Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  They’re treating me like a criminal. The way the second man kept his eyes on Ben was very disconcerting.

  Ben cast around for a question to break the ice. His gaze ranged over the man’s hands, resting on his knees, and he froze.

  Hairy palms—the guy is a werewolf!

  He resisted the urge to look the man in the face, knowing that he’d read his alarm on his face. Instead, Ben breathed out. Think!

  The most important thing to do was notify someone of his whereabouts. Ben felt in his pocket for his phone. He could send Nate a message, saying that if he wasn’t home in a few hours to notify Department Seven—

  His fingers closed on something small and smooth. Ben pulled it out of his pocket.

  Nate’s acorn.

  His fingers wrapped around it. It was solid in his hand, solid and comfortingly warm—like Nate. And thinking of Nate gave Ben a feeling of strength.

  So what if the guy’s a wolf? It makes sense that the Registry would employ supernaturals—and werewolves make great guards. Ben returned the acorn to his pocket but kept his hand locked around it. I can’t freak out anytime something unexpected happens.

  Before long, they pulled up outside the Registry. Leaving the car parked on the side of the road, Ben’s guard led him past the reception area—still empty—and down a musty hallway. They paused in front of a door.

  The tall man fixed Ben with a sharp look. “Stay here. I’m going to inform the council that you’ve arrived.”

  Ben nodded. He has tawny eyes, too. Another wolf?

  As the door shut behind him, Ben became aware of a strange sound. It was soft, but steady, a regular whisper. He glanced at his companion, but the werewolf didn’t seem bothered by whatever it was.

  Must be normal. Ben looked around for the source and his eyes fell on an open doorway. He took a step toward it and gasped.

  At first glance it looked like a library, but a closer look revealed it to be the Register’s collection of records pertaining to the city’ s supernatural citizens. Most of the books were in uniform volumes, safely contained in cabinets with glass fronts and locked doors. But in the center of the room, nine desks were arranged in a circle, with a tenth desk in the center. On the surface of each desk lay an open book. As Ben watched, an invisible force whipped through the pages of the ten books, giving rise to the sound of pages turning.

  It’s not wind. Ben didn’t need to glance up at the closed windows to know they weren’t open. The library smelled equally of stale air and magic. This is magic. And incredibly powerful magic to have created a self-perpetuating repeating spell.

  Magical books? Ben took a step closer to the door. He could see now that the ten books were chained to their tables. Must be. Magical books, old enough to have taken on the power of their owners. That’s what is powering the spell—the books’ own magic. And that magic would be renewed by the very spell the books were performing, effectively turning them into a renewable magical generator.

  And the spell’s object? Ben looked to the book resting at the center of the circle. It was an important looking book, leather-bound with its title painted in gold leaf. The Register itself? Ben took another step toward the door. Is this how the city protects itself and monitors its supernatural residents? He couldn’t read the contents of its pages, they turned too fast—

  “Get out of that.” The werewolf abruptly stepped in front of Ben, shutting the door. “That’s off-limits.”

  “Sorry.” Ben took a deep breath. He couldn’t let the man rattle him. “I didn’t know.”

  The man growled low. “You know now.”

  Ben was very still. That’s definitely hostile behavior—and entirely unwarranted. What was going on? As an ARX agent, he’d had run-ins with werewolves, but those had always been wolves that had broken New Camden’s laws. He couldn’t hold that against Ben, could he?

  The first door opened, revealing the tall man. “The council is ready to see you now, Mr. Hawick.” His words were polite, but Ben detected a definite coolness.

  Ben fingers searched for the acorn in his pocket. He stepped through the door.

  The room he entered was a cross between an old-fashioned chapel and a court of law. Wooden chairs of varying styles, none of which originated in this century, formed a half circle around a raised wooden podium. Before it, seated at a wide table, were two men and a woman.

  Ben recognized the woman as New Camden’s mayor, but the men gave him a moment’s pause. One was tall and thin, his white hair swept loosely back over his skull. His gray suit appeared a few sizes too big for him. The other’s suit fit perfectly, but he managed to give the impression of being ready to burst out of it at any moment. He sat alertly, his eyes appraising Ben. He sneered slightly. “The stand, if you would, Mr. Hawick.”

  Ben climbed the steps into the stand, holding the edge of the podium tightly. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “This is Councilor Wisner, New Camden’s newly appointed security head,” the white-haired man said. “Diane Chandler, our mayor. I, myself, am Roger Hartman, the council’s advisor on supernatural rights.”

  Ben felt dizzy. What are councilors doing looking into my application? “I don’t quite understand why we’re all here.”

  Wisner sneered. “You don’t? I’ll tell you, Hawick. You lodged a highly irregular application—one that has never been requested before in the history of this city. Naturally, we can’t let it go unchallenged.”

  “Perhaps we should start with the preliminaries.” Hartman looked at the paper before him. “Your name is Bennet Hawick? Your parents were Austin and Audrey Hawick, and you were born in New Camden?”

  Ben nodded. Maybe this won’t be so bad. “That’s correct.”

  “I knew your father. He was a model of supernatural tolerance. His death was a great loss to our community.”

  Ben ducked his head. “Thank you.”

  “If we could confine ourselves to the matter at hand?” Wisner didn’t wait for his companions’ agreement before launching into his questions. “You’re applying for human status? Our records state you were a Class Seven Vampire.”

  “Class Five.” Ben took a deep breath. “As an ARX employee, I was subject to rigorous training to suppress my vampiric instincts and kept under close observation. I was not considered a risk to the public and was employed by ARX as a field agent. The Class Seven rating referred to the level of clearance I had with regards to magic use and research material to aid me in the course of my investigations.”

  Wisner kept his eyes on Ben. “Class Seven magical knowledge is still Class Seven. And you’re asking to be completely declassified, to take that knowledge into the city, where we have only your word that you won’t act on it?”

  Ben stiffened. “As I wrote in my cover letter, I feel strongly about leaving my past behind me. I want to be normal. There would be no place for that knowledge in my new life.”

  “So you say,” sneered Wisner. “But you can’t prove that can you?” He turned to the mayor. “We have only his word for his intentions.”

  The mayor frowned. She was a tiny woman, dwarfed by her two companions. “What I don’t understand is how a vampire ends up applying for human status at all. You claim to be human?”

  Ben nodded. If she could feel the way his heart was pounding, she’d have no doubt of the truth of his claims. “You’ve looked at my medical records? I’m alive. I have a pulse, I walk in sunlight with no ill-effects, I eat, I sleep—”

  “We’ve examined your medical records and talked to the doctor who examined you.” Hartman removed his glasses. “He was not aware that you were once a vampire?”

  “I thought it was better not to tell him. To ensure the results were not impacted. The Department Seven tests on the other hand—”

  Wisner slapped the table. “You see? He is prepared to cover up the truth when it suits him. I don’t think we can take his word that he will behave.”

  “I disagree. The doctor didn’t need t
o know Mr. Hawick’s past in order to examine him.” Hartman glanced down. “What I am curious about is how exactly the transformation happened. You do not go into much detail, Mr. Hawick.”

  Ben swallowed. “The necromancer kidnapped me for my connections to Saltaire. As a member of his colony, I was not only powerful, but he looked on me as family. I was useful as a tool for revenge, and as a source of raw power. The necromancer had made preparations for a complicated magical ritual. It was after this ritual that I became human again.”

  Wisner’s lip curled. “That’s not my idea of revenge.”

  The mayor nodded. “What was the purpose of the spell?”

  “He wanted to combine his considerable power as a necromancer with the power of a vampire. If he’d succeeded…he’d have been a huge threat to the city.”

  The mayor’s mouth was a flat, unimpressed line. “Tens of people killed, and a panic that overtook the entire city… I consider the necromancer was a huge threat. And we have only your word as to the intent of the spell? You can’t prove it?”

  “Prove it?” Ben looked blankly at her.

  “Provide a diagram of the spell,” Hartman suggested. “So that the magical department could confirm it.”

  Ben shook his head. “My memories of that time aren’t the clearest. I’d been kidnapped and subjected to an incredibly draining magical ritual. I can remember a few bits and pieces, but I never saw the entire circle. There’s no way I could recreate it for you.” Even if I wanted to. As far as Ben was concerned, the magic that the necromancer had created belonged with the necromancer—dead.

  His audience exchanged glances.

  Hartman shuffled his notes. “You had a long acquaintance with the necromancer?”

  Not this again. Hadn’t he been subjected to endless hours of grilling by Department Seven? “We were both ARX employees. We knew each other for a number of years, but we weren’t well acquainted. He resented me, and I had no idea he was anything but Hunter’s personal assistant.”

  “So you say.” Wisner leaned back in his chair. The gesture was insolent.

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “He tried to kill me. In fact, he did. He was behind my murder.”

  “It’s very easy to make accusations against a dead man.”

  Not in New Camden. Ben bit back the retort. “With all due respect, Councilor, I didn’t put a hit out on myself.”

  “But you weren’t the only one who died, were you? You lost your father in the attack.” Wisner turned to his colleagues. “Hawick has a background of violent deaths. There is also the mystery surrounding his mother’s death, and even without the ARX records, we can imagine the sort of career he had.”

  Ben leaned heavily against the side of the podium. They couldn’t imagine he had anything to do with his parents’ deaths, could they?

  “Even if we accept Hawick’s statement as truthful, the impact these deaths would have on his young psyche would be immense—and harmful. His time spent with ARX as a vampire would only exacerbate this. Do we really want to release such a damaged individual into our city with no way of monitoring his behavior?”

  “I was a model employee throughout my time at ARX. And before then, too. Look at my high school reports, my university transcript—”

  “The necromancer was a model ARX employee, too.” Wisner crossed his arms. “And look how that turned out.”

  “Is there anyone at ARX who can confirm your statements?” The mayor demanded, her hands folded on her lap.

  Ben shook his head. “As part of my desire to separate myself from my previous life, I cut ties with ARX.”

  Hartman sighed. “It is a difficult case. Without any evidence to back up your statements, well—you understand why we have to be cautious. Your case would be much strengthened if you had a statement from ARX as evidence of your claims.”

  Ben winced. He didn’t think his outstanding record as an ARX investigator would win him any fans from this crowd. He hadn’t just been responsible for tracking down multiple supernatural threats but eliminating them. They’re more likely to take one look and write me off as a dangerous killer—regardless of the fact that I was saving human lives. “Impossible. Even if I hadn’t cut ties, the ARX members I was most strongly associated with don’t do daylight hours.”

  The mayor shuddered. “We don’t really need to see Saltaire, do we?”

  Hartman raised his eyebrows. “I understood the committee appointed to look into ARX’s involvement with the debacle cleared him of personal responsibility?”

  “We had to, didn’t we?” The mayor muttered. “What choice do you have with a master vampire in the room?”

  “Another factor to take into account. Hawick may have a good record of behavior—but that was while he lived under Saltaire’s roof, subject to Saltaire’s…guidance. Without it…” Wisner shrugged. “He is an unknown. We cannot sign off on this extraordinary request. It’s simply too risky.”

  The mayor shot him a sideways look. “Like allowing a young wolf to roam freely around the city?”

  Wisner’s growl sounded out of place in the dignified surroundings of the study. “He will be found, and found quickly. And I am already taking steps to ensure that it does not happen again. As New Camden’s Security Head, I plan on making sure the city stays safe—and that starts with tighter regulations to prevent cases like the necromancer.”

  The mayor nodded. “Agreed.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s arguing with that,” Hartman added.

  Ben took a shuddering breath. “But—”

  “It’s usual in these sorts of cases to allow you time to put an appeal together,” Hartman told Ben. “In the meantime, we’ll want you to attend regular counseling sessions. To monitor your progress.”

  Ben swallowed. His cheeks burned. Like I’m a raw revenant. He hadn’t fought death and survived to be subjected to this humiliation!

  “In the meantime, an interim classification.” Hartman turned to his colleagues. “Class Six?”

  “Six?” Ben stared in horror.

  The mayor frowned. “Six is—”

  “No contact with anyone who lacks sufficient supernatural clearance to defend themselves if necessary, or is supernatural themselves, and a curfew.” Wisner grinned. His tongue lolled on his jagged teeth.

  Ben stared at his teeth, fascinated despite the circumstances. Of course. Werewolf.

  “We’re all in agreement? Very well.” Hartman turned back to Ben. “We will see you back here in two weeks for an additional report.”

  “And in the meantime, we’ll be keeping a very close eye on you.” Wisner said. “You’re dangerous, Hawick—and don’t think we don’t know it.”

  BEN GRIPPED HIS phone tightly. It rang and rang. Please. Please pick up—

  “Hello?”

  Hearing Nate’s voice brought relief so strong that Ben felt dizzy. He steadied himself against the stone wall of the Registry building. Among the many thoughts racing through his head in the wake of the committee’s ruling was the memory of Nate’s premonition. What if he was right? What if he literally never sees me again—

  “Hello? Any one there?”

  Ben forced himself to take a deep breath. “Nate? Can you hear me?”

  “Ben!” Nate’s pleasure at the call was obvious from the warmth in his voice. “Yeah? What’s up—good news?”

  Ben shut his eyes. Sharing this with Nate was going to be harder than he thought. “The opposite actually.” He tightened his free hand around the loose fabric at the collar of his T-shirt. “Can I see you?”

  “Sure. I was about to leave for Century—I got a cleaning shift, but—”

  A movement in his peripheral vision caught Ben’s attention. There was a woman waiting for him, a woman he’d never seen before. She wore a crisp black jacket and skirt, but the professional effect was countered by the electric-pink scarf looped around her neck and outsized earrings dangling from her ears. Her eyes were fixed on him.

  Ben frowned. “I’ll meet
you there.” He pressed end call, turning to face the woman. “Can I help you?”

  “I believe I can help you.” The woman held out a business card. Her nails were the same bright pink as the scarf. “Diya Patel. I’m employed by the Registry as an advocate for the supernatural.”

  Ben’s fingers tightened around the card. He stared at Diya with a feeling of horror. Does she know…?

  Diya’s brown eyes met his sympathetically. “I was present for your hearing.”

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “I’m not surprised. I can imagine that was a very difficult ordeal.”

  “Difficult is not the word.” Ben took a deep breath. “Look, it’s very kind of you to offer your services, but I don’t need an advocate.”

  “You need me,” Diya said. “You see, Mr. Hawick, you’re in even greater trouble than you realize. Are you familiar with the measures New Camden City Council adopted after the necromancer’s death?”

  Ben shook his head. “I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with other matters.”

  “I thought you might be. Which is why you need to listen to me.” Diya tucked a strand of her dark hair behind an ear. “You’re familiar with the varied classifications that enable the city to create magical wards governing specific groups of supernatural citizens?”

  Including me. Ben nodded. “The names of those classified are recorded in books held in the Registry, and those books are used to power the spells.” He’d seen the spell at work when he’d passed the library. “And before you ask, I know the limitations imposed on me by this ruling.”

  “What you don’t know is that a new class was added to deal with extreme cases of harmful supernaturals. In an effort to deter future cases like the necromancer, a new book was created in the Register. One in which the names of those deemed too dangerous to have any kind of contact with anyone will be recorded.”

  Ben stared at Diya. This was starting to make a horrible kind of sense. “You’re not telling me that—”