by Frank Hurt
She opted for a different tack.
“Right. If you’re going to do it, at least do it correctly.” Ember said. Her voice was clear and nonchalant. “At the angle you’ve got the gun, you’re just going to make a nice hole in the back of your skull and a big mess in Muriel’s kitchen.”
Everyone in the room fell into stunned silence. Roy’s watery eyes blinked open.
“You might be lucky and clip your brain stem,” she continued. “Or you might miss it altogether. We’ve got a world-class Healer right here in the room, so you’ll probably survive. Granted, you’ll be a vegetable the rest of your miserable life. Fed with tubes, since you’d have destroyed your mouth. On some level, you might be able to see and hear the world around you, but you won’t be able to talk. You won’t be able to taste. The highlight of your days will be when the nurse’s assistant arrives to change your diaper. But you’ll survive, yeah.”
Ember flexed her hand. Her knuckles cracked, creating the only sound in a room filled with people. “If you’re intent on doing this though, you’ll want to tilt that butt down. Get the barrel pointing for your brain. You might like to know, though, that I’ve recently seen what happens to souls after they die. If you do succeed, I can tell you that where your soul is going isn’t exactly a happy place, either. Life’s difficult. Death isn’t much easier.”
“What would you know about death?” Roy’s voice cracked. The gun was out of his mouth, but he still had it aimed at his face.
“More than I should. Probably more than any living person should. More than I wish I did. I’ve been there, to the other side. Or…at least one version of the other side, I suppose. Just returned from there this afternoon, in fact.”
The mage combed her fingers through damp hair. “I don’t expect you to believe me on that, it sounds nutters, I know. At least believe me on this: personally, I would rather you didn’t kill yourself. But it’s your right to do so.”
“Truth is, I don’t have all the answers,” Ember said. “I do know that everyone’s life has difficulties, and that when their life ends the difficulties don’t go away. Some of them come with you to the other side. Others are passed on, inherited by your family and friends who have to bear the consequences of your choices.”
The shotgun weighed heavily in Roy’s hands. He no longer had the muzzle pointed at his face. “After what I’ve done. There’s no going back.”
“Whatever you’ve done today, it was bloody Elton Higginbotham’s doing,” Ember said. “We’re all just pieces on a chessboard to him. Today he was prepared to sacrifice you to further his goals, while pinning the blame on the Deputy Viceroy. He made you turn on your friends—the people who’ve been helping you the most. He made that decision for you. But the decision you have in your hands now is yours and yours alone. Nobody can make it for you.”
“I just don’t understand,” Stephanie said. Her arms were wrapped around Arnold, as they had been since the moment they were reunited. The couple stood next to Ember, watching the procession. “If they weren’t in control of themselves, why are they being arrested? They’re innocent.”
“Innocent?” Roseanne Nelson huffed. She was walking behind Marvin, her hand around the man’s zip-tied wrists. “After what they just did to you folks, you think they’re innocent? If ever there was a case of instant Stockholm Syndrome.”
Duncan was scrawling on a notepad with a yellow mechanical pencil. “We’ve a procedure to follow. Their cases will be heard and the Druwish public will be the ones to hear it.”
“Hang in there,” Ember said to the nine changelings as they paraded past. “Stay strong. The truth will come out.”
“Congratulations on your Pyrrhic victory,” Dennis said to Ember with a bearded smirk. The tall man marched Roy past.
Debra was next in line, her grasp on Kenneth Newman’s wrists. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Pyrrhic victory,” Dennis said proudly. “It’s named after some war in ancient Roman times. Means that the victorious side was actually defeated. Something like that.”
“Great, but how do you know that term?” Debra asked.
Dennis shrugged. “It was the answer to one of my crossword clues. Started with a P, ended with a C. I was struggling with it one day last week. The Director of Wellness happened to be walking by so I asked if he knew. That Director Higginbotham’s a pretty smart dude. He knew the answer right away.”
31
It’s a Surprise
“You were supposed to handle this.”
“I know, Will. I was handling it. Everything was going perfectly until she showed up.”
“Goddammit, Elton,” the Viceroy’s voice snarled through the phone line. “I thought you had her under control?”
“I did too. She was, exactly like the others.”
“You’re losing your touch. Getting distracted chasing too many skirts. This is one fuck-up that may cost us more than we can afford.”
“All I know is that I had them under my spell, same as I’ve always done.” Elton Higginbotham was not accustomed to being berated. Usually, he was the one doing the berating, if anyone was. He also wasn’t used to being surprised. He hated the sensation.
“You had. Past tense,” the Viceroy said. “Just like we had the musician as an asset. What the fuck happened to him?”
“Unknown,” Elton said. “He’s gone completely AWOL. I’ve got our guys looking for him though. We’ll get him back under our thumbs.”
“If you find him, eliminate him. Immediately. He’s no longer an asset. He’s firmly in the liability column.”
“Understood.” Elton’s fingernails dug into his palm. “Ember Wright is at the center of this. I don’t know how exactly, but she’s at the center. She may be the reason my Deference Spell is failing. We can’t be sure who is under our control anymore, not with her around.”
“She needs to go, too.” William Roth’s voice grumbled through the phone. “She’s more than just a nuisance now. We need to get her out of the way before we can get back on track.”
“She’s easy to find,” Elton said. “I can have her killed tonight.”
“Negative. She’s too visible. Too connected. Even before her incident with the Changeling Hunter elevating her to global fame. Our little blonde busy-body has connections among the nobility and High Council. No, we can’t just kill her. We need to have her bring herself down. She has to hang herself.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
“At this stage, I’d accept either.” The Viceroy paused. “We have to tread carefully with her for other reasons. I’m starting to think she’s an Inquisitor.”
Elton’s perfect tanned face blanched. “Impossible. We’ve got a program to keep that from happening.”
“Let’s hope I’m wrong. If she is, we have even less time to deal with her than we thought. I had her tailed.”
Elton raised an eyebrow. “You never told me. When was this?”
“When she arrived in Minot. You administered your spell on her, but I wanted to verify. I had a trio of my guys keep an eye on her.”
Elton hated surprises. He hated them even more when it was a supposed ally surprising him. “What did you find out?”
“Only that she was making inroads with the changeling community. My guys failed to report in after a few days. They went missing.”
“You think she—”
“Before I left for England this week, I handed a dossier to the musician. It was a missing persons case. I had a hunch. My hunch turned out to be correct.”
Elton paced within his office, tethered to the phone. “And?”
“And wouldn’t you know, our dear Miss Wright claimed the case. Then promptly solved it. Conveniently, the remains of my guys were discovered, burned to a crisp in a recent fire out in the middle of nowhere. The whole site is a big junk pit. Everything is charred, including any evidence which might show that she is responsible.”
“How convenient,” Elton peered out the
office window. The street lights of the Magic City were flickering to life as evening arrived. “I don’t like it when you keep things from me, Will. We’re supposed to be on the same side.”
“And we are. Don’t pretend you don’t have secrets yourself, Elton.”
If you only knew. He didn’t trust his tongue, so he said nothing.
“My point is that she’s the real deal. We can’t give her any sign that we’re onto her.”
Blood began to drip from Elton’s palm where his nails continued to dig. “We’ll need to isolate her. Cut off those connections you say she has. Back her up to a ledge.”
“And then push her off that ledge,” the Viceroy said. “I’ve got a plan in the works. I’ll tell you and the others all about it when I get back in town. I think you’ll like this surprise.”
He doubted that. Elton really hated surprises.
32
In Bed
She could barely keep her eyes open. Though the clock claimed it was only 5:55 on a Friday night, Ember was convinced it must be lying. She was already in her flannel pajamas, sprawled out on the couch but wishing she had chosen her bed. A paperback copy of The Walking Drum was propped open on her chest. It was her favorite Louis L’Amour title—at least top three, for sure—and she had been looking forward all day to getting home to re-read it for the fifth or sixth time.
Instead, she found herself reading the same paragraph repeatedly, seeing the words but not quite absorbing them.
She had almost summoned the energy to get up and go to bed when someone’s knuckles rapped on the front door to her apartment.
Bloody hell. What now?
Ember sighed, shuffling to the door. She peered through the peephole, blinking away the sleepiness. “Rik?”
He smiled at the closed door. “Good guess!”
She rolled the lock on the door and granted entry. “Not that you’re not welcome, but…why are you here?”
Alarik stepped into the apartment, two semi-transparent plastic bags in his hands. He had on a dark brown canvas jacket, new blue jeans, and black cowboy boots. “Is that what you’re gonna wear?”
“Um,” was all she said.
“It’s six o’clock, Ember!” When that didn’t get a reaction from her, he added, “Friday night. We’re going on a date, remember? Our first date.”
Ember blinked twice, then suddenly became painfully self-conscious. “Oh my god. I…I—”
“You forgot, didn’t you?” If he was upset, he didn’t show it.
“After the week we’ve all been through. I just…I spaced it out.”
“So, I can see,” Alarik grinned. “I’ll admit I pictured you in casual wear, I just couldn’t have guessed how casual.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she rubbed her eyes. “I’ll get changed. Just gimme a tick, yeah?”
“Don’t bother.” He held up the two bags. “I guessed you might prefer to stay in. I brought Chinese. Hope that’ll work for you?”
“Oh my god, I love you.” She realized what she said immediately after the words spilled out. “I mean…I love…Chinese food.”
Alarik’s neck was flush. He seemed eager to join the charade. “Me too. Chinese, I mean.”
They unboxed the assorted greasy noodles and fried pork and mushrooms, both of them foregoing the provided chopsticks for forks. They washed the meal down with cold Shiner Bock beer. Steak and lobster and cabernet sauvignon served at the finest restaurant couldn’t have competed with the atmosphere right there in her apartment.
“Ready to learn your fortune?” He said as he handed one of the two plastic-wrapped cookies across the small table. He removed his and snapped it open, pulling the thin scrap of paper out. He cleared his throat and grinned. “Don’t pursue happiness; create it. In bed.”
“Bollocks! It says that?” She reached for the scrap of paper in his hand. “You added the ‘in bed’ part. Nice try.”
“That’s what you do! Haven’t you ever heard of that?”
“What, you make up your own fortune so it sounds pervy?”
He laughed, “no. Well, sort of. You read your fortune and add ‘in bed’ to it, no matter what it says. We did it all the time as kids.”
“I see. And you’re still a boy then, is that it?”
“Just read your fortune.”
Ember tore into the package and snapped the cookie. She silently read her fortune, an eyebrow lifting comically as she did.
“Well, what does it say? You’ve gotta read it out loud.”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“You have to. Otherwise it won’t come true.”
She rolled her eyes, though a grin formed. She held the paper up to her eyes and read, “all things are hard before they are easy. In bed.”
“No way,” he laughed. “Now you’re making that up.”
She turned the fortune around to prove its authenticity. The infection spreading, she added her laugh to his. “Right, now we’ve both got the sensibilities of teenage boys.”
The couple migrated to the couch, where they tuned in to a movie on the television. The film acted as background noise, as they were more intent on conversation than entertainment.
Alarik sipped his beer as he stared at the screen. “What do you think’s gonna happen to them?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about the characters in the movie. She thought for a moment and then answered. “They’ll have to spend some time in jail until the trial. They won’t get a fair trial here, so Duncan is working with Wallace to have the case moved to Malvern Hills—or more likely, to get members of the Druw High Council to come to North Dakota to hear the case.”
“What if the judges are corrupt too? What if they’re working with Higginbotham and his cronies?”
Ember chewed her lip and nodded, “it’s possible. Maybe even likely. But by Druw Law, the defendants have the right to a trial. That’s when we’ll present the evidence and testimonies. It’ll be the beginning step for unburying the truth. For publicly pointing the finger at the corruption. Elton and any others.”
Alarik watched her with umber eyes. “You’ve been gathering evidence, staying under the radar the whole time. Are you ready for this?”
“I will be,” Ember said. “It’s not the way we’d have wanted this to happen, but we have no choice now. At least we’ve got Geoff. With what he knows, the whole house of cards will come tumbling down. We just have to keep him tucked away until then. Then the whole world will hear what he has to say.”
“Something big is coming our way, isn’t it? Change.”
Ember nodded. She curled up against him then, her head resting on his shoulder. “It’s going to get ugly. We’ll have to watch our backs.”
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close. He said nothing.
After some minutes, she went limp and began to breathe evenly as the mage finally surrendered to fatigue.
Rik would stay in that position, sitting upright on the couch as the television hummed its lullaby and his arm became progressively numb beneath her head. He wouldn’t disturb her slumber though, not for anything. She was safe in his embrace.
For the first time since the Changeling Hunter case, Ember slept through the night, not once waking from a nightmare.
Ascending Mage 4: Nothing Broken
Her changeling friends are imprisoned. To free them, she’ll have to break the laws of magic.
Ember Wright managed to save her friends’ lives, only to see them locked up and tormented. With each passing day, the changelings weaken and submit to their interrogators. Secrets start to slip.
Running out of options and allies, Ember turns to an ancient, forbidden form of advanced magic. Her reluctant teacher’s warning echoes in her head: almost all mages who attempt the spell become corrupted by it.
Complicating matters, her overbearing mother decides to come visit—for a few weeks. What could possibly go wrong?
As though an answer to Ember’s desperate prayers,
an otherworldly force reveals itself. Will this new power be her greatest weapon? Or will it be her ultimate undoing?
Ascending Mage 4: Nothing Broken is page-burning modern fantasy with a kick-ass heroine and magic that will grab you by the throat.
Coming June 2019! Preorder it now at go.frhurt.com/am4
Acknowledgments
We are incredibly fortunate to have a kick-ass Alpha Team. These folks pick through our stories, proofread, and help find gaps in the plot and prose. The novel you just read is much stronger thanks to their efforts. Special thanks to:
Robert Severson
Jackie Hope
Benedette Knopik
Muriel Hurt
Joy Vasquez
Lucy Hurt
Would you like to be a member of our Alpha Team?
Our Alpha Team receives access to stories before the final round of edits and publication. They’re sort of our elite literary SWAT team, you might say.
If this sounds like something you might be keen on, we’re currently accepting applications. Visit frhurt.com/alpha to learn more and apply.
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