Cat’s fingers trembled on the keys. She didn't want to believe a mage could betray their kind so brutally, but the prospect couldn't be ruled out. The deaths had caused uproars in both the magic and tech communities. Such calculated and blatant hate crimes hadn't been perpetrated for hundreds of years; the last documented offenses consisted of techies burning mages at the stake.
She turned away from the bloody crime scene photos and focused on the other search.
“Technology and Magic are always at odds. Since the dawn of written records, humans are born talentless, magical, or possessing an innate ability to create and manipulate technology. The clear division between techs and mages started the bloodiest wars in human history, especially in the continent of North America where attempts at Integration failed. The worst of these wars, coined the Great Civil War, happened in 1820-1824. This four-year war pitted relatives and neighbors against each other. Realizing they risked killing their entire populace, the leaders reached an uneasy truce. Mages accepted ownership of the Western half of the country, and the Techies claimed the East. The separation weakened the territories. 100 years after the Great Civil War, lower Asia threatened the northern continent with war. The territories agreed to provide a unified front to the world and created a government comprising of representatives from both sides. The Eastern Territory enacted a law which requires all mages to register with the National Identification Services if they wish to reside within Eastern boundaries. The law causes dissent between the territories. However, neither faction wants a repeat of the civil war which killed many of their ancestors and caused environmental stress on each side.
“Rarely, a child can manipulate and create tech while also possessing the abilities of a mage. Most techie devices short circuit or malfunction in the presence of magic and most mages cannot comprehend the complexity of the simplest electronics. Children born with tech and magic, dubbed Magitechs, can combine technical skill and magical ability. However, because technology and magic are in natural opposition, the internal struggle causes insanity and madness, typically in the first two decades of life. All Magitechs must register as a mage in the Eastern Territory.”
Cat sighed, choosing a pencil to gnaw on as she considered the information. The article's finer details were inaccurate. Most mages used lower level tech, although actively using magical abilities and tech at the same time often caused complications. Cat modified Jenira's electronic devices so her power didn't break the instruments, but neither of them understood why this worked. When Jenira used devices modified by anyone other than her sister, they malfunctioned. Jenira understood electronics but not to the degree of even a mid-level techie.
The writer of the article barely mentioned the significant portion of the population who possessed no magic or technical capability. This group of “talentless” managed the more mundane workings of both societies, leading them to called "mundanes." The writer also didn’t give any reason for the Mage Registration Act in the East. The MRA was enacted because techies were afraid of what mages could do. They feared unregistered mages could undermine their government and take over the entire country.
Despite the incomplete information in the article and a possible bias toward the East, the author reiterated Cat's scant knowledge of Magitechs. Every piece she read, either scholarly or opinionated, shared the same theory. Cat didn't doubt Jenira's evaluation of Rennert's magic; Jenira’s spirit magic made her adept at identifying magic even if she couldn’t categorize it as precisely as other mages. If Davin Rennert created the inventions he claimed credit for, he posed an impossible wild card. Cat chewed on her pencil and stared at the monitors, considering the implications a Magitech presented for their present and future. The prospect excited and unnerved her.
Chapter Five
Jenira
Jenira quickly glanced at her reflection in the tall plate glass windows as she entered the lower level of the Rialto. Fake, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her blonde hair formed a tight chignon with a fall of bangs to hide the earpiece Cat wouldn't let her leave the bungalow without. The microphone was sewn into the collar of her blue dress shirt. Cat had also obtained some trademarked “fake flesh” off the black market. The strange substance sold for an exorbitant amount, but they agreed it was a necessary expense. Not only did the nude putty help disguise the earpiece, but it also covered Jenira's jagged scar. When it was visible, she morphed from just another pretty female to the woman with the scar.
The outfit and the glasses had been used in a previous job that required her to cozy up to the civilians in a mob boss's ring. The black skirt hugged her hips and flared mid-thigh, providing easy access to the spelled dagger strapped around her upper leg. Carrying the blade on her was risky, but bearding the lion in his den unarmed wasn’t an option. The enchantment contained a simple spell, similar to the charms and amulets many techies wore, designed to hide its presence from the metal detectors at the front entrance. The guards trusted their technology, but Jenira was prepared to use more magic if they tried to frisk her. No Sniffers nearby provided her with more options than usual.
The Rialto’s foyer stretched two stories high, and natural light flooded through the large windows. Typical for office buildings, the decoration was comprised of modern glass and steel in muted colors. The potted greenery placed in various positions around the lobby was not standard, however. Davin Rennert must be considered an eccentric among the techie Elite for using real plants as decorations.
She noted the security with a trained eye. Three sentries stood at the front entrance, four at the bank of elevators, and two at the stairwell door. Each carried a taser and a handgun in their armor belt, and Jenira suspected other weapons hid under their fancy suits.
What was visible did not encompass the entirety of security in the building, but there were no Sniffers. True to his word, Davin ensured the Rialto remained a black hole in the middle of the city. Toning down her usual confident poise, Jenira adopted the persona of a semi-capable personal assistant looking for a job.
The woman seated at the large desk ignored her even after she purposefully made noise by slapping the manila folder with her falsified resume onto the counter. The beautiful green satin of her expensive blouse was the same color as the stunning redhead's emerald regard, something Jenira noted when she finally lifted her angry gaze. The woman's eyes were enhanced; the brilliance and color weren't natural.
“May I help you?” Her practiced condescension and scowl erased her beauty. Jenira clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to punch the woman in her perfect teeth.
“I'm here for an interview with Dr. Rennert.”
Her eyes skimmed Jenira's person. “Dr. Rennert?”
“Yes, Dr. Rennert. My name is Jen Dering. I have an appointment at three.” Jenira spoke slowly as if she were talking to a simpleton.
The receptionist tapped fake nails on her desk, squinting at Jenira. She barked a cruel, ugly laugh. “You're not here for a job. Just like every other woman that has walked through that door today, you’re only trying to get in his pants.”
Jenira's fists clenched at her side. The Eastern Territory ruled with classism, so mundanes without magic or techie ability searched for other methods of societal advancement. Lacking the opportunity to become an engineer, software developer, or scientist, marriage or the position of a mistress was the best way to rise in society. Although Jenira pitied the women that had to stoop to such a horrible search, she resented being placed in the same category. How the woman retained her job was a mystery; slandering the boss wasn’t smart.
Jenira leaned over the counter, pasting a sweet smile on her face. “Can you give me a couple pointers? I'm certain you..."
“How dare you insinuate,” the secretary spat, her eyes flashing angrily. A ringing phone stalled any further insults. The receptionist acted like she was going to ignore it, but a quick check of the number had her scrambling for the button. “Front desk. Yes, sir, Dr. Rennert sir, your three o'clock is here. Y
es, sir, I will send her right up.”
Jenira's sweet smile never slipped from her face, but neither did it reach her eyes. Without a backward glance to the rude woman, she glided towards the elevators. The guards wore headsets, and Jenira assumed Rennert had given the order to allow her entry. They stepped aside at her approach and pushed a button. Another security guard waited inside the car, a necessary precaution many businesses didn't consider. Elevators granted easy access if one knew how to reroute or halt their movement. The guard didn’t acknowledge her but pushed the button for the fortieth floor.
When the doors slid open, Jenira hid her surprise. Muted greens and browns lent the upper lobby a natural, soothing atmosphere. Live plants occupied the corners and soaked up the sun from the tall windows. Wealth dripped from the expensive landscape oil paintings and fluffed under her feet as she stepped across the thick carpet. A gorgeous block of green-veined onyx marble formed the front desk.
Jenira better understood the receptionist's offensive behavior when she studied the room's occupants. Three women posed in sumptuous leather chairs, their clothes more suited for a night on the town instead of a business interview. They were all beautiful and revealed so much cleavage and leg, the office resembled a strip club. Jenira felt overdressed and prudish by comparison. Each woman dismissed her after a second's examination, something Jenira appreciated because garnering attention wasn't her intent.
The upstairs lobby receptionist was a massive block of muscle cloaked in a three-piece suit, a direct counterpart to the one downstairs. His broad shoulders and straining pecs rivaled Rennert's. His rough face didn't display classic handsomeness, but his strength exuded a certain appeal, similar to his boss. He maintained a professional attitude when the women tried to get his attention.
When his brown eyes met hers, Jenira swallowed. The imposing man possessed magic. The tiny amount was not enough to shield, but enough to surprise her. Her brain turned over the new information. Rennert was hiding multiple dangerous things from the tech world that worshipped him.
“Jen Dering?” the man's voice was a comforting rumble. Jenira nodded, wondering if he had been informed of their little ruse. He exuded confidence, and she suspected he owned the full trust of his boss. The thought unnerved her; the more people who knew her identity, the more dangerous the situation became. “You can have a seat, you'll be next.” His words caused muffled exclamations from the room's other occupants. A dark glare from the intimidating receptionist quieted their protests.
Jenira sat, straightening her legs to conceal her dagger. Hiding her weapons wasn’t natural behavior, and subtlety wasn't her strong suit so it required a bit of concentration. The seated women shot her venomous glares, but Jenira ignored them. Five minutes passed before a young woman exited from the short hallway behind the receptionist's desk. The beautiful, raven-haired woman held back tears as she stumbled to the elevator and punched the button with fury or desperation. Jenira amused herself thinking of all the things that might have occurred in the back office to cause such a strong reaction.
When her alias was called, the receptionist motioned her towards the end of the hall. She stood, attempting to control her pulse and her heartbeat. Meeting Rennert in daylight without her usual disguise unnerved her. Years on the run from the law made hiding under her mask preferable.
The door was cracked open, and Jenira entered with knocking, closing it firmly behind her. The space was well lit, dominated on three walls by tall, tinted windows. The decorating scheme resembled the lobby, woodsy and natural. More thick green carpet cushioned her footsteps and more potted plants decorated the corners.
Davin Rennert faced away from her again, staring over the city. He was either trusting or stupid; twice now she could have knifed him in the back. His casual work uniform included a slate dress shirt and dark slacks which seemed tailored for his muscular frame. The clothes might have looked ridiculous if it weren’t for his confidence; Jenira doubted he looked ridiculous in any situation.
“Hello, Jen. I’m glad you came.” Rennert greeted her after the click of the latch echoed in the otherwise quiet space. He turned to face her and seemed less dangerous in the day's light, though only barely. Amber eyes shone with latent power, and Jenira wondered if he never hid his magic or if he was relaxed around her because she already knew his secret. His dark hair was shaven on the sides in a controlled cut, the areas above his ears prematurely streaked with silver. Jenira waited, standing in the center of the room. When the phone rang, Davin listened without saying anything, still looking at her.
“Rock says you're armed.” His eyes raked her body, seeking hiding places. She recognized the male appreciation in his gaze and cocked an eyebrow in return.
“Rock?”
“My receptionist.”
Jenira assumed he meant the block of muscle and not the redheaded bitch. If Rock’s magic sensed weapons or spelled steel, it was a handy ability. She shrugged a shoulder in dismissal. “I'm always armed."
“I expected as much, although this weapon intrigues me. My metal detectors flagged nothing on your person. Can I see it?”
Jenira waited until Rennert came within an arm's reach of her. Even in her heels, he held an advantage of about five inches, and Jenira was not a short woman. She retrieved the weapon from beneath her skirt, holding it before her. The man possessed the strength to lay her flat on her back in seconds, so she kept her action deliberate. His amber gaze followed her movements, lingering on the flash of exposed thigh before eyeing the blade.
The simple dagger measured the length of her palm and finger, the thin black blade tapering to a deadly point. Jenira perceived the enchantment as a faint blue glow, but she didn't know if Rennert could see spells; not all mages could. He extended his hand, but Jenira didn't relinquish it immediately. Although she and Cat had agreed to trust him, handing over her only weapon negated its purpose. The dagger resembled a toy in his massive hands. He flipped it over to examine both sides before passing it back, hilt first. It regained its home on her thigh with a whisper of noise.
His magically brightened eyes searched her face, lingering on her cheek and she resisted the urge to ensure the fake flesh still covered her scar. Cosmetics and the quality of the product promised an invisible application, but she felt as if he saw the damaged skin beneath. His nearness distracted her and his magic tempted hers. Magic had the tendencies of a herd animal; it craved the company of its own kind. After many years of living in the East, hers begged for interaction with other mages.
After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, he retreated behind his desk. Jenira appreciated the broad expanse of wood between them, and they sat at the same time. The desk's surface was immaculate and shiny, the papers placed into ordered folders. His computer, pushed to the side of the desk, again made her speculate whether he designed his own tech or used inventions to disguise his magic.
“Before we start, I'll warn you that I've shielded this room from outside magical and technological surveillance. Your partner won't be able to listen in, so you'll have to relay the conversation later.” Jenira nodded and noted the time. She and Cat had planned for the eventuality; Cat had agreed to wait thirty minutes before attempting to hack those protections. Jenira hadn't sensed any magic upon entering the office, but it was entirely possible all his security was tech based. Magical wards could be hidden but left traces of their casting.
“You have information?” If she didn't push him, he might never speak. He was the dark and brooding type. She searched for signs of madness, but he maintained a relaxed pose and his gaze held hers with perfect clarity. His piercing regard was not an indicator of insanity.
“What have you learned of the attacks?” His question caused Jenira to bristle, and she cursed her agreement to Cat. Again, he had the upper hand. He had given her nothing but asked a lot in return. Reluctantly, she briefed him on their findings; the information was still fresh in her mind from Cat's research. Observing him for any signs that might give him
away, she mentioned they suspected mage involvement because of the ward breaches. His eyes never left hers, silent and thoughtful.
“Brilliant assessment.” He leaned forward, propping his forearms on his desk. The light material of his shirt strained across his shoulders. “The piece of information you are missing is that every mage targeted was an employee of Rennert Industries.” Jenira's brows rose and she wondered if Rennert wanted to pursue the perpetrators for purely selfish motives. The idea disappointed her for reasons she didn't want to delve deeper into at the moment. “And they were all working on Integration projects.”
“Integration projects?” She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she wanted to hear his explanation.
“Projects and products designed to make magic and technology more compatible.”
She assimilated the new knowledge with her current data. A mage hate group would despise any attempts at Integration. That Rennert hired entire teams dedicated to Integration revealed a wealth of information about the man. Unable to restrain her curiosity any longer, she leaned forward. “The inventions which are credited to your name, did you create them yourself?”
The man didn’t flinch, and the power within his gaze caused Jenira's skin to shiver. The few mages she had encountered in the Eastern Territory were weak. She attributed her reaction to his magic and not the man himself. A tense silence stretched between them.
“Yes,” he admitted, his eyes flashing with undefinable emotions. The query would have been innocent from anyone else, but not from Jenira because she knew he possessed magic. The admission implied that Rennert either trusted her or he believed he could dispose of her quickly if she used the information against him. Jenira didn't know whether to feel better or worse about his answer.
“I have answered your question honestly, so I have one for you. Your partner, you trust him?”
Worlds Collide (Magitech Book 1) Page 4
