by CM Raymond
As they drifted and floated around the floor, more people joined them for the slower songs. Hannah intuitively let her body follow Gregory’s as she pressed all thought out of her mind. She focused and then pushed her mind outward, trying to connect with the patrons of the ball.
To maintain her cover, she closed her eyes—so as to keep her glowing red eyeballs to herself—and laid her head on Gregory’s shoulders.
In a room like this one, it was hard to control the mystical art of listening in. It was a skill she had been working on with Julianne before she went off on her mission as Stellan, but practicing in the mansion was different than doing it here. There were so many people, and as Gregory led her in the dance, she heard only snippets of conversations.
One couple having a fight.
One couple gossiping about Gregory’s mother.
One couple having verbal sex on the dance floor.
And then he spun her past Monica.
No way that little twit is dating her, Monica thought.
Hannah gripped Gregory close and stopped their motion. She leaned her head in, tilting her chin, and kissed him deep and long, just for Monica. All the Noble Quarter and the Academy would be talking, but she didn’t care. The plan wasn’t to be around long enough for her social status to mean anything. And besides, what better cover than dating the son of the Chief Engineer?
Her friend was stiff in her arms, frigid to the touch. Hannah pulled away, looked up at him and smiled. Gregory’s face was red as Ezekiel’s eyes when he was casting.
“Sorry,” she said. “Was that too much? I’m just trying to put on a show.”
Gregory cleared his throat. “No, I get it. I’m just... enjoying the ride, is all.”
Hannah nodded down at his pants. “Either you’re enjoying it, or you have some magitech in your pocket.”
She laughed, and he cracked a smile.
“Good,” Hannah said. “Going to find that sense of humor after all.”
“Listen,” he said. “About the other day…”
She cut him off with a short shake of her head. “Don’t worry about it. Teamwork requires some level of… intimacy. Honesty. We’re all going to know each other’s deepest secrets before the end. And if your deepest secret is that you think I’m hot… well, I think we’re going to be alright.”
He nodded in reply. “I’ve just never had a friend like you before. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Never,” she said. “I’d kick your ass before I let you ruin our friendship.” Then she took the lead on the dancing and began to move him around the floor.
Just as they were starting to get back into the dance, a voice interrupted them.
“I’m sorry, Gregory, but may I cut in?”
Hannah turned. Her smile melted when she looked up into the eyes of the Chancellor.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Adrien was swift on his feet, but Hannah was thrown off her game. She stumbled along with him, losing any sense of grace that she had managed with Gregory. Trying to giggle like a foolish schoolgirl, she said, “Sorry, Gregory’s been my only partner since I’ve gotten back.”
“Nothing to worry about, dear, I’ve been a teacher all my life.” He winked and slowed the pace. “I realized, Deborah, daughter of Girard, that we had not yet had a proper conversation. You must excuse me. The higher you climb the administrative ladder, the less time you have with students. It really is quite a shame. I hardly ever teach like I used to.”
Hannah still looked beautiful and collected, even if she was shitting bricks on the inside.
“Well, no better place to meet than here.” She smiled. “I must say, I am having such an agreeable time at your Academy so far.”
“Our Academy,” Adrien corrected her, though it was clearly bullshit. “The Academy, its students, and even that high tower belongs to the city. I’ve said that for over three decades now.” He tilted his head just a hair. “Helps keep it from going to my head. You know, absolute power corrupts and all of that jazz.”
Hannah nodded. She couldn’t be sure what the hell his play was, if there was any play whatsoever. Did he know who she was? Was he trying to bring her out into the open? Listening to his words, she could see why people found him charming—endearing even. Adrien had been bullshitting people all his life, and he was damned good at it.
But being so close to the bastard that had killed her brother almost pushed her over the edge. Every bit of power in her body was trying to escape. She was so close. The silver blade that Karl had given her was attached to her inner thigh, an insurance policy she’d hoped she wouldn’t need. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was fast enough to retrieve it and get it through the murderer’s heart before he could react. Either that, or she could just torch him right then and there.
Killing Adrien would do so much for her, but in the long-term, it would do relatively little for Arcadia. She would have her time for revenge, and she would enjoy every second of it. For now, she had to stick with the plan. After listening in on casual noble banter all night, she knew that if Adrien were murdered, another would simply take his place. The man she hated would become a martyr—and that would only spell disaster for the Boulevard.
“Enjoying your class with August?” Adrien asked, his eyes still searching hers.
“Of course. Professor August is amazing. I’m just worried about what he thinks about me. I’m barely getting this stuff down. Your magic is done differently than what me and my friends did out in the woods near Cella.”
“You just need to come to understand our form better. You were doing physical magic out there, after all. You had just made your own path.”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, everybody realizes that I’m in the Academy because of who my father is.”
“Doesn’t work like that. The Academy’s purpose is to find the right fit. Control who is in and who is out.”
She laughed. “Yeah, but really… I’m sure there’s some girl in the Boulevard right now who could kick my ass inside and out in casting. But she won’t get in, right? Hell, she’s probably running from those freaks in the white robes.”
Adrien stopped leading. The two stood motionless in the middle of the dance floor, while the ocean of partygoers flowed around them. Adrien’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze was frozen in his. The thought of him realizing who she was shot through her head, and then the thought of slicing his throat with the silver blade of the rearick.
Get the hell out of there, Ezekiel’s firm voice rang in her head. Now.
After a millennium of standing still, Adrien laughed. “That is cute, Deborah.”
Cracking a grin, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“The fact that my newest faculty member’s daughter has no idea about the history of magic in Arcadia.”
“He’s told me some things,” she said. “I know all about the Founder and how he trusted you with the city. I wonder what he would think of it now.”
Adrien smiled. “I often think of my old mentor. I’m sure your father told you that his ways were different than mine, but Ezekiel lived in a savage time. He knew nothing of the refinement that we have managed here.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Hannah said, barely holding in her anger. “I must keep reminding myself that the ones being murdered by zealots are the real barbarians. I wouldn’t want to piss them off. I mean, how could you sleep at night, knowing that those bastards from the Boulevard might just come in here and murder us all? They’d probably start with you, tear you to pieces, don’t you think?” She asked the question in the most innocent voice she could manage.
“Indeed,” Adrien said with a slight scowl.
She glanced over her shoulder and found Gregory. “My date is anxious. Don’t want him to start thinking I’m going home with the Chancellor. Glad we finally met.”
He nodded. “Thank you for the dance, Deborah. It was... refreshing to talk to someone with your unique perspective.”
Sh
e gave a slight bow, then spun through the crowd and found Gregory. She could feel Adrien’s eyes on her the whole way.
“Holy Queen Bitch, that was close.” Her heart raced, and she grabbed two glasses of mystic ale from a waiter’s tray. She downed one before Gregory could say a word.
“What’d he say?”
“He asked how you are in bed.”
“Really?” Gregory squeaked.
“Of course not,” she said and gave him a punch in the arm. “Now, let’s get that map and get the bloody hell out of here before I kill someone.”
****
Parker stumbled backward as the two rearick threw each other around the bar. Karl didn’t have his hammer, but that didn’t stop him from doing quite a lot of damage. When they were training, Karl taught Parker that avoiding hits was far more important than dealing them out. It was sound advice, which Karl seemed to have completely forgotten. He attacked with abandon, not even bothering to dodge or block any of Fletcher’s attacks.
It left Karl bloody, but there was no way that Fletcher could withstand the warrior’s ferocity. Fletcher started to get wobbly, and Parker knew the fight would soon be over.
Karl roared and wrapped two meaty hands around Fletcher’s throat. Desperate, the other rearick reached for a nearby mug and smashed it down over Karl’s head. Karl acted like he didn’t even feel it.
Garrett finally jumped in and pulled Karl off Fletcher, who dropped to his knees coughing and sputtering.
Mortimer leaned over the beaten rearick and helped him to his feet. But Fletcher pushed the old rearick aside and stormed out of the bar. Seeing the show was over, the other rearick turned back to their drinks and conversation.
“Son of the Bitch and the Bastard, Karl. What the hell got into you?” Mortimer said out of the side of his mouth. “You’ve been in the lowlands too long. Too much of their thick air and piss ale has soiled yer damned mind. Fletcher’s an ass, but there was no reason ta go off on him like that, not over some damned lowlanders. The Arcadians ain’t no threat to us up here, and we have no reason to get involved in their problems. Let them take care of their own.”
Mortimer nodded to Garrett and turned to go, but Karl grabbed him by his shirt. “Friend, you’ll remember that it was one of those damned lowlanders who risked her ass to pull you out of that crumbling hole. She didn’t know any of you for shit, and yet she risked her own neck. She could’ve died in there, but she wouldn’t leave you to perish. What if Hannah decided to just mind her own business that day? We’d still be digging to find yer body. I thought you were a bigger man than the likes of Fletcher.”
The old rearick just shook his head, pulled himself free, and limped out of the bar. Karl straightened his cloak and turned the table right side up. Ophelia walked up holding two pints. “Next time ya want to blow off some steam, take that shit outside, Karl.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded sitting at the table with his face in his hands.
Parker searched for words, but he found none. It was clear that his new friend didn’t quite fit in here. He was almost an exile among his people—a relic of a better age of rearick who embraced honor and rushed into the Madlands to destroy the remnant, to protect the lives of highlander and lowlander alike. Parker knew that Karl was right. His people no longer cared for the things of Irth, but only their own livelihood.
He settled back into his chair and began working on the new pint.
“So much for playing it smooth, eh Karl?” Parker asked with a grin, trying to brighten his friend’s spirits.
“They’re damn fools,” Karl spat. “And I’m a bigger one for losing it on a shit like that. I knew that an appeal to their better angels wouldn’t do a shit of a good, but the way they ignore their own safety? It’s like they’ve been underground too long to recognize the light. Adrien is coming, and then they’ll see the errors of their ways—but it’ll be too late.”
“We might stop him first,” Parker said hopefully.
“Can’t stop em without an army,” Karl said with a shake of the head. “We’re just a wee group without much for skills. You might have heart, kid, but no matter how much vinegar you piss, war is almost always a numbers game. Right now, Adrien has the whole damn city. We got a couple magicians, a tech nerd, and a half-pint dragon. Even if we drag up some resistance from yer home turf, we’d just as likely get the whole lot of ’em killed.”
Parker nodded. He pictured the dead bandits they had left on the road and then tried to picture that happening to the folks he knew on the Boulevard. Maybe Karl was right.
“Well, I’m sorry they didn’t listen,” Parker said. “Although, tomorrow, that Fletcher guy is gonna be sorry he ever messed with you. He’ll be carrying those bruises for a month.”
Karl shook his head. “Screw ‘em. Just wish we didn’t come. This whole damned trip was a waste of time.”
“Not a complete waste,” a deep but gentle voice said from behind Parker. “After all, I thought you came to pick me up.”
Parker spun and saw a handsome man in a magnificent white robe.
Shit, Parker thought, Is that Hadley?
“Yes, I am Hadley,” the man said as he gave a perfect smile. “Now, let’s get you off your drunk asses and back to Arcadia. My dear friend, Hannah, is expecting me.”
****
Growing up in the Boulevard, Hannah didn’t know anyone who lived in a house more than one story high. Now, she was on the third floor of Gregory’s parents’ house. She worked the map that she had memorized and twisted and turned through the long corridors. All the doors on the floor were empty, and besides the sound of mad sex coming through one of them, all was quiet.
At the end of the hall was Elon’s office—its ornately carved doors clearly setting it apart from the rest. She tried the knob, but it was securely locked. Gregory told her that her dad had designed some sort of magitech lock for the door, making it foolproof for anyone without the key—one of the reasons why Gregory couldn’t break in himself. Hannah didn’t have the key, but she had other methods at her disposal.
Her eyes flashed red as she centered herself, focusing completely on the office in front of her. Gregory had explained it in detail, and she knew exactly where she was aiming. She spun her arms in a circle, and with a whoosh and a crack, made the jump through the solid wall.
Teleporting like that was a noisy affair, but she was hopeful the sound of the party downstairs would cover her tracks. As she reappeared in Elon’s office, a rushing wind swept around her blowing papers off the Chief Engineer’s desk. Hannah decided not to worry about the mess. He would know there was a break in soon enough.
Elon’s home office was exquisite. The walls were covered in a rich wood, probably harvested from the edges of the Dark Forest. The floors were perfect, black marble, but a thick, bear skin rug covered most of it. Hannah paced the perimeter of the room. Encased in frames were architectural drawings of outrageously tall buildings. They looked like the tower she and Ezekiel lived in if it were covered in glass and extended into the heavens.
She read the words beneath two of them:
Burj Khalifa, Adrian Smith (2009)
One World Trade Center, David Childs (2014)
If the artifacts were original from before the Age of Madness and the Dark Ages before that, they’d be worth more than the entire Queen’s Boulevard—if there was anyone stupid enough to pay for them. She laughed at the thought as if there was a huge market for ancient architectural drawings.
Gregory told her that his dad had spent a lot of time pouring over documents from the old days. He seemed to think that it would enhance his magitech—which was a terrifying thought, considering the old world nearly blew itself to pieces.
Wasting no more time, Hannah made her way over to the south side of the room. Finding the middle wooden panel, she pushed. Just like Gregory had said, it clicked, and sprung out toward her, exposing three smaller locked cabinets. They glowed blue, and Hannah could tell that they were also secured via magitec
h.
Bingo, she thought. But which one is the right one?
Hannah smiled. She had the means to figure that out as well.
She closed her eyes, letting her mind empty. She forgot about Adrien, about the dance, about Parker off risking his life in the Heights. She let it all go, then she filled the empty space with the bottom cabinet, trying to draw herself into it. She was subtly aware of her lips moving, speaking some sort of gibberish that contained tremendous power. Just like practicing in the basement, she was suddenly somewhere else.
While her body remained kneeling on the ground, her mind was now free to wander Elon’s vault. She looked around the space, illuminated by the blue glow of the magitech. The bottom locker was filled with gold coins—an impressive stash, but not what she had come for. She repeated the process with the middle cabinet. It contained several small magitech devices—probably another secret killing machine that Elon was working on. Then, in the topmost cabinet, she found her mark.
