Thirty-Four
Harley
Reeling from the news we’d just received, I half-staggered out of Alton’s office. It didn’t feel real. How could he have betrayed us like that? I understood the motives, I really did, but there had to have been another way he could’ve gone about it. Yeah, we’d saved the children and he’d made the deal to protect Astrid, and I was so happy that we had, but what did that mean now? Katherine had managed to wrap Alton around her little finger and gotten everything she wanted out of it. Hell, she’d probably been one step ahead of him the whole time. If he’d even tried to stop the spy from leaving, I had no doubts in my mind that Katherine would already have had a contingency plan in place. She didn’t do things halfway.
More to the point, who’s the replacement going to be? Alton had clearly done a bad thing, but what if we were burdened with someone who wasn’t as forgiving as Alton was? I had a spell to steal and an undercover trip to New Orleans to take, to speak with some Voodoo practitioners about Sanguine spells, not to mention the sly visit to Purgatory I’d need to undertake. For that, I needed a director with a bit of leniency, who wouldn’t kick me out the minute they found out why I’d done these things.
With talk of Katherine’s rituals still barging about in my head, I pushed the idea of New Orleans, Purgatory, and Nomura to one side for now. I’d come right back to it, given the urgency of magic pooling into me, but there was another person I needed to speak with first. Remington Knightshade. If he knew about the rituals, then he was our man. Now, more than ever, we needed to cut Katherine off before she could get to ritual number two… whatever that was.
“Astrid, wait up!” I called. She was walking slowly down the side of the hallway, her head dipped.
She turned sluggishly. “Oh, hey, Harley.”
“Can you believe that?” I gasped, running a hand through my hair. “Alton making deals with Katherine. I can’t even wrap my head around it. What was he thinking?”
“He wanted to save me. I think he wanted to be heroic, even though Katherine does what she wants regardless.”
“Yeah, well, it hasn’t ended well,” I murmured.
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Did you try and talk him out of leaving?”
“No.”
“So, you’re cool with it?
She smiled. “I feel the same as all of you. Although, a small part of me is sort of proud. I didn’t think he’d give up the directorship for anything, but it looks like he’s attempting to do the right thing, to make up for his mistakes.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I said. “I guess he could have kept it a secret from us, and none of us would have known.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not angry with him, by the way,” she said.
“No, me neither.” I glanced sideways at her, taking in her fatigued features. I could still feel that odd, gaping void, where emotions should have been. “How are you, anyway?”
“Fine.”
I frowned. “I mean, how are you really? I didn’t want to say anything, but I know something’s up. I can… uh, feel it, sort of.”
Astrid’s eyes widened. “You can?”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to reach out for your emotions, and I wasn’t prying, but I just felt this weird… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like there’s a—”
“Missing piece inside me?”
“I guess you could describe it like that.”
She nodded, with a half-smile. “I’ve been pretending to everyone that I’m okay, but I feel anything but,” she said softly. “I think I came back wrong, with something missing. I was wrenched out of wherever I was, and when Alton pulled me back into the real world, a bit got left behind. Judging by how I feel, it was an important bit. Most of the time, I just feel empty and heavy, but when I close my eyes, I see a black void and there are voices in it, calling to me.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart broke for her. As if dying wasn’t bad enough, she was now having to deal with all this creepy stuff. As per usual, she was trying to put a brave face on it, but I could tell she was broken by this.
“I don’t really know how I’m going to get through all of this,” she admitted.
I stopped mid-step and whirled her around, holding her by the shoulders. “We’ll be here for you, no matter what. When it gets bad, you can count on us to do everything we can to cheer you up, and keep things feeling normal. And if we can’t cheer you up, we’ll just be there for you. I know it’ll be weird without your dad here, but you’ve still got the rest of us hanging around like bad smells. We aren’t going anywhere. Even Garrett will be around—he just won’t be hanging with us so often. All these changes are bound to make you feel strange and have bad thoughts, but we’ll be here to help you through it. I promise. And if this new director tries to get too high-and-mighty, changing everything up, they’ll have the whole Rag Team to deal with.”
“Without Garrett, though, like you said,” she murmured.
“He’ll come back around, I know he will. And anyway, him leaving the team doesn’t change his feelings about you. He’s totally smitten,” I said. “You should have seen him yesterday, when he thought you were gone. I thought he might have smashed the barrier between heaven and earth with his bare hands, if it would have brought you back. He adores you.”
“Maybe.” Her tone was oddly flat. “What do you think they’re talking about in there?”
I glanced back at Alton’s office. “I think they’re having one last tête-à-tête before the Mage Council sends Alton’s replacement. I guess they’ve got a lot to discuss after the whole body cam fiasco.” An idea came to me. “Hey, while they’re hashing out their issues, why don’t you come with me to visit Remington? He’s got the goods about the rituals, and we need information more than ever.”
She paused for a moment, before nodding. “Okay… I guess that would be a good distraction.”
I flashed her an overenthusiastic smile. “Excellent. Then let’s get our mirror on and go and pay old Remy a visit. Speaking of which—do you know where we can find him?”
A genuine laugh rippled from her throat, startling me. “I do.”
In a companionable, if slightly eerie, silence, we made our way to the Assembly Hall and stepped through the mirror to the farthest left. I hadn’t been through this one before, though I wasn’t sure if the mirrors only went to one place, or if the locations could be changed. A moment later, we arrived in a strange underground hallway that looked like it had been carved out of rock, reminding me of a fairy glen or a grotto. Glowing lights flickered in their rocky recesses. A small desk sat to one side, with a bored-looking male receptionist staring at us in surprise. I guess you don’t get many visitors, huh?
“And who might you be?” he asked.
“We’ve come from the San Diego Coven to speak with Remington Knightshade.” I flashed Astrid a look. “Apparently, he’s here?”
“Does he know you’re coming?”
I shrugged. “Sort of. Tell him it’s to do with Dylan Blight.”
“But it isn’t,” Astrid whispered.
“Two birds, one stone. I’ve been meaning to talk to him about Dylan, too.”
Astrid frowned. “About them being related?”
“You think so too?”
“No idea, but I’ve seen the way he looks at Dylan, like he’s a lost puppy or something.”
The receptionist cleared his throat. “When you’ve stopped chattering amongst yourselves, might I ask your names? We rarely get visitors here at the SFC, so this is most unorthodox.” So, what do you do all day if you’ve got no one to greet? I imagined him with his phone out, playing endless games of Candy Crush.
“SFC?” I whispered to Astrid.
“San Francisco Coven. Right now, we’re under Alcatraz.”
“Under it?” I gasped.
She nodded. “The architects liked the isolation.”
“Names?” the receptionist barked in exasperation.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Harley Merlin and Astrid Hepler,” I replied, putting on my most saccharine smile.
“Thank you,” he huffed, before picking up the phone and dialing a number. He turned his face away, casting us furtive looks as he spoke to someone on the other end. Remington, presumably. I didn’t understand all the cloak-and-dagger routine, but maybe spending days on end in this dank, dark room under Alcatraz could do that to a person.
“We good to go?” I asked, as he put the phone down.
“Mr. Knightshade will come and collect you shortly.” He spun his chair around and faced the wall, paying us no attention whatsoever. Had it not been for the glowing lights, all I’d have been able to see of him would’ve been the blue screen of his phone glaring up at his face.
Five minutes later, footsteps approached from the far end of the rock-hewn hallway. Remington appeared beneath the strip lights like a villain in a Bond movie, all long coat and gruff demeanor. The tattoos that curved up the side of his neck added to his bad-guy image, though I kind of liked them. I’d always wanted a tattoo but had never known what to get. He frowned at us as he approached, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You wanted to speak to me?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”
“I’m not the substitute director, if that’s what you’re here to find out.”
“No, no, we wanted to talk to you about something a little more sensitive than that,” I replied, keeping my answer vague and intriguing. “It’s to do with Dylan… and some of your research.”
He eyed us curiously. “Well, I guess I can spare twenty minutes. Follow me.”
We trailed him down a network of equally ethereal corridors, with quaint wooden doors branching off from each one, until we reached a doorway at the end of a short hallway. His name was written on a plaque to the side. After touching the door handle and speaking a quiet couple of words, the door opened, with him ushering us inside before he stepped into the room. The space beyond was beautiful and cozy, with bookcases nestled into the bare rock walls, flickering sconces, and a fire roaring on the left-hand side, while a porthole window looked out on San Francisco Bay. Nice digs.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about? You mentioned Dylan?” he asked, as he took a seat behind a varnished black desk. Astrid and I sat on the other side, positioning ourselves awkwardly in the high-backed leather chairs. These kinds of seats seemed to be all the rage for the high-and-mighty of the magical order. Alton had a pair, and I was sure Imogene would have a cream pair.
“Yeah, we were kind of wondering what your deal with him was,” I said. “Are you related or something? He can’t see it, but I can sense the way you feel about him, as if you have some connection to him.”
Remington sighed and sat back in his chair. “I’m not ready to tell him yet. I want him to come to his own conclusions.”
“How is he supposed to do that? You’ll keep asking him questions, and he’ll keep answering them, and neither of you will make any progress,” Astrid cut in.
“It’s a sensitive subject,” Remington said defensively.
“Are you his dad?” I guessed.
“No.”
“Then what?” I pressed.
Remington looked torn. “If I tell you, you must promise not to say a word to Dylan. Let me break the news to him—I don’t want him to hear it from you.”
“I promise,” Astrid and I chorused.
“Well… I’m his uncle. His father was my brother. I’ve been looking for him for a long time, but children’s services changed his name, and wouldn’t tell me where they were putting him. I was in with a bad crowd for a while, when I was much, much younger, and the authorities didn’t trust my lengthy rap sheet. I wanted to take him out of there, but they wouldn’t let me,” he explained. “And now, I don’t know how to tell him. He must be so angry, at being left there.”
My heart swelled. It wasn’t often that us foster kids actually ended up being wanted. “Why did he get left there in the first place?”
“Dylan’s mom died from complications, after a routine surgery,” he went on. “My brother never recovered, and… well, he delivered Dylan to the orphanage and killed himself afterwards. He jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge.”
My swollen heart broke in an instant. “Oh, my God…”
“That’s awful,” Astrid said, in her odd, flat voice. “Poor Dylan.”
“Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Dylan. As you can see, it’s a delicate topic, and I want to be able to broach it in the right way. I need to figure out how I’m going to tell him, and when. I’ll do it—I just need more time.”
I nodded. “We can do that. But you’ve got to tell him, okay? There’s nothing worse for a foster kid than thinking they have nobody in the world. Sure, he’ll be angry at his dad for that, but it’s better that he knows.”
“I will tell him, I promise,” Remington said quietly. “Now, you said you had another point of business?”
“Yes, we came across an old thesis of yours in the SDC’s library,” I began, covering my Empathy toward Dylan with proactivity. “And we wanted to know if you could help us gather some information on the Children of Chaos. More specifically, how one might go about becoming one, if they wanted to. Not me, but someone very powerful—Katherine Shipton. You might’ve heard of her.” I cast him a sarcastic look, which made him smile. However, it quickly turned to a frown.
“I was wondering where that thesis went. I have no idea how it ended up in the SDC, but at least someone has found it,” he replied thoughtfully. “You came to the right man. I’ve been working on theorems for many years now. In truth, I did not think it within Katherine’s realm of possibility to even attempt it, but it’s a subject that has interested me for a long time. I thought it best to study the practicalities, in case anyone ever tried to become a Child of Chaos. It’s pretty exciting stuff, to be honest. I always wondered, personally, what it might be like to be one. I’d never try it, of course, but it’s always a curious topic to think about.” He turned his face toward the firelight, his eyes fixed.
“Where did you get all of this information, if you don’t mind me asking?” I asked tentatively. “We’ve searched a bunch of places and couldn’t find anything.”
He smiled. “I studied for a long time with a woman called Odette. She was a remarkable woman, with the most powerful Clairvoyance abilities I have ever seen. Her memory was beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed, too—it was like a library in that head of hers.”
My eyes widened. “Wait, are you talking about the Librarian?”
“There were some who called her by that nickname, though I’d forgotten that. Yes, the Librarian. She hated it. Anyway, she has fallen into legend, somewhat, but she knew more about everything in the magical world than anyone I’ve ever come across, the Children of Chaos included. I haven’t spoken to her in a long while, but that’s where much of my intel came from. She knows everything there is to know about every spell in the world… including rituals that might help a person become a Child of Chaos. I’m sure of it. She never showed me any of those, but, if Katherine’s got her sights on the task, then Odette must know a way to accomplish it.”
“And if Katherine had your friend, Odette?” I said bluntly.
He looked up in alarm. “Does she?”
“We have reason to believe so, which is why we need your help on this,” I replied.
Astrid nodded. “For starters, do you know of a way we might stop Katherine?”
He was silent for a while, letting our words sink in. “You really think Katherine might have Odette?”
“Like I said, we have reason to believe that’s probably the case, unless Odette’s found a way to escape her,” I said firmly. This might be just the nugget of information we needed to get him to spill every single bean in the jar.
He tapped his chin anxiously, his eyes showing a glimpse of inner turmoil. He evidently knew he shouldn’t reall
y be telling us this kind of stuff, but his friend was in danger and we were right there, willing to help. “Well… you could always inform one of the Children of Chaos, face-to-face, and ask them to stop her. It’s not an easy task, by any means.”
“How would we go about doing that?” I asked.
“Well, you’d have to summon one,” he replied.
I nodded, feigning ignorance. “And if we could do that?”
“Well, you’d either be incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” he replied. “Summoning isn’t done anymore, because it carries enormous risks. A Child of Chaos will often ask for a trade, in return for being summoned, and they can pretty much ask for anything they want. With that in mind, the level of difficulty also depends on who it is you’re summoning.”
“Uh… let’s use Erebus as an example,” Astrid prompted, flashing me a conspiratorial look.
He laughed tightly. “Forget about it. You couldn’t pick a worse one.”
“Well, are there spells to summon the other Children of Chaos?” I asked, determined.
“There are, but I don’t have them. The only person who would know about them would be Odette, but if she’s with Katherine, then there’s no telling where she might be right now or what state she’s in.” He cast us a warning look. “Then again, I wouldn’t advise those spells anyway, even if you had Odette’s help. Summoning isn’t something that should be taken lightly. It’s extremely dangerous at best, deadly at worst.”
“Would they listen to what we had to say if they were summoned?” Astrid jumped in. We already knew how deadly summoning could be; we didn’t need Remington to tell us that.
“The Children, I hate to say it, have grown lazy in their decades in this universe. They stopped listening to mortals a long time ago.”
“Even when these mortals have warnings to give?” Astrid said.
He nodded. “Even then. They don’t think they’re at any risk of being challenged or overcome, because nobody has tried in millennia. They’ll make promises and say whatever the summoner wants to hear, just to get them to go away. You’d have to make the argument very persuasive, and they might still choose to ignore you.”
Harley Merlin 4: Harley Merlin and the First Ritual Page 38
