, but there have long been whispers about Leandred's abilities. Both Leandreds. True Mind Magic is rare, and Constantine was privately tutored until Excelsine, but rumors circulated about his abilities even before.”

I frowned. “Yeah, I've seen the ability speculation reports. They are trying to stick the label on him to more easily arrest him and diminish his father's popularity.”

“Yes, well, there’s no way those ability reports are false,” she said bluntly.

I sighed. I knew more than most of what Constantine was capable. “Well, being in the spotlight doesn't help him stay under the radar.”

Olivia's expression sharpened. “That he is one of your companions has been a matter of public record since Bloody Tuesday. Leandred was unmasked in Corpus Sun, and the three of us emerged from the Midlands together. Stavros can't do anything other than trail conspiracy theories, though. Not unless something drastic occurs, like Leandred showcasing magic that only he can create. We established precedence during the rescue for all three of us—four, including Dare—that Stavros will implicate all of us in his lies to gain control of you. That the Department attempted to trap you falsely.”

“Stavros's traps are getting harder to evade.”

And his smiles... Those smiles haunted me—like a man who knew he was going to win. A man who enjoyed playing the cat and mouse game, testing out pawns just to watch them flounder while he baited the trap. I sent her an album of memories: his smugness, his bravado, his traps, his displeasure.

After she examined the images with her detailed mind, she looked up at me, frowning. “You painted and were overflowing with magic. He would have sensed that, so he activated an Awakening, hoping you would make a mistake.”

“And I'm going to.” I pulled a hand over my mouth. “I feel invincible in the moment, but when I have a chance to think...” The rage was far more concerning, because it was always there, waiting. “I know every new move is a preface to something worse. And I'm playing against someone who anticipates my moves and mistakes.”

Olivia leaned forward. “Whatever his magic, this is part of his gift. He rose to power by successfully manipulating those around him until they revolved solely around his gravitational field. His words are as damaging as the magic he possesses. That is the danger of Enton Stavros. That is the danger in dancing to his tune.”

I could hear what she wasn't saying, of how her mother manipulated people in the same way, of how she too had once bloodied her feet trying to please Helen Price.

I moved restlessly. “How do I not dance?”

“Everyone dances.” Olivia stared at the wall, then looked back at me. “Figure out a way to change the tune. Create a new song.” Feelings of love, companionship, and desperation wound through me, and even the holographic interface couldn't dim their projected strength.

I thought of Liam's beautiful music. “The new mages have wonderful gifts. I can't let them be extinguished.”

Can't allow them to be left broken and emptied in the concrete casket of an abandoned lot.

“You won't. That is why others are aiding in their rescues.”

“I...want to be the one to save them,” I said, admitting it for a second time, with just as much difficulty.

“Of course, you do,” she said in the brisk way she said all things she found fact, but her holographic fingers gently touched my hair. “And you are. For you are identifying each and sending a team to keep them safe. Focus on that.”

“The Awakenings are my fault, in a different way than the media reports claim, but true all the same.”

“Any who say so are idiots.”

“They aren't wrong.”

A pause. “No,” she said. “But the fault is not an active one and they should not place the responsibility on you.”

I smiled crookedly. “It's ironic how things don't seem to work that way.”

“Pay no attention to fools.” She sniffed, making me smile for real. “You may not have called your enablers, but you did call your strategist and the most intelligent of our mad bunch. I believe in you.”

My throat suddenly felt clogged. “I miss you.”

I wish you were here, but I'm so happy you are not.

Olivia looked older suddenly, and sad. “I miss you, too. Come home soon.”

“I want to. I want to come home.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Ori flew in melancholy dips around the room, as if feeling the emotion. Guard Rock's pencil was resting across his knees, rock tilted toward where Guard Friend would be.

We sat there, holographically clutching each other, and I was angry suddenly, so angry that I was here. That I had been forced into this exile, away from that which I held dear.

She clutched at me with sure, shaking hands in the optically counterfeit enclosure of space.

“Don't go out anymore, even if you are needed,” she said into my hair.

“I can't not go.”

Her grip tightened. “I know.”

~*~

There were nine more Awakenings in half as many days. We were far more prepared for them, though, and for Stavros’s tricks. With Constantine’s help—and a small leech—I used his magic to overlay mine, and I quickly figured out how to decipher the coordinates without even leaving the turret for the last six Awakenings.

All nine new mages were spirited to safety by the combat mages. Even Camille Straught had given me a sharp holographic nod at the smoothly run procedure we were developing.

My guilt over not going on the rescues quickly gave way to the comfort of victory.

None of it assuaged the public’s concern over the increasing numbers, though.

A Department press conference had been scheduled to publicly address the increased “trouble” in the layers.

I turned on the news feeds, engaging an enchantment I had learned from Bellacia that allowed me to access ten different feeds and source them for similarities and differences. It was an efficient way to glean facts from opinions and note information that needed further investigation. Front and center was the majority feed highlighting all the points that the ten primary sources agreed on, even if they were couched in political leanings one way or the other—the spell stripped them down to the basics. t Floating off to the sides were the editorialized pieces, ranging from vastly amusing to downright infuriating.

Gradually the printed text and photos faded and a live feed featuring footage of Excelsine rolled in the background.

“With the increased number of mages aiding the Origin Mage at the Awakenings, abettors and sympathizers have been identified within the Excelsine community, and have been added to the Watch List, to which Dean Phillip Marsgrove, former Red Arm of Central Intelligence, reacted with vehemence.”

Marsgrove, in all his pinstriped glory stood in front of one of the flags on Top Circle. “To label fifteen students as terrorist sympathizers simply because they were classmates is both negligent and criminal. The Department is using any means necessary to achieve their directive of placing Ren Crown under their control. Take heed, the next one on their list might be you.”

The background image then switched to a panel of reporters waiting for the Department press conference to commence.

The news anchor continued, “The statements were met with split reactions among the public at large, and are very much aligned along political lines. Greater Europa, a bastion of progressive ideals—or a fetid pool of anarchy, depending on one’s perspective—has sided against the Department's edicts, as usual. But they only carry the support of thirty percent of the other countries, territories, principalities, and domains in the Second Layer. Support is wavering among the middle thirty percent that identifies as intermediaries, especially in light of these most recent attacks and the real concerns that an Origin Mage can upset the balance of our layers and world.”

“We will interrupt our broadcast when officials begin the press conference. In other troubling news, the Library Bank has confirmed that four more of its deadliest tomes have been stol—”

The feeds abruptly ended with a sweep of Constantine’s hand. “Stop listening to the trash, darling.”

“It begins,” I murmured, touching the device in my pocket without letting my thoughts dwell upon what it was.

“Or it ends.” He twirled his ribbon.

“You need to check your golem again.”

“Later,” he said blandly.

Other than the half hour I’d talked to Olivia days before, he hadn’t left me alone. And he hadn’t gone to check on his spells unless I accompanied him—like he was afraid I’d take the moment to run.

“I need to finish this.” I pointed at the half-crafted rune in my journal.

“I’ll wait.”

“You are stretching it on the spells.”

I cleared my mind of the device and let only feelings of exasperation remain. He’d been sticking to me like magic glue. I couldn’t even have nightmares without him waking up first. “I’ve been downright boring in the last few days. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Same.”

I sighed and pricked my finger, rubbing it on a seal near the door. “I swear to remain in this room for the next hour, or until you return, whichever comes first—unless you release me from this promise—I so do vow.”

He tapped his fingers together, watching me through narrowed eyes, but the vow was solid. He was hooked into the wards enough to know it. He unfolded from his chair and I felt the brief touch of his thoughts. I reiterated the promise, thinking of the drawings that I needed to do.

He slipped through the door.

I watched the compound’s wards and waited for him to descend the stairs, enter the atrium, and call up his first spell, before I activated the device in my pocket that only one person knew I possessed.

The pressroom bloomed around me in full hologram.

Shelle Fanning, the public relations speaker for the Department, was still the PR head, but a hawkish woman named Morven Jance had replaced her on the podium. Shelle Fanning was the softer side of the Department. Morven Jance was the predator, the aggressor stamping out all dissidence.

In the holographic viewing room, Jance watched the reporters' feeds and holos with a combative gaze, daring them to speak against her. “There was container evidence at the scene. The evidence suggests the Crown girl is taking their magic.”

A reporter looked visibly disturbed by this—his image flickering—but said, “But why? She has plenty of magic at her disposal already.”

I walked my mental projection slowly around the hologram figures, taking in the live images as the magic allowed. It was like being a specter in a manse. I could see and observe, and walk between, but not affect the interactions—all while never leaving the safety of my tower.

“Who knows how a broken mind works. We all know that Origin Mages can't be trusted to know their own minds. It's common knowledge. Fact. The facts cannot be dismissed. The girl is a danger to everyone around her. She must be brought in safely, so we can keep our layer, our lives, intact.”

“With all due respect, Secretary Jance, we haven't verified that—”

“Are you saying that you want this layer destabilized? That you think terrorist actions, which hers surely are, are justified?”

“No, of course—”

“We need to return our world to the stable one it was before she Awakened. Terrorist activity rose with her Awakening. It's become a world problem. When will this stop?”

The reporter changed tactics. “Terrorist activity has steadily been on the rise for years. Yes, it rose with her Awakening, but it was already ris—”

“It rose with her. This is an absolute fact that you just agreed with. Next question.”

Another journalist jumped in. “If she is unstoppable, how can you stop her?”

“She's a girl. Young. She has powers that are dangerous if left in her hands, but, ultimately, that won't be a problem. She won't stand up to the might of the Department. No one does.”

“So, is she powerful or weak? You do understand your message is confusing, and one might say that you are using political tactics that—”

“Get her now—contain her—we all win. Let her continue her destruction, all will suffer. I hear every day from people who are scared. Mages who want the suffering to end. Everyone agrees. Next question.”

Jance was relentless and unwavering in her condemnation of me, mowing over all who began to express an opposing viewpoint.

“Not good, dear roommate,” a new voice lilted.

I looked to the side. Bellacia's specter was standing next to me. Media spells were interesting when connected to frequencies. She and I had set up a weekly chat—with me using the frequency feigner in my pocket that identified me as Burt Watson, Second Layer Inspector. We had met twice in these holographic press conferences where privacy spells allowed anyone to be a fly on the wall.

“I wasn't sure you would be participating,” I said. “I am here for the...pain of it, I guess.”

“Daddy has me on other, more devious assignments. I need to separate myself from the appearance of misjudgment. But I plan to be in the thick of it soon, when I see the way the wind blows.”

My fingers tightened into fists. The direction was decidedly not in my favor. “I thought you'd want to be the one blowing the wind.”

“There's a time and place. Timing is so delicate. And right now, war is brewing, Ren,” she said.

“I'm not the one brewing it.”

“No. But you are the one in the thick of it, and that's a powerful and dangerous place to be. What will you do?”

I looked at the crowd. Stavros and his press secretaries had many of the media personnel already under their thumbs. But they didn't have all of them.

“I don't know,” I whispered. I was out of my element in this way, spinning webs and manipulating events. “What can I do?”

She looked at me, cat eyes slitting. “There were others with you at today's event.”

I didn't respond.

She hummed. “If your magic registers in the First Layer, Prestige Stavros has received permission and been given emergency powers for the praetorians to be there as well. There is no reason for him to end those powers, and every reason for him to extend them.” She walked around me, scenting prey. “They are blaming you for the event. But it’s fascinating that I noticed a blip in Alexander Dare’s presence on campus just prior to the event. I didn’t report it, of course, and most people don't have my observational skills, but do be more careful. Though they are so very careful, combat mages have a certain...style they can't hide.”

I closed my eyes in resignation.

“Quite a burden, my observation, because it would make a strong story—the defection of powerful mages who were pledged to the safety of our layer. But with Camille caught in the crosshairs... And, you. You are such a thorn sometimes, dear one. With the scent of the strongest story dangling from your precious fingers. The other must be relegated to a piece for the right time.”

“And you'll choose the right time.”

She shrugged delicately. “You need me to choose. Deceit is not your skill.”

Pictures of all the feral Awakened mages in the past six months flashed on screen—the ones I had rescued, and the ones I’d had no chance to save. “I just want to help.”

She tapped her curved lip. “I know your intentions. The problem is that only those who have been touched by you do.”

I looked at the hologram of Stavros giving a refined, fatherly speech about protection and action. Protection and action against me, the world’s ultimate villain.

“But if we bring her under our protection, think of the good she could do. She needs guidance and a firm hand controlling her magic,” he said paternally. He was a master of grandstanding and self-promotion.

Bellacia watched his speech, switching her sharp gaze back to me. “You possess the ultimate story. You are where the lines lead. What headline will carve your epitaph?”

I watched Stavros’s talented dance. I had no answer that didn’t end with the world.