by R. L. King
Richter had wasted no time in contacting Brathwaite, and the two had begun a mutually beneficial partnership. As it happened, Brathwaite did not seek power, except in the limited areas of his interest: learning new techniques, not only in necromancy but also in alchemy and the darker ends of ritual magic. It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Richter had enticed Brathwaite into signing on with the newly-resurrected Ordo with promises of unlimited funding for his strange experiments. All Richter asked was to be kept apprised of his progress, which Brathwaite had readily agreed to. The man was somewhere in Belgium now, still in Padgett’s body, and the reports he’d been sending had been promising so far.
Right now, though, Richter’s first thought was not of Brathwaite, but of his old friend and physician, Dr. Albrecht. He met with him one day in secret, hidden under a false name and an illusionary disguise. The doctor had long ago sworn a magical oath not to reveal any of Richter’s medical information to anyone, so Richter did not hold back. He explained the situation, including the incident with the book, his failing ability to memorize complex patterns, and the last and most concerning of his failings, when he’d forgotten to attend a meeting with a colleague. That was something that had never happened. The doctor had ordered a series of tests—everything from an MRI scan of his brain, to blood tests, to a full physical examination. Richter had submitted to all of them without question.
Today, he stood in Albrecht’s office, facing his old friend across his massive, carved desk.
“So…” he said, in a tone anyone who knew him would have found surprisingly tentative, “what have you got for me, Johann? What do your tests show? Am I merely working too hard? Are you going to tell me to slow down? Perhaps prescribe a tonic, or a pill?”
Albrecht had given him the news in a tone that was both clinical and compassionate, sticking to the facts but delivering them as not merely a physician, but a friend.
Richter stared at him, a hard lump forming in the pit of his stomach. “Dementia…?” he whispered. Then he shook his head, waving it off. “No. It cannot be possible.”
“The signs are there, old friend,” Albrecht told him gently. “We have discovered it very early, which is a good thing. There are steps we can take to slow the deterioration, but…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Elias. There’s nothing medical science can do to stop it, once it’s begun.”
Richter swallowed hard. “How…long? Before it starts causing me severe inconvenience, I mean?”
“I cannot say. But knowing you and what you might consider ‘severe inconvenience,’ I would say perhaps a year.”
“So soon?” The hard knot in Richter’s stomach began to spread, rooting him to the spot in front of Albrecht’s desk.
“I’m sorry, I wish I could give you better news. We will, of course, begin a course of treatment to do what we can to ensure you have as long as possible, before…”
Before your mind begins to go. Richter turned away from him. “Thank you, Johann. I…need some time. To think. To consider my options. I will be in touch.”
“Elias—”
“Not now. We will talk later.”
He left the office, closing the door softly behind him.
He didn’t scream.
He didn’t lash out with his magic, cutting a path of destruction no one would dare try to stop.
Instead, he returned to his home, shut himself in his workroom, and forced himself to think.
This was an injustice.
Mundanes, simple people with no ambitions and no intellect, lived long lives with their mental capacities intact. They died of cancer, of heart attacks, of falls or accidents—but they died while still in possession of their minds. It was unconscionable that the universe would play such a cruel trick on him—him, of all people, a man with one of the finest magical minds on Earth.
In less than a year, that mind would begin to drift away. In two years, or three, or perhaps five if he was lucky, he would be nothing more than a shadow of his former self, dependent upon his servants for his very existence.
No.
His expression hardened.
He would not do that.
He would not allow it.
He was still well now—relatively so, anyway—so he had time. He might have to work harder than he was accustomed to, and the study might come a bit slower, but his library was one of the most well-stocked in the magical world, and if other references existed he could send his people to find them.
He would not sit down and allow this monstrous injustice to take him, even if he had to explore avenues he would normally find distasteful. Whatever was necessary, he would do it. He would not be lost to the world like a common mundane.
As he considered the avenues he might need to pursue, one thought came to him before all the others—one that his failing brain didn’t hesitate to serve up.
Yes.
It was a good thought.
He picked up his phone, but then set it back down.
This was not something to be done over the phone.
He would seek out James Brathwaite in person, and together they would see what could be done.
1
Sometimes when you sit on a problem for long enough, something happens to make it go away.
This wasn’t that kind of problem.
And it definitely wasn’t going away.
Verity Thayer sat slumped in her comfortable, overstuffed chair and stared out the window at the street below. It was starting to get cooler now in late summer, though it rarely got hot in San Francisco. She let out a loud sigh and sipped her tea. She wished Raider were here to lick her nose, poke his face into her cup, and take her mind off what she needed to do.
She did need to do it, too, feline intervention notwithstanding. She’d meant to do it a long time ago, shortly after she’d found out herself. It would have been so much easier if she had. But so much had happened since then—losing Sharra, her month-long solo trip around the country, meeting Bron’s family in New York, the business with the Whitworths, breaking up with Stone—that it had never seemed like the right time.
She’d eventually realized there would never be a right time. This wasn’t going to be easy no matter when she did it, and now, after letting nearly five months get away from her, it would be even harder. Every day she let it go unresolved, the hit would be worse. It was time to rip the bandage off the wound and take the consequences.
She thought about calling Stone first. Aside from those directly involved, he was the only other person who knew about the whole situation. He’d asked her about it a couple times, and seemed disapproving when she’d admitted she still hadn’t done anything about it, but he’d never gone farther than that. For a man with the curiosity of a whole roomful of cats, Stone was a master at minding his own business, a trait she found refreshing in him but had trouble sharing herself.
But calling Stone wouldn’t help. He’d say the same things he’d said before, and while talking to him might give her a small measure of comfort, it wouldn’t make things any easier. It wasn’t like she was planning to ask him to come along, after all. He’d probably decline anyway, since this wasn’t any of his concern and they both knew it.
This was her problem to deal with, and hers alone.
She sighed again. Come on. Just do it. Get it over with.
Before she could rethink that plan, she jerked her phone from her pocket, hit the familiar number, and waited while it rang.
Jason answered on the second ring. “Hey, V.”
“Hi.” Her mouth went dry, and suddenly she couldn’t think of anything to say.
There was a pause, and when he spoke again, he sounded concerned. “Something wrong?”
She tried to swallow, took a sip of tea, and cleared her throat. “Uh…no. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. Exactly.”
“What do you mean, exactly? V, come on. If something’s up, just tell me so I can h
elp.”
Another deep breath, and then she blurted it out before she lost her nerve. “I need to talk to you about something, Jason. Something important.”
“Uh…okay. Sure.” He still sounded suspicious, and concerned. “Go for it.”
The thought of doing this on the phone sent a thrill of dread up her spine. This would require careful phrasing, and she needed to see his face, and his aura. “Uh…no. Not now. Not on the phone. Can we meet somewhere? I can come down there.”
“You’re freaking me out here. What’s going on?”
“I promise, I’ll tell you. It’s something I should have told you a long time ago, which is why this is so hard now. Can we meet somewhere private? Just you and me?”
“You don’t want me to bring Amber along? You know I don’t keep secrets from her.”
She gripped the chair arm with her other hand. “It’s not that I don’t want her to know. You can tell her. But…I don’t want to. Okay?”
He hesitated again. “V…are you sick?”
“No!” The word nearly exploded from her, as she realized what her cryptic message must sound like to somebody who didn’t have all the facts. “No, nothing like that! I promise. It’s…something about our family.”
“Our family?”
“Please, Jason. This won’t be easy for me, and it won’t for you either. I’d rather do it in person.”
“Uh…okay. Yeah. Tell you what—Amber’s got a thing tomorrow, so I’ll be on my own most of the day. You mind driving out to the house? I’ll get something for lunch, and we can eat out on the deck. Mostly got it patched up by now.”
She gave a shaky chuckle. “That’s cool—not falling through is always nice.” She swung her legs around and stood. “Now that I’ve got up the nerve to finally tell you, it’s going to be hard to wait till tomorrow, though.”
“Tell me about it. I’m dying of curiosity here, V.”
She looked at her feet. She had no idea how he’d respond, but she suspected tomorrow wouldn’t be a mellow, easygoing day for either of them.
Jason and Amber hadn’t had much time yet to fix up their new house in the Santa Cruz mountains south of Los Gatos, but when Verity pulled up in her little black SUV she noticed they’d finished clearing out the brush and overgrown trees. They still didn’t have a yard per se, but at least the encroaching vegetation was no longer an imminent fire hazard.
Jason must have been watching for her, because the front door opened as soon as she pulled up. He wore gray sweatpants and a Lake Tahoe T-shirt.
“Hey,” he called, looking her over almost as if he expected to see some obvious change.
“Hey.” She looked around. “It’s beautiful out here. So quiet.”
“Yeah, that’s what we like. Our closest neighbor is a mile away.” He led her around the back to the deck, which now had a new table and chairs that hadn’t been there last time she’d visited. “Have a seat and I’ll go get the stuff. Want soda, beer, or something else?”
“Soda’s fine.” Right now, she didn’t care if he served her room-temperature water.
She took a seat at the table and looked out over the deck to the trees lining the sloping land behind the house. It all seemed so normal—just a regular lunch with her brother.
She held on to that thought until he returned with a tray holding sub sandwiches, a tall glass with ice, a two-liter bottle of Pepsi, and a can of local microbrew. He settled across from her, popped the beer, and leaned back. “Okay. We’re here, we’re alone, and we’ve got food. Out with it.”
He made it sound so easy, when it was anything but. She stalled by picking up a sandwich and taking a big bite. It was good—he must have picked them up from some local place, instead of a fast-food joint.
“V…”
She swallowed, flicking her gaze up to him and then back to her sandwich. “Okay. So…the first thing I want to say is to apologize for not telling you this sooner. I should have. Things just got so crazy in the last few months that I never…felt like it was the right time.”
His eyes narrowed. “You said it was something about our family. What did you mean by that?”
“It’s something I found out about Mom…and Dad.”
“Mom and Dad?” He frowned. “What about them? Where did you find it?”
“Let me tell you what it is first, and then I’ll go into how I found it.” She met his gaze with an imploring one of her own. “Like I said, this isn’t going to be easy—for me to tell or for you to hear.”
His expression sharpened with impatience, but then settled again. “Look. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it. I’ve found that when there’s something I really don’t want to say, sometimes the best way is to just spit it out and then deal with the fallout.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” She took another bite of her sandwich. It had been so much easier to tell Stone—but then again, it hadn’t involved his family. She almost chuckled: compared to Stone’s family issues, hers were almost ridiculously minor. “Jason…Mom had an affair before I was born.”
There. She’d said it. She looked up at him again, with no idea how he’d react. With Jason, you could never tell.
“What?” He set his beer can down and stared hard at her.
“It’s true.” She was surprised she didn’t sound utterly miserable. Unlike him, she’d had several months to come to terms with the information.
“An…affair?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
He didn’t want to believe it. Of course he didn’t. His loyalty to his parents was every bit as strong as it was to her. “Yeah.”
“With who?” His expression hardened again. “Somebody we know?” Suddenly he paled, gripping the edge of the table. “Wait…Mom knew Al back when he was a teenager. He said he had a crush on her. You’re not saying they—”
His suggestion caught her completely off guard. It was so absurd she almost laughed. “No!” she sputtered instead. “Jason, come on! Why would you even think something like that?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
She’d rattled him—she could tell. At this point, it would be crueler to draw things out than to just tell him all at once. “No. She didn’t have an affair with Doc. But…she did have one with a mage.”
He’d been reaching for his beer again, but his hand stopped. “A mage.”
“Yeah.”
He swallowed, took a deep breath, and visibly settled back in his chair. “Who? Why? How do you know this?”
“I told you—I’ll tell you how I know it after you know the details. They’re…kind of two different stories.”
He was silent, but his gaze never left her.
“Okay,” she said, her sandwich forgotten now. “So…apparently Mom and Dad had been going through a rough patch. She was upset at him because he was gone all the time for work. They had a big fight, right before she went to one of her mage gatherings. You know, like the one from the photo with her and Doc.”
“And…she met somebody there.”
The deadness in his tone cut through Verity. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess it was only the one time. She went back to Dad after that, they made up, and as far as I know she never did it again before she…died. But…once was enough.”
“Enough.”
“Yeah.”
“Enough…for what?”
She could see he already knew the answer, but was desperately trying not to acknowledge it. “For…me,” she whispered.
He bowed his head.
She let him stay like that for a while, but when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move, she ventured, “Jason…?”
He still didn’t look up. “So you’re saying Mom and this mage…what’s his name, by the way? Do I know him?”
“His name was…Sebastian. You didn’t know him. He’s…” She swallowed hard. “He’s dead now.”
Jason remained where he was for a few more seconds, still not looking at her, an
d then shoved his chair back and began pacing the deck. He stopped at the edge, gripping it hard and glaring out into the trees as if expecting them to have answers.
“Jason…”
“Give me a minute, V.”
She sat there, looking down at her sandwich with no interest in finishing it, and waited.
Finally, he turned back and at last he met her gaze. “How long have you known about this?”
“A few months. I found out shortly before you and Amber got married. I was going to tell you then, but I didn’t want to mess things up for you. And then after that, all kinds of things started happening. Your wedding, Sharra, the stuff with the Whitworths…” She sighed and spread her hands. “Every time I thought it might be a good time to tell you, something else happened to get in the way. I’m sorry, Jason. I really am. If it’s worth anything, I held off because I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Yeah.” His tone held bitterness. “Can’t really do much about that.” He looked up. “Does anybody else know?”
“Uh…”
“Did you tell Al?”
Now it was her turn to look miserable. “Yeah.”
“You told Al but you didn’t tell me?”
His anger cut into her even more than his dead tone from before. “Look…I know I fucked this whole thing up, okay? But I had a reason for telling him. I needed advice, and I had to tell somebody who…wasn’t involved. He wasn’t even around when I first found out. He was off in Romania. I told him after he got back.”
“So he’s known for this whole time.”
“Jason—”
He waved her off, and turned away again. “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” He paused, gripping the railing again. “So you’re telling me…that Dad wasn’t your real dad. That this Sebastian guy was.”
