“Are you positive they have him?” Jonas asked.
“Unfortunately,” Ibrahim exhaled. The phrase left his mouth like a curse.
“But how did they find you?” Zaire questioned.
Jonas swallowed a tightness swelling in his throat. “Symon Bellinor is a Dream Speaker.”
Ibrahim nodded. “He came to me in a dream requesting I come to London—alone—and turn myself in. Only then would he allow my son to go free.”
Every ounce of life in Elysium faded as the group of Magi considered the predicament. Apprehension sullied Aja’s rosy cheeks. Oliver nervously turned his crystal wand over in his hands. Zaire crossed his arms, while Kierra pursed her lips together. Diego chewed on his thumbnail.
“Did Symon tell you where you needed to meet him in London, dear?” enquired Annabelle.
Ibrahim drew out a folded train ticket on which he had scribbled words. “He said to meet him at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich. He stressed I come alone, but—” He hesitated, staring at his handwriting. “Isn’t that the location of—”
“The Legerdemain Consulate,” Jonas finished for him. “Their underground facility spans that entire area.”
“That’s why I was hoping you would come with me, Jonas,” said Ibrahim, his eyes pleading. “With your connections, your knowledge about the Brotherhood, you could help me get Ezra back.”
Any shred of hope that remained bled from Jonas’ body as he considered the mission. Not only was it audacious, but the chances of success were slim to none. Jonas could not bear the thought of Ezra in his father’s clutches, but he equally could not stomach the inevitable confrontation with the consul. He had spent the last twelve years avoiding him. The last thing he wanted to do was go to battle with a man who would crush him, both in will and power.
“We will all come with you,” Kierra answered before Jonas could get a word out. “Ezra is just as much a part of our family as he is yours.”
Jonas cast a worried look at his cousin. “Kierra, I cannot risk any of you getting hurt. You will all stay in Elysium where we have been commanded to stay.”
“The hell we won’t,” Diego retorted. “I am coming.”
“So am I,” Zaire said.
“Me too!” Aja and Oliver exclaimed simultaneously.
“And you sure aren’t leaving me behind!” Annabelle piped up. “Knitting is becoming awfully mundane.”
Jonas stared at them, disconcerted. “No! This is not some holiday excursion! We are talking about an extremely dangerous rescue operation—”
“Which is why we need to come with you,” Zaire answered respectfully. “You and Mista Ibrahim ain’t doing this alone. You need us.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Jonas remarked, getting to his feet. “I am not going. This isn’t a matter of right or wrong. This is a matter of logic and reasoning. The second I step foot out of this building, the Magi Gendarmerie will be scrambling to arrest me, and then I won’t be able to help anyone.” He turned toward Ibrahim, hoping the look in his eyes adequately communicated his apologetic brokenness. “Mr. Newport, I care about your situation, but I cannot risk it. You may stay as long as you’d like, but as for me, I will be staying where the Administration wants me. Right here in Elysium.”
At that, Jonas shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and strode toward his bedroom, with overwhelming despair blurring his vision.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Beyond Our Understanding
Domburg, the Netherlands, 1893
Eighteen-year-old Jonas van der Campe walked in stride beside his father as the first pinpricks of stars dotted the skies over Westhove Castle. Exhausted from the lengthy train ride from Amsterdam to Domburg, Jonas found it difficult to be excited for his first Ascension Ceremony. From what he had heard from his peers trained in the ways of the Legerdemain, the ritual served as one of the most momentous rites of the Brotherhood. Every month, under the power of the full moon, members of the Legerdemain would gather in temples, monuments, or other ancient structures. Strung together along invisible lines of energy, like a web across the world, each site connected the Brotherhood in an unbreakable universal bond. Only then would their crystals be charged to their full strength, allowing them to enhance the power of the Celestial Lifeforce and give them the sorcerous advantage that the Magi could never wield.
Jonas apprehensively grasped the sunstone wand in his pocket. Smooth to the touch, the talisman had seen him through every day of his training, from his fifteenth birthday until now. Though he admired the beauty of the polished orange point, it seemed to emanate pretension, something his father could readily appreciate. But the folded parchment next to it nudged his shaking fingers, inspiring just the slightest serenity over his nerves. He grinned to himself as a warmth caressed his cheeks.
Though the letter had been hidden away within the fabric of his trousers, Jonas had kept the words close to his heart, where they sang like the breeze through a springtime tulip field. He could practically quote them from memory:
“ARE YOU FEELING ALL right?”
Jonas snapped out of his daydreams and met his father’s expectant gaze. Honestly, he felt like retching on his shoes, but he was not quite sure how to eloquently state that fact. His father would die of embarrassment. Especially since Diederik’s entire Division (as well as reporters from the Daily Ascendant) would be studying Jonas like some sort of science experiment. The son of the consul never strayed too far from the Legerdemain Consulate’s attention.
“Yes, fine.”
“Excellent,” his father responded in his confident manner. He adjusted his tie and smoothed out the folds in his tailored jacket. “This is not just any Ascension Ceremony, Jonas. This is your initiation into the Brotherhood. Tonight, you officially become one of us.”
While his peers had divulged all about the crystal charging ceremony, they flagrantly left out details of the actual initiation. After successful completion of a range of trials, Legerdemain recruits knew they would face their final challenge during initiation but as for what that entailed remained an abstract anxiety. Those who completed the Last Act were sworn to strict secrecy.
Jonas chewed on his lip as they approached at least a hundred men congregating on the expansive grassy field. Torches staked in the ground shed a lambent glow across the trees and carved grim shadows on the faces closest to them. Meanwhile, Westhove Castle loomed in the background, a shadowy reminder of the incredible magic about to take place.
“Ah, Consul Diederik, there you are!” shouted Symon Bellinor from the throng. “We halfway wondered if the boy decided to delay his initiation.”
Diederik laughed and blithely shook the hand of the deputy consul. “Not at all, dear friend. Jonas is as ready as he’ll ever be. Isn’t that right, son?”
Jonas attempted a smile. “Of course.”
“Good man,” Symon replied, patting him on the upper arm. “Now, if only you can convince Edison to follow your lead. We need more bright young men like you to join our ranks.”
Diederik glanced up at the northeastern sky, the light from the full moon glimmering in his irises. “It is time.”
Jonas swallowed uneasily as his father stepped up on a makeshift platform in the centre of the crowd. The man did not even have to raise his hand to silence his Brotherhood; their voices fell into quietness at his mere presence.
“Welcome, my Brothers, to the ninth Ascension Ceremony in the 1893rd year of our Lord,” spoke Diederik, elegance and prestige carrying every syllable into the night. “Tonight, we gather as we have for millennia, since the very days of Labynetus. For in Babylon, our great society rose from the dust, taking us into a new era. Tonight, we celebrate the incredible power we possess as the Legerdemain Brotherhood.
“Let us also celebrate the induction of our newest recruit: my son, Jonas van der Campe!”
Cheers from the crowd practically burst Jonas’ eardrums. Several hands reached out and slapped him heartily on the back.
&
nbsp; “Jonas, would you join me?”
Dazed and distracted by the racket from the men, Jonas obeyed and stumbled up the stairs to the platform. His cheeks burned in awkwardness as all eyes focused in his direction.
“As you know, in order to become an official member of the Brotherhood, one must complete one last trial on the night of their consecration,” Diederik continued, laying a hand on his son’s shoulder. “This Last Act demonstrates unadulterated devotion to the Brotherhood. It proves to us you are not only capable of carrying out the duties associated with the Legerdemain, but also that you wield the strength to make difficult decisions. Are you ready, son?”
Jonas inhaled sharply through his nose and balled his fists. “Yes.”
“Magnificent.” Orange flames cavorted across his father’s face. “Let the Watchers come forward.”
Jonas readied for action as two Dark Watchers approached the stage, dragging an undefinable shadow between them. As they clunked up the staircase, he could just make out the sight of a body being hauled by his arms. A cloth sack had been draped over the person’s head, concealing his identity. The Watchers deposited their prisoner and grunted with laughter as the man fell to his knees.
“As every Legerdemain is aware, we are forbidden by the Celestial Lifeforce to take the life of another Gifted individual, be they friend or foe,” Diederik spoke, his words becoming as dark as the landscape around them. “If we do, our powers wane. Sometimes, they never return. That is why we work with Dark Watchers, so that they may do our bidding for us. They carry out the Order of Babylon in our place and work to recruit the next generation of Legerdemain, ensuring our numbers stay strong.”
No! No, no, no, Jonas screamed internally. His gut churned. His brain ran a million kilometres an hour. The world around him faded into a dizzying blur.
He knew exactly what came next.
“Therefore, one of the most crucial things we must do as Legerdemain is make difficult—yet necessary—decisions. Especially when Magi refuse to cooperate.” His father crouched down and with a wide, theatrical gesture, yanked the sack away from the prisoner’s head.
Felix.
Jonas’ heart leapt in horror. He instinctively ran forward, dropping to his knees at the Magus’ side.
“Felix!” Jonas exclaimed, cupping the young man’s face in his hands. His own eyes watered at the sight of dried blood and tears trailing across his freckled cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
“Jonas,” the adolescent croaked. His voice lacked the abundant life it normally contained. “You need to get away from them. Now.”
Fire ignited within Jonas’ chest. He aimed a dangerous stare at his father. “What have you done to him?”
“You know what you must do,” his father sneered. “Order his execution, and your training comes to an end. Consider his death a sacrifice.”
“No!”
After a solid minute of stunned silence, shouts of disdain and cruel heckling echoed across the field.
“Come on, kid,” Symon jeered from the crowd. “Do not throw away your training for this dirty bastard.”
“Kill him!”
“Spill his blood!”
“NO!” Jonas screamed. He leapt into a protective stance over Felix. “I will not! I refuse!”
The volume of the crowd grew to a horrifying magnitude but tapered into hushed silence when Diederik took slow, menacing steps toward his son. A brief moment of panic played across his father’s features as he stood face-to-face with him.
“Jonas, complete what you were trained to do. Finish it.”
Jonas squared his shoulders, standing tall and resolute. “If being a member of the Legerdemain means murdering innocent people, then I do not want any part of it.”
Before Jonas could react, his father backhanded him across the face. He stumbled backward as Diederik kept on his advance.
“How dare you defy me in front of them?” he growled, striking him again. “How dare you embarrass me in front of my family?”
“I am your family,” Jonas cried, shrinking away from him.
“Not anymore.”
A snap of his father’s fingers shocked him back into reality. The twang of a Watcher’s crossbow resounded throughout the night while the thud of an arrow sent a shockwave of chills throughout his being. Every motion slowed to a crawl as Jonas turned to see Felix clutching at his chest as if that alone would stop the blood from seeping across his shirt.
“NO!”
Collapsing upon the platform, Jonas cradled Felix in his arms.
“Jonas—” the young man moaned.
Uncontrollable sobs wracked Jonas’ entire body. “I am...I am so sorry,” he replied. “I never meant for this to happen.”
Felix looked up at him, the light of his hazel eyes flickering in and out of existence. “Promise me something.”
“Anything,” Jonas said, wiping away the tears from Felix’s face with his thumb. “Anything for you.”
“Promise me you’ll take up the ways of the Magi,” Felix spoke, each raspy breath becoming shallower than the last. He clasped Jonas’ trembling hand. “Promise me you will always fight for what is right. Follow the ways of the Light. Become the force your father fears.”
Jonas nodded his head in firm agreement. “Until my dying breath, I swear to you that I will.”
Satisfied with his answer, Felix smiled and squeezed Jonas’ hand before his aura faded into darkness.
Belfast, Ireland, 1906
FOR ONCE, THE STARS were silent.
Jonas sat under the trellis, absorbing the stillness of the night. A delicate wind rippled his hair and the foliage of the Emporium's urban rooftop garden. Despite the serene evening, he never got too far in his meditations before the last few hours crept back into focus.
Ibrahim’s timely appearance was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, just the confidence that he was alive sparked a renewed hope in Jonas’ heart. But along with Mr. Newport’s revelations and claims about his identity, uneasiness once again took the reins.
A deadlock had risen with the moon.
With Ezra in the custody of his father and Symon Bellinor, as well as the desperate warning of the Magi Council to stay put, Jonas fought to understand where to go next.
The reckless one would say there was no debate. That above all else, Ezra must be rescued. But the careful one would tread guardedly, notifying the Magi Administration in the hopes that action would be taken.
Jonas leaned his forehead against his folded hands. Time was not on their side. And every time he leaned toward alerting the Administration, something would jerk him back in the other direction. The tug and pull threatened to tear apart the very fibres of his mind.
"I thought I might find you up here."
Jonas forced a smile as Annabelle drifted in his direction. She gathered her skirts and perched upon the swinging bench beside him.
"My dear, you look as if you have been run over by a train."
He chuckled absently and turned his attention to the heavens. “That’s putting it mildly.”
Jonas felt the heat of Annabelle’s gaze examining his downtrodden body language. “I know you made your stance firm, dear, but something tells me you wouldn’t look so upset right now if that was the end of the argument.”
Sighing in defeat, he rubbed circles into his temples. “I need to contact Mr. Edwin Mears about this first thing tomorrow morning.”
“That’s what your conscious says. What does your heart tell you?”
“That we must accompany Ibrahim to get Ezra back,” Jonas answered. “My father will not hesitate to kill that boy after he gets what he wants. I would never...I would never forgive myself if that happened.”
The elderly woman made a small noise of approval in her throat.
“If Ibrahim is who he says he is, we cannot let him journey into Legerdemain territory alone. That would be ludicrous.”
“So, what is stopping you, my dear?”
Jonas picked at his
thumbnail as if the distraction would somehow erase the fears lingering on his tongue. “The Administration was very clear with the No Travel Order. I’m not about to get my whole Chapter imprisoned—or worse, permanently stripped of their licenses—for a foolhardy attempt at foiling a Legerdemain plot.”
“Mm. What else?”
Confused, Jonas searched her face. “What do you mean?”
“There’s got to be something else holding you back,” Annabelle responded in her soft, yet poignant way. “You went against orders before saving Ezra from the Dark Watchers. What makes this any different?”
“Because this time,” Jonas began, but an unpleasant constriction in his airways strangled his words. He cleared his throat and tried again when realisation struck a chord. “Because this time, the Council will be less forgiving. They won’t just take my license away, Mum. They’ll sever my connection to the Celestial Lifeforce. My vow to Felix will be null and void. I will have failed him. I will have failed everyone.”
Annabelle wiped away a tear from his cheek with her thumb. "Look at me, Jonas."
Hesitantly, he lifted his eyes to meet her fervent gaze.
“Felix wanted you to do what was right. He wished for you to follow an honourable life like he had witnessed in his Magi Master. But dear,” she paused, reaching to hold his face in her palm, “even if the Magi Administration took everything away: your position, your license to practice, even your Gifts, they cannot take away your spirit. And that spirit is what gives you the power to do wondrous things, not the Celestial Lifeforce.”
“I appreciate your sentiment,” Jonas whispered, bowing his heavy head. “But if that is true, then why is it that no matter what I do, everything seems to fall apart? In the end, I will only ever be the screw-up son of the Legerdemain Brotherhood consul.”
“You are a genuine, kind-hearted being with the desire to do good in a dark world,” Annabelle corrected him. “You are not your father. Is that clear, young man?”
An authentic smile tugged at his cheeks. “Lucidly.”
“Good,” Annabelle remarked as she folded her gloved hands together, “because trying to thrive under someone else’s shadow isn’t any way to live.”
The Magi Menagerie Page 22
