I forlornly wished that I could Cloak so I could just Jump all the way there instead. It would turn a two hour cab ride into a thirty minute thrill ride, if that. There was nothing like the sheer speed and excitement that accompanied Jumping, by far one of the coolest abilities I had attained.
Mages couldn't fly, unless they were air Aethers, and even then it was more along the terms of gliding. However, every mage worth their salt could Jump. Like Vik and the others had done when escaping the roof of structure 5 on the night of the hazing, and Les had done just hours before. I would send myself into the air using as much telekinetic force that my body could withstand until gravity pulled me down again. I would then slow my fall by pushing with aggregated force against the earth that would eagerly anticipate me. The result would be me landing gently onto the ground, as if I had only leapt a few feet into the air rather than several hundred. Then I would do it again, over and over, until I reached my destination.
But Jumping without a Cloak would just be asking for trouble, unfortunately. So the cab ride it was. It was probably for the best, thirty minutes of straight Jumping would probably leave me worn out and half dead by the time I arrived. The energy trade-off was still extraordinary, even if I could better manage the conversion and output of magic to useable telekinetic energy now. True, I wasn't just an amateur anymore, I was Wise.
Now I was a Wise amateur.
"All A's." My father said abruptly, speaking for the first time midway through the meal, much to my trepidation. I had hoped half-heartedly that he wouldn't speak at all.
"Yes sir."
"Or I will stop paying."
"I understand."
"And don't take that tone with me."
"What tone?" I said with sheer irritation before I could stop myself. Oops. I saw my mother stiffen in her seat and give me a warning look. Too late, mom.
Navigating a conversation with my father this month had become like navigating a minefield on tip-toes. He had never been quite this insufferable before, and I realized grimly that my months away had had the opposite effect on his temper than I had hoped. It was almost a manic anger now, bubbled far past its boiling point and spilling over whenever I neared him.
My father glared at me, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth, "What was that?"
"I'm sorry." I said mutely, "I forgot, sir."
For a brief second it looked like it wouldn't work and he would lash out at me… but then my father breathed in slowly and reined in his temper, "Nicholas." He sighed heavily, as if it pained him, "You are my son. You must understand why I am so angry with you."
I listened, attentively sitting up in my seat at this new, different development. My father glanced at my mother, who nodded encouragingly to him. I sensed conspiracy, but said nothing, just waiting for what would be a startling new development.
He continued, "You are my only child. And for years, I believed you to be a smart, independent young man. Your grandmother always spoke of you as such, and I had long been distracted first by my schooling, and then work. You grew up without me, but you grew up well. When you were in high school I had never seen a more confident young man."
My mouth was agape, I was… pleasantly surprised. I hadn't heard any sort of compliment from the man in ages, what had brought this about?
It was, too good to last of course, his grip tightened around his fork, "But it was a lie." My father said through gritted teeth, "Your grades, I found, were subpar. You were not even able to secure a spot at the University of Virginia. Do you know how ashamed I was? To look at my son and realize that I had failed to raise him properly? Then you insist, fighting tooth and nail after months of looking like a kicked puppy, to run off with God knows who, to Detroit of all places! Why, Nicholas?"
"I… I wanted to get away." I replied quietly, "My friends, father, after they died…"
"The vagrants that led you astray." My father said darkly, "Yes, I remember your… friends. They ruined you."
"I loved them!" I responded hotly, "Don't badmouth any of them!"
My father stood, enraged yet again, ready to yell at me.
"Stop it."
We both turned to look at my mother, who had spoken for the first time, "Stop it, the both of you." She said quietly, "This isn't how a family should act." Taking a deep breath, she looked at me, "Nicholas, I know we haven't been the best parents, but can you not admit to us that you haven't been the best son you can be?"
"Mom, I-"
She raised a hand, "No, Nicholas. You lied to us about your grades, about your friends, and where you were going for college. You may think that your father is hard on you, but do you not see how you have betrayed him? Both of us? Your actions, your secrets, they have consequences that you don't see, Nicholas. You've hurt us with them."
Apparently this was going to be a dinner of many revelations. Unlike my father or even myself, my mother wasn't much for making speeches, and she kept her opinions mostly to herself. She loved her job. She loved it more than she loved me, I believed bitterly, most of the time. Mother had never shown any interest in me until the curtain had been pulled back and I proved not to be the excellent student and son that she had always believed me to be. Even then, she left it all to my father to decide how to best handle me.
"Tell him, dear." My mom urged my father, causing me to look back at him questioningly.
I had never seen my father look so defeated as he did in that moment, "My father," He said heavily, "Your grandfather, Nicholas, is coming here to expand the family business in America. He will be here within the next year, and will be staying with us."
That was a shocking development, to say the least. I had never met my paternal grandfather, and only had my father's words to form a shadowy picture of the man who had raised him. I imagined him to be strict, uncompromising, and to abhor failure with a passion that had to at least match my own father's.
"He will be bringing your cousin Rafe," My father continued, "Who will be turning eighteen and will be attending college in America."
It made more sense to me now, as I attempted to fit pieces together, "Is that why you wanted me to go to UV so bad?" I wondered aloud, "You wanted me to impress grandfather?"
"Yes." My father admitted with a sigh, "I have sung your praises to him, Nicholas. Perhaps too much. You see… I was always a disappointment in your grandfather's eyes. I never had the talent for the business, not like my brother, your uncle. I paved my own way in life, with your mother to support me. If I hadn't had her, I would have never been able to become the man I am today."
"You are pretty good together." I said with a smile, "You practically run the hospital, you agree on everything… and neither of you really wanted me."
They shared a panicked look, "Oh Nicholas." My mother said shaking her head, "We do love you, and we did want you… but you arrived in our lives at such a bad time. We weren't ready for you."
"I understand." I said, and I really did. I just wished that this explanation hadn't taken so long to get to me, because I had never understood before. How could I understand my absentee parents, when this was by far the longest and deepest conversation we had shared, ever?
"This is why you must do better." My father said, "I need you to be the best you can be, Nicholas. If not for me, then for yourself when your grandfather comes. If he finds you not to his liking… he could cut us from the family completely. You will lose any chance of the inheritance that you deserve. You are a Stratus and you deserve the legacy that comes with it. I believe you deserve the world, Nicholas."
My father stared at me with a sudden intensity, and I realized for the first time that he wasn't just looking at me, but past me. He was looking towards the future and what he thought I could be.
"You just have to prove it." He said with finality, "To us, to your grandfather, and most of all, to yourself."
Chapter 13: Work and Play
My return to Detroit wasn't heralded with much fanfare, and I arrived at the APA house sometime af
ter two in the morning. In the dead of night, it looked especially foreboding to me, and I wondered if it hadn't been such a good idea to move in here. The fact that I was living under the same roof as Danae Lincoln alone should have scared me off.
When I entered the living room, I was somewhat surprised to find it still occupied, despite the late hour.
Vik saluted me with his beer when he saw me walk over to where the small group was relaxing by the fire, "Hey Virginia, how was home? Shuck any corn?"
"Hah, funny." I retorted, "It's not the boonies, you know. I have a pretty nice house." One that would probably get nicer. My father and mother spent the rest of our time together discussing the benefits of either moving to a bigger house or developing additions onto the one we already had. I was in favor of additions, but my father seemed more inclined to want to just move to a bigger place.
Larry Chen smiled woozily at me, "Cheers, Stratus." He was all but gone, drunk as a skunk, and still putting down even more. Unlike Vik, he had gone with the hard stuff. I spied an empty bottle of Vodka spun out in the corner, and I wondered if Larry had finished it all himself. Les's mentor sure smelled like he did, at least.
"Rejected from Harvard." Vik said to me in a stage whisper when I came to sit next to him on the couch by the fire, "But he got into U of M. That's probably the only reason he hasn't passed out drunk yet. Poor guy, it was his second choice."
"Fuck Harvard." Larry sobbed, all but crying. It was by far the most emotion I had ever seen from the stolid student body president.
"How was vacation, Stratus?" was the mild question from only other occupant in the room. Ruark was absorbed in a thick looking tome. He seemed, as a whole, disinclined to look up on principle.
I shrugged, "Alright." I could still feel the fading bruises of the many, many, stones that Les had pelted me with in an attempt to break open the Wise Gate quickly. Methods aside, I had to grudgingly admit that the month had gone very well. Already I felt like I had improved significantly enough that I felt light years from where I was before break had begun.
"Good to hear it." Vik said heartily, grabbing another beer from a cooler placed away from the fire, then fixed me with a heavy stare, "I might just have to test out how well you've improved myself."
I gulped and looked away, chuckling weakly, "Ha ha… yeah… maybe later."
"Don't scare the kid, Vik." Ruark chuckled, "What classes are you doing this semester, Stratus?"
"Cell Bio, English 2, Gen Chem 1, Art History." I recited my schedule, grimly recalling that I would need to ace all of them. For once I didn't fear angering my parents. I was afraid of disappointing them. Funny how one conversation could change so much.
"Sounds like fun." Ruark said mildly, "Don't expect another gift, like with last semester."
Vik snickered, "You got a B in Bio, Stratus… kind of pathetic for a Pre-Med."
My face flushed suddenly, "I was under a lot of stress." I mumbled. I had somehow been under the impression that only Ruark knew about the grade change.
"My mother could have gotten an A in that class." Larry said sourly, "Pathetic, but at least I know you'll never get into Harvard either."
"Doesn't your mother only speak Mandarin?" Vik wondered aloud, "Getting an A would be a pretty good achievement for her."
"Yes." Larry muttered, "And tomorrow I'll get to listen to her cuss me out in Mandarin… sometimes I wish I could just-!" He gestured at the fireplace and the merry flames grew in size for a moment, sparking angrily before Larry let go of his power and the fire settled back down to a quiet happy crackle.
Vik laughed at the attempt at fire magic, "How cute, hey Aether-boy, why don't you show him how it's really done?"
"Pass." I said, trying not to think about how much damage I could do if I let loose with fire after Wising up. I had a feeling if I tried; I could burn the entire house down. Rather than pride, the idea of it just scared me.
"You're no fun." Vik pouted, and the expression looked out of place. He guzzled down the last of his beer and stood on shaky feet. He picked up the bemoaning Larry and tossed him over a single shoulder like one would carry a sack of potatoes.
"Bedtime for us." The frat leader said cheerfully, "Good night, weaklings."
"I need to piss." Chen mumbled into Vik's back as his head bobbed against it on Shah's way over to the next room where the stairs were.
"Shut up, Larry. Don't ruin my grand exit."
Then they were gone, leaving me and the reading Ruark. Alone, all I could remember was the dirty-blond User pulling Rodriguez's gun from my grip, and Emily dying by it the very next day. Back in Detroit again, the problems I had with my own coven seemed very real.
I had to ask the question that had been bothering me since before I had even left, since the officers had accused me in the interrogation room.
"Ruark…" He looked up, I breathed deeply and asked, "Did you do it? Were you the one who killed Emily?"
He didn't respond right away, but his expression reminded me of the one he had worn when he cornered me in the bathroom months ago. Guilty and defeated, he looked like a man who had just been sentenced the gallows… a man who realized that he deserved punishment. My heart sank with the realization that Ruark did it, he killed his own apprentice.
"Do you like Carmen, Stratus?" Ruark said abruptly.
"What?" I asked, confused by the sudden change in topic, "Yeah, Carmen's… nice."
The older mage stared for a moment, and then said, "But do you like her? As more than a friend I mean, Stratus. Don't act like a child; you know what I'm asking."
"…I don't know yet." I admitted, "Maybe, there might be something there. Time will tell."
"Carmen likes you." Ruark said, "Maybe it's just as friends, I'm not really sure. But she does like you."
"Oh, ok." I was unsure of what to say to that, "But, that wasn't what I was asking about, Kevin."
"I know." He said with that same, sad smile, "I know, Stratus… I did it. I was the one who took the gun shot Emily, while under a Cloak. Danae wrote the words in Emily's blood, she always had an abject fascination with art. It was her idea of joke, the stupid girl… here on campus; I was the one who led the protestors. I took the side with the wrong member of the Triumvirate, and it was decided that I had to be taught a lesson."
"The wrong member of…?" I repeated, numbly shocked by the revelations, "What was the problem, Ruark? What happened that was so bad that Emily had to die?"
Kevin was silent for a long moment, then he asked, "Do you know who Randall Walsh is, Nick?"
"No." I replied, confused, "But-"
"What about a man named Anthony Daniels?"
"No, but what does that have to do with what I'm asking?" I asked with no small amount of frustration in my voice, "Can you just tell me what happened?"
Ruark nodded with what I supposed was a calming smile, "Easy, Nick. You have a tendency to ask people questions… and get answers. I'm trying to see what you already know or have been told, that's all."
I shook my head, "I don't know anything about anything, Ruark."
The bigger mage nodded and leaned back in his chair, "Probably for the best," He murmured, "You never know who is whispering lies in your ear. This is what happened, Stratus, and don't make me tell you twice. It's not something I like repeating. No one here does, except maybe Danae, but she's crazy. Everyone else would rather just forget it ever happened…"
He looked to the fire and began after a pause, "Randall Walsh, alongside Christopher Allen and William Lincoln were the three members of the Archanos Triumvirate. Their word was law. They had a falling out, some months ago over a certain project that was headed and controlled by several Archanos mages. Such efforts aren't rare; most covens are always trying to further their own power. It was over this enterprise and the results that were being received that the feud began. Allen and Lincoln on one side while Walsh was firmly on the other. It eventually came to blows, and Walsh and his supporters were defeated, and by the end of it,
Walsh was dead."
"What was the project?" I asked.
Ruark grimaced, "It wasn't the nicest of things. The man I asked if you've heard of, Anthony Daniels, he was a professor here at the school. Tenured, well respected, and a mage to boot. The frat was aware of him and his secret experiments, but for the most part he left us alone, and we left him alone. The argument was over one of Professor Daniel's projects… it was labeled the Aberrant Project."
"Aberrant…" My mind flashed back to the fight I had with the two men who had once been Normals, but were driven insane by Rupert Kraven, all so they could develop magical abilities.
The User thumbed a page in his book, "Yes. None of us were sure of the details… it was supposedly something that would allow better control of them. Working with Aberrants is a practice that I don't think most approve of, but it's necessary. Every coven has telepathic specialists that work to create them, their own personal servants and half-mad miniature armies. They aren't much against Users, but against Normals they're highly effective."
It was a lot for me to take in. The idea of forcing Normals to become Users, stealing their sanity and free will in the process had been a dirty idea in the first place. Yet another shameful practice that I hadn't known about, and was frustrated to find that I could do little about. Time was what I needed… time and strength. The more I found out, the less I liked about the society I had stumbled upon.
Somehow, I felt that this was only the beginning of what I knew, as well. The tip of the iceberg.
"We went to Allen." Ruark continued, "Most of the initiates here were behind me. We wanted to try and convince him to persuade Lincoln into reconsidering. After all, what could one more project mean in the scope of the whole coven? Allen had always listened to us before and was usually supportive… but this time, he wasn't. He kicked us out of his office, and the next day, Walsh was dead. Professor Daniels had apparently left to go on an extended trip out of the country."
"Allen…" I shook my head in disbelief, "President Allen, the head of the university, is a mage and Archanos member?" Apparently Jimmy was right, but it had seemed too obvious to be true to me. The entire University was headed by a mage… and a Triumvirate member, no less.
Mage of Shadows Page 26