The Lightning Conjurer

by Rachel Rener

  The minister, taking advantage of the almost supernatural silence that ensued – not because of me; I’d released my hold on the atmosphere moments ago – strode to Kaylie’s vacated podium. “Since Ms. Branson has unambiguously abandoned both her election bid and her place within this Community, and Mr. Levitan has likewise ceded his own bid, I move to instate Section Two, Article Fourteen of the Asterian Manifesto, effective immediately.”

  Scattered gasps erupted throughout the auditorium. Aspen hopped off the podium to say something to Ori. When he replied, her hand shot to her mouth and her eyes doubled in size. Meanwhile, Aiden’s shoulders sank even lower. Across the auditorium, Kaylie’s team of rogues, far smaller than it had been twenty minutes ago, quietly slipped through the exits while the rest remained, entranced. As many as a third of the Wilders lingered as well.

  As for me, I had absolutely no idea what Mei was referring to. Unless…

  “Oh my God,” Eileen whispered.

  “What?” I asked. “What is Mei talking about?”

  “For those of you who are unfamiliar,” the minister continued, “this special provision was included in Barish’s original Manifesto, voted into law by a Parliamentary supermajority four years ago on September thirteenth. It grants immediate and unequivocal sanction to any living Pentamancer whereby he or she may seize control of Parliament at any point during the current election term. That is, with the permission and approval of the current serving minister.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” a woman muttered behind me. Savannah. Definitely Savannah.

  “Let it be known that I, Mei Saito, do hereby grant my full and unwavering support. By the power vested in me by you, my esteemed voters, by Parliament, and by our beloved Barish himself – may he finally rest in peace – it will be my life’s greatest honor to introduce the Asterian Order’s newest inaugurated prime minister… Miss Rowan Aspen Elizabeth Fulman.”

  At that, the crowd went wild. Rapturous applause as thunderous as a herd of wild horses shook the fortified cement walls of the auditorium. It was as if every single person in that room was stamping lead-soled boots and roaring at the top of their lungs. I could feel the stage moving beneath my feet, the rolling vibrations as strong as an earthquake. But this wasn’t a Terramancer moving the earth – it was Aspen herself.

  Even as I joined in on the clapping, my heart was breaking for her. There would perhaps never be a leader as qualified or ideal as our reluctant Pentamancer. But as I watched her standing at that podium fighting back tears, I knew that there would never be a newly-appointed minister as devastated or heartbroken as she was in that very moment.

  Chapter 19

  velyn had never looked as frightening or intimidating as she did at that very moment. Though her mouth was set in a prim line and her voice was calm and level, her eyes were glinting with barely contained rage.

  “Would you please repeat that, dear?”

  I winced. The neon green rollers twisted into her gray hair and the puffy pink bathrobe she wore did nothing to assuage my anxiety. Even Robert appeared to be inching away from the kitchen table where their laptop had been propped for an evening video chat. Ted and Elizabeth were standing behind the two of them, arms crossed.

  Damn you, Eileen, I silently groused. The only reason I’d been roped into playing Bad News Barry while she and Sophia gavotted around Paris is because I’d drawn the short straw in what I was fairly certain was a rigged contest. It had been bad enough having to report all of this to my own mother, who somehow managed to simultaneously lecture, interrogate, and badger me for the better part of an hour while my sister just snickered in the background.

  “Well?” Evelyn pressed.

  I cleared my throat. “Ah, well, Elizabeth and Ted may already be aware of the larger situation, since they had access to the event on the Asterians’ online streaming channel—”

  “I don’t know what a ‘streaming channel’ is dear, so if you wouldn’t mind answering my original question,” Evelyn interjected, her voice as sweet as a lemon.

  “Right,” I coughed. How was I more nervous speaking to Aspen’s grandmother from a cushy French apartment than I had been during last night’s Elemental revolt? “As I was saying, last night, after a mutiny more or less took place, Aspen was elected prime minister – of the Asterian Order, that is. Not France.”

  Evelyn gaped at me. “Minister? Mutiny?!”

  “Uh, well, one could say mutiny. I suppose a ‘culmination of irreconcilable divergences of opinions resulting in a mass exodus,’ works as well, though it really depends on whom you ask—”

  “I thought you were going to help Ori with his campaign speeches, not pacify a supernatural revolt!” Over the course of that single sentence, her voice had risen about an octave and a half. “And how exactly does one become minister overnight?”

  I looked at Robert helplessly. He cleared his throat and essentially repeated, verbatim, what I’d already explained to her about Parliament’s “Pentamancer Clause.” “And now, Evie, our dear Aspen holds the most powerful office on Earth. It’s quite remarkable,” he mused, failing to notice the others’ increasingly displeased expressions. “She’ll be the youngest leader the Order has seen since Gregory Whittaker in 1563. Barish’s entire Manifesto was pure brilliance, really, but for him to have the foresight to effectively write Aspen in as minister years after his death is just… Well, it shows remarkable prescience. Quite an exhilarating turn of events,” he chuckled to himself.

  By this point, Evelyn was staring at him like she wanted to slug him. After what appeared to be an internal struggle whereby she only narrowly decided not to, she twisted around in her chair to address Elizabeth. “And what exactly do you think about all of this… this… malarkey?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, looking very much like Aspen as she did. “We always knew our Rosebud was never destined for a life of normalcy. Or peace, it would seem,” she sighed, shaking her head lightly. “I just… I’m still processing, Evie. I’m frankly as stunned as you are.”

  I couldn’t help but notice the twinge of accusation in her voice as she said that last part, her gaze pointedly avoiding mine. Her unspoken indictment wasn’t entirely undeserved. The moment Kaylie’s spectacular mutiny was aired for the entire Asterian Community to witness, Elizabeth had obviously figured out that our trip involved far more than we’d originally let on. I could only imagine her horrified reaction when her daughter leapt onstage to announce her intention to run for minister. Little did she know her inauguration would come less than a minute later.

  I had to consciously avoid grinding my teeth at the memory. Evelyn wasn’t the only one on that call who was livid. Not at Aspen, in my case. Never at Aspen. But I sure as hell railed against the people and circumstances that led to her making such a brash decision, and Kaylie Branson was at the top of that list, followed shortly thereafter by the bastard formerly known as Ori.

  “Okay,” Evelyn’s forced, toothy smile was borderline manic. “So, here’s what I’m gleaning from this enlightening conversation: my granddaughter was in yet another situation where unstable and/or power-hungry Elementalists went berserk. As a consequence, she decided to jump in and save the day because she has a hyper-inflated martyr complex… Am I correct so far, dear?”

  “Perfectly so.” I made a face halfway between a grin and a grimace.

  “Then, because of some dead Magistrate’s scheming, she was magically elected as head honcho so she can quell a group of supernatural nutjobs who are hell-bent on wiping out and/or enslaving the rest of the human race, and now… Well, now what, exactly, my dear?” she cocked her head, smiling blandly – and boy, if there wasn’t cold, steely rage behind that polite façade.

  I tried to swallow, amazed by the difficulty I had in doing so. I’d dealt with cronies and murderers and kidnappers before, all of whom had the ability to freeze my blood or fry my synapses. But this tiny woman was terrifying.

  “R
ight, what’s next…” I began, not entirely sure myself. “Well, right now Aspen and the rest of Parliament – including both Ori and Mei, since the former minister took Kaylie’s vacant seat – are holding an emergency session to, well…” I scratched the back of my neck.

  “Figure out what the hell happens now?” Ted offered, breaking his stony silence for the first time in thirty minutes.

  “Yes, that.” I stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. When was the last time I’d had a full night of sleep, undisturbed by travel, emergency meetings, or acute stress? Last week? The week before that?

  “This is madness,” Evelyn was shaking her head.

  This… Is… Sparta!! my manic, sleep-deprived, stressed-beyond-recognition brain silently screamed. I shook my head to prevent more non sequitur movie lines from barging in. If I didn’t get some sleep soon, things would become embarrassing. Damnit, I winced. Speaking of embarrassing…

  “Robert?” I ventured, hearing the sheepishness in my own voice. This entire conversation felt like I was a child being reprimanded by Mom and Dad. If only they could send Aspen and me back to our cabin to be grounded for a few weeks. Or years.

  “Yes?” he raised an eyebrow.

  I steeled myself against his and Evelyn’s icy expressions. “Look… I realize that you only just recently retired, and you’ve made it clear that you would have to be dragged back into a freshman lecture hall at literal gunpoint, but, ah…”

  His eyes narrowed. “You won’t be back in time for the start of spring semester.”

  “…Not looking like it, no.”

  “And you need me to… substitute? Mere weeks after retiring from five decades of grueling scholastic service?”

  “To be fair, it’s been a solid month,” I corrected.

  “You do realize that you’ll be indebted to me up to and after the day I die?”

  “After?” I blinked.

  “Oh yes, m’boy,” he rubbed his hands together. “For this, I’ll be haunting you well after my death.”

  “Me too,” Evelyn chipped in. “Robbie can be the one rattling all of your kitchen cabinets while you sleep and I’ll be the poltergeist writing angry messages on foggy bathroom mirrors. Every time you shower, you can bet I’ll be there.”

  “You’re going to haunt us in the bathroom, Evie?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “That seems a little depraved, even for you.”

  “Well, you do have a cute butt,” she quipped, eyes twinkling.

  “Evie!”

  “What?” she grinned at Robert. “He does!”

  “Can you please have my daughter call me as soon as possible?” Elizabeth asked suddenly. “What happened last night… This isn’t something she’s ever wanted and I… well, I need to know that she’s okay.”

  Fresh guilt knotted my stomach. “Of course. And… I’m really sorry, Elizabeth. I’d like to tell you that I tried to stop her but—”

  “Ro was always an unstoppable force,” Ted interposed. “You’d have better luck stopping a freight train with faulty brakes than my dau— Er, Rowan.”

  His “slip-up” made my heart heavy. He’d lost a daughter. She’d lost a father. We’d all lost people, really. In a way that was difficult to quantify but hard to miss, we’d all come to be family over the years. Except Ori. Daft, stupid, thick-skulled Ori.

  A sudden stroke of brilliance hit me – perhaps the only true means by which I could ever get proper revenge on the man.

  “By the way, Ted,” I mentioned casually, “has Aspen told you about the stunt Ori pulled while she was in his hotel room last week?”

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Care to fill me in?”

  Oh, yes. I nodded solemnly. I was all too happy to oblige.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, less than twenty-four hours after the Obsidian revolt and my fiancée’s swift ascension to prime minister, about two dozen of us were sitting in the Paris Chapter’s Chief Security Officer’s spacious, circular office. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the U.S. president’s Oval Office, but with fewer bald eagles and far more French roosters. The regally named and dressed (I did slightly envy his silk ascot) Archenbaud Gauthier was seated at his massive desk, steepling his fingers, while the rest of us sat in two semi-circles of folding chairs. He’d offered Aspen his chair the moment she entered his office, but she politely refused, opting instead to take an informal seat between Mei and myself. I worried that such actions could become a problem for her – accepting the title of Minister while rejecting the ceremony. But now certainly wasn’t the time for me to bring that up.

  In any event, Mr. Gauthier had graciously opened the skylight embedded in the ceiling, allowing us to get a glimpse of the dark storm clouds that loomed over Paris. Sitting among the crowd, both in-person and on the massive wall of screens to our left, were eight Parliament members, including Mei and Ori – the other four had evidently defected with Kaylie – most of the local executive team, and a handful of security officers from around the globe.

  Notably missing? Our katana-wielding Hydro-mancer, Kumiko, who abandoned her post last night to flee with Obsidian. To say we were stunned by her betrayal would be an understatement. Mei, in particular, appeared to be having a difficult time. Her normally bright eyes looked red and puffy, though her staunch demeanor was resilient as ever. Still acting as a sort of deputy minister, she’d been hovering at Aspen’s side every minute since the insurrection, offering her prudent guidance while simultaneously filling her in on everything she’d need to know as minister – which honestly seemed like an encyclopedia’s worth of information.

  “Have we figured out the location of Obsidian’s top-secret lair?” Ori asked, cleaving through the brief lull in conversation that had settled upon the group. “Elephant graveyard? Inside of a volcano? Puppy mill?”

  “Washington, D.C.,” Mei replied. “We’ve had several sources, including ousted officers from that chapter, confirm it.”

  My jaw dropped. “That’s where the Obsidian headquarters is? As in, beneath the Pentagon? How in the hell did they manage that?”

  “By slowly replacing Chapter heads with supremacists,” Aspen muttered, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. I reached behind her to gently stroke her hair, a gesture that always seemed to have a calming effect. As hoped, her tense, hunched shoulders immediately relaxed.

  “The Washington Chapter has indeed been compromised,” Mr. Gauthier said in a heavy French accent that erased his h’s and pronounced his th’s as z’s. “They have evicted anyone who sympathizes with non-Elementalists while allowing anyone with an Obsidian star to enter without question. They also have financial backing from at least one billionaire, an eccentric tech entrepreneur who’s quite taken with their vision. Furthermore, we have learned that they have recruited several high-ranking Elementalists from the U.S. government, up to and including prominent senators as well as decorated officers working inside the Pentagon.”

  “How many numbers have they amassed so far?” the Chapter head from São Paulo asked from one of the computer screens on the wall.

  “Latest estimates are around two thousand members.”

  Eileen let out a low whistle. “We’ve lost ten percent of our members to this nut?”

  “Ten percent of Asterians, yes,” Mei replied. “But not of all Elementalists worldwide. Newest estimates of unaffiliated Wilders worldwide are as high as five-thousand. And that’s not including the several hundred that Kaylie newly signed on.”

  “That many?” Aspen gasped.

  “Yes, Minister,” Daichi replied. It took me a moment to remember that he was talking to Aspen, not Mei. “If we can recruit the Wilders that Obsidian failed to enlist, our numbers would be well over twenty thousand – more than enough to quell this insurrection.”

  “That’s an invalid number,” I shook my head. “What percentage of Asterians are children? Elderly and infirm? And what about the Asterians who are wholly apathetic and have no interest in taking up arms against their neighbors
?”

  “Most Elementalists in the world work for the Order,” Mr. Gauthier argued. “They cannot be apathetic in this matter.”

  “They may work for the Order in one capacity or another,” Sophia interjected softly, “but that doesn’t mean that teachers and secretaries and scientists will be willing to go to war against an impassioned and extreme group of lawless Elementalists.”

  “War?” several voices on the screens echoed.

  “Arms?”

  “Who said anything about war?” one of the French officers standing behind Gauthier demanded. “No one is discussing war in this room.”

  “Of course we are,” Savannah interjected. She was seated in the row in front of us, filing her nails. “We now have the bleediest, bleeding heart softie to ever hold the office of minister—”

  Several indignant voices, including my own, rose to Aspen’s defense.

  “Oh, please, you know it’s true,” Savannah insisted. “She also has a deeper connection to the outside world, having been raised in it when her parents defected – no offense, but that’s what they did – and has since dedicated her life to coming up with neurological treatments to save the lives of non-Elementalists.”

  At that, I raised an eyebrow. Had Savannah actually listened to, and remembered, a significant detail about Aspen’s life?

  “What point are you trying to make?” Eileen interjected.

  “My point is, our young, doe-eyed minister isn’t just going to stand by and let this small group of extremists pose any harm – implied or actual – against the rest of the world. Not that any of us have any idea what she’s thinking or planning since she effectively seized control of the Parliament and has said absolutely nothing of note since then.” She turned around in her seat and flashed Aspen a sugary smile. “Right, sweetie?”