“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Ian said. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Burning something,” Whisper suggested. Of course, Whisper was a Torch. Her strange fire magic had probably told her what Faye had doing. Whisper wrinkled her nose. “You smell like smoke.” Or maybe not.
Faye was embarrassed. “I had some things to do. See, I grew up near here . . .” She crossed her arms nervously. Being recognized by a local made her feel stupid. “And, well . . .”
“It don’t matter.” George got up and pulled out a chair for her. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years now and I’ve yet to meet a knight that didn’t have some things they didn’t feel like sharing.”
“Thank you.” Faye sat down. The old lady brought her a bowl and spoon, shouted a few questions about if the stew was good or not, said “Eh?” and cupped her hand over her ear when Ian tried to answer that everything was fine, and then shuffled back into the kitchen. “She seems nice.”
“Anytime a proprietor is willing to serve me without making a scene,” George said, “I’ll take it.”
“She’s blind as a bat and deaf as a stone. She probably thinks you’re white as snow. When everybody’s equally blurry, you don’t discriminate,” Ian said. “On the bright side, that means we can talk business.”
“The car is almost done. We can leave tonight if we want,” Faye reported as she scooped herself some stew. “The winds get worse at night, and if it’s bad you can’t hardly see until you drive into a ditch.”
“I say we leave in the morning then,” George said. “Did he say what was wrong with it?”
“Some doohickey melted,” Faye said between shoveling stew into her mouth. It was mostly potatoes and carrots, flavorless, like they’d been buried for quite a few seasons and then boiled until they were chewable. “What about Lance and them?”
Ian seemed cranky as usual. “Last we heard, they’re hunkering down for a bit, so they won’t miss us for another day. They made a real mess with the Iron Guard. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll be asked to do something useful instead.”
Faye was tired of his negative attitude. “You’re not going to be happy until I Travel your tongue someplace without the rest of your head, are you? What is your problem?”
George tried to intercede. “Now, you two—”
“My problem?” Ian raised his voice slightly. “I think this is a wild goose chase. We don’t know that this creature of yours is even real. Knights have stooped to consulting with Iron Guards! No good can come of that. Meanwhile, our organization is being slandered and our members arrested—”
“And what do you propose we should be doing about that?” George asked with the utmost calm.
“Find out who framed us!”
“Others are working on that. We’re—”
Ian cut him off. “We’re scared of what the answer is going to be if we poke too deep. Japan, Russia, and a dozen other nations have used every excuse in the book to enslave their Actives. You think America is different?”
George’s expression barely changed, but a little bit of anger crept in. “My father was born a slave. You really want to get all preachy at me?”
“Are you nostalgic for the institution then?” Ian furiously pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “Because mark my words, Actives will be property if we don’t fight back now. We have to assert our place before we’re trampled into history.”
“So, you’re one of those,” George grumbled. “Thinking that Actives are better than Normals, not equals. I should have known.”
“I’m no Active supremacist. Don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Bolander!”
“That’s why you spoke up for Harkeness and Rawls,” Faye said quietly.
“I’m sorry for what they did to General Pershing and your friends,” Ian said quickly. “But those two men struck the greatest blow against tyranny that any of our people have ever accomplished. Through killing the Chairman, how many millions of lives did they spare?”
Faye’s voice was deadly. “That’s easy to say when it wasn’t your grandpa getting shot down like a dog.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Ian’s face turned red. “Fine. You know what? I’m one of the best Summoners the Society has ever seen. I should be using my Power to hunt our real enemies, not the imaginary ones.” He stormed out in a huff.
“Can I kill him now?” Faye asked. “Pretty please?”
The look on George’s face indicated that he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. Just in case, he said, “No.”
Whisper had not spoken during the argument. She waited for a door to slam upstairs. “Ian and I have worked together for a long time. Please do not judge him too harshly. He has had to face some difficult things recently.”
Faye had just burned down the horrible shack that she’d been raised in. She had a pretty high standard for what she considered difficult. “Whisper, I—”
“Ian’s wife was taken by the Imperium.”
“Oh . . . I didn’t know that.”
“I was very fond of her. Everyone was.” Whisper stirred her stew absently. “Despite Ian’s family’s disapproval, they wed young. She was one of us, Grimnoir. In fact, that is how the two of them met. His family is rather wealthy, aristocrats even, and they saw her as unworthy, their love, scandalous. He was gladly disowned to be with her.”
“How come?” Faye asked.
“She was a quadroon.”
Faye didn’t know what that meant, but George nodded in understanding. “She had a black grandparent, Faye. That can cause some . . . legal issues most places.”
“Among other things. It did not matter. She was truly the light of Ian’s life. Her name was Beatrice and they were everything to each other. Such love . . . it was like a story.”
The French had a way of making things sound extra romantic. For the briefest second, Faye thought that sounded a bit like how she secretly hoped Francis felt about her, but then she decided she was just being silly. “What happened?”
“Several years ago . . . was it four, five now? How time flies when you’re battling evil . . . She was pregnant with their first child, residing at home while Ian was away. We do not know how the Iron Guard found her, but they did, and they took her. Oh, how we chased them, but they eluded us. The trail was cold, but Ian would never give up. He went all the way to China, following even the vaguest hints from the spirits he could Summon, but he was too late . . . Beatrice had been given to Unit 731.”
Just saying the name of the Imperium’s experimentation unit made Faye’s stomach turn.
“The bastards,” George hissed. “I’ve seen their work.”
“They did horrible, awful things to her. Ian could not save her, so instead he used his Summoned to end her life, to spare her any more indignities at the hands of the Chairman’s Cogs.”
“That’s awful,” Faye said quietly. That would sour anyone. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course not. He never talks about it, but I know it changed him. He used to have the soul of an artist, even his Summoned were beautiful, graceful, heavenly things, yet now they are misshapen, cumbersome beasts. The form of a Summoned is a window into the soul of the man that commands them. He would certainly be upset to know I had told you of this”—Whisper leaned in conspiratorially— “but there is another thing you must know. I believe you have also met some of Beatrice’s family.”
“Really?” Faye hadn’t met that many Grimnoir, and those that she knew well had confided to her about their losses. “Who?”
“It would have been brief. Just long enough to wring the secrets from you. I’m speaking of Isaiah Rawls . . .” Whisper seemed to enjoy the look of surprise that appeared on Faye’s face. “Oh, close your mouth before you catch a bug. Do you think that those villainous conspirators came to trouble you on a whim? No? I believe Isaiah’s granddaughter’s death was what pushed him to such drastic measures to destroy the Imperium. Yet, by betraying the Society, he dishonore
d the name of all those who had followed him as well. As General Pershing was your leader here, Isaiah was ours.”
“He was a traitor,” Faye insisted.
“To some, and to others, a hero.”
“And to you?” Faye liked Whisper, so dreaded the answer.
“There is no doubt to me that Isaiah was a traitor, but sometimes a trust must be betrayed to serve the greater good. Such distinctions can be difficult. However, it was no accident that Ian volunteered to join the American knights. Maybe he is seeking to atone for deeds done on his behalf . . . I do not know.”
George was leaning back in his chair, appearing deep in thought. “And why did you volunteer?”
“Me?” Whisper’s smile was mischievous. “I go where the excitement is.”
Chapter 10
I don’t believe I ever saw an Oklahoman who wouldn’t fight at the drop of a hat—and frequently drop the hat himself.
—Robert E. “Heavy” Howard,
Letter to H.P. Lovecraft, 1932
Ada, Oklahoma
THE WIND WAS JUST AS BRUTAL as she remembered. The old house shook and rattled with every gust. The window panes flexed so much that the glass creaked like it was threatening to pop. The windows had been caulked shut to keep the dust out, and there were towels stuffed in the bottoms of the doors. The view out the window was a brown mass of blowing dust, interspaced with occasional soft blurs from a handful of lights, but around nine o’clock at night the power had gone out. After that, the dust provided its own sort of shadowed light, almost like it was infused with visible energy. Before he’d gone to bed, George had pointed out that there was static electricity in the dust, and had said that there was lots of it.
Power outages were a common enough occurrence, so the old lady that ran the boardinghouse had appeared and left them several candles and some matches so they could find their way to their room when they decided to retire for the evening. Whisper waited for her to leave, then simply lit the candles by thinking about it.
The winds continued to grow in intensity as Faye and Whisper sat in the dining room and watched the fury unfold.
“How can anyone live like this?” Whisper had finally asked.
“Most can’t. The ones that are still here . . .” Faye thought of the teacher and those kids playing stickball. “Just tough I guess. Like human cactuses. Only more windproof. So, what’s the word? Francis uses it for his fast blimps. Aerodynamic . . . So they’re like aerodynamic cactuses.”
“You have a strange way of looking at things, Faye.”
“Thanks.”
Whisper gathered up one of the candles. “I am going to bed. I do not know if I will be able to sleep, since the way this place is shaking, I’m worried it will fall down at any moment.”
“Naw. This house is sturdy. All the flimsy places fell down a long time ago. You can get used to anything if you’re tough enough.”
“Have you ever heard of the principle of erosion?”
“Nope.”
Whisper chuckled. “Goodnight, Faye.”
Once Faye was sure she was alone, she snuck into the kitchen and got a box of table salt and a small glass of water. Using her Power, she took a look at the world around her. Faye called that particular trick her head map. With it she was able to get a basic view of everything in safe Traveling range. It didn’t cover nearly as much area as it had last year. If she concentrated on one particular spot, she could instantly tell if there were any small things that could harm her if her body were to suddenly appear there. Her head map told her that Traveling anywhere out in the wind would be extremely dangerous. There were just too many things flying around, most were small enough that her passing would just shove them out of the way, but some of them were bigger and could get stuck in her. She knew from one particular incident involving a crunchy beetle fused into her heel that she never wanted to do that again.
But she wasn’t checking her head map in order to Travel. It was also a handy tool for seeing where everyone else was when you wanted some privacy. The old lady was in her bed. All the other Grimnoir were in their own rooms. So she was safe.
She wasn’t tired yet, and she was dying to talk to somebody she knew she could trust. The person she really wanted to see was Francis. He was good and honest, and she really liked him, and she knew that he liked her back. They had gone out on a few dates, even kissed, which had been super nice, but that was about it, because Faye was certainly not the type of girl that Francis had associated with before. At first she’d been worried that Francis would be embarrassed to be seen with her, since he was so very famous and rich, and she was just a nobody, and everywhere they went in public, people would take their picture, but Francis didn’t care one whit about what folks thought about him. He did whatever he put his mind to, and Faye loved that. She missed his easy smile, his sense of humor, even the awkward way he tried to protect her though she was way tougher than he was. Basically, she missed him.
Plus she felt she should check in, just because she knew otherwise Francis might go and do something stupid on his own.
Faye made a circle of salt on the table and started to draw the communication spell from memory. This time she imagined that she was a little girl again, drawing pretty designs in the dirt floor of the McCullum shack, and when she thought of it that way, the strange geometries of the Power suddenly seemed to make a lot more sense. She used her Power, just a tiny bit, and thought hard about Francis to awaken the design. If it worked like it was supposed to, his ring would burn and get his attention. Remarkably, she managed to complete the spell on her very first try. The circle floated into the air and filled the room with white light.
There was a thump from the roof. It was pretty loud. Probably a flying branch or something. She would’ve checked her head map again, but didn’t know if that would mess up the communication spell or not, and she didn’t want to go through the effort of making another one.
It took a couple of minutes for Francis to get on. The background was his office in New York, which was good news because that meant that at least he had stayed put like he was supposed to. The circle spun around, showing windows full of New York lights, until the image filled with Francis’ head. “Faye!”
“Hi. You got your face fixed.”
“About as good as possible, but it wasn’t particularly nice to start with.”
Faye disagreed, but she’d feel foolish saying so. “Well, I think you look nice.”
She could have sworn that Francis blushed. “Did you do this spell yourself?”
“I did.”
“Very clear. This is your best one yet. You’re quite the talented wizard.” Now it was Faye’s turn to blush. “So where are you? Wait, that’s probably a secret.”
“On account of them maybe coming to arrest you, yeah.” Faye grinned.
“Don’t worry, I’m cooking up something. Next time I meet the OCI, I’ll be ready. You don’t pick a fight with a Stuyvesant and expect to win.”
“You picked a fight with a Stuyvesant and won,” she pointed out.
“That’s different. I . . .” There was a brief sound from behind her, like old canvas whipping in the wind. Francis’ eyes widened in fear. “Behind you!”
Faye turned to see what Francis was looking at. She was surprised to find that there was a man in a black coat and hat standing in the shadows just outside the ring of white light. The hat dipped slightly in greeting. “Evening.” His voice was low and deadly.
“Faye, that’s him! That’s the—”
“Man that’s going to destroy the Grimnoir. You betcha. That’s me. Don’t worry, Francis. I’ll be along for you shortly. Right now I need a moment with the Traveler.” Hands loose and open at his sides, he took a step into the light. He was shorter than she was, but strong looking.
“Leave her alone, you son of—”
The man simply looked at the circle of salt and it shattered. Francis was silenced as the spell dissipated. The room was now lit by only a single f
lickering candle. Faye didn’t mind. Her grey eyes could see much better in the dark than most folks’, yet his eyes seemed to gleam a little too brightly as well, only red instead of grey.
“You know who I am?”
“Crow.” Faye moved a bit so that the table was between them. Francis had said that he had a device that could block magic, though she could still feel her Power just fine, and she had a .45 hidden in the folds of her dress. Faye was calm. This was nothing she couldn’t handle. “You’re a very bad man.”
“Simple, but sure. I’m the bad man and I’m placing you under arrest. I don’t want to hurt you, though I will, and I’ll enjoy it.”
Faye checked her head map. “You’re alone?” she asked incredulously.
“I don’t need help.”
She snorted. It was hard to intimidate somebody that had fought Iron Guards. “You ain’t near as smart as you think you are then.”
He circled around the table. She kept moving to keep it between them. “You first came to our attention after the Tokugawa incident. Some of the UBF survivors talked about you doing some mighty impressive things. Impressive enough to get my boss’s attention. We started researching you, and what we figured out was amazing. What if I told you I know why your Power is so different? What if I could tell you exactly what you are?”
“I’d figure you were lying through your teeth.”
“Aren’t you even a little curious?”
“Oh, I’m plenty curious, but you can just keep on lying. You’re alone but I’ve got friends.”
Crow paused and crinkled his nose. “I know. I can smell them . . . a Crackler, a Torch, and a . . . Summoner? Well, I’ll be. I know exactly what you are, kid. You’re probably wondering how come your Power is so much weaker now than it was.” That was a surprise. Not even all the Grimnoir knew about that. She tried not to let her surprise show, but Crow just smiled and went on. “Before, I bet it was like you could do anything, then you saved all your friends and nearly burned yourself out. You hadn’t even been that strong for very long, but you got strong quicker and quicker.”
Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles Page 19