Impervious (City of Eldrich Book 1)

by Laura Kirwan

  Meaghan laughed. “Russ you should have been a litigator. Or a politician. ‘People are people even when they’re not,’” she intoned, trying to imitate his voice.

  They laughed for a moment, then Russ got serious.

  “Meg, what I said to you, I —”

  She cut him off. “Don’t. It’s fine. We’re good.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. As usual you were right.”

  Neither spoke for a long moment. Then Meaghan said, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. “What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not good enough?”

  Russ put his arms around her and gave her a tight hug, kissed her on the forehead, and stepped away. “You’re good enough. You may even be better than Dad was. But you won’t know unless you try. If you don’t at least try, then failure’s a sure thing.”

  Meaghan nodded, her eyes full of tears. She sniffled. “Well, I’m certainly better than Matthew at crying all the time.”

  Russ shook his head, smiling. “So, you have to stop kicking ass once in a while to blow your nose. Big deal. I’ll go down to the kitchen first and tell them you’re on your way. Fix yourself up and then make a grand entrance. Throw around some charm and the Troon will love you.”

  Chapter 21

  Russ was right. With a big smile and some self-deprecating comments about not being a morning person, Meaghan rehabilitated her image. After a cup of coffee and some more breakfast, the Troon—Wally, Sid, and Melanie—were her new best friends. Based on their names, the Troon had distinct genders, but Meaghan was damned if she could see the difference between them.

  Russ was also right about them being a lot of fun. The three Troon specialized in human languages, particularly English, and Wally and Sid, at least, were enamored with American pop culture. The third, Melanie, was very quiet through breakfast, following the conversation but not participating in it.

  Wally and Sid had flawless American accents. And they were wickedly funny, with a biting, catty sense of humor. In spite of herself, Meaghan was in stitches. If she’d been led into the room blindfolded, she would have sworn she was sitting at a table with a pair of bitchy drag queens channeling Joan Rivers.

  Matthew had wandered off for a nap. He seemed to be sleeping a lot more lately, but, according to Russ, he was calmer and happier than he’d been in quite a while. As much as Meaghan wanted to talk to him, she wanted to talk to a version of him that hadn’t existed in several years.

  The Troons’ pop culture talk lasted about half an hour until Wally, the older one, got down to business.

  “So, Meg, darling,” Wally oozed, “we hear Witchiepoo Procter’s been a very bad girl. Taking amulets that don’t belong to her. Using borrowed magic.”

  Meaghan frowned. “Borrowed magic? Natalie did say Emily was a lot stronger than usual.”

  Sid—who liked his coffee black with a lot of sugar—jumped in. “She was juiced big time. But we don’t know where she got it from. Yet.” He threw back the rest of his coffee. He had a wild over-caffeinated gleam in his small orange eyes. “Jamie’s such a sweetie. Why would she want to do that to him? But on the plus side, we hear you got an eyeful.” He let out a wicked cackle. “And there was a lot to see.”

  Wally sat back and surveyed the laughing Troon. “Sid, what did I tell you about the coffee? Shut up and let me tell the story.”

  Sid snorted with laughter and gestured dramatically towards Wally. “Fine, your Naginess. Sorry to steal your thunder. Proceed.” Sid leaned back in his chair and winked at Meaghan.

  “Yes, borrowed magic,” Wally continued. “She had some help. Natalie says—”

  Sid jumped in again. “Ooh, I love Natalie. She’s a firecracker.”

  Wally glared at him. “As I was saying, Natalie told me she could feel something big. Bad. Evil.” Wally rolled the word “evil” across his tongue like a fine Bordeaux. “New player. Nat swears on it.”

  “New player?” Meaghan asked.

  Wally nodded. “Partly at least. She also smelled . . .” He paused for dramatic effect. “The Order.”

  Now it was Russ’s turn to frown. “The Order? Who the hell are they?”

  Sid answered him before Wally could speak. “Russell, honey, you don’t know about the Order? You’ve been around almost as long as they have.”

  Russ shrugged. “I’m only the caterer, remember? If I don’t feed them, I don’t know them.”

  “Well,” Sid said. “Then you are never gonna know those freaks. They don’t eat.”

  Wally sighed. “They do so eat.”

  Sid snorted. “Bugs. Sticks. Mud. Nothing good. Not like Russy makes.”

  Wally sighed again, louder this time. “Would you shut up already and let me tell Meaghan the story? Without interruption?”

  Sid threw his hands up, sat back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, Mr. Thinks He’s in Charge but Isn’t Really.”

  Wally ignored him and continued. “The Order are wizards for hire. They have this crazy code they live by. Big time ascetic types. No possessions, barely any food, constant magical training. Gung. Ho.” Wally leaned forward and lowered his voice as if sharing a shameful secret. “And, they don’t believe women should do magic.”

  Russ winced like he’d been slapped. “What? Women have always done magic. Where do these whack jobs come from?”

  “From here, if you can believe it.” Wally shook his head in disbelief. “They’re human.”

  “So,” Meaghan said. “What’s their deal? If they don’t believe women should do magic, why did they help Emily?”

  “Good question. Must have been for a job. The mystery evildoer Natalie sensed.”

  “How long have they been around?”

  “Not more than twenty or thirty years,” Wally said. “That’s like being a newborn by magical standards.”

  “Has Matthew dealt with them?” Meaghan asked.

  Wally shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Wait,” Russ said. “They aren’t those half-starved guys in the gray robes, are they?”

  Wally nodded. “That’s them.”

  Russ groaned. “Oh, not them. They’re complete assholes. Dad had to deal with them once about ten years ago.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “They have actual power? Dad thought they were just wannabes.”

  The third Troon, Melanie, who had been silent throughout the meal, joined the conversation. “Emily Proctor isn’t the only one operating on borrowed magic. The Order have found a patron, it seems.” Unlike the So-Cal teenage inflections adopted by Sid and Wally, Melanie spoke with an upper crust British accent. She didn’t appear any more female, or male for that matter, than the other two.

  “The big bad thing Natalie sensed?” Meaghan asked.

  “Yes. It appears so.” Melanie shook her small blue head. “The Order are zealots. Without much power, they were merely tiresome. But with real magical ability . . .” She stared into space for a long moment, then shivered.

  Meaghan broke into her silence. “Zealots about what? Besides not eating. And let me guess. They aren’t fond of women.”

  Melanie sighed. “Purity. They’re zealots about magical purity. Or so they claim. And while they aren’t fond of anyone, they have a special lack of regard for women. Misogyny, I believe, is the technical term.”

  Russ broke in. “But how can they do magic and hate women? Magic requires a strong flow of feminine energy to work right. To do it safely, you have to draw yin power from the earth. At least that’s what Natalie always says.”

  “What power?” Meaghan asked.

  “Yin and yang, you know, the Chinese concept?”

  Meaghan gave him a blank look.

  Russ rolled his eyes. “You know, the black-and-white circle thingy? The duality of the universe? Hot and cold? Light and dark? Earth and sky?”

  “Yeah, Russ, I’m not an idiot,” Meaghan said. “I’m familiar with the concept in a general way, but I don’t understand how it applies here. A week ago, I
didn’t even know magic existed. Give me the dummies version.”

  Russ sighed. “A lot of people think yin and yang are opposites. But they aren’t. They’re complementary halves required to make a whole. Yin is considered feminine, dark, cool, rising from the earth to the sky. Yang is the masculine, bright, hot, flowing from the sky down to the earth.”

  “So, wait,” Meaghan said. “The Chinese invented magic?”

  Russ shook his head. “No, no. Well, some of the ways to use it, yeah. But nobody invented magic, it’s just there. The yin and yang concept just works really well to explain it.”

  Melanie joined in. “Think sprouting seeds and sunshine. The earth is warmed by the sun, which causes the seeds to sprout. The shoots push up through the earth and convert sunshine into energy for more growth. Seeds without sun lie dormant. Sun without seeds results in barren desert.”

  “So then how does magic get by only with yin?” Meaghan asked, confused.

  “It doesn’t,” Russ said. “It uses both. But without the yin grounding, the magic gets too heavy on the yang side. Too hot. A lot of power but no control. Think lightning. Awe inducing but deadly, unless it’s properly grounded.”

  “So magic is like electricity?”

  Russ thought about it a moment. “Yeah, it kind of is. And electricity can give you light and cook your food or it can kill you.”

  Meaghan nodded. “So, you need the yin, but without the yang, magic has to be kind of weak, right?”

  “Not weak,” Melanie said. “Think lightning bolt versus household current. Both are flows of electricity. Both powerful, but in very different ways. Yin magic is more subtle and slow to work, but much easier to control. And remember yin and yang qualities exist in everything in varying degrees. Complementary, rather than contradictory. Yang magic tends to come more naturally to men. They can do yin magic, but generally require training. Conversely, most women must be taught yang magic, but they’re naturals at the yin.”

  Russ jumped in. “And, unfortunately for men, the yin is the side you need to master first so you don’t blow yourself up.”

  “Huh. Natalie said it was because boys with talent are scared off by their mother’s crazy friends and decide to go out for sports instead,” Meaghan said. “How does that work?”

  “Mom puts a grounding spell on him until he’s past the worst of puberty and the raw power fades and she only trains her daughter,” Russ replied. “Or somebody else’s daughter. Which means more women than men end up being practitioners because the yin side doesn’t need yang as much as the yang side needs yin.” He shook his head. “Saying that made me kind of dizzy. Did it make any sense?”

  Melanie smiled at him for a long moment, then reached out and squeezed his hand. “Yes, it did. And that’s what frightens men drawn to groups like the Order.”

  “Great,” Meaghan said. “So the Order’s like the Taliban of magic?”

  Sid, unable to stay silent a moment longer, piped in with “The Taliwho?”

  Wally gave Sid another look, shook his head, and hopped down off his chair to refill his coffee cup.

  “Taliban. Human politics,” Melanie said, in a soothing voice. “On the other side of this world.”

  Sid nodded, without comment. He deferred to Melanie, Meaghan noticed, in a way he didn’t defer to Wally. Was it a gender thing? Women were the boss among the Troon?

  Melanie returned to her conversation with Meaghan. “The Order shares the Taliban’s zealotry and intolerance. Different ideology but the same fear.”

  Meaghan nodded. “It’s hardly a new phenomenon, men fearing women to the point of hate.”

  Wally worked his way around the table refilling everyone’s coffee cup, except for Sid’s. “They don’t like Troon, either,” he added.

  “Only female Troon or all of you?” Meaghan asked.

  Everyone but Meaghan burst out laughing. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Melanie smiled at her. “We’re simply Troon. We’re neither male nor female. Or more accurately, we’re both.”

  Sid cackled again. “Imagine what the Order thinks of us . . .”

  “I’d better read Matthew’s journals,” Meaghan said.

  Chapter 22

  After breakfast, Sid and Wally were picked up by Gretchen, the city’s human resources coordinator.

  “They’re making the rounds,” Russ told her. “Getting the gossip.”

  “And spreading it?” Meaghan asked.

  Russ merely smiled.

  “So Gretchen’s a witch too? Are there any women in city hall besides me who aren’t?”

  Russ shrugged. “A few. Annie down in the mayor’s office isn’t. It’s why Emily’s such a bitch on the political stuff. It’s the only place where she’s got any power. Magically, she’s totally outgunned. Unless she’s juicing and catches you one on one.”

  “Like Natalie.”

  Russ nodded. “Natalie’s pretty bad ass. Emily won’t get another shot at her. Not like that. Let’s hope you scared her enough so she behaves herself.”

  Melanie offered to stay behind with Meaghan and organize Matthew’s journals and files. Meaghan accepted with an inward sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized how daunting she found the prospect of digging through the mess alone until Melanie offered to help.

  There was something calming and grounding about Melanie. Sid and Wally were fun but exhausting after a while. It may not have been gender, but there was clearly something different about her.

  Meaghan decided that she would continue to think of Melanie as “her” even if she was technically an “it.”

  A world without gender—Meaghan couldn’t wrap her brain around it. And apparently the Troon couldn’t either. The gay vibe Sid and Wally gave out was definitely a male gay vibe. But Melanie—she reminded Meaghan powerfully of her mother.

  Upstairs, Meaghan hurried to make the bed and jam the pile of clothes on the floor into the hamper. Melanie stood in the doorway as Meaghan tidied. When the room was somewhat presentable, Melanie walked to the table and sat on the chair not covered in paper.

  “Where would you like to begin?” Melanie asked.

  Meaghan surveyed the piles. “Um . . .”

  “You’re handling this all rather well, you know,” Melanie said.

  “No. I’m not. It’s been almost a week and look at this. I ripped a few boxes apart digging out stuff on Fahraya Monday night and then just left it.” Meaghan gestured at the paper-strewn carpet. “And I’m sorry I was so rude this morning. I . . . Russ set me straight. Like he always does.”

  Melanie smiled up at her. “This is why you need to start at the beginning. You and Russ were still quite young when Matthew first learned of his ability. And then you left.” Melanie looked sad for a moment and then brightened. “I was there. Trust me. You’re doing remarkably well with the news.” She pointed at the other chair. “Please. Sit with me.”

  Meaghan moved a pile of folders from the chair and sat.

  “What do you remember from that time?” Melanie asked.

  “Not much. Matthew was working all the time. We never saw him. When he was around, he was drunk or getting there. I don’t remember him and Mom fighting, but there was a lot of tension.”

  “They would leave the house so you and Russ wouldn’t hear,” Melanie said. “You mother feared for his sanity.”

  Meaghan remembered what her mother had told her in the dream. How she couldn’t accept what was going on. She nodded. “And then we left.”

  “And then you left,” Melanie said. “Your mother did what she thought was best for you and Russ. Your father’s behavior was increasingly erratic and he was telling your mother things she was unable to accept.”

  “So Matthew knew before we left about all . . . this?” Meaghan pointed toward the piles on the floor.

  Melanie nodded. “And his response was to drive his family away and drink himself into mental collapse. At any time during this past week have you feared for your sanity?”

 
Meaghan, taken aback, took a moment to answer. “No. It never even occurred to me that I might be nuts. When the thing with Jamie was happening I didn’t have time. Then everyone kept wondering when I’d flip out. I wondered too.”

  “Why then do you think you’ve avoided learning more since that day?”

  Meaghan thought for a long moment. “I looked at a couple of things that first night. Some pictures of Jamie and his father I found. And after that, well, yeah, fear I suppose. But not for my sanity. I mean, I saw what I saw. And so did everyone around me. And I knew they were hiding something from me.” She smiled. “It was just a lot weirder than I could have imagined. So, the world isn’t what I thought it was. There’s no point in going crazy over that.”

  Melanie reached across the table and took Meaghan’s hand. “Do you understand how rare that is?” Melanie’s small hand was warm, dry, and a bit scaly. “To accept what you see? To step out of your lifelong conception of reality into a new world as easily as you have?”

  Meaghan squeezed Melanie’s hand. “God, you remind me of my mom.”

  Melanie laughed. “I’m a blue-skinned, tusked hermaphrodite from another world.”

  “Mom was a vegetarian. But we never held that against her.”

  They both laughed.

  “I think,” Meaghan said, when their laughter subsided, “what I’m afraid of is not being able to do the job. And . . .” She took a deep breath. This wasn’t easy to admit. “I’m so jealous of Jamie. I keep trying to remember that beat-up, traumatized kid in the photos I found, but I can’t forget all the happy family shots with Matthew. With my father.” She looked at her feet, ashamed. “Jamie got my dad at the same age that I lost him. That’s what I fear. All the bad memories that might be waiting in those boxes.”

  “Or maybe,” Melanie said, “you’ll discover the world wasn’t what you thought it was.”

  “Maybe,” Meaghan said. “Maybe.” She stood up, grabbed the first box in the line by the window seat, and set it on the table. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Pull out the journals. Start at the beginning. You read while I start organizing the rest by topic.”