by CM Raymond
The men snuck down an alley. Climbing through the break in a wooden fence, they stepped into Queen’s Boulevard. The rotten smell of the dirty streets hit the mystic.
“It’s like we just stepped into a different world,” he said, following Parker.
“For the most part, we have. This is where Hannah and I grew up. We’d been running these streets together all our lives—until Ezekiel showed up.”
Though he wouldn’t come out and just say it, Parker hoped that the mystic would pick up on the fact that he and Hannah were together—even though he wasn’t entirely sure that they were.
Hadley’s presence disrupted all that he and Hannah had been, and Parker realized that he had taken their relationship for granted from the beginning. It was the sort of wake-up call that he needed. Anything more than a friendship would serve only as a distraction in this crucial time, but nevertheless, Parker wanted to make sure that his friend didn’t fall into that distraction with Hadley.
The two stepped out onto the Boulevard across the street from the ruins of Hannah’s old house. A crowd had already gathered around the stage where Jed would soon address his people and the others gathering out of curiosity.
“That’s where it happened,” Parker said.
“What’s that?”
“The pile of rock behind the stage is Hannah’s old house. The one she blew to pieces dealing with the asshats who killed her family. Jed uses it as a symbol for what happens when unrestricted magic is practiced. It’s a reminder to the people.”
Hadley nodded. “Powerful symbol.”
“Yep. Nice thing about symbols is that their meaning is malleable. It can be changed. We just have to take the symbol—her house—back. That’s why we’re here.”
Parker waited for Hadley to give some sort of arrogant response, but he only stared at the rubble with hatred in his eyes.
“What’s the plan?” he asked.
Parker smiled—genuinely happy for the first time since meeting the man. “I’m glad you asked.”
****
Hadley watched the crowd as they restlessly awaited the coming of their Prophet. The sense of dissatisfaction among the lower class was strong enough for Hadley to feel without prying into their minds. He had always wondered why his people in the Heights were so adamant about staying out of society. For the first time, he was starting to understand. The life of meditation and simple living made more sense now that Hadley was seeing possible alternative lifestyles. Their fear and worry already weighed on his mind, making it harder to focus.
But Hadley was happy to change all of that.
The crowd quieted as a large, bearded man in a snow-white robe took the stage. Everyone pushed forward several steps, even the skeptics closer to the back. Jedidiah had been hard at work, and his flock was growing. Parker had been gone for days, more than enough time for Jed to regain his message. More and more that attended his daily gatherings were believers, and those outside of his circle had become the silent minority.
Raising his hands into the air, the Prophet greeted them, “My children! How good it is to gather together?” He smiled like a drunk as the audience erupted into applause.
Shit, Hadley thought. The man’s influence was greater than he had imagined. His sway over the people in the Boulevard almost made it appear as though he used mental magic on them—although, probably not. Fearmongering carried a magic all its own.
Let’s see if we can throw him a curveball, Hadley thought.
He spotted Parker, standing in the alley across the Boulevard. The men nodded to one another.
The Prophet continued. “Not only have you gathered, but you’ve also set your hands to work. When I first started preaching the fundamentals years ago, people thought I was a lunatic. Sure, my message matched that of the leaders of Arcadia—but my message remains only slightly different. The Chancellor and the Governor are concerned with making a safe place for you to raise your families. And this, of course, is good. Who could argue with that? My job is to bring you the rest of the story. The total restriction of magic and the constraint of the outlaw casters will bring back the Founder who will finish the work we have begun!”
Parker gave Hadley the sign, and the mystic smiled. He focused, pushing the concerns he felt in all of those gathered out of his mind. His eyes turned white, and he felt his power leave his body.
Meanwhile, the Prophet was working his followers into a frenzy. His preaching garnered the occasional holler, and there were even a few hands raised into the air in the front. “Now, my friends, we live in urgent times. As we become more vigilant, the Unlawfuls have increased their work among us. Be on watch. You never know who might be one of them. Your neighbor? Your butcher? Your wife or husband? They are everywhere, and the problem is that they look just like you and me.”
“We’ll find them, Prophet,” a voice screamed from the middle of the crowd.
Jed smiled. “I know you will. And I know you are… The work of the Disciples has been good and will be rewarded. That’s why I come to you today to make a request. It is time for us to find the Bitch Witch and her friend. They, too, were once thought of as common kids from the Boulevard… and look what has become of—”
The Prophet stopped mid-sentence and craned his head toward the sky. “What the Bitch and Bastard?”
Everyone in the crowd followed his gaze. Unlike Jedidiah, they saw nothing.
The old man shielded his eyes from the sun with the flat of his hand. His head careened in circles as if he were watching an imaginary bird in flight. Parker couldn’t help but smile, knowing what was about to happen. He only wished that Hannah was by his side to enjoy the show.
Old Jed’s eyes cut to his parishioners and then back to the sky. His face twisted as curiosity met terror.
“Fucking dragons!” he screamed. “They’re coming. Run for your lives.”
Those surrounding the stage looked at each other in disbelief. Others laughed, thinking that their religious leader had suddenly grown a sense of humor.
Jed hit the wooden platform, lying as flat as his rotund belly would allow. Those in the front row could hear his cursing. He looked up again and shrieked, covering his head with his hands. He began to scream as if he was in pain. He began tearing at his robe until he pulled it off entirely. He stood naked before them all. The man’s pale flesh almost matched the white of his robe, and his dangling manhood was nearly lost beneath the folds of his stomach.
The old man seemed unaware of his shame, and he leaped off his stage and rolled into the mud like a stuck pig before the slaughter. A circle spread out around him. One of the devoted reached a hand out to help.
“Prophet are you—”
Jedidiah batted it out of the way. He stood again, naked and caked in filth. “You damn fools. Go! Get to safety!”
They all stared as the man they had followed for years sprinted naked through the crowd.
OK, go, Hadley said inside of Parker’s head.
As Parker stepped up on a pile of boxes, Hadley dropped his spell. It was thoughts of Hannah that had inspired him to create the illusion of attacking dragons—only within the Prophet’s mind. Who wouldn’t rip their robe off if they thought it was on fire?
As Hadley’s eyes turned from white to their usual brown, his head spun as if half drunk. Julianne would have pulled the stunt off in her sleep, but an illusion of attacking dragons took a toll on the mystic.
And he needed all his energy and focus for what was about to come next.
He turned his attention to Parker who was ready to do his work. Since his last appearance, Jedidiah had roused his people against him. Hadley knew that Parker needed him, his next spell would have to work—or his new friend could be the next Unlawful martyr.
****
The crowd of women, children, and old men buzzed like a swarm of bees. Everyone talking about what they had just seen. Arcadia's own holy man had just stripped naked and ran through the crowd screaming about dragons. And that sight, plus t
he sight of his nudity, did little to inspire awe of the gods or anything else.
But a booming voice cut through the crowd, like a crack of thunder.
“My fellow Arcadians!”
They all turned to see Parker standing on a stack of boxes on the other end of the plaza. He looked different from the last time they had seen him. He was taller, more regal. And his voice was as loud as the gods’.
“The time is almost at hand. The rebellion is real, and a choice needs to be made. Your Boulevard has been reduced to a slum by the Capitol. Your men have all been enslaved by the Academy. And your neighbors are being killed by Hunters and Disciples—murdered in this very street. And still, you run around in the mud, screaming in fear about the imaginary threat of Unlawfuls.”
Hadley could barely hear Parker. All the mystic’s energy was directed toward the crowd. He held every mind in his hand—although, the connection wasn’t strong. He couldn’t change their minds—not like this. He couldn’t tell them what to think or convince them that Parker was right. All he could do was make sure they heard him. The rest was up to them.
I hope you’re not wrong, Parker, Hadley thought.
“You can place your faith in the Prophet,” Parker continued. “You can place your faith in Adrien or the Governor. Or you can place your faith in the true servant of the gods. A woman you have known all her life.”
The crowd remained silent. They hung on his every word. But a small group of Disciples were making their way toward him.
Parker kept his eyes trained on those gathered around him. “There is a fight coming. The question is, will you fight beside her? Will you be brave like she is? Will you fight beside Hannah, the hero of the Boulevard? Because I can tell you this, she fights for you!”
Hadley’s power was strained to the limit, and he had to drop his spell. But it didn’t matter, Parker’s speech had ended—and it seemed to have worked.
The Disciples raised their clubs, shouting for the crowd to join them in destroying the False Prophet. Parker only crossed his arms. He stood resolute, almost welcoming the fight.
They charged Parker’s makeshift stage, but before the Disciples could get there, a plump woman who must have been in her fifties moved in front of them. The scowl on her face could have scared a rearick. She crossed her arms like Parker and spread her feet wide.
“Get out of my way, bitch!” the Disciple yelled. But the woman was a brick wall. The Disciple moved to step around her, but an old man, blind in one eye and leaning on a cane stepped up, too.
Then a young woman of thirteen joined the line. And a mother, holding a baby in her arms. One by one, the crowd moved to stand in between Parker and the Disciples.
The men and women in white took a step back, realizing that the tide had turned against them.
Parker spoke again, this time with only the strength of his own voice. “The choice remains for you, too, Disciples. Give up your false crusade. Give up your reign of terror on these people. Or the Hero of the Boulevard will come—and believe me—she will show you what true terror looks like. She will deliver the wrath of the Matriarch!”
****
Gregory was glad to step out of the brisk winter morning and into the long marble hallway of the Academy. He’d been there for months now, and his heart still skipped a beat when he crossed into threshold—partially from its grandeur and partially because he knew he wasn’t good enough to be there. But today, he wasn’t thinking about his shortcomings.
He had barely slept the previous night. The sun was coming up when he finally put away the plans and called it a night. After his run-in with the Disciples in Queen’s Boulevard, inspiration hit. Gregory knew that he needed to do his part to end the reign of Adrien and win back the people of Arcadia. And he had one gift that only he could give.
And that gift had nothing to do with the classroom.
Gregory marched right past his normal classroom doors and began to make the long climb up the tower stairs.
He had never set foot anywhere higher than the Administrative wing, and yet today, he was taking the stairs all the way to the top. Pushing through the door, he stood in a small foyer outside the Chancellor’s office.
Doyle, the Chancellor’s assistant, stood blocking the entrance. “You lost, kid?”
Gregory just stared at him.
A grin broke across Doyle’s face. “Hey, you’re Elon’s son. Geoffrey, right?”
“Gregory. And I’m here to see the Chancellor. Dean Amelia sent me.”
Doyle’s face softened. “Is that right? Well, in that case, wait just a minute.”
Doyle slipped into the Chancellor’s office, leaving Gregory alone outside. He took a breath and tried to steady himself. This was by far the foolhardiest thing he had ever done. He smiled, thinking about how much Hannah and the others had rubbed off on him.
Doyle opened the door and held it for Gregory. “You should go right in. He’s waiting for you.”
A shudder crossed Gregory’s body as he stepped through the doorway. Adrien stood in front of the enormous windows, backlit by the morning light.
“Welcome, Gregory,” the Chancellor said with a smile as he turned to face him. “Let’s talk about your future. I hear you’re interested in my Scholarship Program.”
****
Hannah sat in her seat, fighting the urge to fall asleep. Professor August had only started class five minutes ago, but his droning in the front of the room already wore on her. What made it worse was the empty seat next to her—Gregory’s seat.
He wasn’t there.
After the raid on Gregory’s parents’ house, and with everything getting more desperate in the streets, Hannah knew that it was important to keep her cover. But for some reason, Gregory chose today of all days to play hooky. She figured he had chosen to stay in his basement workshop, working on Adrien’s plans.
At least he gets to do something useful, she thought. She was stuck learning about physical magic theory.
The large classroom door opened, breaking August’s speech. Hannah turned to the door, expecting Gregory to come bounding in. Instead, it was Morgan, and he was covered in bandages.
The class began to whisper as the formerly handsome young man limped in. She didn’t know how much damage she had done, but his presence surprised her—and it gave her cause for alarm. If Morgan had squealed, then maybe Gregory was being questioned by the Chancellor right now. She took a breath and told herself not to panic.
Keeping his head down, Morgan made his way to a seat in the front of the room, avoiding his normal place in the back. Violet called to him, “What the hell happened to you?”
The room got quiet, and Morgan turned and made eye contact with Hannah. She glared at him, letting her eyes briefly turn red. He quickly turned away.
“It was nothing. Just an accident at the ball… I, um, fell down the steps.”
The room laughed, and Morgan flushed. Hannah couldn’t help but exhale deeply, her shoulders settling from the tension she’d felt since he’d entered. If he had shared the story, it could have unraveled their entire plan. The cocky young man’s pride salvaged everything—for now.
“Too much mystic ale?” a guy next to Hannah asked.
Morgan pushed a grin across his face. “Yeah. Guess so. Hardly remember a thing.” He faked a laugh.
He glanced up at Hannah, and she gave him a little nod.
One problem solved, she thought. Now, where the hell is Gregory?
