“As a compound?”
The old man stared at her for a second, then started laughing on his own accord.
“Blessed be,” he said after a minute. “You certainly are full of questions today. More so than our regular visitors.”
Tillie felt like she was being insulted somehow, so she sulked a bit in her seat.
“It would be a lot easier if Charlie was here.” She grumbled loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Your new friend has had one hell of a busy night and morning. I’m sorry that he couldn’t stick around to be with you. But don’t worry—with any luck, you’ll see him soon enough. Once we assign you a work detail.”
“We’re witches. We don’t get our hands dirty.”
“Everyone gets their hands dirty—magical familiars or kinsfolk. I’m sorry, but we’re not in a clear position right now to cut you loose back into the city. Not with the armies of the Third Watch still entrenched. And that could last for a few months at best.”
“What about those above us? They have no power! No food! No shelter!”
“Not too worry. The island’s solar generators will kick in about a day from now—once they are fully charged—and restore power to the island’s basic infrastructure. The banking and financial systems will be offline of course.”
“The island will riot!” Sarah exploded unhappily.
“The Resistance knows that. Hell, they also know what’s happening all across the country. But we can’t pour too many resources into one—or more—problems without compromising our own personal safety. The people here are our top priority.” The old man responded tightly.
Then his posture softened a bit.
“Look. I know how much you want to return to the life you once had. We would all like that. But right now, the Regency Council and the Supreme Chancellor have taken all that away. The country is under full martial law right now. A state of emergency has been declared. Humanity is mobilizing to put out all threats posed by magical kinsfolk and familiars alike. Through systemic and carefully planned genocide. By our best estimates, people like you have six months on the outside to live—before you are swept away. Exterminated outright.”
The man’s words wore like a heavy weight around the necks of his new arrivals.
Alicia’s face had been drained of all its natural color.
“W-why? We have lived peacefully among the humans for decades following the Great War! Why would that pose a possible threat to any of you?”
“Part of it is politics of the last three generations and the other piece to the puzzle is leftover prejudice that never fully went away after fifty million humans died in the exchange. I wish it were something different, but—”
“—you know why.” Tillie broke into the conversation at that point. “You were a soldier for humanity. Not for the magical kinsfolk. You saw what was there. What was being planned after the cessation of all hostilities.”
“I was a two-star general after 30 years of faithful service to the old federal government. But I won’t lie to any of you: Those years weren’t my happiest. I saw plans upon plans being passed through my department—some appearing on my desk in the dead of night. Project Halo. Project Light Saber. Project Dawn Star—to name a few. All created with the likes of you in mind. The people…they never forgot.”
“So you said nothing in defense of us?”
“At the time, most of those plans were cold-filed. Put into permanent storage. I believed the brass was just blowing off steam because the war we all fought hard for left so many open wounds and entrenched bitterness.” The old man said quietly. He took off his reading glasses for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“But that was fifty some odd years ago. I was positive humanity had moved on—even after the formation of the Regency Council.”
“Looks like you were wrong,” Tillie said gruffly.
The old man looked at her with a slightly cold expression. “If you’re trying to put me on trial for something that was beyond my control, stand in line. There are many like you who wouldn’t mind having my head on a pike. But I entered this profession as a way of making amends for my past. I made my bed. Now I have to lie in it. Like so many of us old-timers. The Boomer Generation of the forties and fifties.
“But for some of us, the nightmares never go away, young lady. I am extending a hand of friendship towards you and your mother and her friend—in a bid for solidarity against a common enemy. All I’m asking is that you trust me and join in on the fight. Our collective futures will depend on it.”
Tillie sat back in her seat, weighing her next response.
“Fine. But I want first crack at the armies of the Third Watch—if the opportunity arises. I owe them that much for killing some of my friends and all magical familiars that have died in the run up from last night.”
“And the others?”
“Them too. I’m not picky. I’ll fly the mother fucking flag of freedom and liberty—while charging into battle if I have to.”
The old man smiled for the first time since they came into the conference room.
“A fighting spirit in one so young as you is a rarity indeed. I just hope we don’t have to test that assumption just yet until we exhaust all our other prevailing options first.”
“Gunboat diplomacy?” The girl pressed.
“In a sense,” the old man answered truthfully. “We’re preparing for the best, while expecting the worst.”
“Sounds very much like a war of attrition.” Alicia was kind enough to point out then.
“Yes, but we won’t be the aggressors. But we will live and act in the shadows. As we have since the Pre-War days.”
Tillie was amazed by what she was hearing. “So this little…power struggle of yours has gone on for a long time then.”
The old man nodded. “Unfortunately, you are correct. I’m amazed by how much of the situation you’ve been able to grasp in such the short time you’ve been here.”
“That’s because I’m not scared, Felix. If that’s who you say you are.”
The old man nodded. “I am Felix. Felix Crawford. Point Defiance Academy. Class of ‘46. Special Services. Green Beret. Military Intelligence later on. Then the Construction Battalion. The 109th.”
“Retired?”
“Recruited.” He emphasized. “By the Resistance some fifteen years ago. Give or take about the time you were born. Plus or minus a year.”
Sarah was naturally curious. “So why tell us all this? Why the deception?”
“For appearances sake. I may be ex-military, but I still have my sense of patriotism and pride intact in these old bones. I want to help all of you regain what was lost or stolen by the Regency Council and put into motion by the Supreme Chancellor himself.”
“So what it boils down to is a simple take down job? A hit.”
‘In a sense, yes. A mob hit to use the old terminology. But you wouldn’t be going alone. Not at first. It’ll be awhile before you come within striking distance of the Supreme Chancellor himself.”
“How long?” Alicia wanted to know.
“Could be awhile. An undetermined amount of time in fact. I hope you are all ready for that eventuality.”
“I will be. Can’t speak for my daughter though. She’s got a one track mind sometimes. Known to go off on her own—now and again.”
Felix chuckled. “That in itself isn’t a crime. But such skills could prove to be useful when the time comes. Because right now, we need all the extra muscle we can get.”
Tillie nodded mostly to herself. “Okay. I’m in. Now what are these other questions you want to ask me so badly?”
Felix laughed. “I had thought that during our discussion you might have forgotten. Of course, there will be a few memory tests in the end. For appearances’ sake of course. Keeps with tradition.”
“I’m game. When do we begin?”
Felix grabbed another folder from the stack next to him and opened it up to a select page.
“Twenty minutes I would say. I would imagine that right now—you would like a break in the action.”
“I could use a drink.” Sarah said—raising her hand.
“Bathroom for me,” her friend threw out.
Felix looked at the teen girl in silent question.
Tillie rolled her eyes.
“I know, I know…I have what they call a dealer’s choice moment.” She said in a moment of blunt sarcasm—feeling every ache in her body go up a full magnitude. The bench seating was not her first choice. But she didn’t see any cushioned chairs around the conference room to her liking.
“Snake eyes for the win.” She announced abruptly, before getting up. “Bathroom first, drinks later.”
Felix nodded. “Twenty minutes. We’ll adjourn until then.”
All three of them set their time glyphs to warn them when their time was up.
Sarah Winters took point, with Alicia and her daughter in tow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Light of Truth
Despite the promise of a twenty minute break, Tillie found herself spending more time on the front steps leading into the courthouse after she did her business and grabbed a shockingly cold bottle of water from a still functioning vending machine out in the main lobby.
The receptionist area was depressingly empty with filing cabinets everywhere—some open—and desk cubicles that were stacked three or four high of legal boxes.
Full of what, she didn’t want to guess.
But the place downstairs was surprisingly clean and in good order—despite signs of age all around her.
It didn’t take a real genius to see a bird’s eye view of scaffolding on the north side of the building and most of it wrapped and protected from mildew, the elements and a few other natural hazards in and around the building itself.
But there wasn’t a solitary soul to be seen anywhere nearby. The street leading to the courthouse was practically deserted and Tillie found that sight to be somewhat unnerving by the sight a natural overhang that stretched far above her head and barely lit by a few strategically placed solar powered lanterns.
The girl took her first real drink in about two hours—feeling the cold water chase away some of her own emotional and physical stress.
No…
What she needed was an energy bar. Maybe a banana. Because those oranges she had back at the hotel were supremely divine—leaving her to wonder if Felix would grace her with another bowl of fruit when she got a room assigned to her.
It certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask. She mused as she dangled the half empty bottle between her legs and tried to think of how she was going to pull off the ultimate coup d'état that would have lasting repercussions for years to come—something that would force the country to look inside itself and see the brute ugliness it helped unleash over time.
Because of naked fear, racism, xenophobia, and other not so nice pleasantries which forced Tillie to come to terms with herself on so many levels since she “ascended” to the realm of magical illusion and trickery.
That’s how she viewed her incantations at first. Some kind of hocus pocus trick to delight the children and sometimes scare the curious.
Or some boys who just couldn’t take “no” for answer. Tillie thought with a grimace—wondering how in the world her own changed so much in just six short years?
The girl believed she would have a lot more lead time in her personal exploration of her skills and abilities. But ever since that night—at the age of ten—the world was definitely not choosing any favorites.
Things were moving way too fast even for her liking and her parents knew that as well.
What became a rushed childhood turned into days of study and mental discipline exercises on top of everything else. The hand to hand stuff only came three years ago after some rumored reports popped up in the news that the Regency Council had been experimenting with some brash and off the wall anti-magic technologies designed to either short a magical familiar’s powers outright and leave them utterly defenseless, or restrain them in movement before they could act.
A not so hinted at paralysis field that went beyond the magical kinsfolk understanding and comprehension. A type of “magic” all its own. With no barriers. No rules. No guidelines.
Tillie’s parents saw it as a torture device designed with them in mind. The magical familiars who called Old New York and so many other metropolitan cities their home.
But the Regency Council was atwitter with the idea this would reign in every witch, sorcerer, and magical kinsfolk who spun spells for a living or in defense of the realm.
Her time glyph beeped softly for her undivided attention. The girl sighed.
“Damn…” she whispered—thinking she could use a few extra minutes. But the view wasn’t impressive by far. In her mind, she was trapped two stories below ground in a large cavern, surrounded by tunnels, and a hidden city half-buried in subterranean rock.
Tillie could tell of all the memoirs she was going to ever going to write of her experiences just from this day forward.
And the mystery boy that has your complete attention? What about him?
Tillie flushed a bit from thinking that thought over in her mind.
Of course…Charlie wasn’t far from her thoughts, but right now there was nothing that she could do about it. Even if she could, she had no idea where he lived.
The boy came and went like a ghost—which made him more interesting by far, but she wasn’t ready to start dropping in unannounced.
There were still rules in play about humans and magical familiars co-mingling—even for brief periods and none of it was considered…pleasant dinner company to be sure.
Like Felix hinted back in the conference room…the old prejudices still lived—even to this day. In this year. For her generation.
Her glyph kept beeping softly—in panic mode apparently—before she had a mind to shut the bloody thing off with a swipe of a finger.
“There you are, young lady. Come on. We have a meeting to go to.” Her mother’s voice reprimanded her lightly.
“How did you know I was even here?” Tillie asked—looking up.
“I homed in on your magical aura, sweetie.” Was her patient reply. “Now come.”
“How do you even do that?” The girl grumbled as she got up off her stiff butt. “I can’t even do that—yet.”
“It’ll come to you.” Her mother promised. “It’s part of your training.”
“Not this semester apparently. I’m still weaving and casting spells. Earth and fire incantations.” Tillie groused openly. “I thought I was more of an elemental witch?”
“Your powers are derived from the elements, honey. Not into. Remember? That’s how your magical ability works.”
“Well, I don’t see any flower beds upon which to test this latest hypothesis on—mind you—so it’s pretty much all academic at this point.”
“Not too worry,” her mother reassured her badgering daughter. “There will be ample opportunity sooner or later.”
“Maybe Felix has a box of matches I can perform a few tricks with. I know a couple doozies that would impress Charlie well enough.”
Her mother stopped in her tracks and Tillie followed suite.
“Your magic is not just for simple parlor tricks, dear. They are meant as a guide and a means for defense and offense. You are a witch after all. So you better start thinking like one.”
Tillie snapped out her hand in that second and said something in a most obscure, arcane language and a weaving tongue of fire erupted in the spaces between her fingers; looped around once and then twice and then pooled together in her outstretched hand—palm up.
“That’s enough, sweetie. You don’t need to make a point of it.” Her mother lightly scolded in turn.
Tillie extinguished the flame with a clenched fist and then shook her hand vigorously to get rid of the tingling afterglow of the experience afterwards.
“Mother…” she started to say. “You
want me to be strong and able to stand on my own. But you keep holding me back for the very same reason. There is a lot more to being a witch than you’re letting on—isn’t there?”
“There’s not enough time to explain it to you, Tillamook.” Her mother deliberately baited then out of affection and two parts annoyance.
“Dad was the only one who called me Tillamook. After my favorite brand of cheese.” The girl reminded her pointedly. “You only say it when you’re angry or disappointed in me. And I know from your body posture, you’re not angry or disappointed.”
Tillie’s mother turned and faced her as they got closer to the baby grand staircase leading up into the middle of the courthouse.
“I’m concerned, honey. Very concerned. About you. About your well being.”
“Why? Am I doing something wrong?”
“Not now. But earlier. You took a big risk and a gamble with your life out on the streets last night. You could have been killed. I don’t know what I would do if that happened. You are my only last link in this family—now that your father is gone.”
The girl sighed heavily.
“Mom…dad died doing what he believed in. He knew the risks. I saw it in his face before he left. It…communicated so much in that instance. I knew then that he wasn’t coming back.”
“Why didn’t you try and stop him?” The other woman said.
“You think that I could stop him—mom? A guy who used to be a quarterback for the New York Giants in his prime? Mom, you married him for that very reason—knowing full well that he was a full blooded human like everyone else. I could not use my magic against the one person I cared deeply for and loved. It would have hurt me to pieces. I would have died inside because of it. And dad knew the sacrifice I was making so he could make his—in the end.
“So that he could protect the family he loved.”
Alicia sighed inwardly—not willing to argue with her daughter’s impeccable logic.
“But your father was not a magical familiar. You must have known that from the start. The Bellshire Riots were…a tragic loss of life. Too many people on both sides died protesting the Supreme Chancellor—by defying the orders of the Regency Council. It was not the most united front magical kinsfolk and human alike wanted to project.”
Generation Witch Year One Page 7