Mage's Apprentice (Mages of New York Book 1)

by Sean Fletcher

  And how did her parents tie into this? Why had he led Lucien there? Why her?

  “Not possible!” Etienne protested, breaking into Aspen’s thoughts. “The wards cannot be broken! I refuse to believe it!”

  “He attacked me after you falsely accused me of murder and gave me over to him!” Aspen yelled back.

  “A minor error in judgement,” Don Jones said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “You must understand…the evidence…it was quite overwhelming, you see…anyone could have made that mistake. And in our position there needed to be results! You understand, of course.”

  “Not to mention we don’t like you, girl. I, personally, found it quite enjoyable watching you being carted off,” Etienne said with a sickly smile on her face.

  Breathe, Aspen thought. Just breathe. Killing them won’t do any good.

  She tried to recollect her thoughts to continue with her explanation. “Xavier—”

  Killed my parents.

  No. No he didn’t.

  “—has murdered others,” Aspen finished. “Even before these recent attacks. And now that he’s brought down the wards, Maladias can get through.”

  “Maladias won’t come here,” Simshar said. “He’s confined to another plane altogether. He sought entry into our plane years ago and was denied.”

  “He is coming here.” Nina had stood. Aspen felt a rush of gratitude toward the other woman. It was good to have an ally, one in such a powerful position, and one whose head was a bit clearer. Aspen hadn’t gotten much sleep in the days following the incident on the roof. Because that’s what the Council was calling it: an ‘incident.’ As if their entire system of government, their entire seat of power, didn’t hang by a thread. Like one of their own hadn’t betrayed them right under their noses. Like the entire city wasn’t still at risk.

  Aspen’s muscles still seized in the night, a side-effect of the residual magic still coursing through her. Her dreams were startled, fractured things, composed of old memories and new ones; of Xavier’s maniac, leering face and the wards falling from the sky and dark eyes glaring at her from another place, another plane.

  They were also of Isak.

  Now Aspen’s eyelids were drooping again. She felt heavy enough to sink through the floor. A couple times, Brune had offered to carry her to the Mage’s Council as they’d made their way over here. She’d refused. She couldn’t show any weakness. There was still so much to do…

  “You’ve already heard witness testimony from Aspen, myself, and Mage Lucien,” Nina was saying, gesturing to Lucien’s empty chair. “You have seen the result and discovered for yourself what Xavier was up to. What more do you need?”

  “You have always been a solid member of this Council,” Don Jones said, perhaps trying to sound pacifying but coming off condescending. “Lucien’s record, unfortunately, is less-than-stellar. His word doesn’t carry as much weight on the Council.”

  “He’s still a Mage. That should mean plenty.”

  “Against Xavier’s word it doesn’t.”

  Before Aspen could shout out something she’d undoubtedly regret, Nina puffed with anger. “Xavier doesn’t have a word. Xavier’s dead because of what he tried to do. He played you all like fools, murdered one of your own, and still you defend him!”

  “Nina, please…” Simshar said.

  “Maladias is coming. The only people who slowed that down is the girl in front of you and the man you’ve shamed.”

  The man who wasn’t here, for which Aspen was grateful. She wouldn’t have come if he had. And Lucien knew that.

  There was a long pause after Nina’s last words faded.

  “Very well.” Simshar pushed himself to the edge of his seat. “The evidence appears…unfortunately not in Xavier’s favor, but we’ll be going over it, of that you can be sure.”

  “You do that,” Nina said, sitting with a huff.

  “We need to focus our attention to a more pressing matter,” Simshar said. He uncurled a hand to the empty seats on either side of him. “Rather than filling a new place on the Council, it seems we now have to fill unexpected vacancies. The assessment is over. The new Mages have been decided.”

  Aspen blinked. “Wait, it’s…it’s over? What about the Bond? Neither one of us won.”

  “Look at your hand, silly girl,” Etienne said. “Given the circumstances, the Bond was broken the minute new vacancies became available.”

  Aspen glanced at her hand. Sure enough, the faint mark where she and Isak had shook was gone. She almost missed it. It was the last sign she still had of him, the last thing before he’d vanished.

  “So we…tied? Nobody won?”

  “You both did. Technically,” Don Jones said. “As much as it is…unusual, you, Aspen Rivest, are now a Mage, destined to take the spot vacated by Gurk, as the Mage of Rivendell. Isak, naturally, will take the position vacated by his late master, Brindle’s Spire.”

  “A Null on the Council,” Etienne muttered, loud enough, Aspen was sure, to make sure she heard her. “And a Norm at that. What is this world coming to? The Council used to have such dignity!”

  All the tiredness and frustration Aspen had felt to that point charged through her like a vengeful storm. “I’ll tell you what the Council’s coming to, you old hag,” Aspen snarled. “It’s the Fae kidnapping me in broad daylight. It’s the heads of Ember’s Landing being murdered in their own borough. It’s what’s crumbling around you while you sit and do nothing. A Mage—a freaking Mage, a position everybody trusted—betrayed you and still you have to get your butt kicked to even believe there’s a problem with that. Yeah, it’s a huuuuge surprise all the boroughs have lost faith in the Council. So, yeah, I’m a Null, and a Norm, but I’ve already done more than your wrinkly old butt has, and I’m going to keep doing it, so maybe I’m exactly what this Council needs right now.”

  Aspen was breathing heavily, meeting each of the Mage’s eyes. Nina was smiling. Etienne looked as though she’d like to blast Aspen into dust where she stood.

  Simshar chuckled. “She is just like him, gods help us. Politics come later, girl. We can’t deny that these boroughs need the Mages more than ever. Maybe we have strayed a little from our original path,” he added in a softer voice. “Maybe this was the wakeup we needed. Maybe adding you will be the worst choice we ever made, but it’s not much of a choice, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” Aspen said firmly.

  Simshar chuckled again. “Shall we do it, then?”

  He nodded to Nina who cleared her throat. “I, Nina Ashmir, with the permission of Mage Lucien Dunadine, nominate Aspen Rivest for the position of Mage of the Council of New York and its magical boroughs. I present her to the Council to judge her worthy, and for you to voice your assent or denial.”

  “Aye,” Simshar said.

  “Aye,” Nina said, “and an ‘Aye’ from Lucien.”

  Don Jones threw up his hands. “If this whole Council’s going to hell we might as well do it right. It’s an Aye from me.”

  Etienne hadn’t stopped glaring at Aspen the entire time. She leaned forward, curling her wrinkly hands around her chair arms. “Don’t make us regret this, girl. You aren’t a quarter of what it takes to be a Mage.”

  “Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience,” Aspen snapped.

  Etienne’s crinkled lips twisted into a cruel smile. “I’m going to enjoy watching you get yourself killed. It’s an Aye from me.”

  “Then, for good or for bad, welcome, Aspen Rivest, to the Council of Mages,” Simshar said. He glanced to Aspen’s left, as though expecting someone there.

  “And Isak Uchida? Where is he?”

  “He’s…” The words caught in Aspen’s throat. “He’s gone.”

  Simshar frowned. “The boy’s dead?”

  “No! I can’t find him. He’s in hiding somewhere.”

  “We think he’s in shock about Xavier’s death,” Nina said, saving Aspen from speaking any more. “We don’t know where he’s gone.”
/>
  “Then I’ll leave that to you, Mage Aspen,” Simshar said. “We need all the Mages here where they belong, even the un-initiated ones. Find him, bring him back.”

  I can’t. The words nearly passed her lips, but instead she gave a jerky nod and tried to ignore the pitying looks Nina was giving her.

  “That’s all for now,” Simshar said. He stood. “We’re still in the process of modifying all the memories of the Norms who saw the incident on the roof and putting up extra safeguards around the boroughs. In the meantime, we will each convene with the Heads of our boroughs and reassure them that we are on their side and that there’s no reason for concern. Some will undoubtedly want more protective spells…”

  “Ha!” Etienne snickered. “They always want something!”

  “We’ll convene in three days to get updated,” Simshar finished.

  Aspen was walking out before Simshar was done dismissing them. Memory charms and safeguards? Necessary, but simply a band-aid for a bullet wound. The wards were down. They should be replacing that, prepping for Maladias, or the Kings he commanded. They were coming. She could feel it. She knew it.

  “Aspen!”

  Brune’s rumbling voice shook the tunnel walls. With great difficulty, he pushed himself up from the floor where he’d been forced to sit to fit inside the narrow passageway. Even now, as he smothered Aspen in a hug, he had to bend to avoid hitting the ceiling.

  “Did they yell at you?” Brune said when he released her.

  “A little,” Aspen said. “But it’s okay. I’m a Mage now.”

  “A Mage?” Brune’s eyes bulged. “A Mage! Wow! That is…is that good?”

  “I don’t know yet. Come on, we’re leaving.”

  Brune lumbered behind her, head down, as they made their way back to the main part of Grand Central Terminal. Sibyll gave Aspen a knowing smile behind her desk as Brune straightened up with a sigh of relief.

  “Back home?” he asked as they started across the foyer toward the exit. “We can stop at the store and get some of your favorite ice cream and…”

  But Aspen had stopped listening. She’d noticed a man lingering near one of the exits. He looked unsure if he wanted to come in or out—Whether he should come in or out.

  Lucien looked as though he hadn’t slept at all in the last four days, either. The bags beneath his eyes were nearly purple. His normally lustrous blond hair was as dull as the rings on his fingers.

  Serves him right, Aspen thought. He was nothing to her. She wasn’t mad or sad or anything. She was indifferent. Completely, totally indifferent. It hadn’t even been worth bringing up his past crimes to the Council, that was how finished she was with him. He could stew in his own guilt for another ten years for all she cared.

  Lucien saw her as she approached the exit. His face grew panicked before settling on sorrow. Aspen kept looking straight ahead as they passed. Lucien opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, “Aspen?”

  Brune growled. Lucien flinched but didn’t step away. “Aspen?”

  Aspen stopped.

  He doesn’t matter. Whatever he says can’t hurt you. He doesn’t matter.

  Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?

  Aspen kept her expression neutral and faced him.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucien said. “I really am, and you know I am. This is the last time I’ll say it because I know you don’t want to hear it anymore.”

  “You go away!” Brune growled louder, taking a menacing step toward him. Lucien still didn’t budge and, despite herself, Aspen was a bit impressed.

  “It was an accident,” Lucien said. “That doesn’t make it right, but it’s true. I never meant to hurt you like that.”

  He straightened his robe. He’d gotten a new one to hide the still-healing part of his arm. He held his head up. The familiar glint in his eye was back. “I’ll get your trust back, one way or another.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Lucien nodded like that was the response he’d expected. “Congrats on becoming a Mage. I hope you’re ready.”

  He gave a small salute to a menacing Brune and backed down the stairs.

  “Forget him,” Brune said. “You can be a Mage if you want, but you can come back and live in your room again. Everything will be the same again, you’ll see.”

  “No,” Aspen said under her breath. “I don’t think it will be.”

  They were across the street when Aspen heard footsteps pounding behind her. She spun, hand already reaching for her knife.

  It was Tana.

  “Don’t do that, Tana!” Aspen gasped. “I nearly skewered you!”

  “Come back!” Tana said, panting, hands on her knees. “You have to come back!”

  She wore a ridiculous wide-brimmed hat that shaded her face and shoulders from the harsh midday sun. Massive sunglasses took up much of her face and pants and long-sleeves covered her limbs.

  “Look.” Tana put a hand on each of Aspen’s shoulders. “Lucien’s an idiot. I know it, you know it. I don’t know what he said but you have to come back. I know he hurt you, but I know whatever he said he still cares about you a lot. I know he does. You have to come back, because I…because I miss you.”

  “Aspen…?” Brune said.

  Aspen gently removed Tana’s hands before giving her a hug.

  “I’ll still be in New York. I want you to visit me.”

  Tana’s face fell. “It won’t be the same.”

  “It’ll have to be. Sorry.” She pulled away from the hug. “I have to go.”

  “Where?” Tana said.

  Aspen adjusted her knife and the rest of her gear beneath her jacket. The city hummed and honked and teemed with life, but just beneath it, if she listened hard, she could make out the howls and hisses of the supernatural mixed right alongside; the faint glimmer of magic sheen covering all. Their world. Her world.

  “I’m a Mage now,” she said. “I’ve got work to do.”

  Epilogue

  Sometimes, Douglas Hewlett hated his job.

  But only sometimes. The Mages of the Court of the Arcane Arts in Scotland, Europe’s equivalent to the Mages Council in New York, weren’t bad bosses. Not really. They never treated him like an errand boy. Much. He had signed up for this, after all. If you couldn’t make the cut as a Mage on the Court there was always work for you helping them out. The supernatural community in Edinburgh was one of the largest and most powerful in the UK. Heck, most of Northern Europe, if he was being honest. The birthplace of a dozen myths and legends, filled to the brim with different races, though theirs weren’t nearly as hostile as those ones in New York.

  Douglas stomped on the gas in frustration and the truck they’d let him borrow lurched ahead, nearly spinning him off the narrow, rain-slicked road.

  New York. That’s what had started this whole bloody chore in the first place. And that’s what it was: a chore. So one Mage cracked and took down the wards around their city and suddenly the whole world was in danger. He knew the New York Mages thought themselves the head Council of all Mage Councils—and, aye, maybe they were—but the arrogance that their screw-up was everybody’s problem, his problem, made his blood boil.

  But he didn’t mind. Really.

  He waved at another passing car. Part of the reason he didn’t mind (really) was where they’d sent him. The highlands, east of Inverness, the Balnuaran of Clava. The cairns were out here, ancient burial sites the highland clans had used for ages. The countryside was beautiful, even in the rain and gray mist. Hairy cows, a tourist favorite, mulled around flocks of sheep contentedly grazing in the drizzle. As Douglas turned down another small road, winding his way to the cairns, he could see an ancient stone bridge up in the hills. More white sheep dotted the stark green fields. Rain sloshed against his windshield.

  “The Clava of Cairns?” he remembered saying. He’d looked up from where he’d bowed his head in front of the Mages on the Court. Some were giving him indulgent, playful smiles.

  Yes, Douglas, you silly
man, he could hear them think. The Clava Cairns.

  “It’s just a wee task, to make us feel better,” Norris, Douglas’ Court patron, had said gently. His wise, kind face wrinkled into a smile.

  “But they’re empty,” Douglas had argued. “We removed the Mages’ bodies ages ago.”

  “But the magic still remains. Strong magic. Perhaps strong enough for Maladias to use as a gateway,” Norris explained patiently.

  Maladias, Douglas had thought. Of course. The bloody Americans again.

  “Just take a wee peek, make sure it’s still sealed up,” Norris said. “Make sure nothing’s amiss. There are other ways he could try to enter our plane, but that is the most likely.” Norris had then leaned forward. “We trust no one else with this task. Will you do it?”

  That had got him. How could he say no to the Mages—to confidence in him—like that?

  He couldn’t. That’s how.

  Douglas pulled into the parking lot near the Clava Cairns, the most popular cairns by far. Sure enough, despite the weather, the lot was half full. Visitors milled around the rock-strewn green space in brightly colored rain jackets. A tour bus guide was unloading more people. In Scotland, you learned there were many different shades of gray. And you either rolled with the weather, or didn’t go out at all.

  Douglas turned the engine off and stepped out. Immediately a gust of drizzle and wind cut into him, making him tighten his jacket collar. Roll with it, yes indeed. It’d grown colder since he’d started driving. He was already counting down the seconds until he would be back in his truck and heading home to his wife, dog, and warm house. Sarah hadn’t liked him doing this any more than he had, but she’d understood. She’d always understood, bless her.

  Douglas cut across the parking lot onto a narrow lane, a rock wall cobbled between them. The Clava Cairns were burial grounds, though they hadn’t been used much, even when they’d first been made. Those that studied them—whoever they were—had only found a couple bodies within the stone walls. Still, they stood. And they had to have some kind of importance.