The Lightning Conjurer

by Rachel Rener

  As the clock on the mantle ticked, I was reminded that she would be coming home at any minute. At that time, I would have two choices: plead with her to stay, knowing it was futile, or support her decision, even though I loathed the very idea of it. My jaw clenched; it was a lose-lose situation. Still, as I paced in front of the couch, risking both life and shin in the darkness, I was acutely aware that while Aspen and I shared every aspect of our lives, I had no right to control her actions or decisions. Those choices belonged to her, and her alone.

  It didn’t help that I had no idea what that decision would entail, since I’d stormed out before Ori even had the chance to explain. But it wasn’t hard to guess. Parliamentary Assemblies took place in Tokyo, Prime Minister Mei Saito’s place of birth. If Ori’s plans had anything to do with her, and I assumed they did, it meant Japan was most likely Aspen’s next destination. As the embers in the fireplace seethed and sparked, I let out a long sigh, releasing my death grip on the lighter I was clenching in my hand. I’d been clutching it so hard, my knuckles were aching. I dropped it on the end table as I slumped against the couch again, draping the blanket across my shoulders.

  If only we were two normal people and our biggest concerns were school, bills, and wedding planning. For what felt like the hundredth time that night, my stomach knotted. At this rate, we won’t be having a wedding for a very long time.

  The thought – or rather, the acute dejection that came with it – caught me off guard. Since when did a long engagement bother me? It was a perfectly logical thing to do, given my new professorship and Aspen’s forthcoming completion of her doctorate. Trying to plan a wedding during all that tumult would be absurd. We both acknowledged and understood that.

  So then why did I suddenly feel so dejected? What was another year? Or two?

  The white headlights of the Jeep I’d abandoned in Ted and Elizabeth’s driveway brought me back from my somber reverie. I watched as Aspen pulled into the long dirt driveway and parked alongside the house. My hands suddenly felt clammy. I’d shouted at her and her family. Told Ori to get out. Walked out of the house without a word. I’d never done anything remotely like that before. And she had every right to be furious.

  When she walked in the door moments later, I held my breath. Wordlessly, she dropped the keys on the small table beside the door, hung up her jacket in the closet, and carefully stepped over the soaking wet mess I had left on the floor. Like me, she didn’t bother turning on the light, but she did wave a hand to re-ignite the blackened embers in the fireplace – clearly, one of us wasn’t worried about accidental Pyromantic explosions. In the darkness of the foyer, her eyes glowed faintly – whether it was a reflection of the ignited embers or something burning internally, I could never be sure.

  Averting my eyes, I stared down at my hands, still numb from my evening stroll through the blizzard. Part of me wanted her to be angry – to complain, to shout, to curse the injustice of it all. At least then I could comfort her, be of some use. Hell, I would have been happy if she’d shouted at me for being the moronic clod I was. I deserved it and then some. But her calm silence only fueled my own anger, and with no way to channel that anger into usefulness or self-defense, it simmered hot and deep, threatening to explode.

  When I finally looked up again, she was watching me from the far end of the couch, her face softly illuminated by the orange glow of the fireplace. She held a foil-covered plate in two hands. “I brought you some pie,” she said quietly, holding it out for me to take.

  Inwardly, I winced – if a man’s cold heart were capable of melting! But I couldn’t bring myself to speak, not after the idiocy of my earlier explosion.

  In the ensuing silence, she let out a small sigh and set the plate on the end table. The slight crease between her brows was the only hint of emotion her expression betrayed: she was worried. Never mind furious, insulted, or any other justifiable reaction to my deplorable behavior… No, my deeply compassionate empath was feeling sorry for me. An unexpected wave of tenderness displaced the last vestiges of anger and resentment I’d been harboring, leaving me with nothing but shame and remorse. How I’d ever come to deserve a woman like Aspen, I hadn’t the faintest idea.

  “Aiden—”

  I shook my head as I let out a mirthless laugh. “Don’t you dare worry about me right now. For once in your life, would you please worry about yourself?”

  “Ori says the Asterian Parliament is on the brink of collapse. Which means I don’t have the—”

  “But you do,” I interrupted, my voice sounding harder than I’d wished. The very mention of the Order made my fists clench all over again. “Aspen, you nearly died helping Barish create this government. You risked everything for them. Everything!”

  I stood from my spot, letting the blanket fall to the floor. In two strides I was toe-to-toe with her, but she didn’t flinch. Reaching forward to cradle her face with two hands, my fingers intertwined in her hair as I tilted her face towards mine. Her wide eyes took me in as electricity simmered between us as it always had, drawing our bodies closer.

  “Aspen,” I murmured, doing my best to keep my voice from rising. “You’ve given so much, lost so much – if they fail this time, it’s no one’s fault but their own. Let them be the victims of their own ineffectiveness. They may call you ‘Prophet’ but you’re not a goddamn Messiah.” I could feel the muscles in my jaw clenching as I steeled myself against the emotions threatening to erupt from my chest. They tore at my throat, bidding me to speak the words I wished I could say: Stay with me. Marry me. Run away with me and forget it all.

  I fought them down.

  Aspen clasped her hands over mine, gazing deeply into my eyes. Only then did I notice the tears gathering in her lashes. But she fought them back, for my sake. Everything she did was for someone else’s sake.

  “Come,” she said, leading me back to the couch. I sank into the cushions, elbows on my knees. Waiting. Bracing.

  Aspen tossed a fresh log in the fire, gazing at the hungry flames for a long moment before taking a seat beside me, legs tucked beneath her. “I know you want me to stay. To tell Ori to buzz off and for us to go on living in blissful normalcy. That’s what I want too.”

  “Then why don’t you? What’s wrong with that?”

  The crease between her eyebrows deepened. “Because this goes well beyond the Asterians. Beyond you and me. This time, the rest of the world is in danger too. Robert, Evelyn... everyone. If I don’t do something…” Her voice trailed off as she chewed on her lip.

  “Then, what?” I pressed. “What is this supposed catastrophe that Ori’s riling everybody up about?”

  Her eyes bore into mine, fierce and desolate and determined. “Life as we know it is at stake.”

  I took a deep breath, doing my best not to roll my eyes – not at her, but at the absurdity of it all. “Yes, Ori said that at your mother’s house. But we all know he’s prone to a bit of hyperbole, and that’s putting it lightly. The guy just wants to be minister and he’s looking to take advantage of your endorsement. Anything else that comes out of his mouth is just to get you to tag along.”

  I expected her to nod in agreement, but her features had only hardened as I spoke. “It’s not hyperbole,” she replied, staring into the flames. “And he’s only running for minister to make sure Kaylie doesn’t win.”

  I scoffed. “Because they broke up?”

  “Because he thinks she’s an Elemental supremacist.”

  “What?” I asked, cocking my head. “That type of fanaticism died with Keres and Jahi—”

  “You’re wrong,” Aspen shook her head. “We were all wrong. And right now, it’s happening right under our noses.”

  “How? Where?”

  “As we’re all acutely aware, Elementalists are increasingly revealing themselves to the rest of the world, both accidentally and intentionally. At first, the incidents were just being reported on conspiracy blogs and tabloids. The rest of the world hardly noticed… But now, Ori says that st
ories are popping up in major news outlets. You and I have been too busy to notice, since both of our heads have been stuck in textbooks for months. But the revamped Containment teams are being stretched to their limits, scrambling to come up with feasible reasons for a freak snowstorm in the Sahara or a street magician who’s able to set his entire body on Fire and walk away completely unscathed.”

  I suppressed a chuckle. “You mean Isaac the Inflammable? But he’s doing all of that under the guise of being some sort of illusory magician, right?”

  “Yes. But now that he has his own Netflix series, some guy on Reddit made a list of all the reasons why his tricks can’t be CGI or a trick of the camera. That’s gone viral. But Isaac refuses to stop using Pyromancy to bolster the tricks on his show. He’s a millionaire now.”

  “And why should he stop?” I muttered, understanding setting in. “No one’s afraid they’ll be Contained anymore.”

  Aspen hung her head. “Which is entirely my fault. I should have done more to fill in the gaps between imprisonment and rehabilitation. But I didn’t. I spent a year or so setting up the new government and then fled at the first sign of stability. It was shortsighted and selfish. And now the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction. We’ve lost control.”

  “You aren’t even remotely selfish.” I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “Regardless, what does this swinging pendulum have to do with Jahi or his predecessors?”

  “Everything. Kaylie and her allies are starting to echo the sentiment that it should be non-Elementalists who are contained and dealt with in those situations, not us. And she’s not talking about controlling the narrative… she’s talking about physical Containment.”

  “That’s crazy – how would we even—”

  “Furthermore, Ori thinks Kaylie is taking advantage of the situation by pushing an agenda that refocuses on Mnemonic Manipulation. Of dealing with ‘Deficients’ – her word, not his – instead of suppressing our own Community. The problem is that her philosophies are amassing more and more followers each day – and why wouldn’t they? Community first. Outsiders second. On the surface it doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

  “All of that does sound concerning,” I replied, “but not necessarily earth-shattering. What am I missing? And what does this have to do with Ori’s bid for election?”

  “Do you remember Keres mentioning ‘Wilders’ the night… well, you know.” She shifted uncomfortably at the memory of her nearly dying alongside the rest of the Inner Circle.

  I suppressed a scowl as I nodded.

  “Well, these unaffiliated Elementalists are apparently out in the world and forming large groups, presumably without laws or safety measures.”

  “Okay…” I replied slowly. “But no one’s confirmed their location or even existence, right?”

  Aspen opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated. By this point, the log in the fireplace was once again a pile of simmering coals. From the corner of my eye, I saw them flare brightly – another lapse of my own self-control. Deep down, I knew what was coming, where this conversation was heading. And I desperately wanted to be wrong.

  “A few months ago,” she began carefully, measuring each word. “Ori saw a text message on Kaylie’s phone. It was from Rana, another one of Jahi’s old sub-Prelates, if you remember. He was particularly sensitive to seeing her name pop up because of, um, some fidelity issues on Kaylie’s part… Anyway, when he opened the message to snoop, he was shocked.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I presume the message contained something worse than salacious photos?”

  She nodded. “According to Rana’s encrypted message – which was only one of many – not only has the Wilders’ existence been confirmed, but there’re more of them than anyone ever realized. Even Keres. Ori believes that Kaylie wants to round them up by the hundreds, to create a sort of coalition of allies to throw their support behind her… but there could be ulterior motives as well. The text messages were very vague. Intentionally vague.”

  “He thinks she’s trying to create an army.” It wasn’t a question; dread flattened my voice. In front of us, the embers glowed even brighter. I took several deep breaths to calm down, both for Aspen’s sake and the cabin’s.

  “Yes,” she replied, her eyes blazing through the burning remnants to something much bigger.

  I leaned toward her to take both of her hands in mine. “Aspen, listen to me. There are a lot of variables here, many of which are still ambiguous. Why can’t they just talk to Kaylie? Call an impromptu Assembly, lay everything out on the table?”

  As Aspen looked up into my eyes, she looked so tired. I wanted to pull her against my bare chest and wrap my arms around her and never let go. The fact that I couldn’t, that there was always something bigger holding us back, taunted me. Once again, the embers surged brightly as I swallowed my rising emotions.

  “Mei has reason to believe that Kaylie and Rana have already begun rounding up Wilders with the help of others. That they’re trying to indoctrinate them, bring them to her side before they even have a chance to be addressed by the Assembly. But since the minister has no concrete proof of these activities, there’s nothing she can do – not overtly, at least. Especially not without drawing more attention to the matter. So, she’s making her moves in the background.”

  “Rana is the Representative from the Cairo chapter, right? What about the other nine Representatives? What do they think about all of this?”

  “Apart from Rana, Mei doesn’t know which members of Parliament might be in on it. And she can’t risk interrogating someone who could tip Kaylie off to our counter-measures.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand. Where do you come into all of this? And Ori?”

  “The minister wants me to help Ori campaign to get enough support behind him to win. The Asterians can’t afford to have Kaylie and her ideals in the minister’s seat – not after the last collapse. That kind of division might cause an irreparable rift in the Community, one the Asterians wouldn’t be able to survive.”

  “And what will you be doing behind the scenes?” I asked, feeling my dread rising.

  “We’d already be traveling around for Ori’s election bid, which is the perfect front because the Wilders are spread all over the place – Mei just wants us to get to them first.”

  I rubbed my forehead warily. How long had my head been throbbing? “Which means… you’re not going to Tokyo?”

  “Not right away,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Then… where?”

  “Denver.”

  At that, I perked up slightly. Accordingly, the embers in the fireplace dimmed to a faint orange, making me cringe. It was frankly embarrassing. I hadn’t let my emotions interfere with my abilities like this since I was a novice. A slip up like that would have cost me an upbraiding from my father – or worse.

  Despite the unpleasant memory, I let out a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s not so bad!”

  Aspen dropped her eyes. There was no trace of relief in her expression. “Denver is only the first stop,” she muttered darkly. “And it’s just to pick someone up on our way to the airport.”

  I frowned. “I assume you mean Eileen, since she’s the Denver Chapter’s Aggregator – but she and Sophia aren’t even back yet.”

  Now it was Aspen who was rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “We’re meeting with someone who apparently has intimate knowledge of these Wilders and where to find them. Someone who had inside information from Barish himself.”

  Once again, my body seemed to be several steps ahead of my brain, because even though it hadn’t yet dawned on me who Aspen was referring to, my fists clenched autonomously.

  “Who exactly are you talking about?”

  She chewed on her lip but didn’t reply.

  This can’t be good. I racked my brains to think of a living person Aspen might not like. In general, she appeared to get along with everyone who wasn’t a raging psychopath. “Who is it? Another ex-Prelate? That Auroman
tic trainer who drives you crazy?”

  This time, it was Aspen who let out a mirthless laugh. “No. Mei wants the Order’s most decorated Aggregator to reemerge from forced retirement so she can help us with this mission.”

  My diaphragm contracted as though I’d been punched. She couldn’t have meant—there was absolutely no way she was talking about—

  “Savannah. She’s coming with us.”

  A shimmering red haze enshrouded my vision. Savannah. The woman who made Aspen’s life a living hell, who forced her to admit she was a Pentamancer by having her thugs nearly drown me… The very same woman who fed me shot after shot six years ago and then coerced me into having sex in some sick attempt to lure me back into the Asterian Order.

  The red haze in front of my eyes deepened, turning the entire living room to crimson. Aspen was saying something – muffled, jumbled words I couldn’t register. A faint pressure on my arm let me know she was squeezing it tightly. Wide eyes right in front of me betrayed her growing concern, but I was beyond words.

  The fiery embers in the fireplace exploded all over the living room.

  Chapter 4

  hile I – with no insignificant amount of remorse and chagrin – did my best to clean up the scorch marks on the floor and couch, Aspen sat at the kitchen table making various phone calls. The first was a brief call to Eileen, whom she quickly filled in while simultaneously apologizing for interrupting her and Sophia’s anniversary getaway. The next was a call to Dr. Shirvani, explaining that she needed to take an extended absence from the program for an indeterminate amount of time – this conversation, too, was interspersed with about a dozen apologies, as though he was the one who’d been forced to put his entire life on hold. The last phone call she made was in a hushed voice as she conveniently re-washed the dishes from earlier that afternoon. Above the clatter of plates and utensils and the sounds of running water, I distinctly heard the words “Robert,” “check in,” and “really worried about him.”