by RJ Blain
“That they did. With your lung capacity as low as it is, you need all the help you can get.”
“With my lung capacity as it is, shouldn’t I be dead?”
“They didn’t fully disrupt your abilities. They just disrupted it enough you have the bare minimum to force your lungs to heal properly, or so they say. You’re still breathing, so I’m assuming they got it right. Let’s keep it that way. I’ll even be nice and offer my arm so you can haul your ass to your wheelchair yourself without suffering through even more indignation, although I’m pushing you to the lounge.”
I’d take what I could get, and with minimal help, I made it from the stool to the wheelchair without putting any weight on my cast. “What was my grade for the shooting?”
“Better than I expected for how rusty you are. You’re motivated. It’ll do.”
The lounge adjacent to the firing range reminded me of a fancy night club mixed with a high-end cafe. The sofas, capable of eating people, made an excellent place to relax and read. I even managed to scoot from the wheelchair to the woman-eating couch without help, although the cushions did their best to trap me in their sinfully soft embrace. I contemplated a nap. Instead, I propped my cast up on the opposite arm, grabbed a ridiculous number of papers from the nearby coffee table, and began the tedious task of flipping through them to get a better feel for what the politicians were up to.
According to the table of contents, the bill would completely revamp the magical aptitude rating system, reorganize how the government approached certain classes of abilities, mine included, and otherwise rewrite how the United States functioned.
I could understand why people would kill over the legislation, and it only took me a few pages to figure it out. The rich would become richer, but people like me, exsanguinators with a rating of over 80.0%, would be drafted to serve in the military or some branch of law enforcement. To add insult to injury, those hurt most by the rules would be the young, as they’d be drafted as soon as their abilities were identified. The legislation prevented those under for life contracts from being drafted, although the owner of the contract would be required to track and report the whereabouts of their exsanguinator at all times.
I suspected if they had their way, we’d all be microchipped and tracked continuously.
Other dangerous abilities, including pyrotechnics of over 80.0%, would likewise be recruited into the military upon discovery. People like Bradley would be snagged in the government’s grab for military or law enforcement, although he’d be given a cushier role in the court system with a notable exception.
Those who held for life contracts enjoyed the same benefits as those who lived under them. I could only presume the for life contracts the adepts often used served as a loophole to make certain that those with high enough ratings to be a threat but too low to truly classify as an adept would fall under the heel of the government goonies also known as politicians.
Assholes, one and all.
To my annoyance, the more I read, the clearer it became the politicians in charge of the bill wanted people like Bradley alive and happy with their lot in life, offering a variety of incentives to encourage them to participate willingly while layering on some fairly severe consequences for draft dodging.
I didn’t need any help reading between the lines; the rules would put people like me in the line of fire while encouraging people like Bradley to play within the restraints of the reformed government.
The documentation didn’t offer any suggestions on who might have killed the creators of the bill or why. However, it did offer four names of potential targets, the surviving politicians responsible for its existence.
I considered lighting the entire thing on fire for the satisfaction of watching it burn.
“That’s quite the expression on your face,” Bradley said. “How are you feeling? I’m going to guess angry.”
“That’s one way to put it. I’m conflicted.”
“About?”
“Are we really losing anything as a society if these assholes bite the bullet? This bill is a human rights violation. It’s just atrocious.”
“Yeah. That was my general opinion when I started going through it last night. I am not impressed. The whole thing is designed to catch adepts who have refused to participate in the for life contracting system or those who don’t tend to be selected—borderline adepts, people who could potentially become a significant influence but haven’t quite gotten there yet. It would enslave their children, especially with the trend of children developing strong abilities. You haven’t gotten to the bad part yet.”
“Bad part?”
“Towards the end, they reclassify the entire rating system. Your rating will remain ridiculous. According to the new system, my rating would drop to roughly 60.4%, as I have some limitations in how often I can use my abilities before I’m exhausted.”
My brows shot up, and I flipped through the sheets to locate the aptitude rating charts, discovering a complete overhaul of the system. I held the opinion Bradley’s should have remained in the upper spectrum, but they adjusted the ratings to include organic versus inorganic readings, with inorganic-exclusive abilities automatically losing thirty percent off its score. “I can’t tell if this is good or bad for you.”
“Good, mostly. The for life contracting system eliminates rating requirements and instead uses a rarity rating. I maintain a high rarity rating, but I have a lower applicable rating, which would allow me to legally dodge the draft. As I will maintain the appropriate rarity rating, your for life contract with me would still stand, so you’d remain protected from the draft. My parents are too old for the draft, which is defined as anyone below the age of fifty.”
“They’re leaving the draft open to anyone below fifty?”
“It’s after the charts for the rating adjustments.”
I needed a match, some gasoline, a building capable of holding every copy of the bill in question, and the creators of the legislation. Once I had the pyre going, I would need many marshmallows. “This is complete and total bullshit.”
“It also explains a lot about why the FBI and local law enforcement aren’t moving in a satisfactory fashion regarding these investigations.”
“But they get a lot of cheap labor. I don’t see the problem. Granted, I haven’t had much time to look through this nonsense yet, so there’s probably worse stuff in here somewhere.”
“They’ll lose their jobs to a bunch of drafted people who don’t want to be in law enforcement in the first place. They’re not stupid, and if anyone leaked these documents to the Feds or cops, they would not be inclined to find the real killers, as these murders might stall the bill so it doesn’t make it through to the President of the United States. The real problem is this: if it does make it through to the top, there’s a decent chance he’ll sign. It benefits the military too much for him not to. They’ll want this to pass before the end of his term, as it’s doubtful the next President will sign. I suspect the next President would threaten to veto it and kill the bill before it even reached the congress.”
Crap. “We can’t win, can we? We either allow the bill to die along with a bunch of asshole politicians, or we find the killer but run a high risk of this bill making it through legislation?”
“Right. That about sums it up.”
“And the killers would have seen these documents. Probably. They have probably seen these documents.”
“I’d say it’s probable, and it’s one hell of a motivation for most groups right now to want this bill to die before it’s voted on. However, they could also be supporters of the bill trying to frame exsanguinators to pressure politicians to do something about the situation. Exsanguinators would be severely controlled as a result of the bill, should it pass in its current state. You’re the only exsanguinator under a for hire contract.”
No kidding. “You’d be a target, too.”
“I’d do all right under these terms. My entire family would. Jezabella would be the onl
y one at risk, and my mother is working on that problem now.”
“She is? How? I thought Jezabella wouldn’t have the appropriate rating.”
“There’s a familial clause, and they don’t exempt based on adoption. So, because my mother can read organics, and Jezabella hasn’t been rated as incapable of it, she might be caught in one of the nets.”
“That’s stupid. Magical aptitude is purely inherited. You can’t gain somebody’s ability through adoption.”
“The whole bill is stupid.” Bradley sighed.
It was. I wanted to scream, but I glowered at the damned paperwork making a mess of my day. “How is your mother going to handle the situation with Jezabella?”
“A for life contract.”
“Great. Playing to the system.”
“She’s getting a lawyer.”
I blinked. “Pardon? Did you just say Jezabella is getting a lawyer for her for life contract?”
“Yes.”
“But why a lawyer?”
“Lawyers are useful, she has a shameless crush on him, he has a shameless crush on her, and it’s a good pairing. As I’ve caught Jezabella looking at her lawyer a lot like my mother looks at my father, I’ve come to the conclusion that she would be getting herself into trouble with him anyway. The for life contract also solves some other problems.”
“What other problems?”
“The lawyer’s family is rather racist.”
I cringed. “Okay, I can see how that would be a problem. But how does the for life contract solve that problem?”
“It’s a for life contract, Janette. The Hampton family, particularly Jezabella, would control who he marries, when he marries, and if he marries. Because she loves him, it’s also going to be written into the contract that he can agree to those terms or not, although he will be stuck working with her for life if they don’t work out. Considering they’ve been fawning over each other for years despite his family’s issues, I suspect it’ll work out.”
Right. Technically, I’d signed away those rights, not that I’d believed myself in any position to have the time to marry anybody. “That’s generous for a for life contract.”
“Well, when you’re an adept marrying into an adept family, marriage tends to be till death do you part.”
I wrinkled my nose at that. “Marriage tends to be till death do you part, but cheating is rampant, bastards are common, and everybody looks the other way because love has nothing to do with marriage among adepts.” I considered the Hampton family’s proposal for Jezabella’s attorney. “Usually. Does this attorney have a name?”
“No.”
I raised a brow. “Are you playing the disapproving brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do I know this attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Do I like this attorney?”
“Outside of my mother, do you like any attorney?”
I considered that. “You make a good point. I didn’t really get along with any of the attorneys, did I?”
“You liked to check your guns over while giving them a heavy dose of the eye. I thought it was funny. They did not. So, while you know the lawyer, I’m doing my sister a favor and withholding the information until he’s either signed her contract or she has married him—or both. Probably both. I’m sure you’d be invited to the wedding.”
The doubt in his voice amused me, as I could only think of a few of the Hampton’s lawyers who were scared enough of me to go out of their way to avoid me, and only one of them was anywhere near Jezabelle’s age—and the Hamptons drew lines on that subject. They preferred a spread of no more than five years, which made Daniel Jerrods the probable lawyer. “Daniel Jerrods, from a rather old and established conservative family out of Virginia. He came to New York for university and job opportunities, and he shared a few classes with you—along with an interest in cars. He’s scared of me because I’m a woman who drives better than he does, handles guns better than he does, and can use long words he doesn’t understand. It’s a curable offense. A dictionary can help him with that, although I’ll be honest, I used long, big, and scary words because it bothered him.”
“I figured as much. So, the bill leaves the playing field wide open. It could be someone who hates exsanguinators trying to get them heavily restricted. It could be one of the hate groups who wants a revamp of society to control adepts. It could be one of the hate groups who wants adepts to have more power. About the only group of people who probably have no real horse in this race is the pure mundanes. Life doesn’t change for them all that much.”
“Really?” I flipped through the sheets to get back to the table of contents, which had a section dedicated to pure mundanes. I located the three pages on them, reading through the documents with narrowed eyes.
If anything, the pure mundanes would like the bill, as it encouraged adept households to marry them through huge tax incentives. The mundanes also enjoyed significantly lower taxes due to their established disadvantages in society. Then, in a move that startled me, anyone below 20.5% enjoyed similar benefits, with a few modifications. “So, adepts who want that tax benefit might start pushing for this.”
“Right, especially since the tax benefits are pretty substantial. It would backfire on them in the next generation.”
“Their children would probably be borderline or drafted,” I guessed.
“Precisely. So, it looks good on paper until you think about the consequences. Once I started thinking through the various consequences, I realized just how nefarious this document is. I can’t even claim I like Godrin anymore after seeing what he had a hand in building.”
“Except he would have believed you might approve of this bill, as your family has a lengthy history of producing higher end adepts. Not only that, the rarity rating associated with your abilities would offer you additional protections. You would be safe from the draft in almost any circumstances. And he knew you control a for life contract.”
“Of an exsanguinator, no less. That does make me wonder, as I would bet his contribution to the bill included the exclusions for exsanguinators in for life contracts. There’s only one of them, and that’s you.”
“We’re the sharks of the magic world,” I muttered, well aware of the prejudices I’d faced growing up because my magic could kill people with a single thought from me. “The instant my ability became known, people began to fear me.”
“I don’t fear you.”
“That’s probably because your mother dropped you on your head as a baby.”
“I did no such thing,” Bradley’s mother announced from somewhere behind me. “He isn’t afraid of you because you’re a gentle giant. You just look scary. Well, unless you’re working with a gun, in which case you’re very scary. Lenard showed me footage of your shooting today. Not bad for not having worked a weapon in years. Your arm strength leaves a lot to be desired, but your lungs have to heal first. Why are you being rude about Daniel, Bradley?”
“I wasn’t being rude.”
“You were.”
“Just because I won’t go out with him for beers doesn’t mean I’m being rude. I don’t drink, Mom. He doesn’t drink, either. He just wastes a beer so he looks proper in a bar. I end up sitting in the bar with a coffee while he wastes a beer. I’m saving us both money.” Bradley scowled at his mother. “I thought you were staying in Manhattan tonight.”
“I decided against it. As I’m doing all sorts of lawyer things today, I have some proposals for you to go over.”
“I’ve been reading this bill most of the night and today when I haven’t been dancing to Lenard’s tune. Can it wait?”
“No, as it deals with legalizing Janette’s secondary identity. Most of the paperwork is done, but you need to sign some documentation to support it. Mostly, verifying statements that you ordered Janette to only return when she was in her prime, which was before several operations that may have impaired her memory.”
“Okay. That’s no problem. Is there anything e
lse you need?”
Poor Bradley. If he’d just agreed to look at the paperwork, he might not have invited additional work for himself. The years wouldn’t have changed his mother that much, and if all she needed was some supporting documentation, she would have used the wonders of couriers, a fax machine, or email to handle the paperwork.
“As a matter of fact, yes. You’re young, single, and rich. You need to start making some adjustments to that list. As not being rich would cause you significant problems, particularly on the medical bill front, being young will take more time than you have for this discussion, you need to evaluate your stance as a single man.”
I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t laugh at Bradley. Instead of staying quiet, I snorted. Shocked I’d broken the sacred rules of professional, I choked trying to contain my mirth, failed, and dissolved into giggles. My abused lungs complained, and I gasped for breath while fighting to regain my composure.
“You’re young and single, too, missy,” Bradley’s mother warned in her sternest tone.
It took me a minute, but I calmed myself and breathed until my chest no longer hurt. “I’m also crippled, come with extensive medical bills, and like being a librarian.”
“You can be all of those things and be young but not single.”
Uh oh. I’d signed up to be a bodyguard, and being a bodyguard involved learning when someone was up to something, and Bradley’s mother was definitely up to something, and it involved my status as a single woman. I held up a part of the stack of documents taking over my life. “I’m too busy to adjust my status as young and single. Time will adjust the young part of my status eventually.”
“It’s a few sheets of paper and a judge to correct the single portion of your status, and I would be more comfortable if all children in my household were safely married to the appropriate people. There are clauses in that bill involving married couples of the appropriate ratings.”
“Mother, she’s in a for life contract with me. We’re both safe from the bill on the grounds of that alone. We discussed this at length.”