“Goddamn,” mumbled Katrina.
“The Gracchan Party remains the frontrunner in the presidential race,” said the radio. “If Jones wins the election, he would be the first third party president since the formation of the two-party system. In the past two weeks, fourteen men and seven women have announced their candidacy for the House of Representatives as Gracchans. More are expected…”
“Turn that off,” said Simon.
“You sure don’t like this Wycliffe guy,” said Ally.
Simon snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, you could definitely say that. We don’t like him.”
“Why not?” said Ally.
Katrina and Simon shared a look. They seemed to do that a lot, lately.
“He’s a crook,” said Simon at last.
Ally frowned. “So all those stories about him are true?”
Simon snorted. “We just don’t think he’d make a very good president.”
“Vice president,” said Ally.
Katrina sighed. “He’d become president, trust me. And he’d make a terrible one.”
“Wow,” said Lithon, leaning forward. “You must be right.”
“Oh? How come?” said Katrina.
“You and Dad never agree on anything like that,” said Lithon.
Simon rolled his eyes. “We do too agree on some things.”
“Yeah,” said Lithon, returning his attention to his magazine, “that this guy would make a bad president.”
Simon glanced at Katrina. “From the mouths of babes.”
Lithon made an aggravated sound. “Why does everyone always say that when I say something?”
Ally laughed. “Because you’re usually right, that’s why.”
“Ah. Here we are,” said Simon. The conference center’s parking lot loomed ahead. “What do you know? They’ve got adequate parking. In Chicago! Indeed a rarity.” Simon pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. Ally looked out the window. There might indeed be adequate parking, but they still had a long walk to the conference center. Ally wished she hadn’t worn high heels. “Everyone out. Lithon, better take that umbrella.”
Ally got out. A mosquito buzzed past her ear. She reached up and squished it, wishing she had worn a dress with sleeves, or that she had stayed home with Mary. This honors dinner did not mean very much to her. Yet it was important to her parents, especially Simon. And Bill would be here. They had stayed in touch over Facebook, but she had not seen him since the night of his party.
Simon set off across the parking lot, Lithon following.
Katrina touched Ally’s arm. “You okay?”
“Yes,” said Ally. She shrugged. “I…was just thinking, that’s all.”
“Don’t think too much,” said Katrina. “You seem to brood a lot lately.” They started towards the conference center, following Simon and Lithon.
“You sound like Mary,” said Ally.
“Sometimes she’s right,” said Katrina.
Ally scowled. “What should I do then? Stop thinking?” She did a mocking giggle and tossed her head. “Dye my hair blond?”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “No. We worry about you, Simon and me. You’re a special kid, Ally. You seem to sit and think a lot lately. I know I’ve preached against parties and booze and boys for as long as you can remember, but maybe you do need to get out more.”
“Europe,” said Ally. “That’s about as far out as you can get.”
They walked in silence for a moment.
“You want to talk about it?” said Katrina.
Ally shook her head. “No.” She did not want to discuss the dreams with anyone.
“Sure?” said Katrina.
“Yeah,” said Ally. “I can’t talk about it, because I don’t know what it is.”
“Okay,” said Katrina. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
Ally laughed. “I promise.” They caught up with Simon and Lithon and walked into the conference center. A long blue-carpeted hallway stretched the length of the building, potted plants standing in lighted alcoves. The dull rumble of conversation filled the building. They walked through a pair of double doors and into a huge hall filled with hundreds of round dining tables.
“Must be something like three thousand people here,” said Simon. “I think your school’s over this way.”
“All the honor students from the entire school district’s graduating class,” said Ally. “I see Dr. Burton.” She grimaced. She also saw Mr. Paulsen. The judge had refused to post bail for Nathan Jameson, but Paulsen offered to pay it anyway, and had even testified in Nathan’s defense at the trial, calling Mary a promiscuous slut.
“Wonder how they found the money to pay for all of this,” said Simon, pushing his way through the crowd. “I know they didn’t do this last year.”
Ally shrugged. “I guess they had some rich donor.”
“Ah! Ally Wester!” Dr. Burton rose, resplendent in a black tuxedo. Paulsen glanced Ally’s way, scowled, and looked away again. “Welcome.” He shook Katrina and Simon’s hand and turned to Ally. “Miss Wester. I hear you’ve had an interesting summer so far.”
Ally looked away. “It’s…not the sort of interesting I would have chosen.”
Dr. Burton grunted. “I can understand. I found myself in a similar situation some years ago.” He looked her in the eye. “You showed remarkable bravery, doing what you did.”
Ally didn’t look up from the carpet. “Thank you.”
Dr. Burton turned to Simon. “You have a talented daughter. Watch her. I expect her to do great things. Ah…your table’s over this way, across from the Ryans.”
Ally grinned. She saw Mr. Ryan and his wife sitting at one of the tables, both wearing dark suits, both talking into iPhones. Bill sat besides his father, fiddling with his fork. He looked very bored.
Ally walked over and dropped into the chair besides him. “Pay attention.”
Bill grunted. “I am paying attention…” He blinked, looked at Ally, and did a double take. “Ally!”
“None other,” said Ally. Katrina and Simon and Lithon took their seats at the next table. “How have you been?”
Bill grinned ear to ear. “Ally. Wow. You look…like…like…” He thought for a moment. “Wow.”
“Bill,” said Ally. “Stop staring.”
Bill shook his head. “Right. Sorry. It’s just…I haven’t seen you since the night of…oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” said Ally.
Bill fidgeted. “How’s…how’s Mary? Is she okay?”
“She’s getting better,” said Ally. The crowd began to sit down at the tables. “She has good days, and she has bad days. But less bad days than she used to.”
“That’s good,” said Bill. He took off his glasses and began wiping them down with a napkin. “It’s been an interesting few weeks for me. My mother keeps trying to teach me to do laundry.” He stuck his glasses back on with a sheepish grin. “I keep shrinking stuff.”
“Well, Miss Wester,” said Mr. Ryan, tucking his iPhone into his suit jacket. “A pleasure to see you again. I hope tonight is not quite as…memorable as William Junior’s graduation party.
“Me too.”
“Ally!” Simon started at her over a glass of water. “You going to join us, or are you going to spend the whole night talking to your boyfriend?”
Ally glared. “Dad!” Katrina elbowed him in the ribs. Ally turned to Bill. “I have to go. We can talk some more after this…well, after whatever is happening is over.”
Bill nodded. “Cool. It’s…um…I think it’s a dinner a then a speech. By some bigwig.”
Ally got to her feet. “Probably whoever paid for all this.” Bill’s eyes jerked down her legs before they returned to her face, and his flush deepened.
Bill laughed. “Yeah.”
Ally sat down besides Lithon, who had already consumed half the bread basket. She saw Bill sneak another glance at her before his father started talking. For a moment she entertained going back to his table. He would ask
her out, if she prodded him in the right direction. And then…
No. That wouldn’t happen. She was certain Bill would go to MIT and she would not.
One of her premonitions.
“Sorry,” said Simon, snatching a pack of crackers before Lithon could eat them.
“What?” Ally blinked. “Oh. Right. Hope Mom didn’t give you too much of a bruise.”
Simon winced. “No comment.”
A microphone squealed. “Ladies and gentlemen!” A stage with a podium stood at the far end of the hall, a florid-faced man in a gray suit talking into a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please, we’re about ready to start.”
“Look at that,” whispered Lithon around a mouthful of bread. A group of cameramen had set up near the podium, their equipment emblazoned with the logos of various local TV networks. “I might get to be on TV.”
“Welcome to the first Chicago Public High Schools Honors dinner,” said the man with microphone. He mopped at his brow with a handkerchief. “I hope this can become can become a tradition, thanks to our donor. But first, let’s have a round of applause for our honors graduates.” The crowd applauded. “We’ve got quite a dinner planned. But first, we’ll have a brief speech by our donor.” Lithon groaned. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my distinct honor to introduce a respected member of our community, a successful businessman, and the Gracchan Party nominee for the office of vice president.” Simon lurched and almost fell off his chair. Katrina stared at the podium, her eyes like flint. “Senator Thomas Wycliffe!”
The applause redoubled, and many people stood. A short, stout man with slicked-back dark hair and thick glasses strode out onto the stage. Ally recognized Senator Thomas Wycliffe from TV. He seemed much less impressive in person than he did on TV. He looked like a computer software engineer, or perhaps a math teacher.
“Goddamn it,” said Katrina. “Simon. We have to leave. Now.” The hall fell silent as Wycliffe mounted the podium.
“I know.” Simon’s face had gone pasty. “But he’ll see us, Katrina. Everyone’s sitting. We’ll be the only people leaving.” People began to glance at them.
“What’s going on?” said Ally. “Why do we have…”
“Quiet,” said Katrina, her voice sharper than Ally could ever remember hearing.
“Thank you for that most generous welcome,” said Wycliffe, smiling. His calm, pleasant voice was a marked contrast to his appearance. Ally had never heard anything quite like it “As glad as I am to be here tonight, it is with the greatest reluctance. You philosophy students out there can wrap your minds around that paradox.” Ally chuckled, as did several hundred other people. “But it’s really quite simple. I did indeed donate the money for tonight’s festivities. But I had wanted it kept quiet. Scholarship and education are so important, especially in these troubled times. And as some of you may have heard, I’m running for a rather minor political office.” More chuckles. “But I digress. Political campaigns can become…oh, how to put this…a little raucous, and I didn’t want this dragged in. And now you unfortunate people find yourself suffering through one my speeches.” Laughter rang out.
“That bastard’s gotten to be a good speaker, I’ll give him that,” said Katrina. “Simon. We have to leave.”
“When he’s finished,” said Simon. “Everyone will get up for the buffet lines. We can slip out then.”
“Would you please tell me why…” said Ally.
Katrina glared. “Just trust us, please, Ally. We shouldn’t be here.”
“I hope to award several scholarships tonight,” said Wycliffe. Something about his words, his voice, captured her attention. “Some of you may remember the tragedy of a few months past. Miss Anne Louis, a dedicated journalist, disappeared after conducting an interview with me, part of an article that went to win a posthumous Pulitzer Prize. The police have given up any hope of finding her, sadly. But her memory will live on. Tonight I announce the endowment of the Anne Louis Scholarship for future journalism majors…”
“Bastard,” said Katrina. “I’ll bet he killed her.”
Ally looked away from the Senator and frowned. “I don’t…”
Pain stabbed through her mind. She shivered and almost fell off her seat. Suddenly Wycliffe’s words felt like echoing thunderclaps, booming through her mind. Sharp pain stabbed between her temples with every word he spoke, pulsing with the rhythm of his speech.
“Ally?” said Katrina, leaning forward.
Ally gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling. The pain hammered through her mind in pulses. She gritted her teeth and concentrated, trying to shut out the pain. Coldness gripped her, and icy sweat beaded on her neck and slithered down her back.
“Ally!” Katrina’s voice rose in alarm.
The coldness lashed at her in waves, matching the pain from Wycliffe’s speech. Suddenly a hot white fire seemed to rise from the depths of her mind, the way it had when she had fought Nathan. The fire lashed through her mind, banished the pain, and turned the coldness into warmth. Ally opened her eyes and gasped.
“Ally!” hissed Katrina, grabbing her arm. “Are you okay?”
“I…I think so.” She felt drenched in sweat.
“What happened?”
Ally shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked at Wycliffe and frowned. His voice was nasal and grating. All the charm, all the charisma, had vanished from his speech. How could she have ever found his words pleasant?
Simon had gone even paler. “Katrina. Remember what Conmager said? Marugon had taught him. Maybe…maybe he’s using it right now.”
“Jesus,” said Katrina. “Jesus Christ. Maybe he is. We have to get out of here now. Right now.” She sounded almost hysterical. “I’ll even pretend to be sick…”
“So, to conclude, I can smell the food,” said Wycliffe, grinning, “Let us eat!” The crowd burst into applause. Dr. Burton stood, clapping, as did Paulsen. Even the Ryans stood, Bill’s face rapt with awe. Fright grew in Ally’s heart. She had never seen that expression on Bill’s face before. Soon Ally and her family were the only people still sitting.
“Simon, go,” said Katrina. They rose and made their way to the door. But everyone else was heading for the buffet lines, and they could make no progress through the tight-packed crowds. Simon looked back and forth, sweat beading on his brow. Katrina’s lips pressed into a thin angry line. With a start, Ally realized her parents were terrified.
Why were they so afraid of Wycliffe?
“Damn it, Simon, we’re not going to get out of here like this,” hissed Katrina. “I'll pull the fire alarm or something…”
“Someone would get trampled to death,” said Simon.
“Senator!” Senator Wycliffe stood not ten feet away, shaking hands. Paulsen pushed through the crowd. “Senator Wycliffe, sir, it’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
Katrina froze. “Oh, damn.”
Wycliffe shook Paulsen’s hand. “Pleased to meet you…”
“I saw your speech, sir, the one you gave back in January,” said Paulsen, gazing at the Senator with a rapt expression. “I went out and joined the Gracchan Party right away…”
Wycliffe listened to him with a fixed smile. His eyes brushed over Ally and then Simon, and he started to turn away.
Then his eyes widened and he turned back around.
“Simon,” said Katrina. “He’s…”
“Well, well. Simon Wester,” said Wycliffe, walking towards them. Paulsen sputtered on for a few more sentences and then fell silent. Wycliffe grinned ear to ear. “After all these years. How have you been?”
Simon smiled and shook Wycliffe’s hand. “Fairly good. I’m glad I got out of politics when I did. It looks like you’ve been busy.”
Wycliffe laughed. “That I have, Dr. Wester, that I have. Are you sure you don’t want to come back and work for me? I still could use a good speechwriter.”
Simon licked his lips. “It doesn’t look like it. Your speeches all seem to g
o over very well.”
Wycliffe smiled. “They really do, don’t they? But I’ve had to write most of them myself. Though I certainly could use a speechwriter to share the load.”
Simon shook his head. “Sorry. I have too many duties at the University of Constantina. I can’t just drop everything and go out on campaign.”
“I understand,” said Wycliffe. “Responsibility does creep up on a man as he grows older.” He craned his neck. “Ah! Mrs. Wester. There you are. How have you been?”
Katrina nodded, her face a mask. “Senator. All right.”
Wycliffe spread his hands. “Things have not been the same without you. Truly competent database administrators are hard to find.” He looked over Ally and Lithon and frowned. “Dr. Wester. You have children? You and the former Ms. Coldridge were so determined to remain career people.”
Simon laughed. “No man can see is own fate. I…um…bet you didn’t think you would be running for vice president someday when you started out in politics.”
Wycliffe grinned. “Actually, I had a very precise career plan. But that hardly matters. Do introduce me.”
Simon stammered for a minute. “Ah…this is my daughter, Ally.”
Wycliffe smiled. “A lovely young lady, indeed.” Ally tried to smile back but didn’t quite manage it. Something about his voice grated on her ears. “And the boy?”
“This is…” Katrina glared at him. “This is…Luke.” Lithon gave him a weird look. “Luke Wester.”
An odd look came over Wycliffe’s face, as if he had forgotten something he knew to be important. More sweat rolled down Simon’s forehead. “A son. How old is he, might I ask?”
Simon nodded. “He’s fifteen.”
Wycliffe frowned. “Fifteen?” The odd look didn’t leave his face. “But you’ve been married…”
“Ten years,” said Katrina. She gave him a tight smile. “My cousin’s son. We adopted him after she died. It worked out for the best.”
Tiny lines appeared in Wycliffe’s brow. “I see. And so Miss Wester was…”
“Also adopted,” said Katrina, “about a year after Luke. It was a hard time for her.” Her eyes narrowed. “We don’t like to talk about it, especially in public.”
A Knight of the Sacred Blade Page 21
