Consensus Breaking (The Auran Chronicles Book 2)

by M. S. Dobing

  The Weave crackled as Grim channelled. Seb did likewise, Avatari flooding his muscles, his perception reaching preternatural levels. Grim held out his arm, palm open. There was a flash of purple lightning as his staff materialised in his grasp.

  ‘Slightly unfair,’ Seb said, flexing the knots out of his neck as he advanced forwards. ‘But if it’s what you need to even the odds, then I’ll let you have it.’

  Grim’s eyes filled with fire. ‘Insolent bastard!’

  The mage blurred from the vehicle. Seb sidestepped, anticipating the move, Grim’s anger preventing any kind of feint. The staff whooshed over Seb’s head as he ducked low.

  ‘You’re fast, but clumsy. Your anger betrays you,’ Seb said, trying but failing to hide the smile on his face.

  Grim was on him in an instant. The attacks came high and low, the staff a blur at normal levels of perception, and only just visible to Seb’s enhanced senses. He ducked and dodged, the weapon missing him by inches as Grim came ever closer. At one point the staff came too close, and Seb was forced to deflect it with the palm of his hand, the impact slapping onto bare skin and sending a burst of pain up his arm.

  Careful, he told himself, thinking over the many lessons that Enzo had taught him. He channelled Sentio, calming the energy that threatened to burst from his veins. Grim came on regardless, anger fuelling his efforts. Seb was equal to it, dodging and parrying as he sensed his opponent’s intentions before he committed them to action.

  His calm was rewarded a second later. He faked a stumble, and Grim, consumed by rage, took the staff in both hands and raised it up above his head, ready for a skull-splitting strike.

  Now!

  Seb threw everything he had into the attack, driving both fists, strengthened by Avatari, straight into the exposed mage’s solar plexus. The staff clattered to the ground as Grim flew backwards, smashing into a wall. A spider’s web of cracks appeared behind him as he slumped to the ground. He tried to push himself up but collapsed again.

  Seb picked up the discarded staff and stalked round to Grim’s side. The anger burned inside him now, and it felt good, so good. It was as if any doubts had been dispelled, any fear of making a misstep in the eyes of the magi no longer present. They were wrong. They were weak.

  And Grim would be the first to pay the price.

  Seb raised the staff above his head. Grim looked up at him, one eye was already red and swollen, the other simply stared up, the same anger there that filled Seb now.

  Do it.

  It seemed so easy. So simple. He tensed his grip and focused on Grim’s forehead. It would be quick. The mage wouldn’t feel a thing.

  What am I doing?

  The voice, a whisper in volume, boomed inside the inferno that was his rage.

  It wasn’t a stranger’s voice, like the thing in the tower that had spoken to him before.

  It was him. A stronger, more powerful, disbelieving him.

  This is just fear, he told himself. All great deeds begin with an act such as this. There would have to be sacrifices if he was to erase the magi from this shard. They only brought it down. They could be kings, but they were too weak. Far too weak.

  What the hell am I doing?

  It came again, louder this time. The inferno seemed to decrease in intensity.

  ‘What’s the matter? You lost the stomach for it?’ Grim stared at him still, the other mage’s anger not dissipating one iota. There was no doubt that if the situation had been reversed that this conversation wouldn’t be happening.

  ‘No, this is wrong.’ The staff clattered to the ground as he took a step back. ‘What are we doing?’

  Grim staggered to his feet. He called a subtle pattern and the staff reappeared in his hands.

  ‘Big mistake, mageling,’ he spun the staff around, the wounds on his face already healing. ‘You won’t get to make it again.’

  ‘Grim, something’s wrong. This isn’t right. Look at us. This isn’t what we’re about.’

  ‘Tell that to the Void!’

  Seb braced for the inevitable attack, but at that moment various doors leading into the car park burst open at once. Bright lights shone on them, blinding him. Someone began to shout.

  ‘Police!’

  ‘Grim!’

  The other mage glared at him. There was a crackle in the air as Grim tried to channel. Seb felt his own powers diminish into almost nothing as the room flooded with the Unaware, the pressure of reality smothering him like a pillow.

  Something clattered on the ground nearby. A small object. Metallic. It pinged off a car not six feet from where he stood.

  ‘On your knees! Do it! Do it now!’

  He hit the ground just as something exploded with a bang so loud it left his ears ringing. The world had turned white and a pain throbbed in his mind. Strong arms came from nowhere and hoisted him upright. He tried to twist out of their grasp - bad move - and the next moment he’d been slammed face first into a car bonnet, splitting his lip. A voice shouted from somewhere, something about being under arrest, but he was so disorientated he couldn’t take it in.

  ‘Get the hell off me!’ Grim screamed.

  ‘Grim, no!’

  Reality screamed in Seb’s mind as Grim let rip a burst of power that pushed hard against the Consensus. He caught sight of a police officer sliding across the ground, smacking with a sick crunch against a concrete pillar. Someone raised a weapon and fired, striking Grim. The mage pulled a curious expression, but not from the projectile he’d just been struck with, but from his over-exertion with the Weave. Blood poured out of his nose and his eyes rolled up in his head as he toppled backwards into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Seb sensed the police officer thirty seconds before he stopped at the door to his cell.

  Young, inexperienced. Slightly nervous. He was coming to get him. Take him somewhere.

  Officer Prescott stopped at the cell door. The eye-hatch slid open.

  ‘Stand away from the door.’

  Seb took a further step from the door so that he was stood by the firm platform that served as a bed. The door unlocked and swung inward. Officer Prescott came in.

  ‘Seb Wilkinson?’

  ‘Unless I’ve been mysteriously replaced by an identical double, yes.’

  ‘Come with me.’

  Seb kept behind Officer Prescott as he was led through the police station to a wide corridor. Three rooms stood along one side, the word “Interview” above the door. A red light was on above the first, the other two were off. Prescott showed him to the second door.

  ‘In.’

  Without a word, Seb followed the officer’s lead and went inside. A table stood before him with two chairs on one side and one on the other. Common sense told him where to go and he sat in the single one.

  ‘Detective Darnton will be in to see you in a moment,’ Prescott said before leaving without another word.

  Darnton? Why did that ring a bell? He searched his memory, Avatari creating a catalogue of crystal clear images to scan through. He blurred through them, scanning and discarding each scene with barely a thought.

  Ah.

  Detective Darnton. The one who’d interviewed him when Sarah had died, when he’d nearly died.

  What was he doing here?

  The answer to that arrived a moment later when the door opened and Detective Darnton came in. He’d added a couple of pounds since they’d last met, the weather and age had further furrowed his face, and a grey streak ran down both sides of his head, but there was no mistaking this was the same guy.

  ‘Seb, we meet again,’ Darnton said, taking one of the free seats opposite.

  ‘I’m sorry, have we met?’

  Darnton raised a really, we’re going to do this eyebrow before smiling at him. ‘Bad memory, kid? Okay, let me refresh your memory. About two years ago I spoke to you when you barely survived an attack in Brightford. Ring any bells?’

  ‘It’s hazy, it was a long time ago,’ he replied. There was n
o point in being dumb and replying “no comment” to every question. Darnton had Seb’s file right in front of him - whatever that amounted to, anyway.

  ‘Of course. You remember what you told me back then?’

  I remember perfectly, he thought. Black eyes. Talons. A feeling of dread. Sarah transferring Marek’s secret bomb into his mind.

  ‘No, sorry, I don’t.’

  Darnton proceeded to read out the incident report from that night. The night when Seb encountered Sarah. He remembered every detail with crystal clarity. It was something he’d never forget, but hearing Darnton repeat the words as told by his younger self he couldn’t help but think how much time had passed since then. He sounded so weak, so defenceless in the report. Had he changed so much? He’d encountered Clementine again, and killed him, avenging Sarah. He’d learned the Weave, and much faster than expected for someone not born of the blood. Yet in the end he’d only been a vessel, a walking bomb in the wrong place at the wrong time. His unwitting knowledge had caused the destruction of the Magistry and several dear friends. And to what end? What had come out of it? The Consensus was broken. People were awakening with almost daily frequency. The Families viewed it as an abomination, and all their efforts were focused on the eradication of this corruption in what they viewed as the natural hierarchy of things.

  But that question came again. The one that plagued him night after night. The one that had finally cumulated in the battle between himself and Grim.

  Who were they to decide? Reality wasn’t theirs to own. He remembered a question he’d asked Cian when he’d been training in Avatari:

  ‘So we’re all magi, really, even the Unaware?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We all have a say in it, this reality, we all contribute to what is real and what isn’t.’

  ‘Why, I suppose your right!’

  ‘Seb, you there?’

  Seb shook the lingering image of Cian’s smiling face from his mind and the sadness that came with it. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I was just seeing if any of this rang any bells?’ Darnton said, an edge of frustration creeping into his voice.

  Seb shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago like I said.’

  ‘Right. So let’s skip to the present, shall we?’

  Darnton opened the other folder. Seb glanced down at the grainy photos there and his heart sank.

  The images, clearly captured from some kind of CCTV camera, showed the exchange between himself and Grim in all-too-revealing detail. Grim flying through the air as he crashed into the car. Seb sliding across the floor after being struck by Grim. Underneath other images poked out, but these weren’t from the car park although no less disturbing. Was that Alex in one? Anna and Seb in another? Why was that girl there, Stephanie? The one that Anna had cleansed?

  ‘She rings a bell does she?’ Darnton said, sliding Stephanie’s photo from out of the folder. The detective’s mind was quick and agile, even without the Weave.

  ‘No, sorry.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes. Who is she?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  Seb’s stomach felt like it was going to drop to the floor. ‘Sorry?’ he heard himself whisper.

  ‘Yeah, very sad. Some might say she was just another statistic. Living alone, history of drug and alcohol problems. Perhaps it was just waiting to happen.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to assist with that.’

  ‘What? How can I help?’

  ‘You visited her, didn’t you? A few weeks ago.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ His back was beginning to sweat. What could Darnton know?

  The detective slid some more grainy photographs across the desk. Seb recognised them instantly. A rundown wasteland in Edinburgh. A bleak, grey block of flats. One image showed a very grainy Seb, with Anna alongside him. But even with a squint, it was impossible to say for certain it was him.

  Calm down. They can’t prove anything. Stephanie wouldn’t have remembered them.

  Would she?

  ‘Familiar?’

  He couldn’t believe he would have to resort to this.

  ‘No comment.’

  Darnton sighed. ‘Really? This is how you want to play this?’

  ‘No comment.’

  Darnton leant across the desk, any facade of friendliness vanishing in that moment. ‘This girl jumped off the roof of that block of flats. A week earlier I’m told that someone matching your description paid her a visit. Why?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I don’t believe you are an evil man, Seb, but I’m also aware that this world can twist people, make them do things they wouldn’t normally do. If you’re one of those people, then now would be the time to speak. Otherwise it will be a lot worse down the line.’

  Seb felt like shit. But he had no other choice now.

  ‘No comment,’ he sighed.

  Darnton sat back, leaving the documents in place. ‘Fine. If you want to play it like that.’ He stood up and went to the door. He opened it and beckoned Prescott back in. ‘Take Seb back to his cell.’

  ‘Wait, what? You can’t keep me here, surely?’

  Darnton scoffed. ‘Keep you in? At a minimum I’ve got you for wilful damage of public property and assault on your friend. Worst case for you is that I link you with this girl’s death.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ he heard himself say.

  ‘You know what Seb, for some reason I’m inclined to believe you. I know bad people, Seb, I’ve seen the worst this world can produce, and I just don’t believe that you’re one of them.’ Darnton stepped back inside. ‘But - I do think you know something about this girl’s death. Whether you’re covering for this woman you’re with or something else I don’t know, but trust me, it’ll be better for you if you speak soon.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Seb raced to wakefulness and sat bolt upright on the hard, cell bed. The faint hold of sleep vanished instantly, his sense flaring to life.

  Who was that? They were Aware, certainly, but their aura was blurry, as if interference was preventing him getting a firm echo. He stood from the bed and walked to the door. His sense didn’t reveal anything aside from the fact that someone was inside the police station, someone with powers like his.

  He tilted his head and channelled Avatari. He closed his eyes, allowing his ears to absorb a range of wavelengths far in excess of that of a normal human. A barrage of noise came back. He twitched, gritting his jaw against the painful racket as he filtered out the excess.

  That’s better.

  In the reception, a door opened. Someone, light of foot, walked up to the front desk. He sensed a change in the desk sergeant. Not fear, but something else.

  Arousal.

  ‘Can I help you, miss…?’

  ‘Sarah, you can call me Sarah,’ came the response, a demure voice, almost a purr.

  Seb smiled.

  Sylph.

  ‘Right, of course,’ said the officer, flustered now. Something subtle pulled at the Weave, nothing overt. ‘How can I help you, Sarah?’

  ‘Is it just you here, all on your lonesome?’ Sylph said, her voice laced with seductive intent.

  ‘I - yes - well, no. There are others here, obviously, but just me on the front desk.’

  ‘Poor you,’ she said. ‘Don’t you get lonely out here, all by yourself?’

  ‘It’s…er…not as bad as you’d think,’ he replied.

  Poor guy, his aura was all over the place. Whatever trick Sylph was pulling had him enthralled.

  ‘I’m here to see a friend, can I go in?’

  ‘Someone who works here?’

  ‘No, a prisoner. Seb Wilkinson.’

  The officer’s aura dulled slightly. ‘Sorry, miss, no visitors.’

  ‘Ah, sorry, my mistake, silly me,’ Sylph giggled. ‘The cells are down there, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, bu --’

  The pull on the Weave became a yank.
What was she doing? He couldn’t determine the Script, not from where he was, but it was an effect he hadn’t felt before. He paused, listening intently.

  ‘Thank you, officer. Are these the keys?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Take a nap, I won’t be long.’

  There was a dull thud as the officer’s head hit the desk. Seb stepped back with a smile, shaking his head as he heard footsteps stop at the door. The key turned, the door unlocked and swung open.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ Sylph said.

  ‘Nice trick you pulled there, what is that?’ he said, trying to ignore the revealing garb she was in.

  ‘Something for the Night Sister’s to know, and you to dream about,’ she said with a smile. ‘And stop with the ogling. As soon as we’re out of here this stuff is coming off.’

  ‘Really?’

  Sylph laughed. ‘Sadly for you, you won’t be getting a show. Now let’s get out of here. The effect won’t last long.’

  He hurried out after Sylph. There were others in the building still, even at this hour. Many of them were only feet away, but their auras were dim, fatigued. They made their way into the reception where the officer was still unconscious on the desk, snoring loudly.

  ‘Will he be okay?’ Seb said as they walked past.

  ‘He’ll be fine. He won’t remember a thing.’

  ‘He’ll be in trouble.’

  ‘Not our problem. Although if -’

  Seb’s sense rang in his mind.

  The double doors to the station opened, and two officers stepped through, one holding a soon-to-be resident by one arm.

  ‘What the h -’

  Sylph was a blur. She struck out, cracking the officer on the throat with the edge of her hand, silencing him in an instant. He was sagging to his knees when she launched herself at the other, who to his credit had the presence of mind to backpedal. At the same time the handcuffed man fell forwards and Sylph slammed into him instead, the pair of them crashing into the wall.

  The remaining officer fumbled for something on his belt, some kind of weapon. Seb lunged forwards, the Consensus pressing heavily against him. The officer pulled the Taser from his belt, the weapon fizzing to life. Seb caught him by the wrist, and with strength fuelled by Avatari, he forced the officer to press his own weapon into his side as it discharged. Seb stepped back as the officer convulsed on the floor.