Reawakening

by CM Raymond

  Ezekiel laughed as heartily as he could. “I’m still not much better with them, I’m afraid. It’s been a long time, August. Have you been in Arcadia since then?”

  “No place else would have me. But you don’t know Nikola, do you?”

  “We’ve never met,” Nikola said without looking up.

  As Ezekiel ordered a drink, he realized that the two men played into his deception perfectly. But Ezekiel couldn’t help wonder what August actually thought of Lord Girard. Most in Arcadia knew that the old Lord was a bit of a bastard, or at least they knew that he didn’t treat his servants very kindly even before they moved out to the country. But was he the kind of person someone like August or Nikola would confide in—that was the question he needed answered.

  He decided to play nice, and see where it led.

  “Very nice to meet you, Nikola. What do you do at the Academy?”

  The tall, pale man sipped from his pint glass. Foam from the ale rested on his perfectly manicured mustache. “Magitech. I teach the little bastards how to take our beautiful magic and put it into cheap trinkets—all to make a better world. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

  Ezekiel’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting to hear open aggression from the other profs. “And what else?”

  The man cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, what do you teach besides magitech?” Ezekiel asked.

  All the faculty members around the table laughed. Ezekiel looked at each one. He had become the fool, and he had no idea why.

  He thought about reaching into their minds, but the Dean stepped in, saving him the effort and the risk.

  “You’re pretty old school, aren’t you Girard? Nowadays, we all focus on one area.”

  Ezekiel played up his confusion. “So, you’re telling me that you all only teach one thing?”

  August grinned ear to ear. “That’s about right. Focus is important, don’t you think? It’s safer that way, for us and the students. I actually want to specialize even further. Faculty focused primarily on telekinesis, fire, ice, physical alchemy—but we don’t really have the manpower for that. But now that you’re on board...”

  “Hmm,” Ezekiel said. “Are you satisfied focusing so intently on one thing? I’ve found that studying all the corners of physical magic gives me plenty of room for creativity. It makes me a better magician.”

  Nikola grinned, but the smile held no warmth. “Maybe. But the Chancellor doesn’t want us to be better magicians. He wants us to be better faculty members. Our job is to train workers for the kingdom, and the more that we can specialize, the better we’re going to be in that one area. Same thing with the students. I’ve heard the Chancellor say that he wants to start giving the students specialties, too. Divide and conquer, as they say.”

  Ezekiel shook his head. Nikola was using that phrase in the wrong way, but it made perfect sense for what Adrien was doing. He was keeping his own people divided, which made them easier to control.

  Practically speaking, he could understand the move that Adrien had made. Not only would it make each of them incredibly good in one area, in such a way that they would be able to teach the students particularly well. But Ezekiel also knew that it would keep them, the faculty, from becoming too powerful. Adrien was a powerbroker, and the more that he could control, the stronger he was.

  “Well, you’re right. It hasn’t always been this way. And I guess I can see the Chancellor’s point.” Ezekiel knew he had to play their game, at least to a certain extent. “But do tell me about the magitech. It sounds as if this has become an important part of teaching at the Academy, is it not?”

  “As a good specialist,” Nikola said, “it is my duty to tell you that magitech is the most important part of the Academy.” Again, Nikola’s words contained a bite. The dour man drained his glass and ordered another.

  “I’d like to disagree,” August said with a laugh. “But Nikola is right. Our Chancellor places great stock in that particular discipline. He believes that magitech is the future, and I have no reason to doubt him.”

  “Why is that?” Ezekiel asked.

  The Dean stepped into the conversation. “Progress and safety. Magitech lets us shape the world to fit our needs, with very low risk. Even the worst magic user can push a button. Even those without the gift. Adrien firmly believes that if we want what’s best for society, we should focus on magitech.”

  Ezekiel took a long pull on his pint, placed it down carefully, and said, “But doesn’t that take the responsibility out of our hands? If we create technology, but don’t teach people how to use it well, use it morally, aren’t we culpable?”

  Amelia looked down at her cup. “The Chancellor believes that—”

  “And what do you believe, Amelia?” Ezekiel interrupted.

  She sat in silence for a moment. She hadn’t expected that question, and Ezekiel knew that she was weighing the difference between her own subjective position and the party line she needed to toe for the sake of her role as Dean. Finally, she said, “It is what it is. And what can I do to change it?”

  Ezekiel stared at her for a long time before finally speaking. “If something’s wrong, you should fight to fix it. Even if it’s a fight you can’t win. Better to die than fight for the wrong side. But if you ask me, I think there’s a tremendous amount you can do, Amelia. And I think you know that, don’t you?”

  The table fell silent. Ezekiel’s questioning turned from playful banter to something altogether too serious. Amelia stared at Ezekiel trying to read his words. Nikola stared into his cup. Even August lost some of his smile.

  As the silence became too uncomfortable, the portly older man tried to steer it back into more pleasant waters. “So,” August said, “what do you all think of the new statue of the Chancellor? I, for one, think it’s divine. I was just saying so to him the other day, and…”

  As August continued to prattle on, Ezekiel tuned him out. His whole focus was on Amelia. He emptied his thoughts and began to fill his mind with hers. His gut told him that she could be trusted, but he had to know for sure.

  The risk was too great if he was wrong.

  Finally, August and Nikola rose from the table, making some excuse about early morning classes. Soon, it was only Ezekiel and the Dean left.

  “Did you really mean that,” she asked. “About it being better to die than to fight for the wrong side?”

  Ezekiel nodded. “Absolutely. And I’ve known a fair number of people who believed it enough to prove it true.”

  Amelia swirled the remaining ale in her glass. “My father used to say the same thing.”

  “Sounds like a smart man,” Ezekiel said.

  “He said he heard the Founder say it once.” She said, lifting her eyes to look back at Ezekiel’s. “Who are you, really? I’ve looked into your records. You were a terrible student when you were at the Academy—with no interest in history whatsoever. And by everyone’s account, you’re not a very nice person either. What brings you back here? Why now? It seems so... out of character.”

  Ezekiel smiled as he leaned back in his chair. “You certainly don’t mince your words, Dean.”

  “I’m just tired of the lies,” she said. “It feels as if the Arcadia is full of them, these days. That’s not the Academy I knew when I was young.”

  “And what was the Academy you knew?”

  “It was a place of discovery, of passion,” she said. “A place where you could learn the skills to change the world. That’s the kind of person I wanted to be. That’s the kind of professor I wanted to be. But now, I don’t know what I do. I manage idiot teachers who can’t see beyond their own biases so that they can teach unenthusiastic students who care only about their own ambitions.” She looked around the tavern before looking back at Ezekiel. “What’s the point?”

  “But you’re the Dean. Surely you could do something about it.”

  She shook her head. “It’s like I said, Adrien,” she suddenly paused, afraid to cont
inue. Ezekiel watched her—it was clear she was debating something in her mind. Finally, she spoke. “It’s Adrien. He’s too powerful, not only in the Academy, but in all of Arcadia. No one asks questions. We all just smile along, like August. But Adrien is keeping something from us. Keeping something from me. I don’t know what it is, but my gut tells me that something here is terribly wrong. Like this internship of his. Why is it so damn secretive? What’s he hiding? But it doesn’t matter. Even if I knew, I couldn’t do anything about it. No one could. And that’s what scares me most of all. Only a person who was corrupt would want that much power.”

  She stopped her rant and looked up. Her eyes were two questions, and Ezekiel knew what she was really asking. Had she said too much? Was Girard someone she could trust? Or did she just ruin her career with a careless slip of the tongue after too many drinks?

  Ezekiel smiled. He leaned in close. “What if I told you that it does matter, more than anything? And what if I told you there was someone who could do something about it? Would you want to meet them?”

  Amelia stared Ezekiel in the face. “Hell yes,” she replied.

  Ezekiel rose to his feet. “Then come with me. No more lies. It’s time for the truth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When Parker finally opened his eyes, there wasn’t much to see. It was dark—wherever he was. Light crept in from cracks around the door in front of him, and when he strained his neck, he could just make out a single window that was boarded up near the top of the room. A chill ran through this body, and sounds of water dripping surrounded him. The room was wet.

  Very wet.

  But all of this wasn’t what concerned him. Rather, it was the fact that he was stripped naked and suspended by chains from the ceiling of whatever hellhole he had been thrown into. Time meant nothing to him. He could have been here for a minute or a year; all he could remember was that he had escaped—or just nearly.

  He could feel a burning sore between his shoulders, which reminded him that the guards who brought him back in weren’t too friendly. They used their magitech staffs liberally, and Parker’s body paid the price. All the muscles from his wrists down to his ankles thumped in rhythm with his heart.

  He remembered seeing the Boulevard off in the distance right before the forcefield threw him on his ass. Things had gone to shit-storm awful in a matter of minutes, and now, he had to figure out the next move—if there was one.

  After hanging there for what felt like a day, the door to the room finally creaked open. Light poured in from the hallway beyond and nearly blinded him, but Parker forced himself to look, to try and get any information on where he was. All he saw was a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

  Female. Shapely. Powerful.

  She quickly shut the door, but carried a magitech lantern which lit up the room. As his eyes adjusted, Parker tried to assess his location. Leaning his head back, he saw that he hung from shackles attached to the ceiling. The cuffs were common, not fueled with magitech like the shackles the workers were all attached to. The room was empty, save for a single wooden chair in the middle.

  The woman stared at him for a moment, then moved forward. The clacking of her heels filled his dismal dungeon. Dark hair pulled back and exposed the pale, angular features of her face. A finely pressed suit hugged her curves, and everything about her screamed noblewoman. She was at once beautiful and terrifying, the kind of woman all men wanted—until they had her.

  Then they would run screaming.

  “Parker. Parker. Parker,” she hissed. “Not a bad attempt, really. You made it further than anyone else has. That’s quite an honor for some worthless street scum from the Boulevard. But no one gets out of my box.”

  He snorted. “Sounds like no one’s been in your box for a while. You should try it, might loosen you up a bit.”

  In three steps, she was upon him. Delivering a slap to his face, she laughed. “Quick, for a little shit. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Eleanor, right?”

  A cold feeling grabbed at Parker’s spine. “Leave my mother out of this!” he yelled.

  “Oh, honey. We haven’t met, have we? I’m Alexandra. And the only thing you need to know about me is that I don’t leave anything out of anything. It’s all on the table.” She got so close that he could smell the bitterness on her tongue. “I hope that bitch has a sense of humor like yours. It’ll make it easier when she’s working her life away here with me.”

  “Kiss my ass,” Parker spat.

  Alexandra looked down at his naked body hanging from the chains. “Tempting. Really. But I have much better options.” She paused, smiling coldly. “Eleanor. Yes, she’d be a nice addition. Hard worker. Way things are going in the Boulevard, and with her doting son hanging like meat in my dungeon, she’ll either be working for me soon, or spreading her low-class legs for a few coins and some mead. Which do you prefer?”

  Parker was ready to explode. He felt as if he could pull the iron chains from the ceiling and choke the woman. But she wanted a response—that was her whole game. And he knew that if he had a chance of getting out of the shit-storm, he would have to be patient.

  He remained silent.

  “And what about the other one? Hannah, right? Oh, sweet Hannah. The two of you were close, weren’t you?”

  Alexandra ran a perfectly manicured nail down between his pecs and slowly scratched a line in his abdomen, pulling it away just before getting to his privates. “How close were you, exactly? I hear the Unlawfuls can get a little, you know, kinky. Is it all true?”

  Parker pushed up on his toes, trying to take some pressure off his wrists. “She got kinky with those pervert Hunters when she blew them to bits, but I doubt that’s what you mean.”

  She made a tisking sound with her tongue as she paced around the room. “Now, Parker, let’s place nice, shall we? Tell me where the little Princess Bitch is. I’ll even make you a deal. You give me Hannah, and I give you your freedom.”

  He laughed. Hannah was his best friend. He wouldn’t turn on her for anything. “I’d rather stay right here in your wet, filthy box, if you know what I mean,” Parker said. “Enough of the good cop shit. Bring in the bruiser, and then you can send me back to the assembly line. You people have put me through so much shit already. You think a few hours at the hands of one of your thugs scares me? I’m from the Boulevard, bitch.”

  Alexandra smiled. But instead of calling in another interrogator, she slowly removed her jacket, revealing a tight leather corset and nothing else on beneath. She carefully folded the coat and placed it over the chair. Parker couldn’t help but notice just how stunning she was.

  She spun on her heels and walked back toward him. Turning her palms up, tiny bolts of lightning danced around her fingers. Her eyes were black as hell.

  “Parker, you’ve misunderstood. I am the bad cop, as well as the good. I’m... shall we say, experienced. With men, magic, manipulation…” She ran her hand across his face. His skin tingled where the magic touched it. “Give me what I want, and I’ll give you the night of your life. I’m not shy after all. But withhold from me…” She closed her fist and cracked it against his jaw. Her punch was rock hard and rattled him in his chains. “...And you’ll experience a hell that makes living in the Boulevard seem like a dream.”

  Parker’s head rattled around, his tongue checking to make sure he still had all of this teeth as he spat out, “I’d rather cut off my own bits, darling,” he said, forcing a grin.

  Alexandra laughed, and it echoed around the room. “We might just get to that before the night ends.”

  Without warning, she turned her palms out toward him. They glowed blue, wreathed in lightning. Pressing them against his torso, the power burned through his flesh.

  She continued to laugh, but it was drowned out by Parker’s screams. He screamed loud enough for Jack and all the other workers to hear him from the factory floor.