The sunlight was quickly fading, A splash of orange-yellow light creeping across the wall behind him, glistening on the expensive French presses and glass tumblers that sat perfectly perched in their places on the shelf. This place was well-kept, surely a side-effect of being a corporate franchise in the suburbs: close enough to town for there to be customers to service daily and just far enough from the city to demand perfection or risk losing customers. Customers were valuable here, so every detail had been inspected and double-inspected to be certain that nothing could possibly be seen as wrong or out of order. I had to respect that, in my line of work. Small mistakes could turn into disaster particularly fast.
I took a sip of the latte. My line of work…what would happen now that I had finally caught my prey? The Order of St. Hubert had a very specific task with specific skills, so now that her task was finished she would probably have to take up a new line of pursuit. Werewolves, maybe.
As I sat my cup down his eyes finally came back into focus and he seemed to recognize that I was there. His face was younger than I had expected; I was almost taken aback by the fact that he could have easily been a younger brother I had never had. Clearly this was meant to put me on edge, or maybe make me feel bad for arresting someone so young. I wouldn’t fall for that trick again. His face couldn’t hide what I knew about him, and how long he had really been running from justice.
He cleared his throat and took a deep, ragged breath. “I’m not going to run.”
“I know.” Wait, was that…was that compassion in my voice? Dammit, get it together. You’ve won.
“What’s your name?” He asked, meeting my eyes with distinct curiosity. “I’d like to know who it is that’s come all this way and chased me for so long.”
I paused, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as I looked him in the eyes. Something was wrong there, as though his eyes were ages older than the rest of his body. “Lynette.”
He nodded like I had just spilled my soul in a single word. It looked like he was pitying me. Was he? “You’ve been at this a long time. You and your—” He choked on a word. “—organization. I’ve never understood any of you, or why you do what you do.”
“The Order of St. Hubert is noble and good,” I said with more than a hint of edge in my voice.
“Is it? Is it noble and good to hunt something defenseless?”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that now, but it’s hard to push that argument when you’re moving in the blink of eye and nothing but claws and teeth. We—” I pointedly tapped my index finger on the table, “—protect people from you.”
He shook his head slowly. “Back in the 15th century, perhaps, when my kind had rogues and criminals—much like yours. We hunted them with you. We took them down together and saved countless lives with our actions. But then there were fewer of those, and then none, because all of us that remained swore oaths of nobility, to protect mankind.” He winced at the thought. “And you took our oath…and used it against us.” He shifted his gaze down to the swirling clouds of creamer floating in my latte. “The Guild of Hunters became like caged birds and taught only fear.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He didn’t look up. “Caged birds. Put something shiny in a cage with birds. They’ll all want it. But then, whenever one of them goes for it, you shake the cage and scare them. You do this for some time, and after a while the birds learn not to touch the shiny thing. Then…then you take one of the birds out and put in a new bird. Do you follow so far?”
He looked up at me. I nodded, very slowly.
“The new bird goes for the shiny thing, but the other birds know that leads to a shaken cage. So, they attack the new bird and keep him away from it because they are afraid of the consequences. And the new bird—he learns that touching the shiny thing is something he should be afraid of. You do this again—replacing the birds one after the other in slow progression…and they all learn not to touch the shiny thing, but none of them know why. Even if you never shake the cage again.”
I pursed my lips. “But they’re fearing a real threat. You could still shake the cage.”
“No, they’re not. The danger is passed, but the fear remains. This is what my kind is to yours. A baseless fear.”
“You’re acting like you were the victims.”
“We were.”
Dammit, my smug smile had finally broken through. “So why didn’t you ever fight back then, if you were feeling so…persecuted?”
“Because we swore not to!” he snapped. “We should never have taken that oath. We did it as a show of good faith…as a truce, for peace between my people and your ancestors. And your ancestors knew when we made that oath that we could not break it from then until eternity.”
“What are you talking ab—”
He cut me off with a snarl. “‘By the grace of God, we swear our blood and souls into these words.’ A binding magic the likes of which shall never be seen again was cast that dreadful day—and because we swore to never harm mankind again on pain of death, we could never fight the Guild of Hunters when you decided to betray us.”
I gritted my teeth but made my best to look calm as I took another sip of the latte. “I don’t believe you.”
He sighed deeply. “You don’t have to. But haven’t you ever wondered why we never fought back? Why we always ran from you when you came for us? It’s not because we feared your skills as hunters. It’s because we feared harming you by accident. Were we to strike even one of you…all of us would die a slow, and painful death. Each and every one would suffer for the sins of a single vampire who would dare harm a single human life.” He sighed. “We were fools.”
A stinging silence descended between us, broken only by the light jazz music playing from the speaker in the ceiling. The last dregs of sunlight slipped below the horizon across the parking lot, and the coffee shop was cast into a gloomy atmosphere that gave the room an unearthly feel.
He finally spoke again, softly. “She was pregnant.”
“Who?” I sat the cup down again.
“Elissandra. She was with child…we had tried for centuries. We believed—we believed that if we could bring one more of our kind into this world, that perhaps that one wouldn’t be bound by his ancestors’ oath, and that he could fight back and save our race. A savior. It was an impossible dream—a hopeless chance. A doomed idea. And…however small the possibility…” He swallowed hard. There were tears in his eyes. I didn’t know his race could even cry. “It died when you killed her four days ago.”
My hand shook. I put it under the table to hide it. “I didn’t…I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head from side to side. “My race is dead. I am the last.”
I nodded grimly and looked down at my phone to read the time. I wasn’t in a particular rush, but the conversation was beginning to weigh on me in a way I couldn’t understand. “Well…it’s time to go.”
He didn’t move. “‘If we should strike any sons or daughters of mankind, verily we shall all perish.’ Those are the words I swore eleven centuries ago. We were noble and strong and wished only for peace. But now we are gone.”
“Come on, quit stalling.” I stood up.
“You don’t understand,” He said, his breathing beginning to rise in sharp breaths. “If I strike any of mankind, there are no more of my kind to fear for their lives. I am…I am the last. No more would their deaths weigh on me if I were to break my oath.”
I blinked incredulously. “But you would die.”
I took a step back as he looked up and met my eyes one last time. “Yes, I would. Eventually. But you would die first.”
I ran for the door. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
Chapter 8
Friday began with a far more pleasing note than Thursday had ended. I was already one indulgent dark chocolate mocha into the day (“As dark and sweet as the barista himself,” Apollo said with his stupid irresistible smile as he handed me the cup) and the caffeine had begun
to work its magic greasing the gears of my mind.
The previous night had been spent in Dad’s still-empty condo, where by candlelight I had spread out all of the new employee materials before me and sorted them into the levels of importance. More mundane ones like The Best Places to park in the Queen City and Social Ostracism from Being a Fan of the Wrong Chili Restaurant were pushed aside in lieu of more potentially important ones like 7 Signs You’re Secretly Possessed by an Evil Spirit and Understanding Your Relationship with Your City’s Dragon (A Guide).[10] Those, plus the ever-important Employee Handbook, became my nighttime study material.
I instantly regretted not going through some of these pamphlets on the first day. Had I actually take the time to read through them, or even just the hot tips, the past week would probably have been an immensely more enjoyable experience. In the back of Keeping Your Mind Safe from Intruders, which I had noticed but not actually read on Monday, one of the tips was to carry a piece of onyx in my pocket to prevent from passive thought-reading. Very useful, especially with how awful the Wizard Partners at the firm seemed to treat co-ops. Toning down my frustrated thoughts in their direction would have been a chore unto itself.
“Andy.” I looked up and saw one of the Wizard Partners at my desk. It was the man who had sent me into the market yesterday.
“Yessir.” I felt my heart start to pound again.
“So, I had the opportunity to check the components you procured. If I’m honest, the task wasn’t very high on my priorities and I figured if you didn’t get it right, then I’d have time to find someone else more competent to take care of it.”
I nodded with as much of a polite smile as I could muster. The Wizard waited for a moment and the edge of his lips twitched amusedly. “Huh. Finally started blocking your thoughts, huh? Well that’s a good sign.” He seemed to relax a little bit and picked at his middle fingernail with his thumb. “In any case, I didn’t have to find that more-competent person because you pulled it off. Good job. Keep it up.” Without another word, or the opportunity to respond, he had turned on his heel and was gone.
I felt completely elated, like a balloon of happiness was bubbling in my chest. I returned to my reports and inventory lists with a newfound sense of purpose—that of keeping my job. Once that was secure, I’d be able to work on my other goals. But until then, I would completely put all investigation out of my mind while—
An envelope hitting my desk brought me back from my moment of joy and I looked up to see Killian. “Hey you.”
I grinned. “Hey Killian, what’s brings you all the way up here?”
She gestured to the envelope. “Exam results are in for Co-op licensure. Security’s handing them out because…well, not everybody passed. And those people get escorted out.”
My heart sank. I had completely forgotten about the exam results that I had been told would determine if I was being hired on fully. All of my elated feelings quickly deflated, and, with trembling fingers, I picked up the envelope, and momentarily considered the simple manila item.
“Why would they even hire someone who hasn’t passed the test yet?”
“Because working here looks good on a resume, even if it’s for a week. I think they do it as a courtesy.”
“What happens if I get denied? I need to know.”
She leaned up against my desk and crossed her arms. “It’s not so terrible. You could opt to have your memory wiped and go back to whatever your life was like before—”
“Next.”
“—or you can look for work elsewhere. As long as you’re in on the Secret there’s places that hire, but if I’m honest they don’t pay well and normal humans without licenses don’t have good job prospects. Unless you hedge.”
“Hedge?”
“Yeah, Hedge Magic,” she said, pushing a lock of her hair out of her face, “It’s when you do freelance wizardry. Stock up on potions, scrolls, other one-time-use items…Basically folks who either don’t want to keep up with renewing their license or would rather not deal with quite as much paperwork. If you’re good at it, resourceful, and quick on your feet you can get some good money and even get contracts for stuff. Like being a security guard.” She raised her eyebrows in apparent snark.
“Oh!” My eyes went wide with realization. “You’re a hedge…wizard?”
“Hedge Magician,” she corrected. “which is basically the wizard equivalent of a freelancer. I have been for quite a few years. I can go toe-to-toe with some of the top dogs around these days, and it’s all experience. But quit stalling and open your envelope.”
I nodded, and then took a few steadying breaths and opened flap of the manila parcel. Inside, a small folded piece of paper fell out and onto the desk. I picked it up and, saying silent hopes and prayers, opened it to read:
The Office of
The Most Venerable Sir
The Dragon of Cincinnati, Ohio
Having been satisfied that one ANDY LAFAYETTE has met the requirements specified by the Sorcera Society, and furthermore that proper notice and application has been made by 50 THOUSAND CONSULTING on behalf of said person, and furthermore reposing our confidence in both of the preceding that they shall conform to the Codes and Regulations of this city, and by the power invested upon us by Ancient Society of Dracontos, we do hereby approve a PERMIT for the practice of APPRENTICE LEVEL SORCERY by said person for the duration of ONE YEAR from the issuance of this Document, and enclose said permit with this letter.
In witness whereof
Under my own righteous claws signed
At the Lair of My City
Todd
The Dragon of Cincinnati
I read the letter over several times before looking up. “Todd? The Dragon of Cincinnati is named Todd?”
Killian nodded solemnly as though the name carried great weight.
I shrugged and checked the envelope. Enclosed with it was a small, silver disc engraved with the Sorcera Society’s sigil, accompanied by my name and a permit number. I sat, I am sure, for more than a few moments when Killian tapped my shoulder. “Congratulations. I don’t have to escort you out.” With a wry smile she got up to leave.
I stopped her. “Hey…thanks.”
She waved dismissively behind her and disappeared down the hall. I instantly pulled out my phone to text Apollo[11]. Got my permit!
Apollo replied a few minutes later. congrats. does this mean partying? or misbehaving?
I thought about it for a few minutes before hitting send. I now had the ability to start a little external investigating, and it would be on my own time and not the Company’s. What do you suggest?
scrying he replied. whats your address?
~
The rest of the morning seemed to pass as slowly as I could remember. Friday, I was told, was “Casting day”, where all of the preparation for wizard spells from the week before culminated in some kind of large conference where all of the Wizards of the company cast the spells. People kept shuffling in and out of the office, mostly to get coffee since the Espresso Machine was having a crisis and refused to work until it had “found inspiration”.
I tried to keep myself as busy as I could. I redoubled my file room efforts, sorting things into date and then by the file’s color, and despite ending up a sweaty mess I was pleased by the time my lunch break rolled around to say that a sizeable dent in the organization had been made.
I had also picked up some more information about what the firm did. Every spell cast by 50 Thousand was guaranteed for a certain amount of time: most of them lasted months, but some were as long as decades and a few were short-term ones that lasted less than a week. Each spell could be expected to last a certain amount of time in most cases, so the Firm guaranteed those spells for an amount of time that was about 60-70% of what the spell would be expected to last. That way, the client would never be in danger of risking a spell expiring, and the company could make a little extra money by recasting a spell that wasn’t near actually expiring at all. It seeme
d to be good business practice, even if it was a little slimy. And the customers, of course, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
Especially given the alternative. In each of the files I saw “response reports”—strangely ominous documents that listed cities and the names of other wizarding firms who were casting some kind of offensive enchantments. Each “event”, which were days, weeks, and even months apart, was cataloged in great detail with the type of magical offensive effect has been aimed at the person or company. Common ones included spells to cause PR disasters, spells to cause financial problems, and spells to reduce efficiency in the workplace. Others, however, were a bit more sinister, including causing workplace accidents, causing sickness, and in a few cases even, spells intended to kill.
All in all, 50 Thousand appeared to be very good at its job. Each of these events was tagged with the phrase “Effects nullified” at the bottom of the page indicating that the magical effect, at least, had been stopped.[12]
“Most cities don’t allow offensive enchantments,” Apollo had explained, “but a few Dragons allow them in their cities because they can be very lucrative. Companies that do it make a killing doing this stuff. Pun intended.”
“And 50 Thousand?” I had inquired with more than a tinge of anxious edge to my voice.
The Wizards on Walnut Street Page 8
