by Curtis, Greg
That was the cowboy's magic. He was a summoner, able to grab small things, often living things, and simply deposit them wherever he wanted them. He could also send them away as well. It was a useful skill in some ways. But it was also theft. James had no idea at all where the pot plant had come from, but he was sure that somewhere out there someone was missing their peace lily. At least it wasn't their pet cat.
“I've been here seven years.”
“I said it was belated didn't I!”
James was saved from having to respond by the sound of the kettle boiling. So instead he busied himself pouring the hot water into the plunge pot and carried it and a mug out to the dining area. He didn't bother with milk or sugar. Will didn't touch them. They weren't the sort of things cowboys liked. Their coffee was always strong and black. At least in Will's world.
“So, no new case?” James tried to turn the conversation back to more comfortable topics.
“Not at the moment. Intelligence thought for a while that we might have a rogue elementalist. But it turns out that lightning really can strike the same person twice. Especially if he's stupid enough to play golf in the middle of a thunder storm.” Will managed a wry smile as he said the last, as if there was something amusing in the thought of a man being struck by lightning.
“Besides, you don't have time for a new case. You need to give your report to the elders on Monday morning first thing. And there will be questions asked.”
James didn't bother asking what questions he was talking about. He knew them already. He'd heard them a hundred times before. Why hadn't he kept them updated on his investigation? Why hadn't he called for backup? Why had he confronted the witch alone? Why didn't he ever answer his phone? Did he not understand how dangerous a rogue witch could be? So instead of asking he just grunted his understanding at his boss. It was enough.
He hated going before the elders. Though in some way they seemed just like normal people – executives in a boardroom in their own private building – the truth was that they were anything but. They were some of the most powerful of the magical community around. They had explored their gifts and studied their magic until they could do things others could only dream of. And he was fairly sure most of them could kill him with a thought. But despite that they always treated him politely and even expressed concern. That confused him.
“Matti's doing well I hear.” Will changed the subject to something less annoying.
“She is. I just got the latest reports from her teachers. She’s apparently doing well at school and is getting her magic under control. I got an email from her this morning. They're talking about her and her class going on a biology camp. She's really looking forward to it.”
The Liberty Academy might cost a small fortune, but he figured it was worth every penny for the work they did with their students. And they sent him her school photos too. He'd kept every one of Matti's photos. One day he thought he might even frame them. If he couldn't actually talk to her over the phone or visit her, they were at least something to value. She was doing very well. But more important than that she was making lifelong friends with the other kids at the boarding school.
That was the part he cared about. It was good that she was doing well in school. Better that she was showing signs of having her gift under control. But that she was happy was what really mattered. And maybe he hoped, having friends would help keep her on a good path in life. To steer her away from the path Francis had chosen.
Maybe it helped that her gift was what they called animus magic. Life magic. If she applied herself the teachers said that in time she could make a great doctor. A doctor with a secret ability to help her patients. That was his hope anyway. Of course, he knew after five long years of hunting the magical down that every form of magical gift was open to abuse. All magic had a dark side. So a mentalist could counsel people with psychological problems or mentally enslave her patients. A blood mage could create precious elixirs or steal vital essence. And an animus witch could cure her patients or kill them. The elders claimed it wasn’t a case of the magic being bad. They said it was about the power that magic offered. The temptation. Still, he liked to think of her only walking into the light.
He couldn't stand to think of her taking Francis' dark path in life. And he didn't know what he would do if she did start down it. He didn't even understand why some people took that path. Francis had been a well-loved child, though perhaps that had been in part his magic at work. He could make people love him. Maybe that was what had made him go bad?
Everyone said that there were certain gifts that tempted people more than others. And that Francis’ gift of fascination was one of the most difficult to withstand. It was hard for a child to grow up straight when he could get anything he wanted simply with a word. Still, what he had done spoke of more than just a spoilt child growing into a rotten man. It spoke of some deeper sickness within him.
There was the coldness for one. His complete lack of care for his own family – except for James of course who Francis had hated with a passion. He probably still hated him – from prison. But long before that Francis had drained their parents dry financially, not giving a damn that they simply didn't have the money. He could have taken from anyone. He could have spread his theft about to ease the burden. But he hadn't. He had set out to completely destroy their parents. And he had very nearly done so. Why? James still didn’t know.
Next, Francis had gone after Sheryl. Not because she was an attractive woman – she was but James would never be so stupid as to believe that that had anything to do with it. Francis could have had any woman he wanted thanks to his gift. He had had a lot. In fact from the time his power had manifested fully he had become a true sexual predator. He had had his way with half the women in the neighbourhood. Whoever had caught his eye. And now there was a real possibility that he had a dozen or more children – not that he knew or cared. Going after Sheryl though had been Francis' way of striking at him. James was his older brother and the only one who had ever said no to him. Apparently Francis hadn’t taken the word “no” very well.
At that time James had had no understanding that magic existed. He'd never understood that Francis could make people do anything he wanted with a word. That that was even possible. And his parents, already well under Francis' spell, had not told him the truth about how bad things had become. That they were broke and practically homeless. That Francis had been destroying happy homes across the entire neighbourhood. Getting straight A's on his report cards without even going to school or doing any of the work. Stealing too. He'd actually had a bank manager empty out his own bank and bring him the money.
So while he'd been away from home, studying, becoming a cop and then a detective – a husband and a father in time – Francis had been slowly growing up into a monster and destroying everyone around him. Purely for his amusement. He'd also been nursing a grudge, one that had grown in him like a noxious weed. A grudge based purely on one thing – that James could say no to him.
Ultimately Francis had taken Sheryl away from him, destroyed her, and then turned his wife into a weapon to be used against him. And all while James had stood there helplessly, wondering what was happening. How could his then eighteen year old little brother have not only seduced his wife but convinced her that she loved him? And then gone on to convince her that James could not be trusted to even see his daughter? Those had been two hellish years.
But even that wasn't enough for Francis. There was never enough vengeance. Even after he'd destroyed his family and stolen his home from him, Francis had still been dissatisfied with his revenge. So he had gone after James’ baby daughter. It was the ultimate means he had of hurting him. And that was when everything had gone horribly wrong for all of them.
Francis hadn't stood far enough back from the storm he'd created. His need to see his vengeance carried out had ultimately been his undoing. It had cost him his looks, his power and his freedom. But it had also cost James his career and very nearly his liber
ty. It had cost Sheryl her sanity. And it had very nearly cost Matti her life. Only the Illuminati had been able to put things back together, however imperfectly. And there had been a price. He was still paying it.
James still worried about his daughter. He tried in his court permitted weekly emails, to make sure that she understood that. At his monthly court appointed visitations too. But she was a thirteen year old girl. He didn't know what she understood. And he had to be so very careful not to overload her with emotional baggage she wasn't ready to handle. Children needed to be allowed to grow up as children.
“Sheryl's not doing so well.”
“I heard.” James was non-committal about his ex-wife. He always was. After what she had done to him he had to be. Because in the end he didn't know whether any of the betrayals she had committed were down to her or only to Francis. When his brother had developed into what they called a fascinator with the ability to completely sway minds with barely a word, it became impossible to know anything. Had she dumped him, her husband of a decade or more and gone with Francis simply because he had willed it? Or because she had wanted to? And had she given their daughter away to child slavers simply because Francis had wanted the money? Or was it partly Sheryl's decision too? James could never be certain. All he really knew was that he could never look at her again.
Especially when even after he'd rescued Matti and Francis had been locked away, she'd still maintained the fiction that he was a violent drunk who needed to be kept at arm’s length from his daughter. True she didn't know what he'd done. But Francis' control should have worn off in time.
“They're talking about another stay in the hospital.”
“I know.” James carefully didn't say anything else. He didn't know what to say. He would never know what to say about Sheryl. And even if he did one day work it out, he would probably never be allowed to say it. Sheryl had no magic. She was normal. She could not be told about Francis’ powers. Which meant she could never be told why she had done what she'd done. That had to be a terrible thing to live with.
“It's guilt.”
“So they say.”
“You don't believe it's guilt?” Will stared at him oddly.
“I don't know. If it was guilt then she would have discovered it after Francis' control had been removed. She would have once more become the woman she was. Tried to make amends. But even after that she continued betraying me. She still made up lies. She tried to turn not just the courts but my own daughter against me. If anything her lies became worse after he was gone. So maybe it's guilt. And maybe there's something more.”
“God, you really are a suspicious bastard!” Will stared at him with disbelief written all over his face. Then he reached for the plunge pot and started slowly depressing the plunger.
“The woman was completely torn apart by your brother. Made to do things that no woman could ever imagine doing. She still doesn't know that there's magic in the world, and so can't even begin to understand why she did what she did. And then when she needed him, her husband wasn't there to support her.”
“Ex-husband.” James corrected him automatically. Sheryl had left him and run him through the divorce court well before she'd sold their daughter to the child slavers to give her boyfriend a little spending cash.
“Whatever. The point is that in a heartbeat she was left with nothing and no one and she thought she might never see her daughter again. That you'd take her away from her. So she fought. She fought as only a desperate mother could. You just happened to be on the receiving end of that.”
“The losing end.” He might be right James knew. Some days he desperately wanted to believe that he was. That Sheryl had been the victim. Other days he simply didn't know. Not completely. Sheryl had told so many lies to so many people. She had wronged him so many times. Some days he simply wasn't sure that she even knew what the truth was anymore. Which was why it was easier not to think of her. Other days it was easier to hate.
“Self pity? It's not a good look on you. And even a beaten dog knows there's a time to start trusting people again.” Will poured himself a mug of the hot black coffee and then blew on it before taking a sip. “You need to get out there again. Find some forgiveness. Find yourself another woman.”
“I'm comfortable as I am.”
“You're in a rut.”
“It's a comfortable rut.” And that was the truth. But more than that it was safe. He would never go near another woman again. Not after what had happened. He would never trust anyone again. Least of all someone with magic. And in the end he would be happy simply to know one thing. That his daughter was well. Everything else was irrelevant. Of course he knew his guest wouldn't be happy hearing that. He already wasn't happy. In fact he was sighing quietly.
“Fine!” Will gave up trying to dish out advice. He usually did after a while. “Your six months are up again and it's time for your check up.”
“Understood. I'll make an appointment with the German.”
And he would. That James guessed was the real purpose of his boss' visit. It was time to check his loyalty again. He might not be a cop any more, but in some ways working for the Illuminati was almost like working for the FBI. They had their own version of regular polygraph tests for him. And he assumed for any other non magical people who worked for them. Those with magic had ample reason not to tell anyone anything. It was only the normals who couldn't be trusted. But he wasn't cynical!
“It's already made.” Will dropped an appointment card on the table in front of him. “Monday at eleven after you see the elders. But be aware that it'll be a big one. Five years and all that. And the German is going to be upset that you haven't done what he asked. On top of which there have been reports.”
“Fine.” It was suddenly James' turn to sigh. “Reports” he guessed meant complaints. He seemed to gather them steadily. And Will was right. The German had told him to do a few things. Socialise more with his colleagues. Talk to his parents. Counselling with Sheryl. But he hadn't done them. “I'll be there.” After all, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter.
But what else was new? He had never really had a choice about much when it came to the Illuminati. He might have offered his services as a tracker and investigator to them, but it hadn't been offered freely. At the time Matti had been dying. Broken after falling from a truck in the abandoned factory. There had been no choice in that.
Nor had there been a choice in that she needed specialist schooling. It had become obvious that she was one of the gifted, and would need schooling that only others like her could give. Schooling that the Illuminati just happened to provide. He couldn't have left her in the care of her mother who at the time had been broken and looking at years in an institution or even jail if things weren't covered up. He had been looking at a life behind bars as well. The boarding school had been the only alternative to making her a ward of the state, much as it had pained him to have to send an eight year old girl away.
At the time he'd also needed to do something with his brother. That hadn't been a choice either. Because while Francis' gift didn't work on him, it still worked on everyone else. Even with his face and body broken from being pounded by James' fists he was dangerous. But James couldn't kill him. Not after the pure homicidal rage had worn off. Not even after all he had done. But he'd known that his brother needed to be locked away somewhere where his magic couldn't ever affect anyone else again. And there was no prison that could hold him. No normal prison. Again the Illuminati could do that where no one else could.
The prison also kept Francis locked away from him. That wasn't by his choice. Because his anger toward Francis was the one area of his life where James had very little control. Not even now, years later. He had nearly killed his little brother when he'd found out what he'd done. Beaten him half to death. The rage that had moved through him when he'd discovered that he'd had Matti sold as a child sex slave had been like a living, breathing monster within him. The only thing that had saved Francis that first time f
rom being beaten to death by him had been the fact that James had been desperate to get his daughter back. So the bloody wreck he had left on the floor of his old house after he'd learned what he needed to from him had survived. But later, when he'd learned the rest of what Francis had done to his family, the rage had returned hotter than before. Ever since it had kept coming and going. Some days it was all he could do to keep himself from getting into his car, driving down to the prison and shooting Francis.
So the deal had been made. They needed a hunter. He was one. But it hadn't been a choice.
James didn't trust the Illuminati. Not the elders nor the gifted. Not even magic. Especially not magic. But he had needed them. To keep him out of jail. To keep his little brother under lock and key. And while Matti was still being raised by them in their boarding school, he would continue to need them.
She was thirteen now and still had another five years of schooling before he had to think about college. And for those five years at least the Illuminati would have his services unconditionally. So he would do what they wanted. He would go to the appointment with the German. He had no choice. But that didn't mean he had to like it. But he might have to pretend that he did.
