by Joshua Roots
“A three-hour hike once we get to Canada.”
“Which means we have to hoof it back to Bangor first.”
He nodded. “Hope you’re up for some more mud-bogging.”
I shivered as we trudged through the snowy wood to my backpack. “I am, so long as we get a better reception from your people.”
Steve chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. “You kidding? My clan is going to make the Centaurs’ greeting seem like a long, passionate kiss.”
Chapter 2
Mind the Rewind
“But by keeping Poseidon’s gift for himself, sacrificing one of his own cattle instead, Minos betrayed the generosity of the god. Enraged, Poseidon cursed Minos’s wife, Pasiphae, to fall in love with the bull. Filled with passion, she sought the creature of white.”
—The Legend of Ariadne
A week earlier, being chased through the woods by vengeful Centaurs wasn’t really high on my to-do list.
Apparently it wasn’t high on Steve’s either.
“No.”
Everyone but me blinked with surprise.
“Told you,” I said to the group.
We were seated in the high-backed leather chairs in my father’s study. Located in northern Virginia, the Homestead, as we affectionately called the Shifter family mansion, was especially warm that winter evening thanks, in part, to the number of people crammed into the room. To my right was Steve, who, as usual, looked like he was ready to kill something. Next to him sat my mother, Angela, the current Director of Hunter Training for the Delwinn Council. Short and blonde, she packed more punch in her miniscule frame than a pissed-off rhino.
At her side, as always, was my father, Christopher. A quiet, thoughtful man, he’d been on the Council longer than I’d been breathing, but never once brought the stress of his bureaucratic profession home with him. I didn’t understand how difficult that must have been for him until I, too, began working for the Council.
Rounding out our little party of awesome was Elder Benjamin Devon. Tall and regal, Devon had been serving as the head honcho of the governing body for the magically empowered humans, known as the Skilled, for over a generation. He tended to dress in modest robes, which was unique for a man in his position, and had zero patience for things like insubordination, disorganization, or fun.
Devon slowly set his scotch on the small table next to him. Flames from the large fireplace accentuated the lines on his face as he frowned. “This isn’t the response I expected.”
Steve raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Gee, I’m so sorry I’m not hopping to follow your orders.”
“It’s simply a request to help us and your people.”
My buddy gave him a cold gaze. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”
The Elder started to speak, but my father beat him to the punch. “Steve, I think what Benjamin is saying is how much of a bind the Council is in here. Your people intend to withdraw from the Reformation Treaty. Considering Minotaurs are the most influential of the paranormal clans, their departure would likely encourage others to follow suit. If the treaty collapses, then not only are humans fair game for paranormal hunters, but your kind won’t be protected from the fear-mongers among our species. The fact that the Minotaurs haven’t formally broken the treaty yet means there’s still hope that we can preserve our alliance. Cool heads are needed to keep the peace, which is why we’ve asked Marcus to handle the negotiations. Having you with him will add credibility.”
“Marcus? A cool head?” Steve asked with a huff of dark humor. “You guys are desperate.”
“No argument there,” I muttered.
“Amazingly, he is our best choice,” Devon replied, almost begrudgingly.
Steve cocked his head in my direction. “Seriously, why him?”
Devon relaxed, but only a little. “Partially because of his friendship with you, but mostly because after our most recent...incident, the Council is grossly understaffed.”
“By ‘incident’ you mean ‘embarrassing and fatal public catastrophe.’”
Devon’s beard twitched. I knew from experience he was fighting to control the anger hovering behind his façade of calm. At least this time it was because of someone else.
Which was a nice change of pace.
“Point is,” the Elder said, a tad louder than necessary, “we need a representative in your homeland and Marcus is the most capable candidate. He’s earned your respect, something that no one else on the Council can claim, and he’s proven his ability to adapt to adversity. Both will be crucial in dealing with the Minotaurs. Trust me, I’d love to send more people, ones trained in negotiation and politicking, but I doubt your people would be as willing to listen to them as we’re hoping they will Marcus. Somehow, despite his checkered past, he’s become our best option.”
Thanks for the backhanded compliment, ass. And thanks, once again, for bringing my childhood mistakes into the forefront of yet another Council discussion. Few people had forgotten I’d been a cocky teenager, brimming with the arrogance of a kid with a powerful family name and the impressive Skill to back it up. No one would soon forget the demon of fire and death I’d accidentally summoned, nor the loved ones it had killed before it was banished.
The scar down my neck was my own daily reminder.
Making amends, both to the dead and to the living who I’d let down, was part of what fueled me. It had been years since I’d returned to complete my training, yet I still felt the need to do right by my parents and the Council. Even if it meant tromping into the middle of nowhere to negotiate with a species that, for all intents and purposes, was trying to break up with us.
“Come on, man,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to do this alone.”
Steve glared at me. “What’d they offer you? Money? Women? A pony?”
“Nothing yet,” Devon answered. “But that is the other half of why I asked to meet with you all this evening.” He turned to me. “I spoke with the surviving Elders earlier today and they agreed that your willingness to take on this task deserves more than just our thanks.”
He paused, as if struggling to find the right words. For a moment, the only noise was the crackle of the fire.
“Okay, now I’m hoping it’s a pony,” I said, unable to bear the silence any longer.
Devon closed his eyes, took a long breath, then opened them. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m prepared to give you your father’s old position in return for fixing this problem with the Minotaurs.”
My mouth hit the floor. Hell had, in fact, frozen over. “No, seriously. What’s the offer?”
The Elder’s thick eyebrows ticked up slightly.
I looked at Dad, but he seemed just as surprised as I felt. The reality of Devon’s words slowly bled through the shock. My heart rate increased. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
The Elder tried valiantly to suppress a smile. Or maybe it was a grimace. It was hard to tell under his beard. “Part of me wishes I were. An extremely large part.”
Steve glared at the Elder. “You actually want Marcus to serve on the Council?”
Devon was completely deadpan. “Yes. For as insolent, aggravating and bullish—”
Dad cleared his throat loudly.
“—stubborn as Marcus can be at times,” the Elder corrected, “the fact remains that he is passionate about the future of the Skilled and we need fresh voices within our ranks. Since Christopher’s official appointment as an Elder will go through later this week, and with Marcus’s recent promotion to member-at-large, he is directly in line to inherit his father’s seat as Councilmember.”
“Those positions are elected by the Skilled community,” Mom said, speaking for the first time since Devon had entered the room. The caution in her voice was matched only by the tension in her sho
ulders whenever the old man was around. “They are not granted by nepotism.”
“Normally, yes,” Devon admitted, “but during times of emergency, like now, we can bypass protocol. All we need is to issue the referendum and obtain consensus among the voting members of the existing Council. And believe me,” he added, “this has nothing to do with nepotism. Even if Christopher wasn’t in the picture, the Elders would still want Marcus on board. They’re hoping he’ll force the Council to evolve.”
I couldn’t decide whether I was overjoyed or completely terrified.
Maybe a little of both.
“Uh, wow,” I stammered.
Mom gripped Dad’s hand, giving Devon a sharp glare before smiling at me. “It’s about time the Council got over themselves. They’ve kept you at arm’s length out of spite for far too long. Perhaps there’s hope for our people if they’re finally willing to accept you into their ranks.”
Devon leaned forward. “Don’t congratulate him yet, Angela. This is not something I can pass through easily. While the Elders may have agreed to this, it won’t happen without approval from the rest of the Council. They are fairly well divided in their opinion of Marcus, but if he can prove himself on this mission, enough votes should swing in his favor.”
Mom’s face went from elation to rage faster than lightning. “Who?” she demanded. “Give me names.”
“Angela,” Dad began, but Mom cut him off.
“We all know full well this is asinine. Since his return, Marcus has risked his life to protect both the Skilled and Normals. You’d think defeating a secretive organization’s plan to bring about the apocalypse and stopping a traitor within our ranks would be proof enough where his loyalty stands. Now you’re telling us they’re not?”
Apparently Devon wasn’t used to dealing with Mom, or anyone for that matter, in this state. I wanted to capture the look of complete shock on his face, frame it and hang that sucker on my wall.
He leaned back, holding up his hands defensively. “It’s not me. Marcus is more than qualified in my eyes, but the votes are what matter. There are still many Councilmembers who simply can’t forgive Marcus for walking away from his training. To them, turning his back on that tradition was the ultimate act of rebellion and betrayal. And tradition is what kept many Skilled families alive during our darkest hours.”
Mom opened her mouth, but Devon beat her to the punch. “I’m not saying it’s fair, Angela. I’m only stating the reality of the situation. A majority of old-fashioned minds still hold positions of power, so if I push this issue too early or too hard, it’ll never happen.”
“Thus the suicide mission to my homeland,” Steve interjected.
“Yes.” He ran a hand over his beard. “The fact that only half of our voting members are still wary of Marcus is proof that his accomplishments this past year have had a positive impact. This will tip the scales.”
“What happens if I fail?” I asked, fearful of the response.
The Elder gave me a long gaze. “I—honestly don’t know. I might be able to keep you in your current position.”
“But there’s no guarantee,” I finished for him. “Which means if enough members don’t agree with you, I could just as easily be booted off the Council entirely.”
“Perhaps.”
Crap.
A blow like that would be the death knell to the career I was building. It’d also make me a pariah among my peers. I’d be just another Skilled dude who wasn’t good enough to be of use to the Council. I’d been there before. It sucked.
Steve turned to me. “This promotion really something you want?”
There was a time when the thought of serving in the most bureaucratic organization of modern times would have caused me to dry heave, but now, I craved it down to my core.
“It is.”
“I’m stunned,” Steve said.
“You and me both, bud.”
“Not at the offer, but that you’d agree to this.” He shook his head. “When did you become the Council’s puppet?”
Everyone blanched. I’d been called that a lot recently, but the words stung coming from him.
“Steve,” my mother chided. “That’s totally uncalled for.”
Embarrassment softened his face. “Sorry.”
“I know you’re angry—” I started to say.
“You’re damn right I’m angry,” he replied, recovering from the admonishment. “Your people shot me!”
The memory of Steve unconscious and hooked up to hospital equipment still rattled me. He’d spent almost two weeks in the ICU, then another few in physical therapy. My folks had been kind enough to expand the gym at their place to accommodate those needs in the comfort of his new home.
Sometimes I forgot how awesome my folks were.
“In all fairness,” I said, trying to keep the mood light, “that was a gang of moronic Normals, not the Skilled.”
He crossed his arms. “Normals. Skilled. All humans are morons.”
Devon exhaled slowly. “I’m saddened you feel that way.”
“Truth hurts,” Steve shot back.
He had a point, especially since both the Skilled and Normal sides of the human coin hadn’t been exactly welcoming to the paranormal community. Granted, we were a lot more tolerant than we’d been before the Reformation Treaty brought peace between Normals and Skilled and paranormal communities twenty years ago, but fear and prejudice didn’t just disappear with a piece of paper. It would likely take another couple of generations before creatures like Steve were accepted as part of the norm instead of walking nightmares.
I leaned in toward my friend. “Listen, I get it. Humans suck. Hell, I can barely tolerate my species at times. But the fact remains that, like it or not, the world is getting smaller by the day. And humans are curious by nature. Minotaurs, Centaurs, Satyrs, Elves, the Fae and all the other creatures of mythology and lore will soon find a bright light shining on them. You all may have enjoyed a millennium of isolation, but that era is over.”
He grunted, apparently unconvinced.
“Do you really want to live in a world similar to the one before the Reformation?” I added.
Steve reached for his glass. He swirled the golden liquid, staring into it as the contents spun. The firelight filled his large, dark eyes.
“They must have a reason,” he finally said.
Devon nodded. “Their actions are in keeping with their desire for isolation, but obviously there’s more to it.”
Steve’s gaze shifted to him. “That’s not what I mean. They must have a reason for telling the Council.”
I frowned. “I’m not following.”
Steve sipped his scotch, cradling the glass in his enormous hand. “Humans are, for lack of a better term, a nuisance to my people. Most of the paranormal world is annoyed about being roped into your Reformation Treaty with the Normals without being asked. It was made worse because non-humans were, and still are, treated like an afterthought.”
Dad tapped his chin. “Agreed, but how does that play into this?”
“To be blunt, Minotaurs simply don’t care. So for them to actually bother telling you means they want something.”
“You think they’re begging for attention?” I asked.
“We don’t beg,” he growled. Then he grew serious. “This is more than attention, Marcus. This is a cry for help.”
I bit the inside of my lip, mulling over his words. Could Steve be right? Were the Minotaurs really seeking the aid of the Council?
Devon steepled his fingers. “What kind of help are we talking about here?”
Steve took a deep breath. “I don’t know and honestly, I don’t care. You’ve made your request. I’ve declined it. End of story.”
The Elder gave the Minotaur a long, hard stare. Then he rose.
>
“It seems we’re at an impasse.” The lines on his face were deeper and his voice more weary than normal. “Marcus, I trust you’re still willing to take on this task.”
“Packed and ready to go.”
“Excellent. You will travel to the Minotaurs, listen to what they have to say, and fix this situation. Quickly.” Then to Steve. “I’m sorry you’re unwilling to assist us. Or your friend. It appears we’ll have to solve this without you.”
My buddy shrugged. “Life’s a bitch sometimes.”
The muscles in the old man’s jaw clenched, then relaxed as he shook Dad’s hand. “Thank you for the drink, Christopher. Angela,” he added, bowing slightly to my mother.
“Always wonderful to see you, Benjamin.” Mom smiled, but there was no sincerity to it. “We’ll see you out.”
She stood and kissed me on the forehead.
Heat rose into my cheeks. “Mom, come on.”
Ignoring me, she reached up, gripped one of Steve’s horns, and pulled his gargantuan head down so she could give it a smooch as well.
“Stop being an ass,” she whispered to the Minotaur. Then she followed Devon and my father out of the study.
Steve stared at the empty doorway for a minute, sadness tingeing his normally hard expression. “She’s cool.”
“I was pretty lucky growing up.”
And I’d never forget it.
Steve’s nostrils flared once more. He seemed about to say something, but wound up huffing with annoyance instead. “I’ve never liked that Devon guy.”
“Yeah, he’s a tool. Powerful and horrifically clever, but a tool nonetheless.”
Steve grinned, then shifted his attention to the fire. When he spoke again, his voice was disturbingly quiet.
“I left my clan for a reason. Asking me to reconnect with them is simply too much.”
My heart ached for my friend. I knew little about his past, but the few bits and pieces he’d let slip from time to time didn’t make his childhood sound too rosy. Devon’s request wasn’t wrong, per se, but it certainly lacked empathy.