Zen and the Art of Major Magical Control

by Devin Harnois

  “I…” Aiden’s mouth hung open. “No, I don’t. I don’t agree with all this.” He pointed at the flyer on the table. “But I think they should investigate what happened. Maybe the wardens were wrong; maybe they overreacted. Maybe he was afraid they’d kill him, and he was trying to defend himself. We don’t know why he ran in the first place. Maybe he had a good reason.”

  At least Aiden wasn’t swallowing the official line.

  “It’s creepy looking at him,” Tiago said, gaze fixed on the picture. “Knowing that could be me if I’d stayed with my parents. If we’d gotten caught.” He stabbed at his pork chop absently. “That could be them tomorrow.”

  “I sorta get now why you don’t want to turn them in,” Dylan said.

  “Shhh!” Tiago’s eyes went wide.

  “Right, sorry.” Even talking quietly, plenty of people could overhear them. “But you brought it up.”

  Slowly and carefully, Tiago said, “I have no idea where my parents are or where they might be.”

  At this point, that might be true. Tiago certainly hadn’t expected them to turn up in Shadow Valley, and he hadn’t seen them in the months since. Even if Tiago wanted to help the wardens catch them, he probably couldn’t.

  “But like, in theory, if I were you, I’d still want to hurt them somehow.”

  “Sometimes I feel like that too,” Tiago said.

  Aiden squeezed Tiago’s shoulder, and Dylan could tell he wanted to do more than that. Dylan bit back a joke about making out.

  So many damn secrets at this table.

  And Dylan might be adding one more, because he still wanted to go to that protest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  On Friday Dylan took Aiden to school like normal and sat through Health like nothing was wrong. Guilt twisted in his gut. He almost got hurt during Major Magical Control, the fox sisters looking at him with concern as one of their spells knocked him flat on his back.

  Dylan changed his mind a dozen times, but in the end he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t go. So instead of going to lunch, Dylan got in his car and drove to city hall.

  A little stage had been set up across the street from the front doors, with a podium and microphones and everything. Several big lights surrounded the area, making it almost as bright as day. The whole street was blocked by the crowd. People stood around with signs saying things like Justice! and Wardens Lie, We Die!

  As Dylan made his way into the crowd, a few people turned to stare at him. Then someone ran up to him, eyes wide. He recognized the girl who had been handing out fliers.

  “Dylan! Oh my God, you came!” She grabbed his arm, and he yanked it back. “Oh, sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. “You should follow me.”

  “Why?” The whole thing seemed surreal and amazing, and he was overwhelmed. Now he was getting too much attention, and he wondered if he should leave.

  “You should go up and make a speech,” the girl said.

  Yeah, maybe leaving was a good idea. “No.”

  She blinked uncertainly. “Um, well. Okay. But you should meet some people. Have you met Dalton’s parents?”

  Dalton…? Oh yeah, the werewolf kid the hunters had murdered. The first victim of the corrupt wardens who had been kidnapping people so mundanes could hunt them for sport. “Yeah. Once.” They’d come to his house to thank him for helping to catch the killers.

  “Well, I’m sure they’d love to talk to you again. Come on. Please?”

  Everyone was watching him. But not in fear. It reminded him a bit of the spring exhibition—being the center of attention in a good way. So he followed the girl as she wove her way through the crowd to the side of the stage.

  Dalton’s parents were dressed in suits with long black wool coats over them, talking to a small group. They smiled when they saw him.

  “Dylan,” Dalton’s dad said. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Dylan flinched when the man patted his shoulder. “Uh, yeah.”

  “We’ll never forget how you and your mom caught our son’s killers,” Dalton’s mom said.

  “Mr. Johnson too.” Holy crap, he couldn’t believe he’d just stuck up for the warden. “And Aiden,” he added hastily.

  “Yes, them too,” she agreed, though it didn’t quite sound sincere.

  “Are you going to speak? We’d love it if you did,” Dalton’s dad said.

  “I’m not much of a… speech person.” How many people were standing out there? A hundred? Two hundred?

  “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Dalton’s mom said. “Just speak from the heart. Share your feelings about the wardens and how they’ve treated you with suspicion your whole life.”

  Dylan thought about pointing out that everyone had treated him with suspicion, including the werewolves. He glanced at the growing crowd again. They wanted to hear him. They were carrying signs that ranged from challenging Enrico Abelli’s death to being outright anti-warden and anti-treaty. And they were doing it right in front of city hall. Talk about defying authority. Here was a chance to do something truly rebellious.

  “Just… talk?”

  “Yes.” Dalton’s mom smiled. “Go on up there, Dylan.”

  Right now? Dylan swallowed. Before he could chicken out, he climbed up on the small stage and walked to the podium.

  The crowd murmured and then began to clap and cheer. Everyone turned toward him. He could see a few police guarding the doors to city hall and standing at the edges of the crowd. Waiting for trouble, no doubt.

  “Hi, I’m Dylan.” Oh, great. That was so lame. But the cheering got louder and his chest swelled. Speak from the heart, she’d said. “All my life I’ve been treated like a… a bomb about to go off. All because I was born dragonkin. I was guilty before I ever did anything, locked up in this town. I can’t even get a pass to go on vacation. I’ve never been outside Shadow Valley.”

  People shouted comments. He made out the words “Unfair!” and “That’s not right!”

  “Wait, no. I have.” He gripped the sides of the podium. Wood, so he better not get too pissed and set it on fire. “When wardens kidnapped me and dragged me outside of town so I could be hunted.”

  More shouting and lots of booing. It felt so… powerful to stand up here and have people hang on his every word. “And now there’s a warden in my school, watching my every move. Threatening to throw me out of school and put me in prison.” He’s gonna be so pissed when he finds out I came here.

  Yeah, and so would Mr. Johnson. And Aiden. Dylan tried to ignore the sting of guilt. It felt so good to vent his frustration with so many people cheering him on. The crowd kept getting louder, and he had to pause to let the noise die down.

  “Why should I be treated like this? Why should anyone be treated like this?”

  The spectators were practically roaring now, waving their signs, pumping their fists in the air. Dylan looked up at city hall where a few people without uniforms stood at the top of the stairs. Wardens probably.

  Fear and defiance warred inside him, but finally Dylan stared straight at them and shouted, “Fuck the wardens!”

  The crowd went nuts.

  Dylan raised both middle fingers, elation making him light-headed, and walked off the stage.

  Dalton’s dad clapped him on the back. “That was wonderful.”

  “Excellent job, Dylan,” Dalton’s mom said.

  Several more people came up to congratulate him, shaking his hand or patting his shoulder, and Dylan could only stand with a goofy grin on his face.

  Zoned out, he missed when Dalton’s mom started speaking. She was at the podium now with Dalton’s dad beside her.

  “… took my son from me.” Her hands gripped the sides of the podium. “The wardens claim they found everyone responsible, rooted out the corruption. But do we know how deep the infection goes? Can we really trust anyone that holds themselves as judge, jury, and executioner?”

  The crowd looked even more pissed off now. Dylan spotted a cop at the edge of th
e protest, and he looked a little nervous. The wardens in front of city hall had expressions ranging from carefully neutral to glaring anger.

  “Too long we’ve stood meekly by and followed the treaty without question. Allowed the council and the wardens to lock up our innocent children in order to protect the mundane world.” Her voice had a growl in it. “And now they’ve murdered a man for stepping out of line. And we’re supposed to be content with the wardens’ explanation of events?”

  Dylan’s power coiled inside him. The cold air carried a mixture of scents as several other people were close to using their magic.

  “How many more of our neighbors, our friends, our children have to die before we do something about it?”

  An object sailed out of the crowd and hit one of the wardens. It shattered into white powder as it hit her, and Dylan realized it must have been a snowball. The warden shouted in surprise and started marching toward the crowd.

  Another snowball hit a different warden. A few people in the crowd laughed.

  Then something else flew from the crowd, hitting a warden in the chest and then shattering on the ground with a distinctive tinkle.

  All the wardens and police tensed and started coming at the crowd. The scent of magic grew even stronger.

  Dylan froze. This was his chance to really fight back. But how could this possibly end well? Even with this many people, would they be able to fight the wardens, the council, and the police?

  A spell crackled in the air, flashing amid the people with yellowish light. Dylan couldn’t tell if it was from the wardens or the protesters.

  That was it. He was getting out.

  Dylan tried to run as the crowd surged, some running toward the fight and others running away.

  A hand clamped on his arm, yanking him hard. “Down on the ground, now!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Dylan struggled and called on his magic. But at the last second he held back, realizing that if he used his power he was really sunk. No way would the council go easy on him.

  It took all his self-control to lie on the ground while a cop kneeled on his back and snapped handcuffs on him. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” Even with all the stupid rules in the treaty, they still had free speech.

  “We’ll figure that out later.”

  Two more cops came up, and they half dragged Dylan through the chaos toward the police station, which was right next to city hall. They threw him in a cell, ignoring his objections. There were two other cells to the right of him, and soon all three cells were full of protestors.

  Some of them had been paralyzed by spells. The way the cops practically dumped them on the floor made Dylan wish he’d fought back. Both of Dalton’s parents had been caught and they paced in the farthest cell.

  A few stragglers were brought in. Apparently things had died down outside. The rest of the crowd had scattered, and order had been restored. Dylan contemplated the bars, wondering if he could make a fire hot enough to burn through them.

  It was over an hour before they allowed him to make a phone call. An unfamiliar fear gripped him as he picked up the old-fashioned receiver. Mom would be so disappointed, and for a change, that bothered him.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom.” Dylan swallowed. “I’m in jail.”

  Their conversation was short, the cop standing next to him urging Dylan to hurry up. It gave him an excuse to get off the phone and cut the lecture short.

  No, delay it. Dylan was sure to get the full speech later.

  Back in his cell, he watched other people get taken to make their calls. A few people didn’t come back, and the cops said they’d been released. Dylan didn’t think he’d be so lucky.

  He’d riled up the crowd and given the finger to the wardens. If they were going to make an example, Dylan would be at the top of the list. So would Dalton’s parents.

  “This is so unfair.” Dylan dropped onto one of the narrow cots, trying not to freak out. He technically hadn’t done anything wrong, but would that stop the council from punishing him? They’d been looking for an excuse to lock him up for years, and now they had it.

  “I’m sorry you got caught,” Dalton’s mom said. She gripped the bars on the closest side of the cell. “They targeted us because we spoke.”

  “We’re the ringleaders.” Why had he come to this stupid protest? Now he’d ruined everything. They’d put him in prison, maybe forever.

  “You spoke because we asked you to. What happened wasn’t your fault,” Dalton’s mom said.

  “Don’t worry,” Dalton’s dad said. “Everything will work out.”

  A while later Dylan’s parents showed up—with Mr. Johnson. Great. The night kept getting better and better. Mom had her lips pressed together. Definitely not her usual calm. Dad looked really upset.

  A cop opened the door, glaring at Dylan. “Come on.”

  His parents and Mr. Johnson barely said a word to him as Dylan was marched to a desk where Mom signed paperwork and they handed Dylan back his things, including his phone. The message light was blinking. Probably Aiden trying to get ahold of him.

  Dylan didn’t really believe they were letting him go until he walked out of the station.

  “I hope you’re aware of how serious this is,” Mom said as they got to the car.

  Dylan opened his mouth to argue, but instead he said simply, “Yeah.” He climbed into the backseat.

  Mr. Johnson got in on the other side. “I pulled a lot of strings to get you out of there. I’m not sure I can get them to drop the charges.”

  “What charges?” Dylan had to know.

  “Agitation. Starting a riot. Resisting arrest.”

  “I did not!” Dylan clenched his fists. “That’s a fucking lie. They grabbed me, and I let them cuff me. I didn’t use magic. I didn’t fight back or anything.” He imagined knocking the cops down, changing into his dragon form, and flying away. Not looking back. That sounded so appealing right now.

  All the way home, he got to listen to a lecture in surround sound.

  * * *

  Aiden paced in front of Dylan’s house and looked up when he heard a car coming down the road. His heart hammered. Only minutes ago he’d gotten a text:

  Went to the protest. Sorry. Got arrested. Going home now. I’m fine.

  Aiden’s dad had taken him home from school and then driven him to Dylan’s house when he got the message. In his head, Aiden found a hundred ways to call Dylan an idiot while he tried to keep his anxiety under control.

  Dylan climbed out of the backseat, wearing an epic scowl. He looked fine, physically at least. Mr. Johnson got out on the other side, but Aiden barely noticed him.

  “I got your text. God… why did you go? What did you do to get arrested?” Arrested. Dylan was already being watched by the wardens. Would he go to prison? Would they find out about what he’d done? Selfishly, Aiden wondered if his involvement would come up and if he’d get in trouble too.

  Would he go to prison for lying? Aiden was still a minor, so out in the regular world he would probably get community service or something, but the rules were different here.

  Dylan glared. “I didn’t do anything.” But his gaze slid away, and he looked at the ground.

  Dylan’s mom—Bryn—looked between them. “Maybe he’ll listen to you. Why don’t you go up to his room?”

  Aiden followed Dylan upstairs. His friend didn’t say anything until his bedroom door was closed behind them.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Dylan repeated. “Just talked.”

  “Talked?” Aiden pulled out the gaming chair, trying to breathe normally.

  “In front of the crowd. Sort of a speech thing.” Dylan rubbed his hands on his thighs.

  Aiden’s heart dropped. “Oh God, what did you say?”

  Anger flashed across his face. “We still have free speech. They can’t arrest me for talking.”

  That only made Aiden sure he’d said something awful. Had he threatened the wardens?

  D
ylan’s expression softened a little, maybe as he saw something on Aiden’s face. “I said some stuff about those wardens kidnapping me and how everyone treats me like a criminal for being dragonkin.” He looked away again. “And I um, sort of said, ‘Fuck the wardens’ and gave them the finger.”

  Aiden pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling sick. “Why? Why did you even go? You promised me you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, and I probably screwed up everything, but I felt like I had to go. For the first time I thought maybe things could change. People are mad enough for something to happen, and I’m so sick of being stuck here, and now that damn warden is breathing down my neck all day…”

  Aiden had a lot of other questions, but most of them wouldn’t make a difference. The most important question was… “How much trouble are you in?”

  “I don’t know. I think mostly they were trying to scare me. Us. Did you know Dalton’s parents were there?”

  Aiden shook his head, surprised. But it made sense. Their son had been killed by evil wardens, so they might blame all wardens.

  “They got arrested too. And they made a speech. It was, uh, worse than mine.” Dylan glanced at him. “Did you hear what happened?”

  “Kids at school said there was some kind of riot.” And when Aiden still couldn’t get ahold of Dylan… Well, he’d spent some time in Mr. Emery’s office. The councilor had offered to call his parents to come take him home. At first Aiden hadn’t wanted to bother them and make one of them leave work, but as time passed and his anxiety built, he called his dad. “But they were probably exaggerating, right?” Aiden really, really hoped so.

  But his hopes were dashed by the look Dylan gave him. “I’m not really sure it was an actual riot, but someone threw a bottle and things went pretty nuts. People were throwing around spells, but I don’t know if that was just the wardens or if people were fighting back.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t use any magic, I swear. I was trying to leave when the damn cops arrested me.”