The Super Mags had been hanging around more since Kaira and Graysen began pushing laws that would give them equal rights in Boston. We’d lured them to the mansion with the promise of Ma’s home cooking. I’d convinced the kids to stay for the Alliance meetings that concerned them by offering cartwheel and backflip lessons.
Now, with this magic ripper on the loose, they didn’t trust us to keep them safe.
“I guess this answers the question of where the thief is getting the Magical Reduction Potion,” Graysen said heavily, raking a hand through his already-tousled hair.
“You think he’s making it himself?” Yutika stopped drawing and stared from Graysen to me.
“Why else would he be digging up Agent S?” Smith challenged.
I was only half-listening to my friends’ argument. I was thinking about the Agent S slaves.
“Maybe whoever is injecting the Super Mags with MRP knows something about the slaves,” I said.
Maybe they knew something about Lilly.
The mere possibility made my pulse pick up until I couldn’t sit still. I paced around the room.
“Well, as long as we’re at a dead end on the magic ripper mystery,” Smith said, “I figured out something about our list of Mags with missing files.”
I stopped pacing.
“What?” I asked, my voice coming out a little breathy.
“Since there’s no records or tracking information,” Smith explained, “I did a thorough search of their family tree. Then, I built a program that compiled all of the information, and—”
“Just spit it out, Smith,” Yutika said. “You’re killing us with the suspense.”
Smith looked at me. “Every dead Mag on that list has at least one Steel in their extended family.”
My jaw went slack. I stood there stupidly as words refused to come.
Of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t expected that. Steels weren’t rare, but we also weren’t common.
Magics’ abilities weren’t generally the same as their parents, but we often shared similar magic to an extended family member. My aunt on my father’s side was a Steel, although she was only a Level 1. She was an iron Steel, which meant that her skin was dense and clunky…and far less strong than mine. She refused to attend family functions, since my magic overrode hers and made her powerless. My dad liked to tell me it was karma for all the times his sister had beaten him up when they were kids.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I said, “Lilly was a Steel, too.”
My brother, Brent, had been over the moon. As a Combat Mag and an athlete, he was all about the physical magic. It had come as a surprise to the family when, five years earlier, Brent announced that he was in love with a Bleeding Heart.
Bleeding Hearts were able to sense other people’s feelings and empathize as though the emotions belonged to them.
Brent was the exact opposite of gushy and emotional, so my parents and I had been skeptical…until we’d met Sarah. She was his perfect balance in every way.
As soon as they found out Lilly’s magic, Brent hadn’t been able to shut up about how their daughter would have his brawn and Sarah’s kindness. That had been mere hours before the doctors announced that Lilly had been exposed to DAMND, the fatal disease that Mag-Nat babies supposedly carried.
Thinking about my family brought a familiar rush of guilt and regret. It had been too long since I’d called anyone in my family. It had been even longer since I’d visited.
For all my willingness to run into a burning building, I was too much of a coward to drive across town and face my family’s heartbreak.
“You okay?” A.J. whispered, giving me a small nudge.
I flashed him the same smile that had gotten my cheer squad to State Finals two years in a row. “Never better.”
“I’ll call some people who used to work in the Magical Marking Office,” Graysen said, breaking through the helpless direction of my thoughts. “See if we can get them to reach out to all the missing Mags’ families. Maybe we’ll learn something new.”
I gave him a nod, thankful that he was focusing on useful next steps. What I needed now more than anything was answers.
“I’ll help you,” Kaira told Graysen, standing up and stretching. “In the meantime, the rest of you should go to bed. Busy day tomorrow.”
Five hours of sleep was a luxury, and one my body was crying out for in spite of my mind’s turmoil.
We moved in a pack to the elegant double-sided staircase that led to the upper floors. The mansion was three stories, with more than enough bedrooms to accommodate all of us.
Sir Zachary, sensing that it was bedtime, skidded around the corner and leapt into A.J.’s waiting arms.
“Time to get you into your jammies,” A.J. told the dog, who licked his face.
A.J. blew us a kiss as he turned off to the master bedroom on the second floor.
Since the master bedroom had been Remwald’s, none of us had wanted to take it…except A.J. According to A.J., it wasn’t the room’s fault that a nasty man used to sleep there.
My bedroom was at the far end of the third floor. I’d decorated it with photos of the Seven and my family in happier times. Yutika had created a shelf for my old wrestling and cheerleading trophies.
I had started a cork board for all of the clues about the Agent S slaves, but it had looked too pathetic with just a few notes tacked onto it. So, I’d put the cork board in the back of my closet…out of sight, but never out of mind.
My desk was covered with job applications for Kaira and Graysen’s security detail. There were also barely-legible notes from Smith that he thought were too sensitive to put in an email. I had passwords for high-security clearances on sticky notes that I kept telling myself I needed to memorize before Smith found them and had an actual cow.
My bed, with its satin sheets and teal comforter, beckoned to me.
“Just need a quick shower, and then I’m all yours,” I said, giving the softer-than-clouds mattress an affectionate pat.
The best part about my bed was that it no longer shared a wall with Kaira’s. I was over the moon for Kaira and Graysen, but I didn’t miss hearing their twice- and sometimes three-times-a-night sexcapades.
There had been a few-week overlap between Graysen and Kaira getting back together and our house being destroyed. During that time, the poor insulation between our rooms had served as a nightly reminder of what I was missing. It wasn’t their endless love that I wanted for myself. I envied their passion.
As I showered and got ready for bed, I thought about how it was probably good that I had so little free time. Me, plus free time, was a recipe for trouble.
CHAPTER 5
Ilurched out of bed at 5:00AM on the dot, just as my screeching alarm filled the room.
There was a tap tap tap on my window. The woodpecker who had visited me every morning since we moved in was standing on my ledge. Most of the time I enjoyed our morning ritual, except on the rare weekend when I wanted to sleep in.
“’Morning Herbert,” I said through a yawn.
The name had just seemed right for the little bird. No idea why.
Herbert gave my window another tap and flew off.
I put on the outfit I’d laid out the night before. Tailored slacks, a playful-but-professional peach blouse, and a fitted blazer.
Most people looked at my petite figure and saw nothing but the cheerleader I’d been in high school.
The gleeful little devil inside me loved that moment when someone realized just how powerful I was…usually when they were about to be on the receiving end of my fists.
I straightened my wavy blonde hair and then curled the ends. Pearl stud earrings, a quick swipe of coral lipstick, and an extra coat of glittery gold nail polish completed the look. Because even heads of security needed to have a little fun.
As usual, I was the first one downstairs. Ma wasn’t in the kitchen, but the table was set for breakfast. There were bowls with fresh berries, platter
s with melon slices, and a bowl full of clementines. There was also a coffee cake, homemade donuts, bagels, and a note from Ma directing us to the metal warming dishes on the counter. Each one of the serving dishes was labeled, like we were in a five-star restaurant. There was a tofu scramble with vegan sausage, as well as eggs benedict for the non-vegan crowd.
I grabbed an apple and vegan cinnamon donut and headed for my office.
I suppressed a groan at the stack of mail that A.J. had left for me. As the new Directors’ self-appointed lead strategist, publicist, and fashion consultant, A.J. had the most eclectic job title of the Seven. One of his responsibilities was going through the new Directors’ mail and flagging any potential threats for me and Smith to follow up on. There were little sticky notes attached to each of the open letters. A.J.’s flawless cursive noted things like “See paragraph 2. Also please observe the unibrow in self-enclosed photo. Can we expense a complimentary home-waxing kit to send?”
In spite of A.J.’s flippant notes, I had seen his face after going through our friends’ hate mail. I got the sense that the prejudice Kaira and Graysen faced for their untraditional marriage hit a little too close to home for A.J. When I’d offered to take over the task for him, A.J. had just waved me off and told me to stop being a mother hen.
I heard the tinkling of dog tags, and then my faithful second-in-command came trotting down the stairs.
“Morning, Sir Zachary.”
Our little dog wagged his tail so ferociously his butt wiggled. He was wearing a dog-sized Red Sox jersey and already had his bedazzled collar in his mouth. I put on his collar, and together, we headed outside.
Sir Zachary took care of his dog business and chased birds, while I checked in with the security guards stationed all around our extensive property.
While we walked, I sent out a message over the group chat I had with the Directors’ personal security team. This afternoon, Graysen and Kaira would be throwing out the ceremonial first pitch for the final Red Sox game of the season. The Red Sox, which was the only mixed Mag-Nat baseball team in the country, was playing an undefeated all-Mag team from Orlando.
Not even the Slaughters could defeat America’s oldest pastime.
All the seats in the stadium were sold out, and I was getting anxiety at the thought of all those people and possible threats. Even though most Bostonians loved Kaira and Graysen, my friends had their share of enemies just like any leaders who were trying to do something revolutionary.
They’d overturned the second high law in the city of Boston, which had caused quite a stir country-wide. Some territory rulers were following our lead and allowing Mags to take out their trackers. Most of the Nat-run territories were threatened by the shift, and the US government was sending out the Enforcers in droves to put down the unrest.
After we’d publicly humiliated the US government with the Boston Enforcement Party scandal, they’d kept far clear of Boston.
I was halfway through my donut and email inbox when A.J. popped his head into my office.
“Looking good, button. Photo op with the Globe on the lawn in five.”
He was gone again before I could reply.
“And freshen up your lipstick,” A.J. called over his shoulder. “It looks better on your pouty lips than on that better-be-vegan donut!”
I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he was already gone.
Muttering a few choice curses, I did as A.J. had commanded. I checked to make sure there wasn’t anything in my teeth and went to the appointed meeting, typing out email replies on the way.
“And where are Smith and Michael?” A.J. demanded as a dozen people with cameras tramped onto the lawn.
“What I don’t get is why you’re surprised,” Yutika told A.J.
It was true. Whenever the press arrived, Smith and Michael disappeared. I imagined the two of them hunkering down in some underground tunnel they’d build to escape from the media attention.
Becoming public figures was a drastic change for all of us. I’d spent the last three years unMarked, which meant I’d had to avoid any kind of attention that might get me caught. It was a complete reversal to be constantly in the public eye.
While it was mildly uncomfortable for all of us except Graysen, who seemed to have endless patience for interviews and meet-and-greets, it was downright torture for Smith and Michael.
I noticed a cameraman loitering on the edge of the crowd who wasn’t clicking away with his camera. He also kept looking in Yutika’s direction. I was about to go full titanium bodyguard when Kaira caught my eye and winked. She mouthed Michael. I instantly relaxed.
I gave her a subtle thumbs-up and smiled for the cameras that were flashing spastically all around us. I answered a few questions about the Pyro’s recent stunt with the retirement home, giving the polite-yet-vague answers I’d discussed with Kaira and Graysen.
I stepped back, keeping a hawk’s eye on the Directors as they were grilled by the reporters.
“Ms. Hansley, how does it feel to be the youngest Director ever?” a breathless reporter asked.
Kaira lifted a shoulder. “You’ll have to ask my husband.” She turned to smile at Graysen.
“You’re younger?” Yutika asked Graysen, sounding intrigued.
“I’m the one conducting this interview, if you don’t mind,” the reporter said in a haughty voice.
“By almost a year,” Graysen told Yutika.
“Ohmygosh, Kaira.” Yutika giggled. “You’re a cradle robber.”
I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. My phone chimed, and when I glanced down at the screen, my blood ran cold. It was a text from Smith.
911.
“Seven,” I said in a calm voice, even though my thoughts were racing a million miles ahead. “Get back into the house. There’s an important call for Kaira and Graysen.”
It was our secret code for get the hell inside NOW without stirring up the hornet’s nest of reporters.
Michael turned his unblinking gaze on the group of reporters, who were circling Kaira and Graysen like vultures.
“Leave,” he said in a soft voice. “You got everything you needed for your interview, and you don’t remember anything going wrong.”
Nodding in placid acquiescence, the reporters packed up their equipment and headed back to their vehicles.
I started power-walking across the lawn as another text came through.
Intruder climbing the East Gate. Armed with a handgun and an axe.
Kicking off my heels, I began to run.
I blew on my fists. Strength coursed through my hands and ran down my forearms.
I’d heard others describe their magic as a rising heat within them. For me, it was the opposite. Cool power washed over my skin as flimsy flesh and bones were replaced by smooth metal. When I was titanium, I didn’t have to second-guess myself. Every other substance crumpled and shattered when it came up against me. I felt invincible.
I tasted metal on my tongue. Its sharp tang filled my nostrils. Calm spread through me as I felt the steady, even thrum of my magic.
I was silent as I raced across the property. Even though I was sprinting, my heartbeat was slow and even. My muscles were relaxed. I was solid metal, but I felt as loose and flexible as a rubber band.
I was never more alive than when I was titanium.
Ping. Ping, ping, ping.
A bullet, and then three more, struck my chest.
The shooter had good aim. The bullets struck the spot right over my heart…and bounced off. I smiled.
The woman—a Combat Mag, if the muscles bulging from her bare arms were any indication—leapt off the top of the fence. She held out her axe as she threw her considerable weight at me.
I let her come.
There was a sharp clang as the axe blade struck my skin and shattered. Tiny slivers of the blade repelled backward, away from my unmarked skin.
The Combat Mag hissed in a breath as one of the shards sliced her forearm. Blood bloomed across her
pale skin.
Steel…1. Combat Mag…0.
With a feral screech, the Combat Mag pulled back and punched me in the face. She howled as the bones in her fist cracked.
I was bored. This woman was like a hammer, while I was a tank.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
“You’re protecting abominations,” the Combat Mag panted. “They’ll pollute this city with their devil spawn.”
She pulled a knife out of her boot and stabbed me. The blade broke off against my jugular.
“I don’t like when people trespass onto my property,” I said, wrenching the woman’s arms behind her back. “And I really don’t like bullies.”
The Combat Mag’s eyes watered. I gentled my hold…just a little.
When I was younger, I’d needed to learn how to hold myself back so I didn’t accidentally kill anyone. I was never more aware of how dangerous my magic could be until Subject 6 had taken over my mind and made me almost murder my friends.
That memory still haunted me, and made me gentler with this trespasser than I might have been otherwise.
“Okay?” Michael asked, breathing a little hard after his sprint from the house.
“Oh, yeah.” I patted the Combat Mag’s shoulder, making her wince and curse. “She’s all yours.”
Sadly, we had this routine down pat. I texted my person in the Mag unit of the Boston Police Department, while Michael hunched down to stare into the Combat Mag’s eyes.
“You will never come back here,” Michael said in a soft and unyielding voice.
“I hate them,” the woman told Michael, giving him puppy dog eyes.
Michael pointed to the security booth nearest to us. To the Combat Mag, he said, “Go stand over there. Don’t move until the police pick you up.”
Like me, I knew Michael was holding himself back. He could turn this woman into Kaira and Graysen’s biggest fan with just a few words.
Using our magic to take advantage of those who were weaker went against a core tenant of Kaira and Graysen’s administration. So, we stuck by our faithful motto of Legal, but with a twist.
Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set Page 73
