by Scott Duff
“Sure,” I shrugged. “How much leeway does that give us?”
“Much as you want, really,” said Gordon. “This puts us back here between nine and ten tonight with lunch and dinner en route. This is a day off for me.”
“Gordon,” John called from the doorway, “Billy has the van ready when you are.” Gordon nodded, drinking the last of his coffee.
“Let me tell Da we’re leaving and I’ll meet you out front when you’re ready,” he said standing.
“Peter,” I said once Gordon had left, “What’s a C.V.?”
“Curriculum vitae,” he answered with a chuckle. “Same thing as a resume. It’s a history of education, work experience, accomplishments, that sort of thing.”
“Oh,” I said. “So mine would be a sheet of paper with my name at the top.”
“Keep that dream, little brother,” Peter snorted. “Tell ya what, on the trip, I’ll write up a quickie for ya and we’ll show it to our first candidate and see what he or she thinks. ‘Kay?”
I agreed and we headed out to meet Gordon.
~ ~ ~
Peter typed feverishly on his laptop in the back of the van during the first leg of the trip. He sat further back so that the driver and Gordon wouldn’t affect his electronics, mine being protected in the briefcase. They didn’t do any “skipping” down the highway, but I didn’t ask why—I’d either ask Peter or Kieran later, just in case there was some trade secret to it or something. For all I knew, there was some ordinance violation or something involved, though I hadn’t seen any black and white cowled policemen on brooms with nightsticks around.
Gordon provided me with a little reading material on the way: printouts of the c.v.’s of the people we’d be talking to today. Our first potential assistant was a young woman about Gordon’s age. That shouldn’t have surprised me. All of them were schoolmates of Gordon at some point so they had to be close in age. I don’t think she was completely informed on with whom she would be interviewing, though, as we met outside a neighborhood tavern and she barreled out the front doors, attaching herself to Gordon’s neck, hoopin’ an’ a’hollerin’ in greeting and ignoring all of Gordon’s attempts to calm her.
“Maddie, settle down,” Gordon said repeatedly, his face red. He enjoyed her attention, certainly, but he was embarrassed by her exuberance as well as his inability to keep his eyes off of her… exuberance. Peter and I just stood back and enjoyed the show.
“Maddie!” Gordon finally shouted her down.
“A’right, a’right,” said Maddie. “Keep your knickers on, Gordie. How long we got ‘fore the geezers get ‘ere?”
“Maddie!” Gordon exclaimed.
“You seem to be saying that a lot, Gordon,” said Peter. We both snickered.
“Hey, I’m only seventeen. That makes you the geezer,” I said, elbowing Peter in the side and grinning at him. Maddie on the other hand wasn’t grinning anymore. She looked horrified then embarrassed. I didn’t know freckles could glow, but hers did.
“Oh, my God, Gordon, why didn’t you stop me?” she cried.
“I tried, Maddie,” said Gordon, shaking his head. “I told you ahead of time even, didn’t I, lass? Now let’s go inside and see how much of a learning experience we can turn this into for all of us, shall we?”
Gordon ushered us into the tavern, arm in arm with Maddie. She glanced over her shoulder at us once furtively. The pub was a family-run place with a small staff that ran on the edge of the magical community, according to Gordon. There were several wardings on all the doors, low-grade, anti-theft-type stuff, by the looks of them. There were more around the bar I couldn’t identify but they didn’t look threatening to me and Gordon and Peter both ignored them so I did too. I had a lot to learn.
Maddie darted ahead to an alcoved table and slid on a jacket, making her outfit more professional looking. She gave us a demure smile that belied the energy of the woman on the sidewalk just moments ago, green eyes shining out between tight red curls. I was taught European introductions in a far more social context, apparently. Gordon introduced Peter first and he shook her hand in a thoroughly American way, which thoroughly confused me. The few times I had done it were at large balls with my parents as a child many years ago. I giggled at my parents’ juvenile romanticism and embarrassed myself in the process, stuttering through my greetings like a sex-starved teenager. Peter smirked at me as he scooted over into the booth.
“Ms. O’Rourke,” he started as she slid in to meet him on the other side. Gordon and I took the outside. “Would you mind, by way of introductions to my young tongue-tied friend, you would look at a C.V. rather hastily done on his behalf? He seems to believe his would be unimpressive.”
“Certainly, Mr. Borland,” Maddie agreed readily, her aura showing both curiosity and amusement. Peter pulled open his laptop, turning it toward Gordon and Maddie, then indicated two keys. He said, “Page Up and Down.”
“What did you put in there?” I asked him pointing to the back of the laptop as they read. I had no idea of how much Peter actually knew about me. If I concentrated hard, I could remember just about anything from his life—I’d stepped through it twice. But it was a blur otherwise and it felt like I was kind of violating him to look too hard. Yeah, I know it didn’t make sense, but that’s how I felt.
“A lot, surprisingly,” he said, grinning at me. “Colbert kept very good records about who taught what and your father mirrored everything with certificates signed by the individuals in question. There’s no question to the authenticity of any of it. You’ve shown it to me. All I did was cut and paste most of it and add in the last six months.”
Someone approached from behind me to my left. What bothered me about that realization was how it came in three parts. The first was from Peter’s reaction as the woman moved into his field of vision. He merely looked up as the waitress stepped up to the table and asked about orders. As she stepped away with drink orders I asked quietly, “Who is maintaining the privacy shield?”
Gordon answered distractedly, “ Hm? Uh, the house. Is that a problem?”
I reached across the table and pushed the screen down, calling over my shoulder, “Miss! Wait!” I scrambled out of the booth after her.
“Ma’am, please, I have a question,” catching up to her when she turned to answer my call. “I don’t want to seem rude to the proprietor or anything, but we’re going to be discussing some very private matters. Would it be possible if I could install my own privacy shields?”
“Certainly, lad,” the middle-aged woman said, cheerfully if a bit condescendingly. Especially since she thought she was talking to a tree. She didn’t think I could install a table lamp, more than likely. Gordon and Maddie looked capable enough to her, I’m sure, but neither Peter nor I were even a blip on her radar. When I returned to the table, I had the Stone set up more stable screening, something I had more confidence with, not overlaid on the current ward. Nodding to Gordon, he lifted the lid to the laptop so Maddie and he could continue reading.
“At ten?” Maddie whispered to Gordon. Peter muttered, “Uh-huh,” while looking around the tavern. “How did he get Harding to agree?” asked Gordon also in a whisper, tapping a key.
“Cole Harding?” I asked, thinking back a few years. “That was a fun trip. Dad taught me to snow ski in Finland, then we hopped over to Bern to visit the atom smasher a few times with Mr. Harding. It was pretty cool!” They stared at me over the top of the laptop, Gordon grinning and Maddie agape. “What?”
“You smashed atoms with Cole Harding?” Maddie asked in disbelief.
“Well, not personal ones, but yeah,” I said, feeling the blush rise in my face while Peter and Gordon snickered. Maddie slapped at Gordon’s face lightly as he ducked his head into her shoulder to hide from me. I could feel the waitress heading toward us so I relaxed the shield and let her in. She set her tray on the corner of the nearly square table.
“That’s a right good wall you have there, lad,” she said as she handed out the drinks. “We didn’t ev
en feel it come up or know it was there till we didn’t see ya here a moment ago.”
“Thanks,” I said, appreciating the compliment as it was intended. I re-established the shield when she left, sending a slight charge down the three listening spells that had dropped off of her. A fat man in greasy whites passed the kitchen door as he jumped, yelling obscenities and banging at his apron with a sauté pan. I was just happy that none of them were hers and returned my attention to the table.
“There’s no mention of Arts training…” Maddie trailed away when she hit a key. “He’s that McClure?” She turned on the bench to face Gordon, then turned her head to Peter and said, “That means the two of you are half… Oh, God, Gordon, what have you got me into?”
“So what do you think?” asked Peter coyly. “Would Seth’s C.V. pass muster?”
“Honestly?” Maddie looked at Peter wide-eyed. “Looking at this, I’d say he was absolutely unemployable.”
Peter was stricken. I felt vindicated—my feelings were a bit hurt, but I was vindicated. Even Gordon looked put out by Maddie’s decree.
“What? Why?” asked Peter, almost shrilly.
“It’s too good,” she said. “From an employer’s standpoint, it would be highly unlikely that the return would match the investment necessary to keep him, especially long-term. Looking at his education, I would have to keep him dancing through five to eight projects at a time just to keep his interest up and that’s just not viable in today’s corporate structures. That, and he’s just too young for that kind of a commitment.
“That’s in this world. In our world, things are different. He’s got a huge theoretical advantage in his education, but he lacks training in even the basics. I assume he was home schooled?” Peter shook his head no. “Yet he was instrumental in contests at MacNamara’s Games this year, fantastically so, according to my brothers.”
“I had help,” I said defensively.
“This would probably be good enough to get you on the councils,” she said turning to me, smiling, “but not as the head just yet. Shall we look at yours, Mr. Borland?”
“Mine is very much like yours, Miss O’Rourke,” Peter said with a smile, swapping his laptop for a thick stack of files that Gordon had given him in the van.
“Except for that last part, right?” she asked, leaning back in the booth and sipping her water.
“I rode in on coattails,” he said, smiling wanly, as he read through the file marked Madeline O’Rourke on the tab. It was purely for show since we’d already gone through her file earlier.
“Don’t you believe it,” I said, causing Maddie to giggle.
“So what’s the plan here, Gordon?” she asked, turning back to him. “They’re out of my league, clearly. I’d be no better off with them than at home.”
“God, Maddie, they’re looking for an aide, not a wife,” said Gordon, exasperated. This obviously wasn’t going according to his plan. He had some affection and sympathy for the woman and I liked her on a personal level, but I think the four of us had already decided the fit wasn’t right.
“Have you considered Gaelan?” Maddie asked Gordon.
Gordon nodded. “And Kellan. They had a row with their Dad again, accordin’ to Audra. Been outta touch for a few weeks, the both of ‘em. I’ve got appointments set up with James, Dane, and Reece. Short notice, ya know?”
“Then I shouldn’t keep you,” she said brightly. “I think I’ve showed my arse enough for one day.” I thought it was generally the interviewer that called an end to a meeting, but she did have a point. Bringing down the shield, I stood up and we waited a polite distance away. We said good-bye at the table with Gordon’s more personal than ours. Peter and I gave him a few moments while I slipped our waitress and proprietor a few hundred pounds for the use of her table.
In the van, Gordon said, “If she’d ever learn to listen, that’d lass would be a force to be reckoned with.”
“I’ll say,” said Peter, grinning. “She ‘bout knocked you down on the sidewalk.”
“Mr. Cahill,” Billy said softly and nodded slightly forward.
Startled, Gordon turned the visor down and pulled out a comb, adjusting the mirror to view his hair, except it didn’t need combing. We turned right on a main road as Gordon continued fussing. Peter and I exchanged quick glances, confused.
“I see them,” Gordon said, snapping the visor up. “In a lorry, three cars back.”
“Is there a problem?” I asked, not understanding what was going on.
“Somebody’s tailing us,” said Peter. “Why? And who?”
“Is there any reason I can’t turn around and look?” I asked. “You were being so careful, after all… Oh, never mind, there’s one in front of us, too.” Bright flares of two powerful auras sat in a blue sedan a short distance up the road from us. Another one sat in a beige convertible waiting to turn onto the road we were on at the intersection we were passing through. “I think the lorry will turn right here, then show up again in a few blocks,” I said, getting the feel of traffic flow in my head, mapping it out like Ethan had on the airplane. It was simple to see what they were doing now, boxing us in. We just had to break out before they closed the lid tight.
“He’s right,” said Billy. The lorry turned right. There were four men in the delivery truck, not particularly powerful magically speaking. Even with the buildings in the way, I could feel them speeding and swerving through traffic to catch up to us. The beige convertible sped up, too, and pulled up even at the next light. I turned on the bench to the seat behind me, grabbing our briefcases and hauling them over the top of the seat.
Peter took his and we popped them open almost simultaneously as the van pulled forward. I loaded the jacket pockets with the two backup phones and the wallet with all the money and my passport, then slid the jacket onto the seat. Peter made similar arrangements with his belongings. He also placed a thin gray plastic block inside with my laptop. He had a twin of it on his, so I assumed it did something nasty to uninvited guests and snapped the lid closed.
“He saw that, you know,” said Gordon from the front seat.
I shrugged, “So? We’re on a business trip, right? We sorted through our briefcases for a moment. Nothing exceptional about that. Where do you think they’ll spring their trap?”
“Soon,” muttered the driver. “Park about three blocks up. This road veers off to the right into residential in two more. Lorry’s blocked us in already.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking about it. “Gordon, do you want to fight or make a run for it?”
Little Brother, Seth’Dur’an o’an.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “What was that? Kieran?”
“Yes,” said Peter as shocked as I was. “That’s Kieran calling us.”
The castle is under attack. Destroy your phones. Call me on my backup.
Gordon’s cellphone sat on the dash of the van and started ringing. Peter reached out with a fine tendril of power and fried the shiny gizmo just as Gordon reached to answer it. The convertible roared past us just as the left lane ended, switching lanes suddenly. The sedan was four cars up and slowing to turn into the park. I needed these yahoos out of the way so I could find out what was going on with Kieran. The question of fight or flight became a matter of which was more expeditious. Probably flight, I decided, but not necessarily, as we had no idea how many there really were. Regardless, I wanted them off balance, so I skipped the van ahead of the sedan.
“What the fuck!” yelled Billy, shocked and totally confused.
“Sorry, Billy, just keep straight. My fault, that,” I said. “Take the next right.”
The convertible caught sight of us speeding up dramatically while the sedan didn’t and continued turning. The lorry kept coming, too, speeding up as much as a step van could. Hoping I timed this right, I pictured the sheet of shielding and ramp I wanted, fairly short, rising up and curling to one side. It looked good in my imagination. As Billy braked the van, I pushed with the Stone’s power and created
shields on the road matching my mental image. The driver slammed on his brakes to make the turn with us but lost all traction on my shield. Keeping his inertia, the car hit the ramp, climbed rapidly into the air, then flipped off the road into the nearby trees, turning at least three revolutions before crashing. I pulled the shield ramp up immediately, before another car hit it.
“That was so cool!” yelled Gordon. “I have no idea what you did, but it was cool as hell!”
“Don’t get too happy, yet, Gordon,” Peter said, grinning along with him.
“There’s still the four in the step van and two in the sedan left,” I said, turning back toward the front. We needed some space to work with and without bystanders. I didn’t want innocents hurt. Well, at least people innocent of wanting to hurt me.
The “accident” behind us had stopped traffic in both lanes on that road, but the lorry was still close behind us. Ahead of us, I could see the sedan turn onto our road. The passenger was probing the astral plane, searching for us. I risked being branded a one-trick-pony and shoved another ramp in front of the sedan. This time, as the car shot into the air, I added a little fire to its gas tank. It must have been low on fuel because the explosion wasn’t as big as I’d hoped.
“Boo-yah!” Gordon yelled, boisterously.
“They got out,” muttered Billy, as two vaguely human-shaped energy cocoons crashed into the trees beyond the still rolling car.
“Yeah, I see,” I said mildly, leaning over between them. “Pull over. We gotta finish this.”
Chapter 39
The step van had pulled off near the fireball and they were beating the bushes for the bodies. Figure of speech, really, since there were two helping each damaged wizard up to their feet. Everybody knew where everybody was now, but none of us knew all of why. They knew why I’d killed a man and destroyed two cars and I knew how I’d done it. We didn’t feel the need to be particularly threatening so the three of us just walked up the road. Of course, the Stone had a nice solid thick shield surrounding us by then. Billy stayed with the van after pulling an incredibly large handgun from under his seat. He cradled the weapon against his forearm and stood near the open driver’s door, waiting.
