by Megan Crewe
I didn’t think he was talking only about the gift. A weird shyness came over me. I groped for something to say or do as he worked the keys on and tucked them away. Finally, I settled for taking his hand and walking over to the store’s bare counter. We might as well rest our feet while we talked.
The laminate surface was as dusty as everything else in the room, but I’d dealt with a hell of a lot more dirt than this recently. This was nothing.
I hopped up onto the edge, and Finn joined me, sitting with his shoulder resting against mine. Our hands stayed twined together. He tapped his free fingers against the counter’s edge, and my heart leapt at the sudden thought that maybe he hadn’t lost all his magic after all.
“If someone stopped them from taking all of your memories, did they manage to deflect some of the burning out too?” I had to ask.
Finn’s jaw tightened. “I’m burned out,” he said. “It’s all gone. Just…” He held his hand out in front of him and closed it around the air. “Empty. Numb. Dull.” He let out a short, rough laugh. The pain of that loss tensed the corners of his eyes.
My previous anger twisted into a ball of resolve. I was going to expose the Confed for what they were doing—and if any way existed to bring the magic back to Finn, I’d find it.
“Can I…?” I said quietly, touching the side of his head by the soft fall of his golden-blond hair.
He shrugged with an arch of his eyebrow. “You’re a great mage, but I don’t think even you can un-burnout someone. You’re welcome to try, though.”
“We’ll see,” I muttered. I sang a few words from a pop song I’d loved as a kid, and my attention narrowed to the whirl of energy around Finn’s head.
The spot where he should have hearkened from wasn’t just frayed. I sensed nothing at all—a vacant space. I swallowed hard. “Burned out” was a pretty accurate description for what it felt like. Could that piece of him be healed?
The magic I conducted toward him just quivered away from the spot, none of it taking hold. I hadn’t really expected to solve that problem right now, but the failure gnawed at me anyway.
“It really is okay,” Finn said. “I’m finding other ways to be useful. Not all that difficult, considering I hardly made myself very useful with my casting even before.”
The self-deprecation of that comment bothered me as much as similar ones in the past had, but I decided to focus on the positive. “Tell me some more about this group you’ve found and the protests they’re doing.” He could talk about everything he’d been up to since the Exam without the silencing ’chantment getting in the way.
A smile crossed Finn’s face that told me more clearly than words how energized he was by his new purpose. Even as my spirits lifted seeing that, a pinch of jealousy tugged at my gut.
The emotion was silly. But I couldn’t help thinking of how strong we’d been together. I wanted to be working with Finn, not on the other side of the world from him.
“The group has been meeting for a few years,” he said. “Working up to more of an active resistance gradually. This is the first major action they’ve planned. Everyone there thinks Dampering and burning out and the Exam—all of it—are unjust and should be stopped. It’s just a matter of getting that message out, making more people aware of the problems, without looking like a problem ourselves.”
“What exactly is this ‘major action’?” I asked, any jealousy I’d felt disappearing under a twinge of fear. Was he going to be putting himself in the Confed’s sights? His family hadn’t been able to prevent his burning out—I wasn’t sure how much they could protect him.
“Basic nonviolent protest. Shutting down the college on placement-exam day for as long as we can. I doubt it’s going to change the whole system in one go, but it’s a start.”
I squeezed his hand. “Just be careful, all right? I’ve… I’ve gotten the sense that the Confed leaders are especially stressed right now.”
The corner of Finn’s lips quirked up. “All the better for us to get their attention and put the pressure on.” He bumped his shoulder against mine at my grimace. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve been getting plenty of practice at being careful already. Do you think I’ve been able to tell my family what I’m up to?”
“Do the people in this group know who your family is?” I said.
He ducked his head. “No. I don’t think— It could get weird, with my granduncle being in the Circle, and…”
“Hey,” I said, tipping my cheek to his shoulder when he didn’t seem to know how to continue. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. If you think it’s better to keep that detail to yourself, then you’re probably right. You’re a good judge of people. I’m pretty sure no one could burn out that talent.”
Finn’s smile came back, sheepish this time. “Let’s hope not.” He shifted closer to me, letting go of my hand, but only to tuck his arm around my waist. “Is there anything at all you can tell me about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing? How careful have you needed to be? You’re the one off… you know.”
I drew in a breath. “Well…” I had so many things I wished I could tell him but couldn’t. A different kind of fear wound around my lungs. No one on the base had known what to make of the recording that girl had given me. If two of our most powerful enemies struck at the Confed’s forces together… I wasn’t sure any amount of careful was going to protect us—or the magic.
“Hmm, let’s try that possibilities thing again,” Finn suggested. “What do you think Prisha has probably been doing?”
I couldn’t answer that, since it wouldn’t be a guess. “I can’t say.”
“Oh. She’s still in the same unit or whatever with you? That’s good. I haven’t heard from her—without her phone on her, she probably doesn’t know my number either.” He chuckled lightly. “How do you think she’s holding up?”
That question I could make a little headway with. “Not too badly.”
“Still all in one piece then, I hope. Er, let’s see, Desmond?”
I started to smile. Maybe what I couldn’t voice told him just as much as what I could. “I can’t say.”
He grinned at me. “The same crew still together, as many of you made it. That’s something.” Then his expression turned more serious. “How do you feel about what you’ve been doing?”
Ah. The silencing ’chantment didn’t hold me back there. “I hate it,” I said, with more vehemence than even I’d been prepared for. I swiped at my mouth, gathering myself. “But I’m a little hopeful that I—if I—” A growl escaped me. I switched back to more general terms. “The magic is hurting. I’m trying to get other people to see. Nothing else is going to matter if it dies.”
“You won’t let that happen. It couldn’t have asked for a better Champion.”
Finn’s voice was so confident that my next breath came easier. He understood what I was trying to accomplish, how much it meant to me. He’d have stood beside me out there just like he had in the Exam, without a single doubt. Even though I couldn’t bring him across the ocean with me—and wouldn’t have wanted to—that knowledge was such a relief it brought unexpected tears to my eyes.
I blinked hard. “Yeah. I think I’m getting somewhere. So I’ve felt a little good, here and there. And… I’ve only been scared for my life a few times.”
“Only a few,” Finn said. “It should be no times.”
I glanced up at him. “That’s what we’re both working toward, right? Like we meant to.”
His eyes softened. He leaned in to kiss me, and for a little while, talking didn’t seem important at all.
I had to go sooner than I’d have liked. “I want to see you again before my break is over,” I said as we meandered reluctantly to the door. “My parents are planning a big family get-together with my grandparents and aunts and uncles and everyone tomorrow, but maybe the next morning… I’ll text you when I know.”
“I understand if you can’t,” Finn said. “I mean, I don’t expect to get more
priority than your family, and you haven’t seen them in a long time too. You really don’t have to—”
“Finn,” I broke in, grasping his arm just as we reached the door and turning him toward me. My gaze searched his. “You’re important to me. So important. You’re a big part of what makes everything less scary than it could be. I want to come back to you. And I will, te lo prometo con todo mi corazón”
I hadn’t known if that would be the right thing to say, or enough, but Finn seemed to understand the sentiment without any translation. Maybe the look on my face said it for me. Something in his posture relaxed.
He dipped his head down to steal one last kiss, this one so gentle it left my heart aching. “I want you to come back to me too,” he said softly. “You’re my inspiration, Rocío. If I can be half as brave as you are, I’ll have really gotten somewhere.”
A blush warmed my cheeks. I hugged him, hard, and then I forced myself to unlock the door.
Finn waited with me at the stop for the bus until it showed up. When I climbed on, moving away from him, the ache in my chest rose to fill my throat as well. He waved to me as the bus lurched away from the curb, his gaze following my window until I couldn’t see him anymore.
I was just coming to the front steps to the walk-up that was still technically my home when a black jeep jerked to a halt by the sidewalk just ahead of me. Two men leapt out of the back with military precision. My hands flew up defensively even as I registered the Confed’s crest on the collars of their jackets. One man muttered a quick line that brought a crackle of magic into the air around me—holding in any casting I might have made.
“Rocío Lopez,” the other said in a gruff voice. “You need to come with us, now, on the orders of National Defense.”
Chapter Twelve
Finn
Growing up, there had never been anyone in my whole life whom I’d wanted to be like more than my father and his father before him. I would have given anything to crusade against injustice, whatever the odds, and win, as they had. If only I could cast a little better, I’d thought, perhaps I could contribute something similar to our world.
It was a strange feeling, then, to look up from my desk to where Dad had appeared in my bedroom doorway and realize there was nothing at all I could tell him about the day I’d just had. I was far closer to making a real difference in our society than I’d ever been before, and somehow that had taken me farther from him at the same time. The understanding sank heavy in my stomach.
“Is this a good time to talk?” Dad asked. His light brown hair gleamed a little more silver than I thought it’d been a few months ago. I hoped I wasn’t the cause of that graying.
“Sure,” I said, typing a few more words in my final text to Mark and then turning off my phone. I swiveled as Dad ambled into the room. Even against the smooth leather padding of my chair, staying relaxed was quite a feat when he looked that serious.
He propped himself against the edge of the desk in a stance that would have looked more casual if his mouth hadn’t been slanted at such an awkward angle.
“Hard day at work?” I asked in my best bright yet sympathetic voice.
His lips tipped into something more closely resembling a smile, but no less grim. “You could say that. Our international conference is only a few weeks away, and the Dull government is still balking at approving representatives from the mage societies in a few of the countries I was hoping to include.”
“It’s the Confed’s conference,” I said. “What should it even matter to them?”
“It’s politically powerful mages arriving on their home ground,” Dad said. “They always see the threat before the benefit of international goodwill. I’ll handle it; I just want to avoid us taking a hit with them in other ways. They’ve already been pushing back against the plans for next year’s Unveiling Day parade too—apparently one of the vocal anti-magic groups has been complaining about the last one.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “But enough about work. That’s not what I wanted to talk with you about.”
“No?” I hadn’t really thought it was, but the redirection had been worth a try.
“It’s been two months now. I thought it was time we touched base about your future plans.”
I opened my mouth and found I had no ready answers. I wasn’t going to fill him in on the plans involving shutting down the college for a day. In truth, I hadn’t given much thought to my future outside of the Freedom of Magic League since I’d started going to those meetings.
The League couldn’t be my whole life, though. I had to stand on my own two feet at some point—making my own money, cultivating my own resources. My accomplishments weren’t truly mine while I was sponging off my parents.
Even if I was a figure of pity in many of our neighbors’ eyes, I could still build a life my family would be able to look at with some small measure of pride. Ut desint vires, tamen est laudanda voluntas.
“I’m still contemplating what would be the best path for me,” I said cautiously. “I don’t want to jump in until I’m sure. I know once I get on a track it’ll be hard to shift directions. If you have suggestions, though, I’m all ears.”
“You seem to be adjusting well,” Dad said. “You’ve been going out to see friends and entertain yourself regularly. I understand why you don’t want to commit to any career track right away, but perhaps we could look into possible volunteer placements, so you can get a taste of different work environments?”
There was certainly time in my days for that. “Absolutely,” I said, with enthusiasm I didn’t need to feign. “I’d like that. I think I’d still prefer to work on something practical in the field—whatever field I end up in—if at all possible. Even if I can’t be hands-on with magic, there’s got to be a way I can offer more than pushing paper around in some office.”
Dad’s smile warmed. “You’re too much like me, you know. Wanting to get out there and grab hold of whatever you can. I’ll see what I can find.”
I was too much like him? Did he say that because he saw his natural inclinations as a flaw or because I hadn’t been bestowed with the magical ability to see the same passion through?
A twinge of the shame I’d nearly put behind me rippled through my gut, but his words emboldened me at the same time. Dad had crusaded. If anyone in the Confed could understand what I was doing now, it should be him. Tamara had been right that we needed as many people as possible on our side—and that old-magic voices would be heard first. If I could get through to him somehow…
“I also—” I started, and then paused. It didn’t feel safe to start with what I was doing. Dad had crusaded once, but I’d seen him support the Circle’s party line far too recently. How much did he actually know about the Exam and what happened after?
“Dad, after I declared, you made some comments about the responsibilities the Champions have and how complex the situation is… What did you mean by all that, specifically?”
Dad stiffened slightly. As Chair of the Confed’s International Relations board, he wasn’t directly involved in the Exam or National Defense, but if the Champions were out there fighting in other countries, he couldn’t be totally unaware of the negotiations around that subject.
He didn’t know the full extent of how the examinees were treated. He never would have let me go in if he had—he’d have found some way to stop me, regardless of my protests, if he’d realized my only options were burning out or being forced to become a soldier on the front lines of our international conflicts. He’d seen enough to determine the Exam wasn’t a simple ticket to the college for anyone, though.
“Don’t you think it’s better if we leave that subject behind us?” he said, shifting his weight against the desk. “Focus on the future.”
“Well, the future still has the Exam,” I said. “More people burned out. More Champions. More dead. Do you really believe everything about that system is above criticism?”
Dad grimaced. “It’s not my area. And the situation is complicated, fa
r more than I’d imagine even I’ve been able to follow. I’m not in a place to make judgments. Finn—”
“Dad.” I looked at him until he met my gaze again. “When you were only a little older than me, you broke all sorts of rules saving those people out in Washington—using your magic when the volcano erupted, even though Dulls would see you and you were supposed to be keeping it secret. You didn’t know everything there was to know about the decisions the Circle had made then. You just knew what was happening wasn’t right, and that was enough.”
“The thing is, it wasn’t really enough.” Dad hesitated. “There’s part of that story I’ve always left out, Finn. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but it’s not something I’m proud of, and, well…” He exhaled in a rush. “While I was deciding what to do about Mount St. Helens, I met a girl. A girl from a family who had no idea about magic, but she had just enough talent that a mage like me could notice her inadvertently disrupting the energies around her.”
I leaned forward. He hadn’t said anything at all about a girl before. “What happened with her?”
“I decided that it wasn’t right for her to live without understanding magic. So I took it upon myself, despite all the policies in place, to tell her about magic and to start teaching her how to hone her talent.”
“Of course that was the right thing to do,” I said.
Dad shook his head. “I didn’t really know what I was doing. The way she hearkened the magic, once I taught her the exercises to make her more aware of it—she wasn’t prepared. It was unnerving for her. And her abilities could have ruined her relationships with her family, with all the friends she had… There was no scaffolding in place to ease a transition like that back then. I was more concerned with being a hero than what was actually good for her.”
The strain in his voice made my stomach tighten. “Did she get through it okay?”
“The Circle found out what I’d done,” Dad said. “They arranged for her memory to be wiped of anything to do with me or magic. I was furious at the time, but honestly… I think it was probably for the best. Her abilities never emerged enough for her to seek out the Confederation after the Unveiling. None of her kids have shown potential during the testing.”
