by Jamie Davis
“Make sure Mr. Barber is back in the treatment room at the same time tomorrow. I will be back to examine my work and to determine if there is anything else that must be done. If his condition changes in any way for the worse in the meantime, I want to know immediately. He is the key to my plans and I will not have him die because of lack of attention by you and your lackeys.”
“Yes, sir, Director Kane. He will be watched and treated appropriately until you return.”
The elevator door opened and Kane decided the man’s answer was suitable. He nodded, then stepped inside the elevator. Nils had several meetings to placate concerned members of the Assembly. An annoyance. They were grown men and women — he failed to understand why they needed his reassurances that the strange weather events were under control. Perhaps he needed to raise the pressure on the chanter communities and shift blame on them more than he already had. But he couldn’t be too obvious. This required a delicate touch from someone he trusted.
The special elevator arrived on the top floor, in an anteroom attached to his offices. Nils stepped out and saw his attractive assistant already waiting. She was excellent at her job, and he appreciated the way she anticipated his every need. He noted the slight signs of dark circles around her eyes, barely covered by her makeup. He would have to make sure he gave her something extra for enduring his rages these last few weeks. She had been quite the trooper.
“Director Kane, Assemblywoman Perez is here to see you. She is on your calendar for this afternoon, but came earlier because of the increased storm activity in and around her district in Florida. Should I tell her that you’re out?”
Kane growled low in his throat. The girl blanched — an indication of their shared stress. She didn’t usually show her emotions so easily.
“Five minutes. I’ll be ready for her then. And Inspector Holmes. I have a task for him. It’s time he earned his promotion. I’ll see him tonight after the main department offices close for the evening.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
Kane watched her turn and head back to the reception area outside his chambers. Yes, he would have to reward her time and attention, and make sure she earned it over the next few evenings.
Nils went into his office and poured himself a Scotch. The smoky liquid was from his private reserve — one of the few caches of real Scotch left in the world. The same team that had recovered his throne and sword had procured several pallets of the liquor on their way out of the country.
He rested his hand on the hilt extending from the stone throne. Most people thought of his office centerpiece as a sculpture. But Nils knew its meaning and purpose. There was only one other person who might be able to recognize it for what it was, but there was no way that he was ever letting Artos Merrilyn anywhere near it.
Nils turned and saw the door to his outer reception area open. A stout, middle-aged woman entered his office. He downed the Scotch and returned the glass to its place beside the decanter.
Nils crossed the room. “Margret, it is so nice of you to come and see me. Please, sit, so I can ease your concerns.”
He shook the woman’s hand and directed her to the chair in front of his desk. This woman was one of the more persistent Assembly members, but her support of his position was important and he couldn’t afford to lose her full support. He put his thoughts about Merrilyn out of his mind and focused on his guest. Keeping Margret and her colleagues happy was the most important thing he could do to curb this volatile situation.
He would soothe her concerns, then return to his plans.
CHAPTER 8
Inspector Victor Holmes stood in the reception area outside Director Kane’s office. He had declined the opportunity to sit. There was too much on his mind to relax while awaiting his audience with the Director. He’d received his summons in the early afternoon and it had taken several hours to arrive by train. It had had to stop twice because the dust storms reduced visibility to nothing.
The storms had grown fiercer and were now impacting his officers’ ability to get their jobs done. At least the charm runners were being affected, too.
The coincidence between the onset of the storms and the Harvester’s destruction wasn’t lost on Victor. He had a nagging suspicion that there was a connection between the odd phenomena in the sky and what had happened that dreadful night. He found himself absently rubbing his numb and tingling right hand as he thought about it, but forced himself to stop. Victor returned the hand to his side.
He’d been in shock when he and Morgan had escaped with Director Kane that night. He’d been gripping a railing of the collapsing catwalk as his pushed Morgan through the doorway behind the Director — the explosion had destroyed the machine, and a jolt of what he guessed was electricity had raced through the railing, into his arm. His right hand had been nothing but pins and needles ever since.
Victor shuddered. He had little fondness for chanters on any normal day. They were lying, cheating, conniving opportunists and criminals, for the most part. That didn’t mean they deserved the terrible death conjured by Kane. Victor had been so shocked, he couldn’t even react until much later. Now, the thought made him nauseous.
Morgan was even worse off. Because she’d feared for her sister’s life and wanted her to stop engaging in illegal activities, she’d agreed to work with Victor. Morgan wanted her sister to get caught and quit her charm running. There was never any time when she’d wished her dead.
She’d been frantic about Winnie’s fate in the aftermath of their escape, until Victor had checked his sources and discovered her survival. Now, Morgan had withdrawn from her usual enthusiasm as a future Red Leg. She used to attend Academy classes with an eager smile. Now she seemed beaten and listless when returning to their shared apartment.
Morgan was nearly finished with her training and would be assigned to Victor’s unit in Baltimore. Director Kane had promised that it was the least he could do for such dedicated followers. Victor suspected the Director knew about their relationship and approved, despite its inappropriate nature. Still, as an inspector overseeing the Baltimore unit, he would have less interaction with the day-to-day street operations of a new officer like Morgan.
The intercom buzzed on the receptionist’s desk. After a few words on the phone, she stood. “Inspector Holmes. If you’ll come with me, the Director will see you now.”
Victor nodded then turned to follow the woman into the lair of a man he had once idolized. Worship had changed to fear, even disgust, since the steel mill. But he dared not let those emotions show. This man still had the nation’s interests in mind and Victor mustn’t allow his personal feelings to get in the way of keeping the country safe.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it.
Victor approached the Director’s desk and stood at attention, waiting until the man had finished perusing a file before announcing himself.
“Inspector Holmes, reporting as requested, Director.”
Kane looked up and smiled. “At ease, Inspector. Please, take a seat.”
Victor forced himself to relax enough to sit, but his back remained ramrod straight, refusing to recline against the soft leather.
“I’m sorry I was unable to see you before now, Inspector. There has been a great deal happening since the events a few weeks ago, as you know. I wanted to thank you and your protege for such attention to my safety after the unfortunate equipment failure at the facility. But have no fear. This is but a minor setback in our final plans.”
“It was my sworn duty to protect you and all citizens from danger, sir.”
“Indeed,” Kane said. “Still, I won’t forget what you did. It proved your loyalty, to me and to the plans I have to secure magic in this country and support the greatest good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This understanding is why you earned your inspector’s rank so quickly. Your loyalty will be rewarded. I also personally requested that your companion, Morgan Bennett, is rushed thro
ugh the Academy. I cited her excellent field work as the reason to push her past classmates to early graduation. She should be finding out about that today.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for the reward.”
“Yes, well, as I said, it is the least I can do.”
Kane stood and stepped over to the window behind his desk, looking out at the sunset and the orange, glowing dust sweeping through the capital.
“I didn’t just call you here to tell you about your rewards. I wanted to give you an important assignment, one I’ll be rolling out to each of the city inspectors over the next few days. I thought it was appropriate to involve you first, since you were the inspiration for the plan.”
“Sir?”
“The storms are not a natural occurrence, as I’m sure you have figured out. People want to know how we’re planning to deal with the weather, and both the Assembly and the Department of Magical Containment need time to formulate a plan. In the meantime, your vigorous prosecution of chanters in Baltimore gave me an idea for a way to gain some breathing room.”
Kane turned from the view back to Victor.
“The populace wants to blame someone or something for the storms. Some are protesting our inaction. Others are taking their frustration out on the chanter community. I’d like to encourage the latter actions over the former.”
Victor shouldn’t speak up, but couldn’t resist. “Sir, are the chanters even responsible for the dust storms? It’s only affecting the East Coast. Doesn’t that point to another localized cause?”
He wanted to say more, but Victor had said too much already.
Kane’s eyes narrowed, staring at Victor until the inspector dropped his gaze. “You are partly correct. The failure of our ecosystem is a direct result of the inappropriate use of magic in and around our cities. Chanters have brought this plague of storms upon us, even if it took them years. It’s time people knew the case.”
Kane took a step toward him, and Victor’s heart sped.
“I want you to start working with your street informants to spread ‘official’ reports that the storms can be tied directly to chanters in the Baltimore Enclave. Spread the word in dribs and drabs so that no one gets the whole picture at once. You don’t want the rumors traced back to you, or me.”
“Yes, sir. And this will be done by the other city inspectors as well?”
“Yes. I will be meeting with each of the East Coast inspectors over the next few days. Storms are at their worst in this part of the coastline, so let’s start the rumors in Baltimore.”
This was an … uncomfortable request. It would cause rioting in and around the Enclave. Victor was a proponent of law and order. This would encourage gangs of middlings to vent their fear and frustration on random chanters throughout the city, and could have widespread repercussions to Baltimore’s infrastructure.
But Victor didn’t dare express his concerns. The Director was clearly looking for any version of, Yes, sir.
He nodded despite his concerns. “Yes, sir. I will see to it immediately.”
“Remember, Inspector, this requires a delicate touch. These rumors must take on a life of their own. Only you, myself, and the other inspectors can know what is truly going on.”
“I understand, sir. Is that all? I should start back if I expect to catch the late train and start this task first thing tomorrow.”
“Your enthusiasm is inspiring, Inspector. Keep this up and you may need another promotion sooner rather than later.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Victor stood. “By your leave, sir?”
“Yes, yes, by all means, catch your late train. I’ll expect daily updates concerning your progress with this little initiative.”
“Yes, sir.” Victor turned and passed the odd stone sculpture on his way to the door, his mind a chaotic fog as he left.
Outside the Director’s office, Victor pulled a surgical mask from his pocket, and covered his nose and mouth in the elevator back to the lobby. The storm was still hurling dust, turning the glow of streetlights overhead to an amber haze as Victor stepped onto the sidewalk and made his way to the train station on foot.
He could have hailed a taxi. There were a few cars out, even in this weather. But he didn’t, preferring to be alone with his many conflicted thoughts. He had much to consider on his way home.
CHAPTER 9
It was late by the time Victor reached his apartment. He quietly entered. Morgan was already asleep and he didn’t wish to wake her. She needed her rest. She hadn’t been getting much since seeing the horrors at the steel mill. He also didn’t want to discuss what the Director had wanted. Morgan would have questions and he would have to be honest, or else suffer strain between them.
Victor set his keys down on the counter, pausing when he thought he saw something from the corner of his eye; a strange, flowing ribbon of azure light drifted past his vision … and then was gone.
He blinked to clear his eyes. He barely noticed that he was rubbing his right hand, the pins and needles now back to haunt him. He needed to see a doctor, but didn’t want to field questions that he couldn’t answer. Any doctor would surely want to know when the problem had started and what he’d been doing when it had.
“You’re rubbing your hand again.” Morgan appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Is the numbness getting worse?”
Victor started, then smiled to reassure Morgan that everything was fine. “I’m fine, honey. It’s nothing.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“You know I can’t.”
Morgan looked at him sternly, but said nothing. They’d had this discussion too many times already. “What did Director Kane want?”
“He wanted to discuss our current investigations,” Victor lied.
Morgan crossed her arms. “Bullshit. He doesn’t summon someone to the Assembly Building unless he has something more important than daily reports to review. What did he want?”
Victor sighed. Morgan was persistent and obstinate — excellent characteristics for a law enforcement officer and investigator, but a burden in a partner and mate.
“Let’s not get into this now. I’m tired and need to sleep. We have a long week ahead of us.”
“Something is upsetting you, Victor. I can see it in your eyes. You didn’t tell the Director your concerns about what happened at the steel mill, did you?”
“Of course not. We can never talk about that with anyone.”
“Then what, Victor? What has you so upset?”
Victor crossed to the fridge for something to drink. Morgan waited, her expression concerned as she stood watching and waiting. He opened the bottle, then took a sip, stealing seconds to consider his best path to confession.
“The Director had good news for us. He is promoting you from the Academy early. You should be hearing from commandant soon, transferred to active duty.”
Morgan met his eyes. “He’s paying us off with favors.”
“He’s rewarding our loyalty.”
“After what he’s done in the name of ‘law and order,’ how can you even consider being loyal to him? He killed those people. He tried to murder my sister and did kill her baby. I saw your face in that horrible place — you were as disgusted with what was happening as I was. I know you better than this, Victor.”
“You assume too much. I know more about Director Kane than you ever will: he has the nation’s greater good in mind with everything he does. I’ll not have you speaking treason.”
“I don’t know how you can keep believing in him like you do.”
Morgan moved closer and Victor opened his arms to pull her close to him. He didn’t like arguing with her, nor lying to her. He did have his doubts about the Director and his motives. But they had to move carefully. Morgan was impulsive and wouldn’t keep her thoughts to herself if he didn’t dim her vigorous opposition to Director Kane.
Victor let Morgan go, then held her at arm’s length. He looked into her eyes. “I know you still believe
in the greater good and in the law.”
She nodded.
“Then trust my judgement. There is much at stake here. I’ll watch and see what’s going on. Make sure things don’t go too far again. But I do believe that magic is at the heart of our present problems, and that we must do something to limit its use, or else everything will fall apart and we’ll end up in a wasteland like Europe.”
“I can trust you, Victor. But I can’t trust him. Not ever again.”
“That will have to do. I have early work tomorrow, and so do you. We need to sleep.”
“Agreed. I’ll be waiting. Don’t be too long. I’ve missed you.”
Morgan padded off to the bedroom. Victor watched her leave, his pins and needles returning with a flash of color from the corner of his eye. Another ribbon of color — now yellow and orange — flitted into sight to follow Morgan down the hallway, fading from sight as he started down the hall to see where it went. As the light faded, so did the odd sensation in his hand.
Victor wondered what he was seeing, turning the brewing ideas in the back of his mind, leading him down a path he was hesitant to contemplate. He rubbed at his hand, considering the complications at home and work.
Morgan’s voice called out from the bedroom. “Victor, I’m sorry I jumped all over you about Director Kane’s plans. Don’t stay up worrying about it. Come to bed.”
Victor killed the kitchen light and headed toward the bedroom. He could do nothing tonight, and what Morgan didn’t know surely wouldn’t hurt her.
CHAPTER 10
Winnie grabbed her jacket and looked around for anything she might be forgetting. You had to have a jacket everywhere now, even in the heat. Dust storms and wind were a sand blaster on bare skin.
“You’re going out again, I see.”
Winnie looked up. Elaine was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning on her cane. She didn’t need this argument now. That was why she had tried to steal out without waking her mother.