One is Come

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One is Come Page 4

by C. H. MacLean


  Chapter 2

  Special Plans

  Stephan Johansen fiddled with his gold-plated pen. He looked over at the stack of papers he had just signed, scowling. On most days, denying special request letters made him feel powerful. Today they were simply paperwork. He knew it was the meeting with that girl’s father. That meeting was out of his control. A suspension! They were so precious but, few and far between, they usually would leave him almost giddy. I still suspended her! He tried to convince himself, but it still felt flat. That man…

  The phone rang and interrupted his thoughts. With a snarl, he stabbed at the speaker phone button.

  “I told you I was not to be disturbed!” he yelled.

  “Oh?” The deep voice immediately had him stammering an apology. The voice ran right over his feeble attempts at coherence. “I know you are finished with your paperwork, Stephan,” said the voice. “What am I disturbing?”

  “Nothing at all, my king, nothing, um, I am at your disposal.” Stephan managed to finish before the voice slid on.

  “Yes, disposable.” The voice paused, giving Stephan enough time to register the statement completely before continuing. “Did you find out if the boy was with the girl?”

  “The girl insisted, and her friends agreed, that they were alone, he was not there. If he was there, he must have been hiding, or at least out of sight.”

  “But you are sure magic was used?”

  “Yes, it was magic, I mean, as sure as can be determined… I wasn’t able to get there for some time afterward, and even then was being watched…”

  The voice interrupted. “The Conclave and I have no patience for excuses. Considering their parents’ situation, if either of the children is Awakening, I will have to intervene.” With the arrogance of one long accustomed to power, the voice thought out loud. “It must be the boy, somehow; the Guardians, everything is ready, it would be too much of a coincidence. We will need a plan to bring him in if...” After a pause, he snapped back into the previous condescending tone. “So, nothing else happened at the meeting?”

  “No, nothing. She was suspended, of course, but…”

  “You suspended her?” The voice did not sound pleased, but it never did. While it did not increase in volume, there was an increase in the intensity of the tone. Stephan felt himself break out in a sweat. “Who gave you the authority to suspend her?”

  Stephan did not even consider stating that his job description specifically did. “No one, my liege, but, it is an appropriate punishment…”

  “Punishment?” the voice was not asking a question. “You would like to discuss punishments?”

  Stephan's eyes widened and he unconsciously slid from his chair to kneel before the phone. “It wasn’t my idea! Her father was there and he just…”

  “Rightad was there?” Again, the voice seemed to shout while actually becoming softer in volume.

  Stephan wrung his hands. “He said he was just early in picking her up, but I had already summoned the child to my office, and I couldn’t very well say no, and he just ruined it! It was all his fault! Just tell me what to do!” Stephan tried not to sound like he was begging, but didn’t succeed.

  “Yes,” the voice said, “I will tell you what to do. Apparently, even simple instructions are too much for you. I suppose it is too late to rescind the suspension? Yes, Rightad would know...” As the voice paused, Stephan noted that name seemed to catch in the voice’s throat each time. “When she returns, the child is not to be punished. In case it was not clear before, the boy, and the girl too, are of interest to me! In fact, you will go out of your way to be sure they receive special treatment from you, her teachers, the administrative staff, even the lunchroom staff! Get someone—not you—to tell the girl that her mistakes are in the past, or whatever. For both of them, set up weekly meetings with their teachers to ensure they receive top marks. Do not let them know they are receiving this treatment. Is that clear?”

  Stephan’s mouth was so dry he spoke in a croak. “But…” He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it.

  “Are you disagreeing with me?”

  “No, my king!” was the immediate, raspy reply. “I don’t understand…” Stephan clapped his hands over his mouth, but the words slipped out.

  “No, you do not. You do not have the information, or the intellect, to understand. Do you want to understand, or to obey?”

  “I live to obey,” Stephan declared.

  The room was silent.

  Stephan didn’t move. Only after the dial tone switched to the computer voice reminding him to hang up did he get off his knees. He must have missed the click of the phone call ending, and only hoped his last statement was heard. He carefully lifted the phone receiver, replaced it, and pushed the speaker phone button twice to be sure the line was clear before slumping in his chair. Carefully guarding his thoughts, he murmured in his head, How did he know? Stephan looked around the room without moving his head. He always knew. What Stephan knew is that he had to obey.

 

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