The Hanged Man

by K. D. Edwards

  “He’s growing up. You’re right.”

  “So why should I be surprised? That his powers are maturing? Should I be upset by it? That seems rather ungenerous.”

  I stared at Addam for a long minute. I needed to get this right. Only it was hard to concentrate, because he had a perfect five o’clock shadow. “You are staring at my chin,” Addam commented.

  “It’s a nice chin. And I’m trying to think of the best way to say this. Because, yes, Quinn’s powers are growing. I’d thought the medicine he’d been taking was muting his abilities, but . . . Well. We’ll need to look into that. But yes, his powers are growing, and we should respect that, not ignore it. His type of ability is too dangerous to be left to develop on its own. Maybe instead of medication he just needs training.”

  “I feel like there is another but coming.”

  “There is. You can’t make excuses for him. What he did? What Max did? They are not ready to operate like that without guidance. They will get killed. I can already hear you finding ways to forgive him—you always forgive him. He’s Quinn. He’s very forgivable. But this time, there needs to be consequences. They need boundaries.”

  “It appears that we are both parents of a sort, then,” he decided after a moment of thinking. “Perhaps we will consult Brand on the punishment. I expect he is very good at arranging such things.”

  I smiled and kissed him, because it seemed like a good moment to do that. That went on for a while, and I forgot what else I was thinking about. It did occur to me that I hadn’t kissed many people like this in my life. Hollywood got it all wrong. Kissing is sort of loud and sloppy. The movies really dumb down those side effects.

  Addam’s hands strayed after a while. I was okay with it, but my body wasn’t, because I froze the moment his fingers went below my waist.

  He very carefully drew his hands back to my upper arms.

  But the moment had chilled. I looked down at the pillow instead of his eyes, and pulled back. It was a nice pillow. It even had some drool stains, which made Addam a bit more approachable.

  “Rune,” he said softly. “Please don’t.”

  “Fuck,” I hissed. “Fuck fuck fuck my life.”

  “Please. Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Don’t apologize? How can I not? You deserve more than—”

  He reached out and poked me hard in the chest. I was so surprised that I just blinked.

  “Brand did that to me,” Addam said. “In the Westlands, at my family compound. When I tried to blame myself for what Ashton caused. Brand poked me and said that I didn’t do this. That this was done to me. Rune, what happened to you . . . It was done to you. You did not cause it. I think the world of you for how you’ve handled it. I truly do.”

  I closed my eyes, not mollified in the slightest.

  He kissed my eyelids. “Know this, then: I am where I want to be. Right now, I am where I want to be, and it makes me very, very happy.”

  “Out of curiosity, what made you happiest? Searching a ghost ship? Pissing off one of the oldest and most dangerous Arcana? Trying to figure out how to punish your kid for stealing a boat? You are very easily pleased, Saint Nicholas.”

  “No. I’m rather not.”

  “It doesn’t . . .” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. I grimaced. “We’ve been together three months. It doesn’t bother you, how slow I’m taking this? We’ve . . . been close. But not . . . as close as we could be.”

  He watched my lips, and my eyes, and a spot in the middle of my forehead. His half-smile—the one he did with a corner of his mouth—never wavered. “Would you have fallen for me if we’d just met at an event? At a party? Instead of fighting a lich? If you’d passed me on the street, would you have looked twice?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Only because I asked,” he said.

  And he was right. I had one of those weird moments of insight that felt a little like déjà vu. It mattered because he asked. Addam gave many everyday things in my life meaning, just because he commented on them, like fighting and granola and light switches.

  “I would never have thought I’d be lucky enough to have the chance to fall for you,” I said honestly.

  “I look forward to you understanding, then, how I feel. And I repeat, again, that I am exactly where I want to be, ghost ships and all.”

  Someone pounded on the bedroom door. Brand shouted, “Wrap it the fuck up! There are children on the way!”

  I leaned my face against Addam and smiled into his cheek.

  A month ago, Addam had formally moved out of Justice Seat, the ancestral home of Lady Justice’s court. He now lived full-time with Quinn in his condo in Edgemere, which had been built in a rehabilitated and deconsecrated church. As part of his permanent relocation, he’d bought the second condo on his floor—something, apparently, that rich people did—and knocked out the wall between them. He had the entire top half of a gargantuan stained glass window to himself, sharing the bottom half with the two units below him.

  I knew the relocation was his way of coping with the fallout that had followed his recent kidnapping. He’d lost a sister and two friends—two business partners. The third business partner, Geoffrey, was in the process of being bought out. So the condo move was Addam’s way of restoring some of those empty holes.

  Now that he lived in a space without a small battalion of estate servants, he’d become obsessed with cleaning products. Last week he’d brought over his first vacuum cleaner to Half House to show it off. He’d actually demonstrated it and asked me if I wanted to try.

  I liked my boyfriend.

  When he and I emerged from his bedroom suite, Brand was walking around the living room with his smart phone, on which he’d opened the calculator app. Periodically he’d stop in front of something, make a sound in his throat, research it on his phone, then add a number to his running total.

  Addam and I watched in silence for a minute or two until Brand pointed to a pile he’d gathered. A tin of caviar, a pen, a watch, and a razor. He said, “That’s Half House.”

  “Half House is worth more than that,” I said.

  Brand pointed again at the pile. “That razor? Zafirro Iridium.”

  “I do not know what that means,” I said, and gave Addam a side glance, whose cheeks went red.

  “It’s made from fucking meteors,” Brand said. “It could survive being dunked in molten lava. The blades are made from sapphire.” He pointed again emphatically. “Half House.”

  “We must not leave him alone again,” Addam murmured. “And that razor is meant to become an heirloom. To be passed down through generations.”

  “So what you’re saying is the fucking T-shirt reads I plan for generations and not Rich scion with credit card?”

  “Breakfast,” I said, clapping my hands. “You ordered, right?”

  “Yeah. Corinne and the kids should be here any minute. Max and Quinn are still sulking and picking up rice. I think Quinn is trying to cheat with Telekinesis.”

  “Are you sure about calling in that security team?” I asked Addam.

  Earlier, Addam had offered to send a Justice security team to Corinne’s house, to sweep for bugs or other magical listening devices. The deeper the investigation got, the less secure their residence would be. This would at least buy us a little peace of mind.

  “The team had an opening in their schedule,” Addam said. “It is only a small favor.”

  “Your mom won’t get pissed?” Brand asked.

  “Possibly. But then, I do not entirely care,” Addam said. He hadn’t completely forgiven his mother yet for her . . . absence? Or at least her unwillingness to intervene in recent events. When Addam had gone missing, it had been Lord Tower who’d hired me to find Addam. Addam’s own mother believed in letting her children survive their own battles. Now she was down to one child at home, Addam’s oldest brother, Christian.

  I changed the subject. “Brand, we decided you get to punish Max and Quinn.”

>   “Did we? Is that how this fucking works now?” Brand asked. “Because if it does, I’m coming into the bedroom with you next time. I’ll bring a magazine.”

  “It is only somewhat a joke,” Addam said. “We must discuss Quinn and Max’s actions at some point. But not now. There are more pressing urgencies.”

  So Addam and I went to set the table for guests. Brand fetched Quinn and Max from the bedroom and told them to clean the living room. Max glared at everyone and pointedly dumped a handful of dirty rice back into its original box. Quinn ran around the living room with a dust rag, wide-eyed and pale. He’d never really had Addam angry with him before. You’d think a prophet who saw probabilities would’ve been prepared for this.

  In due time, Addam buzzed in the delivery man, who arrived at the same time as Corinne, Anna, and Corbie Dawncreek. Corbie ran into the room ahead of everyone. When he saw a crowd of strange people, his mouth opened in a tiny O. He turned and sprinted back out the door.

  “Kids, take off your shoes,” Corrine said from behind the delivery person, and ushered Corbie and Anna inside.

  Her unnaturally lined face was tight with anxiety. When her eyes latched onto mine, I gave her a nod that could mean anything. Addam stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “My name is Addam. It is very good to meet you.”

  Corbie kicked off his sneakers and stared around him with full-moon eyes. “Fancy fancy,” he whispered in his hoarse little voice. “Is there a pool?”

  “Corbie,” Corinne said patiently.

  “We bought much food,” Addam told everyone, and raised a hand to the dining area on the other side of the living room. “Please. It’s been a long night. Let’s eat before we talk, yes?”

  While Addam paid for the meal, the kids descended on the table, Max and Quinn included. Max was seventeen years old and growing, and was adept at balancing both an unending appetite and a grudge.

  Corinne came close to me when everyone was out of immediate earshot. “Layne?” she whispered.

  “We have leads,” I said back. “We’ll talk soon, I promise.”

  Quinn, playing the role of the penitent brother to the hilt, unpacked the meal. Brand had ordered a massive spread of eggs and breads—scrambled, omelets, sunny-side up. Addam kept the chatter going as we dug in. The weirdness that accompanied eating a meal with virtual strangers slowly faded. Even Max seemed to forget he was sulking.

  “Did you see ghost ships?” Corbie asked me excitedly.

  “We saw many ghost ships,” I confirmed.

  “Were there skeleton pirates? Did the skeleton pirate have a parrot? Was the parrot a skeleton too?”

  “No skeleton pirates,” I said.

  “Did you see the giant squid?” Quinn asked, in his own excited voice. When I just stared at him, he shrugged. “Sometimes you did. That was always a good story.”

  I said, “No giant squid. And we didn’t have a fight near boats either, Quinn.”

  Quinn stared at his eggs for a few seconds, long enough to have Corinne narrowing her eyes at the strange statement. Then Quinn shook his head like a wet dog and said, “Not yet.”

  Addam put down his fork and knife with a plastic click. Metal utensils would have been more dramatic, but Quinn still flinched like he’d been yelled at.

  Now Corinne was really giving us a strange look.

  Anna, who’d been alternating her sharp, smart glance between her plate and the people talking, said, “Aunt Corinne researched a battleship for you.”

  “We’ve talked about eavesdropping,” Corinne said.

  “We’ve talked about paying attention, too,” Anna said. Undeterred, she continued. “The Declaration.”

  Brand stared at her. “She did research for us, yeah.”

  Anna said, “It sank.”

  “That’s what they say.”

  Anna was quiet for another minute while the adults exchanged looks and Corbie drew a parrot in his ketchup. I knew the gears were still turning in her head, but even so, what she said next made my breath catch. She said, “Won’t the people who run America get really mad if they found out?”

  “Yes, Anna,” I said quietly. Because I’d been very, very aware of the same thing. “I imagine they would.”

  Soon after, the food was done, and there was no more stalling. No more pretending that this was a social call.

  The first thing I did was to remove Anna and Corbie from the discussion. I said, “Corbie, there’s a pool in the building. Maybe Quinn and Max will show you and Anna?”

  While Corbie bounced around making hoarse dolphin sounds of joy, Anna glared at me, and Max looked upset.

  She said, “I should be able to stay,” which was more or less the exact same thing Max said, while Quinn, still playing the apologetic sibling, was halfway out the door with Corbie.

  “You want to be a badass?” Brand asked Anna. “Part of being a good badass is knowing that sometimes you need to take no for an answer.”

  “This is all my fault,” Max insisted. “And you said you’d let me help!”

  “Help how?” I asked, while Corinne said, “How is this your fault?” Which made me even angrier, because Corinne wasn’t aware that we were helping her in order to achieve two ends. I turned on Max, and made sure the look I gave him was shared with Quinn, who was standing just outside the front door. I felt the dull burn behind my eyes: my Aspect, wanting to flare. “Help how?” I repeated. “Abandoning the safety of Half House? Stealing a boat? Driving that stolen boat to the shielded property of one of the city’s most dangerous men? How are you helping, Max?”

  “Quinn said there were guards, and the guards almost always attacked you! We were giving you an exit strategy!”

  I stepped right up into his face and said, “I am always the exit strategy. To think I needed to be saved is an insult. To put yourself at risk, with everything we’re doing to save you, is an insult.”

  “But . . . Rune, please. You were seventeen the first time the Tower let you do a mission,” he argued. “How am I different?”

  “I was seventeen,” I agreed with Max. “My court had fallen. I had lost my father’s tools of war. I had only as much protection as the Tower chose to extend. I had no options. You do.”

  “My court has fallen! I have no sigils! How are we different? Because of what happened when your court fell? Do you have any idea what I lived through? Do you have any idea what my uncle—” Max choked off, his brain catching up with his tongue. I saw the exact moment his anger broke into despair.

  He turned around and ran out the door. Anna decided she was done protesting too, and hurried after them.

  As Addam shut the door, I looked at the ground and tried to figure out what the hell to do next. The picked bones of the breakfast spread caught my eyes, and out of nowhere I thought: Max used to eat scrambled eggs, and now he eats them the same way that Brand and I do.

  “How is this his fault?” Corinne said sharply.

  Brand didn’t just rip the Band-Aid; he excised the skin around it with a sharp knife. “Before Max became our ward, he was promised to the Hanged Man. For marriage. We can’t go after the Hanged Man directly. You’re our way in. That doesn’t mean we’re not doing everything we can for Layne.”

  “I never said otherwise, boy,” she bristled. “And I’ve been around enough Arcana to know they have plans behind their plans behind their plans. I just thought this one was different.” She didn’t even spare me a look.

  “He is different,” Addam said.

  “Corinne . . . I’m in a corner. I need a way into the Hanged Man’s orbit. That doesn’t mean Layne isn’t a priority. It doesn’t mean . . . What it became, when I realized . . .” I held my arms out, frustrated. “You’re my people.”

  She stared at me, and I stared back at her, and if she continued to be angry she buried it deep behind a neutral expression. Not unlike my own Companion, when he was furious with me.

  “Tell me what you learned,” she said.

  It took a solid half hour
to recount everything. Corinne stopped me frequently with questions. They were good questions, too. Again: not unlike my Companion.

  At the very last, we got to the note that John had written on the back of the scraps of paper:

  They did not know Layne would run away. I heard one say, “What a waste. We can’t keep him now.” And another say, “At least he’ll feed the bottom line.” Haven’t seen or heard since.

  Corinne read the note three times, and by the end, her fingers were shaking.

  “We can’t jump to conclusions,” Brand said. “You know that. We do the work, we follow the leads, and we don’t make assumptions.”

  “They’re going to kill him. That’s what this means.”

  Brand leaned forward in his chair, low, so that he was looking up at her eyes. “Think. It maybe doesn’t. Maybe they’re just moving him to another location? Or putting him into captivity?”

  She put the papers down on the table and drew her fingers into a fist. She gave Brand a tight nod.

  Addam stirred. “Rune, you saw things on that ship that Brand and I did not. What did you learn?”

  “Some questions we need to ask, from people who may have answers,” I hedged.

  “Rune,” Brand said, a little pissed, because he knew I was hedging.

  “Consequences,” I said. “What the Hanged Man did on that ship? It had consequences. That’s what we’ll find out.”

  “And that helps us?” Brand asked. “It happened over seventy years ago.” “It did, but something on this scale . . . Addam, you said yourself the sinking of the Declaration was infamous. It sank in a storm during a human world war. More than a thousand lives were lost. No wreckage found. No survivors—at least that the human world knows of. You cannot cover something like that up without help, and that sort of help would have consequences. The Arcanum had to have known. They had to have helped clean up the mess. That’s vital to our own plans.”