Arcane Dropout 4

by Edmund Hughes

  “Come on,” said Zoe. “We’re going to find our table, sit down, and stay put. I don’t want you leaving my field of view for the next few hours.”

  “What are you afraid I’ll do?” asked Lee.

  “The Melting Pack will be sending a representative, without a doubt,” said Zoe. “It might well be Shannara herself. She’s come to previous meetings before.”

  “And you’re afraid I’ll charge across the table and assassinate her in front of dozens of supernaturally powerful witnesses?”

  He considered it, deciding it would be too messy. Also, it would most assuredly get him killed.

  “I know what you’re capable of, little brother,” said Zoe.

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  Lee found a seat next to her at the centermost table, which he assumed they’d later be sharing with Jack and the others. He put on his sweatshirt and put the hood up, completing his disguise, and then pulled Tess into his mystic stream.

  “Can I have your permission to sneak around and play pranks on people?” she asked.

  “I don’t think this crowd would take kindly to them,” whispered Lee. “Feel free to spy to your heart’s content, though.”

  She flashed a dimpled grin and gave him a quick kiss that he couldn’t respond to openly, given how many people were around. Zoe gave him a look as Tess slipped off.

  “What?” he asked. “Are you also going to take issue with me letting Tess be useful?”

  “Of course not,” said Zoe. “Lucas is doing the very same thing.”

  “Then what’s your problem?”

  Zoe sighed and shook her head. “You need to get a real girlfriend.”

  “Jesus, not this again…”

  “I’m serious. It’s unhealthy for you to develop such a codependent relationship with a ghost who is so obviously taking advantage of you.”

  Lee rolled his eyes. “Yes, she’s taking advantage of me. Clearly, that’s why she traveled over two thousand miles to find me and spent several days convincing me to let her restore my memories.”

  “Never mind, this isn’t the time for this conversation,” said Zoe. “There are more important things going on right now.”

  She nodded to Jack, who was joking and conversing with the man Lee had seen arriving before.

  “Who is he?” asked Lee.

  “That’s Trevor Barksdale,” said Zoe. “He was a Baltimore drug lord slash part-time sorcerer. He eventually pivoted toward running a more general criminal enterprise. He’s the closest thing to a real ally that Jack is likely to have in attendance tonight.”

  “Interesting,” said Lee. “How did that come about?”

  “Trevor used to be heavily involved in people smuggling,” said Zoe. “The mostly benign kind, mind you. He helped a few dozen rogue mages escape countries more heavily policed by the Order. For a while, the House of Shadows was working with the Barksdale gang directly. It’s how I met Lucas.”

  “They have ghosts on staff?”

  “He was alive when I met him, you simpleton.”

  Lee had more questions, but another guest had just arrived. Whereas Trevor Barksdale and the half-dozen men in his entourage had looked relatively normal, if a tad on the intimidating side, the man who Jack greeted next stood out like a sore thumb.

  He was tall, tanned, and chunky, wearing nothing more than a green straw skirt and a crown of woven vines. He was surrounded by eight women, also in traditional Hawaiian hula skirts with strapless red tops.

  There was nothing inherently supernatural about them, except for the fact that the ground seemed to rumble slightly under each of the husky man’s steps. He was large, but not that large.

  “That’s King Mora, the Storm Shaman,” said Zoe. “Self-proclaimed monarch of the supernatural side of the Hawaiian islands.”

  “Wow,” muttered Lee. “Odds on him having to buy two plane tickets on the flight over here?”

  “Zero. I’m almost positive that he arrived the same way we did. He calls the women surrounding him his ‘Sacred Sirens,’ and they each have a different elemental affinity. I’m not really sure what they are, or how they do what they do, but they’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Is his faction friendly or antagonistic to you guys?”

  “Somewhere in between.”

  He recognized the next group by philosophy, if not by name. Thirteen pale men with clean-shaven heads and Nazi insignias on the back and shoulders of their leather jackets walked through the doorway, swaggering with each step. Hostile gazes were immediately exchanged between them and Trevor Barksdale’s group. Jack greeted them, though not with anywhere near the warmth and openness he had the others.

  “88Purity,” muttered Zoe. “Bunch of scumbags. I argued against us inviting them. Their leader literally calls himself ‘Prophet’ and preaches that only the Aryan race should be trusted to wield magic.”

  “Weird. It seems like having them here would only cause issues, given how half the attendees are already outside that demographic.”

  “They’ve grown in strength in the United States over the past few years,” said Zoe. “To a scary extent. Unfortunately, we can’t exclude them from a meeting of North American supernatural factions without making them into an enemy. It’s a realpolitik kind of deal.”

  “If all these factions are from North America, why is the meeting being held in Romania?”

  “Neutral ground,” said Zoe. “Try to keep up, Eldon, would you?”

  “Oh, shut it,” he muttered.

  The members of 88Purity settled down at a table that was, rather conveniently, as far away from Trevor Barksdale’s group as possible, given the layout of the chamber. Jack gave them only the briefest hello before moving on to what appeared to be the final invited faction.

  A woman with long, jet-black hair took slow steps into the chamber. She was tall, with intense yellow eyes and a slim figure. Her age was impossible to place, her face free of wrinkles but her expression holding a sense of gravity and wisdom. She wore a red ballroom dress with a long slit running up one side to reveal a borderline-scandalous amount of leg and thigh.

  A small army of animals surrounded her, ranging from several massive dire wolves, to a panther with greying whiskers, to numerous squirrels, raccoons, and smaller cats. There was even a hulking grizzly bear who walked close enough for the woman to scratch the scruff of its neck.

  “Her name is—”

  “Shannara,” said Lee, cutting his sister off. “We’ve met. Neat trick she’s pulled.”

  “What?”

  “She’s a lycanthrope,” he said. “I’m sure everyone here knows that. By having all the rest of the members of the Melting Pack with her show up in their transformed form, it’s impossible to know their true number. Every one of those beasts might just be bonded animals, or none of them.”

  “Hmm,” said Zoe. “That’s a good point. Maybe you are paying attention.”

  Jack gave her a fairly warm greeting that included shaking and kissing her hand. Lee was curious to get Tess’s opinion on that particular gentlemanly flourish, but she was still elsewhere. Shannara’s gaze briefly swept across the room. It passed over him smoothly, and he was certain that she didn’t recognize him.

  Shannara and her woodland posse settled into one of the tables after stopping to greet King Mora. If nothing else, Lee’s attendance at the Independent Gathering was giving him a much better idea of the relations between the various supernatural factions.

  The servants began wheeling the dinner carts around. Lee accepted a plate of prime rib with some kind of mushroom sauce, salad, and roasted potatoes and leeks. There was wine, too, plenty of wine, though he was reluctant to do more than sip at his own glass.

  Jack, Mira, and Ryoko found their way back to the table and sat down, along with a few other senior members of the House of Shadows. Lee could feel more attention on him now, more as an unknown quantity rather than out of suspicion.

 
The chamber was abuzz with conversation, but there was a hollowness to it, words as an alternative to tension. Lee didn’t say much as he ate. He grew more curious about where Tess had disappeared off to with each passing second.

  Jack didn’t take a plate for himself, nor a goblet of wine. He waited until the meal was approaching its end before standing up and making his way toward a small altar in the back. The chamber grew silent as he took his place there, arms outstretched, face stoic and serious.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Thank you all for coming,” said Jack. “This is the third annual Independent Gathering of North American Supernatural Factions. The format of this will be similar to that of a town meeting, but I’ll explain the specifics for those of you who are new and unfamiliar to the concept.”

  His eyes flicked toward the members of 88Purity for an instant, a few of whom were still speaking to one another. The offending guests immediately fell silent.

  “Each of the faction leaders will receive a turn to present the major issues that they’re concerned about to the room,” he said. “If you wish to address any points made, ask questions, or present related insights, you simply raise your hand and wait to be called on by myself. I will be the moderator for tonight’s discussion. If anyone decides to stir up an unwarranted amount of trouble or controversy, I will also serve as the bouncer.”

  The silence that followed Jack’s last statement was a testament to how much respect he apparently commanded amongst the assembled supernatural heavyweights. Lee wondered if it was a threat he’d followed through on in previous iterations of the gathering.

  “Since we’ll have to get to this sooner or later,” Jack continued, “I’ll begin by allowing anyone to bring forward any grievances they have against one of the other factions currently in attendance.”

  Prophet, the leader of 88Purity, immediately stood up and raised his hand, narrowing his beady eyes at Trevor Barksdale from across the room. Jack nodded to him.

  “I’m sure you all can guess who my issue is with,” said Prophet. His outfit was almost entirely leather, and his bald head showed the accumulated scars and wrinkles of at least a few decades of hard living. “Trevor Barksdale and his greasy thugs killed one of my friends. I want justice.”

  Trevor Barksdale scoffed from across the room, and a few of his gang members leaned in to whisper to him. Prophet’s scarred head turned a furious shade of red, and the fingers of one of his hands twitched as though they were about to reach for a weapon, or more likely, cast a spell.

  “This is exactly the sort of issue that this meeting is designed to address,” said Jack. “Trevor, would you like to respond to Prophet’s claim? I’ll remind both of you that any attempts to instigate or provoke one another will not be tolerated.”

  “My response is to tell him to fuck off,” said Trevor. “His boy started the fight. It was wild on both sides, and he got stomped the fuck out. Neither was at fault.”

  “Bullshit!” shouted Prophet. “You’re a greasy fucking liar. You and all your ni—”

  “Go ahead,” said Trevor. “Say it. See what happens.”

  “Enough!” shouted Jack. His voice echoed with an undercurrent of supernatural bass, and both of the agitating tables instantly went silent. “Trevor. Can you prove that the man was killed in self-defense?”

  “The police got involved,” said Trevor. “My employee was found not guilty.”

  “Because your lawyers got him off,” said Prophet.

  “You’re going to be the one who gets offed if you don’t watch your tongue,” said Trevor.

  “Enough,” said Jack. “It doesn’t sound as though either of you have definitive evidence in your favor. We’re moving on. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

  While both factions seemed eager to bicker with one another, as soon as Jack—the infamous Dealmaker—interjected, the argument seemed to deflate. Prophet scowled but didn’t object. Trevor Barksdale merely shook his head.

  Surprisingly, it was Shannara who raised her hand next. Lee tried to keep from letting his gaze snap right onto her, though it was difficult. She stood out as the sole human at her table, a beautiful, mature woman with full lips, and eyes that suggested that she could eat a man alive, figuratively and perhaps literally.

  “I wonder about the idea that you yourself proposed at the last Independent Gathering,” said Shannara. “Would not such a formal agreement between factions create a system for addressing this minor grievance?”

  “Minor grievance?” shouted Prophet, his anger instantly restored. “He was my fucking cousin!”

  “Minor by the standards of potential loss,” said Shannara. “My point still stands. If we were to strengthen the official bonds between us, share secrets more openly, perhaps even work toward a single, mutually beneficial goal, we would all have much to gain.”

  Lee felt a small prickle of premonition at her words.

  “The Independent Coalition,” said Jack. “I am a little surprised to hear you reintroduce the proposal, Shannara. You were strongly against it at the last meeting.”

  “Circumstances have evolved since then,” said Shannara. “We’ve all grown in strength. It’s rather telling that the first point of discussion brought up was related to friction between factions, rather than an attack by the Chaldeans.”

  “Bullshit,” shouted Prophet again, without raising his hand. “That sounds all nice and flowery, but 88Purity isn’t down with that all-inclusive, everybody’s friends nonsense. I know for a fact that T-Bag over there wouldn’t be, either.”

  “On the contrary,” said Trevor Barksdale. “It’s not like my organization doesn’t already sell drugs, weapons, and women to whoever pays up. What do you think your boy was doing when he got snuffed out?”

  Prophet seethed, but he let the point stand.

  “This is as close to the perfect time, the perfect opportunity, that we’ll ever get,” said Shannara.

  Silence followed her declaration. Jack was the one who asked the obvious question.

  “The perfect time for what?”

  “To change the world,” said Shannara. “To step out from the shadows.”

  Lee was well aware of what that suggestion would likely mean for Primhaven. He was half-tempted to throw his own voice into the conversation, but it would have also thrown away one of the few weapons he currently wielded. He could still surprise her by passing her secrets on to the right people within the Order, if not right here and now.

  A nagging voice in the back of his head forced him to consider the other side. What if he did nothing, and let it play out? He could potentially find a way to get Toma, Eliza, and maybe other students and faculty members out of Primhaven and then let Shannara continue with her plan. It would be choosing to side with “the enemy,” but after all he’d seen, and hearing the stories of Jack and the others…

  In truth, Lee had no idea what to do. Which made Tess’s sudden, breathless appearance a welcome change of pace. She sprinted across the chamber, phasing through tables, chairs, and a few people in an effort to take the absolute shortest path to reach him.

  “Lee!” she shouted. He almost brought a finger to his lips on reflex, but of course, nobody else could hear Tess. “She’s here!”

  Lee frowned and furrowed his brow. Tess was doubled over and panting, and she answered by pointing a finger across the chamber.

  Two women were walking through the archway entrance with heavy, echoing footsteps. One was someone Lee didn’t recognize. The other was Harper.

  CHAPTER 25

  Lee stood up from his chair in surprise, which would have been terrible for his cover, had not nearly everyone in the room done the same. The two women slowed to a stop a few paces past the archway, faces as expressionless as painted masks.

  Harper wore a black robe with intricate red lacework, similar to the black-and-gold instructor’s robe she’d donned as a teacher, but far more elegant. It clung to every inch of her body, showcasing the curves of her chest and hips while
still giving off a heaviness that suggested the fabric had been reinforced in places.

  Her hair was in its usual golden braid, falling between her shoulders, tied with a crimson ribbon. Lee had forgotten how pretty she was, how cold her blue eyes could seem, even the scar that ran along the edge of her chin like a stray sketch line left in a million-dollar portrait. Most of the attention in the room was focused on her, and for good reason, but it was clear from her posture that she wasn’t the one in charge.

  The woman next to her was older and fairly mundane-looking, by comparison. She wore a white robe of the same style as Harper’s except with a stiff collar and shoulder inserts reminiscent of a football player’s pads.

  Her hair was shoulder length, deep red in color with streaks of white running through it, though it wasn’t clear if that was a product of her age or something else. She was still pretty, but in a mature, tired sort of way, with faint wrinkles, and a beauty mark on her left cheek.

  She also wore a sword at her waist, a saber with a polished wood hilt and a golden hand guard. It was the first weapon Lee had ever seen that gave off an aura visible through his mystic sight, a blindingly bright corona like the sun at noon.

  “I thought the discussion started at eight,” said the woman. “It appears you’ve begun prematurely.”

  Her voice was light and clear, though she had a slight French accent. The room relaxed somewhat, though nothing in her words had truly given them reason to. Lee glanced over at the podium and felt his blood run cold.

  Jack was glaring openly at the woman, hands clenched against the wood of the stand in front of him tight enough to flex the wood. He made an attempt at composing himself, folding his arms behind his back, and lifted his head in acknowledgment.

  “The Order sent you,” he said slowly. “There’s very little you could add to the conversation that hasn’t already been said by that fact alone, Genevieve Laughton.”

  A murmur passed through the chamber. Zoe’s hand grasped Lee’s upper arm, fingers squeezing tight enough for him to feel the bite of her nails. Genevieve Laughton, Katie’s murderer and the current Vice Magister of the Order of Chaldea.