“Marisol is completely inadequate for anything like this!”
“What’s going on with Amy?” Cordelia asked, sensing that her mother’s tirade had turned into more of her usual patter of complaints.
“I don’t think we should discuss all of that here,” Mira said. “Suffice to say that I have a very highly-placed informant who is keeping me updated about their research. It’s nothing we really need to worry about, though we should keep an eye on things. Devin — you remember, my partner since Thomas wasn’t available — has been extremely helpful. Honestly, it was perhaps for the best that you took Thomas here, but I’ll tell you more about that later. Anyway, Devin sourced me a bespelled phone that provides end-to-end security. Did you know they made such things?”
Cordelia shook her head.
“Me either,” Mira continued. “I’m sure they aren’t completely un-hackable, but from what I understand, they provide a secure line, even when the other party isn’t using one. Before I leave, I’ll program my new number into your phone. And I expect regular updates from you from now on. No more omissions.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Mom. Really.”
Mira sat next to Cordelia on the couch and pulled her close. Cordelia rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I know, Cordy. I know.”
While born sirens grow up understanding the societal expectations of the siren communities, it can take time for a transitioned siren to find their place in an unfamiliar culture. Unlike enclave-bound mages, sirens have the option to leave their community entirely. Those who survive their self-imposed exile have typically found another fae or construct community with which to ally themselves.
– Sirens: An Overview for the Newly-Transitioned, 3rd ed. (2015), by Mira Bant de Atlantic, p. 192.
Chapter 17
It’s good when you can kill two birds with one stone, Mira thought. Since they were in Florida anyway for the birth of Cordelia’s baby, Mira and Devin had spent a day with the Florida-based research team the Atlantics funded to follow their known U.S. latent population. The researchers thought they were conducting a longitudinal study on socio-environmental effects on mundane fertility, but their real purpose was to monitor for latent pregnancies and alert the Atlantic transition teams.
It was more difficult to follow children placed in less-developed nations, but Mira had persuaded Shravya, at least, that oversight through this kind of “scientific” study was worth exploring. Of course, Mira had a detective agency following her own latent offspring more closely, but most sirens thought that was too intrusive.
Mira didn’t really care that other sirens mocked her as overprotective, and indeed “unnatural” at times. Thomas’ transition had been almost as terrible as her own, and she wanted to make sure none of her other offspring experienced that. At the very least, her reputation as an unusually involved parent had been helpful in getting Devin out of her way today.
Cordelia had been so uncharacteristically amenable to Mira’s demand that she stay in Florida for a while to recover that Mira had started to wonder if her daughter were suffering from post-partum depression. After all, the fae had healed Cordy’s physical pains quickly enough. But eventually she concluded that Cordy’s unusual acquiescence stemmed from guilt rather than depression.
Mira ignored the pangs of her own conscience when she used that guilt to manipulate Cordelia into visiting Mary and taking Devin with her. This was a fair penance for her failure to tell Mira about her pregnancy — a lie by omission. And really, she needed to get away from Devin for a while. She didn’t want Louisa’s warrior-spy (even one she liked as much as Devin) to participate in her upcoming meeting with Jonah. Who knew what her Danjou spy might reveal?
Devin must have done his research on Mira too well, because he accepted her condition without question. She herself thought it a rather thin excuse: after all, Cordy had been traveling alone to the States since Thomas’ transition. But Mira’s reputation, combined with Cordy’s air of martyrdom, must have persuaded Devin that the only way to get Mira back on task was for him to shepherd Cordelia to D.C.
Jonah was flying into Ft. Lauderdale, so Mira had arranged to meet him at Dania Beach, a fairly secluded spot less than two miles from the airport. She emerged on the shore around five o’clock in the afternoon. It was even hotter and more humid than usual, so Mira didn’t seek the ocean’s help in drying off as she walked along the water’s edge, scanning the beach for the mage.
There weren’t many people here at this hour: the benefit of selecting a beach that lacked restrooms, restaurants, and clubs was that most of the day-trippers were long gone. She eventually located Jonah sitting on an oversized green-and-white beach towel. He had taken off his button-down shirt and shoes, and was now wearing only a white undershirt and rolled-up khakis. As Mira drew closer, she could see that he had aged since the last time they met. His hair was now close-cropped to disguise the gray, and his face was creased with more wrinkles than she recalled.
Jonah smiled and stood up, flipping the switch on his vape-pipe off and sticking it in his back pocket. Mira wondered when he’d begun vaping ambrosia. She knew he wasn’t the strongest mage in the enclave, but he had never relied on ambrosia to boost his power before. She did admire the way he always recognized her. Jonah had told Mira that his sole magical strength lay in his acute perception.
“How are you?” Mira asked, after Jonah had enveloped her in a too-tight hug, with three obligatory cheek kisses. The traditional enclave greeting called for air kisses, but Mira endured Jonah’s overly familiar greeting because she felt sorry for him.
“I’m better now that I see you,” Jonah replied. His flirting had grown more overt over the years. Mira asked one of her siren mentors whether repeated compulsions had any lasting effect on humans, but he had assured her that any change in personality was temporary; as soon as Jonah left her presence, he would be back to normal.
“Was it hard to get away?” Mira asked.
“Not really, no,” Jonah replied. “I was due for some time off, and this is a common weekend jaunt for all of us who are over-worked and underpaid, mages as well as mundanes.”
“I appreciate it.” Mira was always polite. Despite years of subordinating Jonah’s will to her own, she still worried at the morality of it. He wasn’t the only person she influenced on a regular basis. Eli, for instance, had been under a much tighter compulsion for more than half a year now. But Jonah was the only person who knew exactly what she was doing. He seemed to enjoy their conversations in a way that made Mira feel wrong for taking advantage of him.
“Maybe we should walk and talk. I’ve been sitting for way too long,” Jonah suggested. “Not that I mind, of course. I needed a break. Your call was a welcome excuse to take the weekend off and drown my worries in an endless array of fruity drinks.” Jonah took Mira’s duffle from her, setting in on the ground next to his own. He pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket and marked something over the pile. “No one will touch it while we walk,” he declared.
Mira marveled at the fact that Jonah was considered a weak mage. Ambrosia, the refined, consumable version of silica-salt that Jonah had been vaping earlier, was said to enhance a mage’s powers, but it nevertheless worried her that the smallest of his abilities seemed so much greater than hers.
“This isn’t a strong spell,” Jonah said, as if reading her mind. “A truly determined person could break through the barrier.”
“So what’s going on at the enclave, Jonah?” Mira asked as they walked down to the beach, glad when the dull sound of the distant traffic on the abutting highway was finally drowned out by the sound of the waves.
“Same old, same old,” he replied. “Still in the process of building the army and enlisting allies. Preparing; always preparing. But life goes on. Giselle miscarried this year, but is doing better now.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your sister,” Mira remarked. Mages struggled to carry their babies to term; too much magick was contained in one body fo
r an uncomplicated pregnancy.
They talked about small changes as they walked. Mira knew others would have just sucked the information out of Jonah and been done with it, but Mira couldn’t bring herself to do that. He worked as an assistant to one of the enclave’s more powerful elders, so he actually knew a lot about Danjou business. With only a slight amount of encouragement on her part, Jonah’s free-flowing gossip often provided better information than she could have obtained through a direct interrogation.
Eli was an enormous asset, but his knowledge only went so far. He had some inkling of the DoD’s interest in their project, and of course was quite familiar with all of the successes and stumbles that Amy’s team was encountering. But he had absolutely no insight into the Danjou Enclave. At Mira’s “suggestion” to gather additional information, Eli had contacted Elder Simon, the Danjou point person, but had not really learned anything about their intentions.
When the via-enchanter staffed on Amy’s project had been recalled last month, Mira had called Jonah. Unfortunately, her compulsions weren’t nearly as strong as Devin’s, so Jonah’s claim that he didn’t know why they had recalled their delegate could have been a lie. Mira needed to be physically close to a man in order to be sure her compulsions worked, especially on one bound to loyalty through the enclave’s blood-geas.
After a few minutes of listening to Jonah talk about his boss’ latest setback in developing a long-range death spell, Mira asked about Ted. “Oh, yeah. Poor Ted,” Jonah said.
“Why ‘poor Ted’?” Mira asked.
“They have him under house arrest. It’s totally unfair. Simon Riccie blames him for his son’s death, when everyone knows Simon and Rachael pushed the poor kid too hard.”
“Barry Riccie is dead?” Mira asked, shocked.
“You know him? Yes, Elder Simon’s wayward mundane son.” Jonah’s voice dropped a little, as if he were sharing some choice gossip. He even glanced around to see if anyone were listening. “Now, the Riccies are one of the strongest Danjou families. But even they have a dud every generation or so. It happens to everyone. But not to the great Simon Riccie. Elder Simon couldn’t handle his son’s failure. He made that kid’s life a living hell. His wife’s too. Rumor is, he even got a DNA test to make sure Barry was really his.
“So when they started looking for subjects to undergo an experimental operation that turned mundanes into mages, Elder Simon volunteered his son, and it kind of worked: Barry was able to see magick, and who knows, with a little more time and healing, maybe he’d have been able to use it. I mean, it takes children years to figure out the most basic spells. You’d have thought he’d give Barry at least a year to heal up from brain surgery, let alone start casting. But Rachael was thrilled that her son was finally qualified as a mage — whether or not he could cast. Didn’t matter to her. She rushed the binding ritual and invited everyone. Barry held up like a trouper.” Jonah sighed.
“What do you mean?” Mira asked. Jonah hesitated for a moment.
“Well, most of us never remember our bindings — they’re laid on us as toddlers once it becomes clear we can perceive magick. That’s a blessing, really, because if you could have seen Barry endure it …” Jonah shook his head. “But Barry never let out a sound; his mother, at least, was proud.
“Anyway, seeing magick alone wasn’t good enough for Simon. He never let up, and rumor has it that Barry threw himself off their roof. In any event, Elder Rachael found him, and hasn’t been the same since. Of course, it couldn’t be Simon’s fault for pushing him too hard, or Rachael’s for rushing him into the binding. No, it was Ted who handled the operation, so it must be his fault.”
“Wow,” Mira said. They walked a while along the water as she processed the information. Perhaps the tide was coming in, because the waves picked up some additional force as Mira thought about Patient B. “I guess it only happened recently. Barry’s death?”
“Hmm. Maybe last month? My boss has been having a bunch of meetings about it with the other elders. But he isn’t a Riccie, so has limited pull with that family. Each clan tends to self-police, and it takes a little more than just a house arrest to get the elders to interfere in what they view as family disciple.
“Of course, Ted’s almost an elder himself, and he’s got a rare talent, so he has more support than someone like me could expect. And he was working on this whole shit-show at the enclave’s direction. So it doesn’t sit well with a lot of people how he’s getting blamed.”
“Ted sounds like a popular guy,” Mira remarked.
“He’s a decent sort. Doesn’t throw his weight around all that much. He helped Giselle out when she was looking for a new tutor in the higher arcane.”
“What does house arrest mean?” Mira asked.
“What it sounds like. They don’t blind him, but he’s confined to his house. No visitors. No contact with the outside world. It’s meant to be a temporary thing while the elders sort out a more permanent kind of punishment or ‘rehabilitation.’” Jonah made air quotes around the word and Mira shivered despite herself at the thought of what that might mean.
“Do you think they’ll let him go?”
“Not sure. Depends, really, on who they need more and when. My boss thinks this operation was the sign we’ve been waiting on. But the fortune tellers are mixed. Elder Simon is a strong battle mage, but Ted’s talent is rarer and more necessary if we really do get dragged into a mage war. So, they’ll probably let Ted out at some point — if only when they really need him.”
“I still don’t understand the pivot or the trigger or whatever else you all are waiting on if what you plan to do is just invade another country and start the next mage war,” Mira said provocatively. She layered a compulsion into her voice to encourage Jonah to speculate.
“No one starts a war with the strongest mage on the planet on a whim!” Jonah announced. And Mira knew at that moment that the Danjous were planning to invade Arabia. If even a relatively low-level mage such as Jonah was aware of the elders’ plans, this move was imminent.
“Elder Hilda is very close to solving the djinni problem,” Jonah continued. “There’s just been too much waste by the Dictator. For centuries, he’s had the richest silica-salt fields in the world, and what does he have to show for it? A closed country. The Danjou would make better use of it — to help everyone. Plus, everyone knows the Cabal is planning their own invasion. And what a disaster for mundane-mage relations it would be if they imposed apartheid on another country! You think the U.S. has problems with racism? Think about another Australia. Another Australia with the riches of Arabia.”
It was clear that Jonah was speaking the party line. “What’s your role in all this, Jonah?” Mira asked, trying to sound more sympathetic than she felt at the moment. Taking what wasn’t yours was the classic reason people went to war, and Jonah’s party-line, the classic justification. Those who have it, waste it. And righting the injustice of life’s unfair bestowal of gifts on the unworthy was somehow a noble undertaking, instead of just plain robbery.
“I plan to be so useful to Elder Tyrone that I’m never dispatched to the front lines. I don’t know why we need to do this, but what choice do any of us really have? This isn’t a democracy, you know.” Jonah was clearly conflicted.
“So what’s the plan? The Danjou invade Arabia, oust the Amir, and gain access to the fields? Then what?”
“Then what? I don’t know. I don’t need all that power; couldn’t use it if I had it. I can’t even expend all the power in this country. And we have an active skimming industry of our own in the Southwest that our mages aren’t close to tapping out. It’s almost as good as the Sahara’s silica-salt.”
“Jonah, my offer stands.” Mira was worried about him. In some ways, her relationship with Jonah was even deeper than her relationship with Amy and Mary. For more than thirty years, she had met with Jonah at least once a year. Back when Mira had first moved to Brazil, Jonah started having trouble with Elder Tyrone. She had offered him sa
nctuary in Brazil, surrounded by the were-jaguars and under the umbrella of the Amazonian fae’s protection.
“Yeah, well, I’m not that desperate.” There was also little possibility that a mage like Jonah could kill an enclave elder. It took no small amount of talent and a great deal of skill to create a lifelong binding like the enclave geases.
“Jonah, what is the Danjou Enclave doing with all these joint research projects? The one that Ted was working on with those Harvard doctors? What do the Danjou want?” Mira paused, looking out at the sea. The waves were now cresting at three feet; she took a deep breath to try to calm herself.
“I don’t know exactly what they were doing with all the genetic research they funded before this. Clearly the Arabs are researching mage sight. So if the Dictator can figure out a way to weaponize it, our enclave has to have it too. A lot of our research is focused on long-distance spelling.” Mages were keen to overcome their greatest limitation, but Mira counted it a blessing that mages needed to see their targets to cast. Enchantments would work after the mage had left the scene, of course, but such magicks didn’t have the same widespread and immediately destructive force as a battle mage’s spells; mage specialists could eventually counter the effects of almost all enchantments.
“So the idea is if you can restore sight, or understand how it works physically, you can overcome the line-of-sight limitation?” Mira hazarded.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I only overhear things, really. And this isn’t Elder Tyrone’s project. I only know about it because he’s been trying to help Ted.”
“Jonah,” Mira wove a direct compulsion into her voice for the first time since they’d started talking. “Why do you think the Danjou are sponsoring the mage sight project?”
“Ah, Mira,” Jonah sighed, looking longingly at her. “I wish I knew for sure, and I swear I will try to get you better information. But I think … I think the elders want to control the pivot, to turn the tide of war towards the Danjou. So that we can claim what we should have owned before the sirens refused us passage and the Dictator raised his djinni. No, please … don’t let up.”
Sirens Unbound Page 21
