by Rachel Aaron
“Population and military strength have kept us from open conflict,” the general picked up. “But none of that helped us save Detroit when Algonquin claimed it, and we won’t be able to save the next city a spirit decides to take, either. Just look at China. Dragons took over the ruling Communist Party barely a week after the return of magic, and they’ve been running the country like their own private kingdom ever since. Same goes for Algonquin and the DFZ. We can’t even make her honor basic human rights because we can’t do anything to her, and she knows it.”
Marci blew out a breath. “And you really think one Merlin could change that?”
“I do,” General Jackson said firmly. “Myron’s histories might not agree on the details, but all of them describe Merlins as mages with access to a caliber of magic miles above what we have now, enough to put them on equal footing with dragons and spirits. Even if we assume those stories are grossly exaggerated, there’s still a good chance that you and your spirit could be the push we need to tip the balance of global power back into humanity’s favor. If you really are the Merlin, and you’re even half of what the stories say, you could be what finally turns the tide back in our favor. That’s a chance I’m willing to risk a great deal for, Miss Novalli.”
Marci swallowed. That was a lot to take in, though at least now she understood why Amelia had pushed so hard to win her over back at the beach. Having the world’s first Merlin as your pet human would have been quite the ace up her sleeve. But then, maybe that was why she’d given Marci her fire yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t actually a ploy by Amelia to keep herself safe from some unknown threat. Maybe it was an oblique way to make sure Marci had the magic she needed to fuel Ghost.
That last bit felt a little far-fetched and, frankly, way too selfless for Amelia. She might not care about her clan, but when it came to magic, the Planeswalker was as ambitious as any dragon. However much she liked humans, Marci couldn’t imagine her risking her fire to keep the first Mortal Spirit ticking over unless that Mortal Spirit and its Merlin were firmly under her control. But while Marci was busy thinking all these puzzles through, General Jackson interpreted her thoughtful silence in an entirely different way.
“I know this is an enormous responsibility,” she said gently, giving Marci a look that would have been reassuring on a less stern face. “I’m asking a very big thing of you, and I don’t fault you for being nervous, but you owe it to your country and your species to see it through.”
“I’m not nervous,” Marci said, snapping herself out of the endless cycle of dragon plots. “I volunteered, remember? You’re the one who brought up protective custody.” She frowned. “What would that entail, anyway?”
“It would start with us taking you back to New York,” she said, nodding to the black sedan parked beside the restaurant. “I couldn’t bring them with me into Heartstriker territory, but I’ve got a full convoy and a jet on standby just across the border. All you have to do is say the word, and we’ll be gone before Bethesda knows it.”
“And when we arrive in New York, you’ll be working out of my own private lab,” Sir Myron added proudly. “I’ve spared no expense to make it the finest magical facility in the world. You’ll have access to my books, my mages, all my research—public and security rated—whatever you need to figure out how to take the next step.”
“Anything?” Marci asked, trying not to drool at the idea of getting to run rampant through a UN-sponsored magical lab.
“Anything,” Sir Myron repeated firmly. “This is an unprecedented research opportunity for me as well. Potential weaponization of the Merlin aside, you could be the key to rediscovering knowledge that has been lost to humanity for a thousand years. Even if you fail, just think of how much we’ll learn from interacting with an actual Mortal Spirit.”
By the time he finished, Marci was shaking. Of all the bait they could have offered, that was one hell of a start. Forget having her own casting room. She’d have her own multi-million-dollar research facility! With staff! And the Sir Myron Rollins to help her! Just thinking about it was painfully exciting, and oddly enough, that was what stopped Marci from shouting Yes! Because if there was one thing she’d learned growing up in Las Vegas, it was a deep mistrust of anything that seemed too good to be true.
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch,” General Jackson said. “We’re talking about a fundamental improvement to the magical combat capability of the entire human race. That’s not something I cheap out on.”
“But what about all the stuff that’s not money?” Marci asked. “You said this would be protective custody, but how much custody are we talking? Could I leave if I wanted?”
“You would be free to do whatever you liked,” the general said, clearly insulted. “We’re not jailers. Given your strategic importance, you’d be subject to certain security necessities—bodyguards, a warded residence, that type of thing—but I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
Marci would see about that. “Would I be able to see Julius?”
The general and the undersecretary exchanged a look.
“As the first and currently only potential Merlin, allowing the dragons to continue to have unfettered access to you would put our entire operation at risk,” Sir Myron explained patiently. “Having met Julius myself, I understand that your relationship with him isn’t the usual sort, but while he appears to be an uncommonly reasonable one, he’s still a dragon. He’s also not alone. He’s got a whole mountain to look after now, and your status as a potential Merlin makes you a vital strategic asset.” He glanced out the window toward the enormous black thorn of Heartstriker Mountain rising in the distance. “I’d wager that the only reason you were allowed to come meet with us today is because the dragons do not yet know what you are. Once they discover the truth, they will not be so slack.”
“They’ll lock you down,” General Jackson agreed. “Maybe not Julius—I also met him, and I agree he’s very different from his kin—but the others? Absolutely. Even if he fought for you, your dragon would be impossibly outnumbered, and eventually you would be captured. So with that in mind, Miss Novalli, my question becomes, which would you rather be? A treasure in the Heartstriker’s horde, or the key to possibly unlocking the full potential of human magic once again?”
Marci’s jaw clenched. The general was much smoother about it than Amelia had been, but this was still a pitch Marci had heard before, and once again, she wasn’t buying. Besides...
“What makes you think I’d be safer in New York than I am here? You’ve already admitted you can’t take Algonquin, but the Heartstrikers have got that covered thanks to their deal with Svena. Frankly, this mountain is the safest place I can be right now, and since one of the three dragons on the Council is pretty much my boyfriend and I’m BFFs with Amelia the Planeswalker, I don’t see myself becoming a treasury item anytime soon. But before the two of you freak out at me and call me a traitor to humanity, know that I really do want to help. I want to expand magic and push the boundaries and rediscover what we’ve lost. We’re on the same side here, so before you start telling me where I have to go and who I can and can’t see, let me make you an offer.”
Sir Myron seemed to be having trouble keeping the look of blatant skepticism off his face. “You?” he said at last. “What can you offer us?”
“How about a leg up on all that magical knowledge you were just complaining about losing?” Marci said with a smug grin. “I don’t know if you know, but Amelia the Planeswalker has been collecting human magical texts pretty much forever. She still has them all, too. Her entire collection is safe and intact on her secret island in the South Pacific, and I can get you in.”
By the time she finished, Sir Myron didn’t look skeptical anymore. He looked hungry, practically drooling on the table. “How?”
“Because Amelia’s my friend,” Marci said confidently. “And she owes me big time. So how about we make a deal? You let me keep on doing whatever it is I want to do with whomever
I want to do it with, and I’ll work with you on this Merlin problem. If we pool all of our resources together, it has to be enough to learn something. But this only works if we all trust and respect each other, and I’m telling you right now: I’m not leaving this mountain until the vote is over. After that, I’m cool. Amelia can portal us right to her island, and we’ll get straight to work. But I will not abandon Julius to face his family alone until I’m sure he’s going to be okay, and I will not accept any deal where I’m treated like a prisoner and kept from my friends and allies, whatever species they happen to be.”
“Done,” the general said immediately.
The sudden agreement made everyone jump, even Raven.
“You sure?” Marci asked. “I mean, that was kind of fast.”
“Too fast,” Sir Myron agreed, glaring at his partner. “Shouldn’t we—”
“No,” she said, glaring right back. “Obviously I have security concerns about letting dragons near a potential Merlin, but I’m a soldier, not a tyrant. I’m not in the business of forcing people to act against their will, and I’m definitely not in a position to turn down an offer of access to the Planeswalker’s private hoard.” She turned back to Marci. “Your Julius seems to be going through a very dangerous time with his recent rise to the top. If you want to stay here and help him, I respect that and am happy to work with you. All I ask is that you allow Myron and I to remain with you as well.”
“Here in the mountain?” Marci asked, still not believing. “Just the two of you? You don’t want a security detail or—”
“Would you let me bring a security detail?” the general asked immediately.
Marci thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think there’d be room for one, actually. The mountain’s kind of full.”
“Then we’ll go without one,” General Jackson said with a shrug. “All that matters is that you stay safe and free to work with us. So long as those goals are met, I’m happy to do this anywhere you choose.”
“Really?” Marci said. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s just…that’s surprisingly reasonable of you.”
“What else could I be?” the general asked, staring her straight in the eyes. “You’re a potential Merlin who’s arrived fifty years ahead of schedule. You and your spirit represent a once-in-a-lifetime chance to improve the lives and security of billions of people. That’s not something I’m willing to risk for any reason. Obviously I’d prefer if you were safe inside our facility in New York, but if the price of your cooperation is staying here, then we stay here. I don’t care if I have to follow you around and act as your lady’s maid while bowing to dragons. I’ll do whatever it takes to improve humanity’s chances against the monsters who would stomp us down.”
That answer struck Marci as both earnest and fair, and despite her long-standing suspicion of anything that sounded too good to be true—including people just taking her deal as offered without even trying to negotiate her down first—she could find nothing wrong with the general’s agreement. “I guess that settles it, then,” she said, putting out her hand. “We have a deal. What should we do first?”
She really hoped they didn’t say the library. She was sure Amelia would let them use it, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d offered it without getting permission. Fortunately, she’d already stipulated that she had to help Julius first, which meant she could stall on the library offer at least until the vote was done if she had to. But while Marci was frantically trying to figure out how she was going to handle this new life she’d suddenly agreed to, Sir Myron had more practical concerns.
“As much as I want to see the Planeswalker’s library, the first thing we have to do is stabilize your spirit,” he said, glaring pointedly at the fading cat in Marci’s arms. “Agreeing to work together is well and good, but this will all be for nothing if the first Mortal Spirit can’t maintain his form due to severe neglect. You’ve made it clear you won’t tell me what domain he represents, but can you at least tell us where we can go to find magic that’s appropriate so we can feed him before he wastes away and takes our once-in-a-lifetime chance with him?”
As always, Marci did not approve of the undersecretary’s attitude. She was, in fact, becoming severely disillusioned with the mage she’d hero-worshiped for half her life. Sadly, being a jerk about it didn’t make him any less right. Even with free access to Amelia’s fire, Ghost looked dimmer than ever in the bright noon sun. She was starting to feel a bit panicky about that when she remembered the boy in the dumpster.
“I think I know how to help,” she said, petting Ghost’s transparent fur. “Do you have any contacts who know this area?”
“Several,” the general said, pulling out a sleek black brick of a military phone. “What do you need?”
She looked down at the spirit cradled in her arms. “Somewhere a lot of people died and no one cared.”
Sir Myron’s eyes widened in horror, but the general just nodded and started waving her fingers through her AR. “Let me see what I can find.”
“Thanks,” Marci said, carefully tucking Ghost back into her bag before pulling out her own phone to let Julius know what was going on. But as she was trying to figure out how she was going to explain all this, she spied a tall, familiar figure sitting on the hood of an ancient but beautifully maintained Buick parked at the far end of the diner’s empty lot.
The sight sent a chill though her. She had no actual reason to think he was here because of her, but given what had happened the last few times Marci had seen Bob sitting on a car, she didn’t have a good feeling. The seer didn’t waste his time sitting around in places that weren’t going to be important. So, though it went against all her better judgment, she stuck her phone into her pocket and knocked on the ward. When Sir Myron lifted it, she hurried out the door, scurrying across the bright parking lot to ask the Great Seer of the Heartstrikers what he was doing here and if she should duck.
She was only a few steps away when Bob said, “No ducking required just yet.”
Marci froze, but the seer didn’t even turn to face her. He just reached backwards, holding out a battered white pastry box containing a lone, bright-yellow confection that kind of—if one was being both generous and imaginative—looked like a dragon in flight.
“Dragon Danish?” he offered cheerfully. “They’re hideously overpriced and taste like sugared cardboard, but I always get a kick out of eating a pastry effigy of myself.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Marci said, circling around to the front of the car so she could look at him face to face.
“Your extremely slight loss,” the dragon said as he pulled the box back, reaching inside to grab the pastry before shoving it into his mouth wings first. He finished the thing in two bites, pivoting to toss the now-empty box into the public trashcan before leaning back on his windshield. “I suppose you want to know your future now?”
Marci shook her head. “I just came over to ask what you were doing.”
“Oh, so, same question, really,” Bob said, patting the spot on the hood next to him. Marci was about to decline the offered seat when she realized he wasn’t offering it to her. Instead, his pigeon swooped down from the clear blue sky to land on his hand, cooing excitedly.
“I never let her miss a good show,” he explained, lifting the bird up to kiss its feathered neck. “And trust me, this one’s going to be an extravaganza.”
Marci’s stomach began to sink. “Good extravaganza or bad extravaganza?”
“That depends on your perspective,” the seer replied, gazing up at the mountain that rose like a skyscraper over the desert town. “Do you prefer your Julius rare or well done?”
Now Marci was really worried. But as she was opening her mouth to demand to know what he meant by that, Bob raised his hand. “Wait for it…”
She held her breath, waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
And then, just when she couldn’t wait any longer, Bob said. “Now duck.”
Marci ducked, dropping her body to the sun-warmed asphalt just in time as the peak of Heartstriker Mountain exploded in a blast of fire, sending debris raining through the city below.
Chapter 11
Twenty minutes earlier, before Marci had even made it to the diner, Justin and Julius were in the golden elevator on their way to the top of the mountain to answer Bethesda’s summons.
Julius had actually toyed with the idea of not going. Two days after her overthrow, it was finally starting to sink in that he didn’t have to jump every time his mother said frog. Also, he’d desperately needed time to think over everything Chelsie had told him and find the angle that would let them win. It had to be there. He refused to accept that Bethesda actually had Chelsie—and apparently by extension, F-clutch, not to mention the rest of the clan—in an eternal trap. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a puzzle he could just breeze his way through, and it was hard to think when his mother kept calling and calling.
In the end, he’d decided to just go. He might not owe his mother obedience anymore, but he was the one who’d put her on the Council, and it was rude to just ignore her. Besides, it might actually be important, so he’d left the Fs’ hideout at the base of the mountain, grabbed his brother, and started up the mountain toward the opposite end of the Heartstriker world to see what she wanted.
As always, Frieda opened Bethesda’s door when he knocked. His mother’s private F seemed to have recovered from her time with Amelia, but there was still something off about the way she lowered her eyes when she saw Julius, shuffling back as if she were afraid to get close to him.
“Frieda,” he said gently. “Is everything oka—”
“She’s in the treasury,” she said, her eyes still locked on the floor as she pointed down the hall. “Giant door at the end. Can’t miss it.”
Julius and Justin exchanged a look, and the knight’s hand fell to his sword. “I’ll take point,” he said, stepping inside. “Let’s go.”