by LE Barbant
“Fuck you,” Chem shot across the table.
Willa laughed.
Elijah’s brow furrowed.
Chem leaned in. “It’s what we all started this for. It is the academic raison d’être and now you’re going to take a pass? Doesn’t happen. You can’t walk away.”
Elijah sipped his IPA. “These lasts months, trying to juggle teaching and doing what we do, it’s been nearly impossible—and I’ve only had one class. I can’t do both well, which is, like, messed up. I’ve considered just keeping at it. You know, adjunct by day, crime fighter by night.”
Chem just shook his head.
“Elijah,” Willa said, “we’ll support you no matter what.”
“And we’ll support your decision,” Elijah said, looking at the poet.
Willa’s face went blank.
“Hold the phone,” Chem said. “What don’t I know?”
“A lot.” Elijah was the only one laughing.
Willa glanced around the bar. “I’m joining the Guild.”
“What the actual fuck.”
“I know, it sounds crazy. Edwin has talked me into joining him. They’re making him the new Grandmaster, and we’re going to rebuild the Guild, shape it into the institution that it once was. The old man is still a bit too conservative, but if I join him I might actually be able to make a difference. Put all that power to good use for a change.”
“Damn. It’s the end of the world as we know it,” Chem said, swirling the dark brew in his pint glass.
Chem’s joyful demeanor darkened. He looked to Elijah, then back to Willa. “But can you trust him? What about Crane’s claim that Edwin killed his wife?”
Willa shook her head. “Turns out that he was completely full of shit. Crane was the consummate bachelor. He never married, never even came close. All he ever cared about was power. That picture on his desk, it was a stock photo he picked up at a Rite Aid. Just another cheap trick used to manipulate us for his own maniacal ends, and we swallowed it whole. Taking down the Guild had been his plan for years, and we almost did it for him.” She paused, reaching behind her shoulder to scratch at her bandages. “Besides, we don’t know how deep his network goes. Kristoff had been his mole for years, and he’s still out there somewhere. And Crane needed to get the money to finance his operations from somewhere. Who knows what his connection to Rex was. I think joining the Guild is my best chance at figuring it all out.”
“But they were gonna execute you and Tim. How can you forgive that?”
She took another sip of her martini. “Maybe they would have, but we don’t know that. I can’t help but believe that their commitment to the process would have actually given us a fair trial. But if they were going to, then they need my voice there even more. The Guild isn’t bad, only misguided. We need them. The world needs them.” She finished her drink then looked at Elijah. “Have you heard from the Mumfords?”
The historian shook his head. “Sylvia won’t return my calls. She’s heartbroken and pissed, understandably. And Rita has gone completely off the grid. I’m not too worried, though, I’m sure she’ll turn up sooner or later. Rhett’s the one that’s got me concerned. I stopped by his apartment and it was cleaned out. The landlady said he moved without notice. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
The bar started singing along with “Black and Yellow.” Chem’s fingers ran across the phone in his pocket. On cue, it began to vibrate. He pulled it out. Elijah and Willa’s eyes locked on the small device.
“Sorry, I gotta take this. Buy me another round, would ya?”
****
Chem flipped open the phone as he stepped out into the cold December air. His breath formed perfect clouds.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Scott, your results check out and they’re better than we could have expected. Have you made a decision regarding our offer?”
Chem paused and looked through the windows at Willa and Elijah. Her hand rested on his arm, and he was leaning in toward her.
“Yes, sir. I have. I’ve wanted this all of my life. I expect with your resources and my research we can make incredible things happen.”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, Percival.”
“Yes, sir. I’m excited as well.”
“I’ll have Kennedy contact you with travel arrangements. I look forward to meeting you in person.”
Chem exhaled.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I look forward to meeting you as well, Mr. Fong.”
EPILOGUE
The old basement room leaked water on rainy days and smelled of mold and mildewing paperbacks regardless of the weather. But through his local connections and a little sweet-talking, King managed to get the space for free.
Five meetings in and his hands still dripped with sweat.
You can do this.
Back in the first grade, Mrs. Mandell, a portly woman with a propensity for throwing chalk at class clowns, insisted he was a leader. Clueless to what the old bird saw in him, he nevertheless took it to heart and spent the next thirty years leading people—often where they shouldn’t be going.
Everything was different.
The monsters had given him a purpose. The truth had become his reason for being.
His eyes scanned the circle.
The truthers, now numbering twenty, give or take, were as diverse as a city bus at rush hour. Joe was a pipefitter who would arrive just after tucking his kids into bed. Julie was a student at one of the local universities. Luis had recently moved to the city from Texas to work the fracking wells. Pamela, though he’d never ask, must have been in her eighties. He delighted in their gathering and the way they looked at him for direction—even if it scared the living hell out of him.
They were his sheep, and King was their shepherd.
Once all were seated with their donuts and cups of cheap coffee, King cleared his throat. “It’s time to call this meeting to order. I emailed out the minutes from last week’s gathering. Do I hear a motion to approve the minutes?”
The past few days he had been reading up on Robert’s Rules of Order, and although he thought most of it was horseshit, he hoped that his appropriation of the arcane book would add some legitimacy to the meeting and his place at the front.
“So moved.” Brian was an adjunct professor. As far as King knew he taught sociology or anthropology or something. He avoided the man like the plague and wondered why he came. On his best nights, he assumed that Brian had his own suspicions about the “monster cover-up.” At worst, he was a cynic, looking for stories to make his students laugh.
King cleared his throat. “Thank you, professor. Is there a second?”
Pete raised his hand. As far as King could tell, the young man was a serial attender. Like Marla from Fight Club, Pete got off on group meetings. His Thursday night group had folded earlier in the fall, so the truthers filled his open evening. “Yeah, there’s a typo in line five of the third paragraph.”
King looked down at his notes. He couldn’t find what Pete was talking about; grammar had never been his strong suit. Circling a random word, King thanked him and looked around the room.
“Second,” Luis said, giving King a wink.
King exhaled. “Great. Let’s get started. For the past five weeks, we’ve talked a lot about the existence of the Pittsburgh monsters. Our group has grown, which is indicative of the fact that I am not the only one who believes in their existence and in the need to organize and exposure them.” King watched heads nod as he spoke. He spread his eye contact around the room, pausing at Luis, who was always affirming, and moving quickly past Brian. “So tonight, let’s talk strategy.”
King walked through several different ideas about raising awareness and mentioned an email thread he was having with one of Mayor Kinnard’s aides.
He was about to field questions when the giant oak doors at the back of the room swung open.
Jillian walked in. Every head turned to watch her approach the group and sit on the edge of
the circle.
King’s heart stopped. He never expected to see the reporter there. Mind racing, he considered asking for additional ideas from the members or maybe a testimony or two of their own sightings. His mouth was suddenly desert-dry. “OK, so, I guess that’s, um, it for tonight. Thanks for coming everybody.”
“Wait,” Jillian said. Her face reddened.
“Yes?” King squeaked.
“Many of you don’t know me. But I’m sure you’ve read my work. I’m Jillian Stephens, a reporter for Keystone Voice.” She paused and looked at her lap. “I’m the one who wrote the article debunking the monster myth. King here has all but called me a liar for the past three months. But there’s something I need to say. He’s right. These monsters are real—and I covered it all up.”
A smile spread across King’s face.
A dozen people began talking at once. Jillian shut them all up by tossing a pile of photos into the middle of the circle. They fanned out across the floor.
“And I have proof,” she said. “It’s time to take these bastards down.”
****
Dear Heroes,
Thanks for reading The Casting.
Don’t worry, the story isn’t over yet! Lee and Chris are taking a little break to work on a new series—and they think you’re going to love it. It’s a fast, fun thriller with a hint of sci-fi (yeah, maybe some powers). Go grab The Devil’s Due.
Here’s what one reader says:
“Fast paced action with flair. Felt like reading a Jack Reacher book with a little dash of superhero thrown in for measure. Loved it, can't wait for the next one,” Amy, Amazon 5-Star Reviewer
Sign up here for updates from the authors. If you join their mailing list, you’ll receive Willa’s Spellbook for free. This is a REALLY cool companion to The Steel City Heroes. It includes the spells that Willa is studying and her reflections on poetry, life, and the events of the book. The guys have been calling it the director’s cut.
Also, you will get announcements not only about our new work in progress, but also regarding new installments of the Steel City Heroes Series. We’re really excited about what is coming soon!
Connect with us:
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Twitter: @LEBarbant and @_cmraymond_
If you liked the book, please take a moment to leave a review.
It means the world to us and helps other readers find the book.
Cheers,
Chris and Lee
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
L.E. Barbant is co-host of the remarkably mediocre Part-Time Writers Podcast. When he’s not writing (or struggling to pay the bills with his day job) Lee spends his time reading everything from Greek dramas to zombie thrillers, babysitting his four monstrous nephews, and wishing he could fly. The Catalyst is his debut novel but if his superhero career doesn’t pan out, he’s planning on giving full-time writing a shot.
He lives outside of Pittsburgh with his lovely wife and a cat named Cat.
C.M. Raymond holds a PhD in philosophy, which qualifies him to write superhero stories but not much else. Outside of reading and writing, he loves to spend time with his family in the woods and wilds or the city streets.
Table of Contents
BOOK 1: THE CATALYST
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
BOOK 2: THE CRUCIBLE
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PART THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
BOOK 3: THE CASTING
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PART TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PART THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAP
TER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
