Sons (Book 2)

by Scott V. Duff

  “Which would be more impressive to them?” Peter asked.

  With a wave of my hand before us, I created the rectangular portal between here and London large enough for the five of us to walk abreast. The other side connected to the sidewalk outside the Hilliard Brothers offices on Deighton Street. It looked effortless to any wizard or mage watching only because they couldn’t see our magic anyway, but there was work involved. The shape of the portal alone required a lot of concentration and will. Circles were by far the easiest. Equal pressure on all sides from a point and voilá. Other shapes required many more calculations to start the dimensional shift and a lot more energy to hold it in place. And the sheer strength it took to punch through the wards without cracking them wide open was remarkable.

  “Who wants the lead on this one?” I asked as we stepped into the slip and out of Ireland. Letting go of the portal was a huge relief that I couldn’t show.

  “I’ll take it,” Kieran said. “I haven’t done much in that regard.”

  We changed positions, Kieran in the lead, then Jimmy and me, then Ethan and Peter behind us. I dropped us at the drive so we had a fair way to go to get to the door. Apparently, punching through the wards created a buzz because a dozen security men dressed as gardeners appeared at the front of the building, all bearing rakes or hoes or some gardening implement that required a long stick. Each stick was engraved with some pictographic form of writing I didn’t know. I didn’t try to translate from this distance and while their auras showed a level of power, they couldn’t have been responsible for the ward. These were pawns of little consequence.

  For such a large building in the middle of a tranquil arboreal valley, walking into Hilliard Brothers was surprisingly like walking into our New York attorneys’ office. Druidic magic apparently didn’t interfere with computers because they were everywhere and in service. Still, if their clients were magical, then that would make computer usage difficult. To experiment with that idea, I tossed a very small amount a power out into the room and watched. It was pulled immediately down into the ground, but the person nearest that tiny spark of energy looked around uneasily. Both were curious responses.

  Looking back at Peter was enough to draw both Ethan and Peter’s attention from watching Kieran smooze with the receptionist. Admittedly it was amusing. Jimmy was watching with rapt attention. I was pretty sure she’d drag Kieran off to a supply closet any second now, if only he’d make the slightest suggestion of it. Pointing out into the large main room, away from the first target I’d used, I pushed another spark of energy out and watched as the same thing happened. I know Ethan followed it further than the floor; I saw his other side move in tandem until it hit then the follow-through matched to a point.

  Ethan brushed Peter’s hand and looked over his shoulder through the glass doors. A gardener was staring at us a short distance away. His aura did not say “gardener,” though. Ethan popped into my cavern pulling Peter along like a drunken sailor. I dropped down and started placing filters around Peter that would help him manage through the link with Ethan. His was not an easy consciousness to comprehend.

  “I cannot believe you jumped into that,” Peter mumbled, still a little hazy.

  “You what?” Ethan exclaimed. He reacted in the real world by turning and staring at me.

  “How could you forget that?” I asked him in my cavern. “That was the beginning of my three day disappearance. What am I saying? Whatever healed you mucked around with your memory of those days. Of course, you don’t remember and I bet you’re going to continue to have problems with it.”

  “But… you’ve been here… in my mind… naked?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes, as well as entering the weirdness you exist in to see how badly you were hurt,” I told him again, watching Peter pull himself together more. In another hundredth of a second, he’d be coherent again. The mind works at different speeds than the body.

  “And Kir’du’Ahn knows about these incidents?” he asked, totally expressionless, but I knew how easy that was to do here.

  “Uh-huh,” I grunted, knowing at any moment Des’Ra’El’s Tower of Babel spell would hit me and I’d end up staring at him like an idiot. I needed off this topic. “Where did it go?”

  “Into a basement, through six feet of rock,” he answered. “There’s fifteen men in loincloths working some kind of ceremonial magic in a room nearly the size of the building. There could have been more, hidden from view behind columns. It basically looks like a giant and powerful sink.”

  “But I’m not feeling any kind of a drain,” I muttered to myself. “Are they directing it somehow?”

  “I didn’t think about that,” he said. “There is a latency period between the placement and dropping through to the sink.”

  “Between six- and eight-tenths of a second, the reaction time for the secretary pool out there,” I said. “I noticed the time difference in sensing its presence the first time. If it’s directed, that makes it easier to overcome than a broad sink. Now we just have to figure out what kinds of magic it’s sinking.”

  “Or not,” Peter said. “It’s not an offensive magic, after all. And their wards were breached. We still have an escape route if something goes sour. I’m not saying don’t look for a way around it, but they haven’t done anything more than we have.”

  Shrugging, I looked at Ethan. “He’s got a point. We could just wait and see.”

  “Fine with me,” Ethan said, exiting and pulling Peter with him. We were gone about a second and a half, still turning back to Kieran from the fake gardener. The real world sped up for us.

  “Mr. Davis will be right down, Mr. McClure,” the receptionist said sweetly as she hung up the phone.

  “Thank you, Daphne,” Kieran said and turned back to us, his eyes twinkling. He moved us toward the chairs against the wall, but I caught a sense of movement in the wall behind him to his right and found a man, presumably Mr. Ryan Davis, waiting at the bottom of a narrow staircase for an opportunity to slip through the one-way façade unnoticed.

  “Mr. Davis?” I asked loudly. Kieran looked over in the same direction.

  “I don’t think you were supposed to notice, little brother,” Kieran said softly, leaning in and chuckling.

  “Really?” I asked, acting my age, accepting the challenge Kieran laid before me so marginally. “Oh, dear. Then perhaps you shouldn’t look down. They’re quite active in the basement.” Davis came out of his hidey-hole while we spoke, though Jimmy watched him closely, giving me an excellent view of how his shielding magic worked. Like most things that worked well, it was simple once you knew what to look for.

  When we looked back to him, Ryan Davis stood on the near side of the wall in the same stance watching Kieran with a broad smile. He was exactly six-foot tall, short cut reddish-brown hair, round face, and light brown eyes. He wore a three-piece suit in different browns custom fit for his slim build, which he conveniently showed by pulling back his jacket and holding his hand on his waist in a relaxed gesture.

  He stepped up to Kieran, extending his right hand openly. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. McClure. I am, indeed, Ryan Davis,” he said in the same light tenor as yesterday’s phone conversation. “I do apologize for such a suspicious entrance, but following your spectacular arrival, I just wanted a moment of quiet appraisal.”

  “No offense taken, Mr. Davis,” Kieran said, smiling in serene calm. “Young men tend to be quite flashy and little brother is quite new to magic in general. And he’s rather inquisitive, especially when he encounters new styles and methods.

  “I am Kieran,” he said, shaking the druid’s hand while blocking every probing effort Davis made. “These are my brothers, Seth, Ethan, and Peter, and Seth’s First assistant.” Kieran didn’t return the probing, implying he didn’t care enough to bother.

  “That’s a lot of McClures. Would it be impolite of me to refer to you by your first names then?” he asked.

  “No, not at all,” Kieran replied, “Though, it’s wo
rth mentioning that Peter’s last name is Borland.”

  “Yes, Seth mentioned that during our brief conversation yesterday,” Davis said. “Shall we go upstairs to my office?”

  “As long as we use a different staircase,” I said casually. “Some of us are a bit big to manage the twisty and tight hall.”

  “Yes, sir, we have an open staircase expressly for our larger clients,” Davis said with a chuckle. “Right this way, please.”

  “D’you catch that, Pete?” I mumbled, laughing lightly. “We’re going to the ‘Fat American Stairs’.”

  Davis glanced back as he led the way through reception. He wore a half-cocked grin as he looked at me. “I doubt I could find two ounces of fat among the five of you to rub together.”

  “Check between this one’s ears,” Peter said, lightly shoving Jimmy forward and throwing him off-step. I caught him before he stumbled into Davis.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name,” Davis said, cheerfully ignoring the shove.

  “’First’ will do,” Jimmy said. “Everyone calls me by that.”

  “Take your job seriously, do you?” Davis asked, his smile broadening.

  “Very,” Jimmy said, meeting Davis’ smile with one of equal brightness. “Seth can be very demanding.”

  Kieran laughed. “When has Seth ever been demanding of anyone but himself?” he asked as he stepped onto the landing to the second floor with Davis.

  “Hey!” I objected. “I’ve demanded stuff from you!”

  “Oh, yes, I remember now,” Kieran said, chuckling. “One you were getting anyway and the other I had no choice about. Anything else, O Great Demander?”

  “Well, no,” I said quietly.

  “He does set a high standard, though,” Jimmy said defensively.

  “I think we can agree there,” Ethan said.

  The second floor was much like the first with fewer people. Downstairs looked like an expensive office building with large desks and a dozen or so paralegals working at computer terminals or mulling through thick texts. A few wore headsets, either talking with someone or typing furiously in dictation. This floor was broken into separate offices, seven total, but only three were currently lit and occupied, though six had secretaries at desks in front of them.

  The seventh office was the largest and most prominent. The secretary’s desk sat behind the glass doors, but it was empty and the entire room was darkened. It was neither empty nor dark, just presenting that aspect to us. I assumed the three men sitting behind the illusion were the Hilliard Brothers. Davis led us to the center left office, a fairly modern affair with a large oak desk, several wingback chairs and a conference table on one side of the room. We surrounded the conference table and let him have the head.

  “I admit I was only expecting two of you today,” Davis said as we sat down. “Seth said that Peter and he would be dropping off account information and a retainer. He didn’t mention meeting the whole family.”

  “We felt that since there was the possibility of your firm representing us on a more permanent basis that we should at least meet you, Mr. Davis,” Kieran said smoothly. “And when Seth noticed the address was the same as a conference we’ve been asked to attend tomorrow, we were intrigued. We had a second reason to visit, so here we are.”

  “Certainly reasonable, yes,” Davis said affably. “Though you will need to check with your source on that conference tomorrow. There has been a problem and it may have to be moved. However when someone of Seymour Steadman’s reputation calls and gives such glowing references for a prospective client, I couldn’t help but jump at the chance.

  “But there seems to be very little information available about Seth McClure,” Davis said, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Some information about Peter Borland. From what was available, for instance the names of their parents, I don’t understand how they could be brothers, or what relationship you bear to either of them.”

  “Yes, I can understand that,” Kieran said. “It’s a common difficulty. Seth and I share a father and the only actual blood tie among us. Our brotherhood is based on an uncommon bond and a trait we share.”

  “Would this have something to do with why you hide your auras?” Davis asked.

  “Another misconception, but yes,” Kieran said. “We don’t hide our auras. You just don’t see them.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Davis said, confused.

  “Your little gadget above your door is working perfectly,” Ethan said without looking at it. “There is no magic at work in this room beyond yours.”

  “Steadman said you were all quite perceptive,” Davis said quietly, staring at Ethan. “But even within the magical community, you are not well known. Your apparent youth belies the power of your arrival, for instance, yet there is no mention of either of you in any of the major schools.”

  “Our family is very private,” Kieran said. “It would surprise me if you found any mention of Seth’s parents outside of their corporate connections and a few charities they operate. We eschew the public eye as much as possible.”

  “And I don’t recall your names on the guest lists for tomorrow,” Davis said.

  “We haven’t actually agreed to attend,” Kieran said.

  “Did Darius Fuller confirm?” I asked him.

  “I believe he did, yes,” Davis said.

  “Then we’ll have to, or least I will,” I said. “I talked him into coming.”

  “You associate with the US Council of Wizards? Are you on the Council, then?” Davis asked.

  “No, I think Señor Peraza might have issues with that,” Kieran said.

  “So would Bishop, Felix, and Gordon,” I said, almost giggling.

  “Not to mention the Asian, Slavic, and African Councils,” Peter said. “The South Americans are too fragmented to mount a complaint right now, though.”

  “You are too young to be Council-class wizards,” Davis scoffed.

  “Is there an age limit on that?” I asked casually. Remembering the check and contracts in my pocket, I pulled them from my jacket and slid them across the table to Davis. “Oh, before I forget, your retainer and accountability contract with the account information for the house purchase.” Davis looked at the check first and started slightly.

  “That’s a hefty retainer,” he said as he opened the contract to read it.

  “We didn’t discuss an amount yesterday so I decided to err on the side of grace,” I said. “If we decide we like each other, you can keep it against future billings, otherwise you can return what you feel is overpaid.”

  “Acceptable,” he said as he scanned the contract at an amazing rate. “This is a perfectly mundane contract.”

  “What did you expect?” Kieran asked.

  “Most wizards attach the Accords in some manner,” he answered.

  “To a land purchase agreement?” Kieran asked, laughing. “Whatever for? No, Mr. Davis, we don’t require magical aid of a legal type and certainly not with the Accords.”

  “I admire your certainty, sir,” Davis said, pulling a fountain pen from his jacket and signing the accountability form. He pushed it to Kieran, who pushed it to me. I drew it into my cavern, replicated it, and pushed it back out again, then pushed the copy back down the table to Davis. Then I pulled out the written bid for the house and land, along with the reasoning behind them, and slid that down the table to Davis. He read through the three-page document, chuckling lightly as he went.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” he asked, his voice even higher when he laughed. The telephone on his desk buzzed suddenly, interrupting any response.

  “Mr. Davis, Lord Bishop is on his way up to see you, sir,” Daphne from reception announced. “He is quite determined.”

  “Please excuse me, gentlemen,” Davis said as he stood from the table immediately. “Apparently I have a problem to attend to.” His round, friendly face didn’t look so friendly anymore as he headed for the door.

  “Davi
s, what are you playing at?” Bishop bellowed from the top of the stairs, coming into the room like a thunderstorm. Davis swung the door shut as he left, but the Stone’s fields were able to manipulate the handle, leaving it ajar for us to hear. And those fields were just as invisible as our auras, more so since we couldn’t see them either.

  “Lord Bishop, I am with prospective clients,” Davis said coldly. “You are embarrassing yourself and me.” Whatever free standing magic that was available sank slowly into the floor, but Bishop’s aura was undaunted by the dampening effect.

  “Cut the crap, Davis,” Bishop yelled as he moved closer, stomping melodramatically on the floor. As I watched the force on the floor, I realized he was doing it on purpose, amplifying the background noise. “You’re claiming a breach of contract on me. I worked too hard putting this together, meeting all of your exacting standards. Changing the location at the last minute will scare everyone off and there is nothing in breach. What the hell are you playing at?”

  “I’m not ‘playing at’ anything, Bishop,” snapped Davis. “You know the rules against the faery. You added Lord Daybreak and family to the guest list. Whatever your beliefs to their heredity, that makes them faery and that puts you in breach of contract. Now go away until you can be civil.”

  “They’re fighting over me? This should be fun,” I whispered, following Kieran to the door. We’d started as quietly as possible as soon as he said my name, all of us nearly giggling. Kieran pushed the door open silently and slipped out, then Ethan, Peter, Jimmy with me last. I wanted to follow Kieran. Well, I wanted to be first out, but Kieran was in the lead now.

  Bishop and Davis stood ten feet apart in the main aisle. Bishop wore the same black suit I met him in and he was angry. He was a strong and calculating battle mage, too. And he was ready for a fight. The increase in the background noise created problems in Davis’ antennae downstairs. His secretaries and paralegals had difficulties pinpointing exactly where Bishop stood to direct the controllers of the sinks below them.

  “Hello, Thomas,” Kieran called after he stepped out of the door. Inevitably, there was some sort of bending or squeezing move involved for him. Bishop’s head turned sharply.