Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s called the Gift of Perfect Knowledge. Of course, this is because someone once asked me “Hey, what’s your superpower?” and the name popped right up as it always did. I wonder if that means my superpower named itself. I’ve never had the courage to ask.

I can ask myself things and know the answer instantly; this made my schooling from the age of nine comparatively easy—at least to start. I just thought I was smart at first; I mumbled a math question under my breath during a quiz and instantly knew how to solve it. I thought it was a fluke.

That feeling lasted about ten minutes. Fourth grade math is easy, those numbers never lie, never change; they have rules, and they are bound to those rules (Please do not ask me about college math). Numbers don’t usually conjure the full scope of this power.

Social Studies was where the problems started. Even a fourth grade level of inquiry led to things I couldn’t possibly know. I saw—and yes, I see the answers to my questions as if I had been there to witness—the full scope of events as we studied them. Battlefields. Invasions. It was too much at nine to see the unbridled truth—even the most non-invasive questions designed for nine year olds conjured the worst of humanity’s hubris—and events of unexpected kindness. I was home for a week after that lesson and delirious screaming from a nine year old having a full blown melt down got me a visit to the doctor. I asked her “What is wrong with me?”

The truth is that nothing is ‘wrong’ with me. I knew it so clearly it drowned out whatever she was saying in response. She wanted me to get an MRI. I asked what that was and got the full extremely technical answer. It was dizzying.

If there is one limit to this power, it’s that it doesn’t hold back just because I don’t understand. I had to form a foundation of knowledge of my own so that I could understand the answers I received; I had to force this Gift to a nine year old’s level. It meant a lot of clarifying questions. It didn’t take long to connect these visions to spoken questions and that I had to actually speak or someone else had to ask.

I homeschooled after that. I was right, nothing was medically wrong with me which put my parents at ease. I asked myself how I got this way. In a world of superheroes, special powers were nothing new. Chemical spills, radiation exposure, magical contracts or training, genetic mutation, aliens—we’ve heard it all. I was the ultimate result of an experiment done in secret in the States during the Cold War—my grandmother was an unwitting test subject, but she showed no signs that the substance in her morning coffee was affecting her, eventually resigned her position as a secretary to the scientist who ran the experiment, got married and moved with her family to Canada. My existence was a delayed response to that experiment.

I knew enough about any government at that point to know I should keep this hidden. I pretended to study hard. It was important to me to understand the things I knew, not to simply regurgitate the answers when asked. Fortunately, the school system is fine with simply producing the answers whether you homeschool or not. I graduated early.

The scope of it was what surprised me. I get perfect answers on everything small or large. “Does this document have any grammatical errors?” Yes, eleven of them. They are on pages 1, 4, 5, and 9. “Can I learn magic?” Yes, here are four ways, most of them involve talking to something beyond my comprehension. The one that doesn’t involves striking up a conversation with a blind old man who lives in southern Kansas named Dennis and convincing him to teach me. “Who is the magician Dennis from Kansas?” The answer was Dennis’ life story from the time he figured out he had magic to finding, learning from, and then killing his teacher who blinded him with his last breath. I decided not to go to Kansas. It’s a bit far from Canada anyway.

No one was about to take a nine year old seriously but I wanted to help. I wrote an anonymous letter to the Hero Association Office in Kansas with details about a murdered magician and how to find and bind his killer and bring him to justice. I asked myself dozens of questions on how to achieve this, who would need to be there to get it done the fastest, how to contain a mad mage. I compiled a plan, typed it out, put it in an envelope and sent it off. I didn’t use my real name. I didn’t even put my home address; I used the library across town.

Dennis put up a good fight but the magician who took him down had his ultimate weakness thanks to me. It wasn’t much of a fight. It was a slam dunk trial too. The magical superheroes were talking about it for months, but I knew what would happen if I came forward like they wanted me to—I had asked myself what would. The answers were all some variation of being too young to withstand the consequences. That was the first time I witnessed my own theoretical death.

I had a choice to make when I was nineteen. Psychic superheroes aren’t allowed to play the lottery. I could ‘win’ the lottery in secret, keep to myself, disappear into the mountains. I should have done that, but I wanted to help. If I went at least partially public with my powers, I could help people. There were renowned psychics consulted about things all the time. The ones contracted to the Hero Association got benefits and protection from villains looking to abuse them. I could see any roadblocks in the way. I could eliminate the downsides before they start. I only needed to know how to ask.

It was a mistake from minute one. When I explained to the recruiter about what I could do, they were skeptical. I hadn’t done very well on the physical aptitude test. Most psychics had blind spots or issues with reliability or method. They brought out their flash cards, they asked their board approved questions. Luckily, the application form requests a list of your powers, so they knew I was applying as a psychic and didn’t need to ask me what my powers were. Questions with large answers sometimes hurt. My mother once angrily gestured to a news broadcast “What is wrong with the world?” That vast answer knocked me out for four days.

I guessed everything right—ten years in the dark should have taught me patience but I was tired of hiding. I wanted to help. I could help. I wanted to be seen rather than be the one who just sees.

I was. No one had been this accurate before. I was told I was going to do my probation with the Hero Association Alpha Squad—the International Branch by the end of the interview. The Alpha Squad sent their leader—their powerhouse, their center—to meet me and see if he agreed. He’d be arriving in under an hour.

The Paladin. Internationally beloved, first to answer every call he heard. Invincible, flight at supersonic speeds, superstrength. Active for three years now. Everyone knew the Paladin, the Heaven-sent Hero. I almost didn’t have to ask but I did anyway—I was excited. “What sort of person is the Paladin?”

He was not a person, not with…everything. Bloodshed. Bodies. Coverups. The joy he found in killing. A massacre in a nation too far away for anyone to care disguised as a natural disaster. The Hero Association stepped in with ‘humanitarian aid’ and now had unfettered access to the region and its resources. It was the same lesson as the very first I had learned. I was nine years old again seeing a bloody history celebrated and oversimplified in a child’s textbook. After a decade of misspeaking and painful mistakes, I was used to the shock. I could keep my composure—I could! I did. I excused myself from the hall. To freshen up I said. They understood—a personal appearance from the Paladin was a lot to dump on a nineteen year old. I had an hour to figure this out.

“Why is the Paladin coming to meet me?” He wants to know how much I could know—a perfect score on a psychic aptitude test could be problematic for him. It occurred to me then without prompting that there were no telepaths on the Alpha Squad and likely never would be. They probably saw too much.

“How do I defeat the Paladin as I am?” I asked. A costly battle. Half the city crushed between his strength and mine. I’m not a physical fighter—I was too busy studying with my Gift. At best, I have the answers I gained from “How do I teach myself magic? How I do I master magic the fastest? How can I increase my magical power?” I hadn’t intended to use them—I didn’t register them. The Hero Association had no idea. Half the city was far too high a price just to take him down.

“Is there a spell that can defeat the Paladin?” An Invitation for Atonement. A terrible spell that invites the souls of the wrongly slain to seek justice from their killer. If the killer can’t appease their rage, they will take payment in flesh. The Paladin didn’t have enough to sate all of them.

“How do I cast the Invitation for Atonement in under half an hour?”

I returned to the hall, much, much paler than when I had left, hunching forward a bit and airing out my black dress shirt. That earned me a few knowing looks, but I had a mission. The balcony doors were open, inviting. There would only be one chance. I kept my shoulders loose and my hands unclenched and at my sides.

He landed more softly than I expected. I barely felt it under my feet. I smiled when he did. It was obviously nervous on my end. It was effortless on his—he’d done this before, many times. Warm green eyes subtly flick up-down as he looked at me.

“So, Soothsayer,” he starts. “When they called me on my personal line, I was surprised. A hundred percent accuracy is a…rare gift. Can’t wait to see more of it.” He smiled, but I can see how it looked pinched. He’s a good actor, I’ll give him that. I could see him calculating the risk in his head.

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t get so nervous that I couldn’t speak. I needed to be able to speak. I had a plan. This was the crucial step. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t look at his dark hair without seeing the blood dripping from it; it was irrelevant that I knew what those green eyes looked like in the light of a housefire.

“H-hello, Nathan Elliot Madigan-Hill,” I said. His eyebrows rose and he opened his mouth to say something. A wasted effort. “I invite you to atone.”

The spell I had carved into my own chest in the bathroom finished activating when it received a name. I saw the Paladin blur as he surged toward me faster than my eyes could see. If he was capable of going supersonic from a perfect standstill, I’d be dead, but even he needed to build momentum. That alone saved my life because the dead were faster. They poured out of the sigil on my chest as a swarm. He flew right into their embrace losing momentum like a bullet fired into water. Five thousand, nine hundred seventy four pairs of hands held him steady before he could get within five feet of me and pushed back until the entire hall was filled. It was awful but the dead weren’t after me or anyone else.

I already knew what thousands of ghosts tearing the Paladin apart would be like—I couldn’t see past the dead or hear past them, but it was still something else entirely to be there in person. The panel of recruiters were too busy trying to flee to notice me pressed against the back wall. I couldn’t leave and I couldn’t heal my injuries, or the spell would stop. If I wandered out of range, the ghosts would vanish, and I’d have an angry super powered mass murderer gunning for me. I had to sit and wait.

Even thousands of ghosts had trouble with invulnerable skin but not so much that it stopped them. I would have felt bad if I didn’t know. If I hadn’t seen. I dared to think that the swirling storm of ghosts was still too kind a death for him—they spilled out of the windows and into the streets turning downtown Edmonton into a march of the damned. The powers that he thought set him apart from regular humans worked against him, prolonging the inevitable.

When it was done, I picked myself up off the floor and left the way he came in. There were police cars downstairs at this point. Sooner or later, they’d realize it was quiet. If there weren’t any heroes here yet or on their way, there would be.

“How do I get out of here without being caught?”

It only took them six hours to declare me public enemy number one on the news. The Hero Association made an official release that I’d killed the Paladin. Alpha Squad was in my city in under a day turning it upside down looking for me, but I was long gone. The person who killed the Heaven-sent Hero could only be the deadliest supervillain of our time, they said.

I don’t know if I can ever overturn that. I don’t know if I should. I haven’t asked how, and I don’t plan to. What I have asked recently is about the Hero Association. Their heroes. Their secrets. I never wanted to pry unnecessarily. I have always tried to respect people’s privacy, but the actual worst villain of our time sat on a golden throne with the sun eternally shining down on his head and people either didn’t know or let it happen. Neither is acceptable.

If there is one hope, it’s that the Alpha Squad has a powerful and learned sorceress on their team. I asked about her. She might yet recognize the spell I used. She might yet figure out why the Paladin died. She might just ask the right questions. Someone has to.

Chapter Text

The ideal thing about living almost full time in the middle of Canada’s boreal forest in a remote wildfire lookout tower is being the only soul around for hundreds of miles. No one except the occasional extremely determined and experienced hiker comes out this far on a four day three night expedition and they never stay long here. At least, that’s what usually happens.

Today has decided to be different because he has decided to be different. Whoever he is, he knows exactly who I am and what I can do because he walked right into the minimum distance of my telepathy and just…stopped. Normally, that’s not a problem, people take breaks all the time and the base of the tower is technically a trail marker though I’m not obligated to talk to anyone.

This isn’t that. He sits right down on the line of my awareness for the better part of three hours which is well past what most people take out here for a break. If he waits any longer, he’ll be forced to camp out here and add an extra day of travel to his itinerary which can be risky on whatever rations he has. I could actively read his thoughts if I were inclined to, but if he’s psychic or has similar abilities himself, he’ll notice. That tends to be considered rude.

The sun is starting to go behind the mountains when I decide enough is enough. I take a risk and reach out. “Don’t be alarmed—”

“Finally! I knew it would take a long time to get your attention without just knocking on your door, but four hours is a bit much.”

“Excuse me?” I pull back a bit. This one’s thoughts are…loud. People don’t think quietly because most of them don’t need to, but this one…it’s like he has to speak over something I can’t see without going deeper into his head than I can safely do at this distance.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s been…a long couple of months,” he says. Normally, people unconsciously elaborate when something reminds them of something else. I do see flashes…lots of pale blue. It’s pretty, but he’s focusing pretty intently on his water bottle, half empty and being held in a white knuckled grip as he tries to block anything else out. It’s a similar shade of blue to whatever he’s trying not to think about, but he’s trying so hard to not overshare. As a telepath, I can appreciate the effort.

“Are you injured? Do you need help? I can radio in—”

“No, no, I’m fine. I just needed your attention.”

What the hell? “Why?” I calmly ask.

“Your name is Jackson Leon Danning, but you were also once known as—”

“How the fuck did you find me?” I demand, walking right up the closest window and glaring out in his direction. I can’t stun anyone at this range, and he seems to know that. What else does he know?

“Calm yourself, I’m not here to cause problems. It’s probably for the best that I don’t get too close. You won’t like what you see.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A professional courtesy. I have a similar gift that is at times overwhelming. Telepathy is a welcome work around.”

“Who are you?”

“The Soothsayer.”

“A hero name?” That could be problematic. “Look, kid, I’m not going back to the Association; I am retired. You’re not the first hero to try and convince me to come back but you are the first to track me all the way out here.”

“I’m not from the Association and you’re only five years older than me, shush. Your attitude towards them is why I risked coming here. I know you haven’t had internet access since the end of March. A few things have happened since then…I would like to show you something, but it is disturbing.”

Hesitancy in other people’s thinking is always frustrating. It’s like trying to watch a video with a bad connection that stops every few seconds right as I’m trying to get to the good part. It’s usually caused by indecision or guilt. The Soothsayer is hesitating and also trying to hold back what he desperately wants to share with me. “Is that why you’re so determined to show me your water bottle?”

“Another professional courtesy,” the Soothsayer admits. “I know you can’t probe deeper into a person’s thoughts at this range—messages and surface thoughts only. That is for both our sakes, I promise.”

“You are concerningly well informed, Soothsayer.”

“I know you didn’t register your telepathy with the Association when you signed up because telepaths are regulated differently and often relegated to consulting roles or police work.”

“Telepaths don’t belong in police work.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. You chose to focus your hero work on your more physical aspects. You’re telekinetic but only by touch—since it’s too much of a hassle to explain how that works, you passed off your powers as superstrength and flight. All you had to do to keep people fooled is change how you gripped things when you lifted them; not even I suspected a thing.”

“How could you possibly know that? There are maybe six people who know any of what you just said!” He’s not in my mind because that usually feels heavy and oppressive—he’s not a telepath either, then.

“I ask the right questions.” There’s definitely a secret there but at this range, I can’t know what it is unless it comes across his surface thoughts…and he’s really obsessed with that water bottle. It’s fine, people are entitled to their privacy. It’s half the reason I retired out here.

“Please go on, Soothsayer.” Maybe he’ll slip up and think about his source. I need to talk with whoever is spilling my closely guarded secrets.

“Because of how your power works compared to actual garden variety superstrength, you were the darling of the Hero Association and the front runner to replace Major Arcana as the leader of Alpha Squad when he retired. You were the strongest of the two—and the team’s second-in-command—but the other candidate—”

“The Paladin had flight at supersonic speeds and was indestructible, so his inexperience at being a team player wasn’t a problem for the Board, I know. I was there.”

“Yes, you were right next to him,” Soothsayer agrees, full of sympathy. He couldn’t…he couldn’t know, could he? “Which is why the two of us are the only ones on Earth outside of the Hero Association Board of Directors who know exactly what that monster has done.”

“Oh my god,” I say out loud. It falls on the silent air of my tiny living space and I sit down on my cot and just…compose myself a moment. “You really believe me?”

“I don’t need to believe when I know it for fact. You went to the Board to try and dissuade them from choosing the Paladin as the new team leader only to discover that at least half of them already knew and two gave the orders before the meeting ever began so you changed tactics within thirty seconds to resign instead.”

“Damn you’re good.”

“I try,” he evades. “It wasn’t a bad decision. If the Paladin ever suspected you to be telepathic, he’d have killed you.”

“I left Alpha Squad in the hands of a murderer!”

“You left a killer trapped in a spotlight where he’d be recognizable and where his time was carefully managed. Alpha Squad had the power and perks he could make use of, but it also forced him to behave. The amount of casualties lessened considerably because you left.”

That. That takes me another minute. I can’t get distracted by it right now. “What did you want to show me?” I ask.

“Brace yourself.”

“I saw that man kill thousands through his eyes because he was thinking about it in the board room where we were waiting because of how it made him feel—I can handle whatever it is you have. Has he killed more? Is that why you’re here?”

“Just…” Soothsayer pauses “remember to breathe.”

“What do you—”

The water bottle disappears from his surface thoughts, and I see through his eyes the inside of a Hero Association recruitment hall. It’s a bit nostalgic for me, but that vanishes as the Paladin lands ever so politely on the balcony outside in his silly silvered breastplate, a picture of leadership and heroic charisma that makes me want to vomit the way all lies do. I have to take a deep breath—why does Soothsayer’s chest hurt so much? Echoes of pain in memories are not usually so sharp and I can tell that he’s holding back on letting me feel it…oh god, he still has those wounds, he’s still feeling this even now.

“You hiked up here like this?”

“Focus, Jackson.”

The hall comes back into view. He was terrified and everything hurt but the pain was nothing compared to his resolve as he stared the Paladin down. What sort of life has this man lived?

“So, Soothsayer,” the Paladin greets with that damned picture-perfect, dimpled smile of his. “When they called me on my personal line, I was surprised. A hundred percent accuracy is a…rare gift. Can’t wait to see more of it.”

Ah, that explains it; Soothsayer must be an extremely powerful psychic—powerful enough to score one hundred percent on the psychic aptitude test and then take one look at this demon with a perfect jaw and know enough to be as terrified as I was. It’s also possibly how he was able to find me out here.

“H-hello, Nathan Elliot Madigan-Hill. I invite you to atone.”

Suddenly the flashes of blue in the Soothsayer’s surface thoughts make a lot more sense. I’ve seen many terrible things in people’s minds, intentionally or not, but the image of thousands of wrongfully slain dead erupting from my—his—chest and engulfing the Paladin even as he flew straight at the Soothsayer with the intent to kill almost makes me pull away from his mind. I don’t, but it’s by a very small margin. He was so cold…and knowing that there were over five thousand souls ready to end the Heaven-sent Hero is staggering. Five thousand, nine hundred seventy-four.

Behind the horror is a sick fascination to keep looking. I don’t ask the Soothsayer to stop. I can’t see or hear the Paladin die but the Soothsayer knows that he does and it’s…enough. We’re in agreement—the Paladin deserved worse than this. There’s no guilt about what happened that day from him…and I can’t exactly hold that against him.

“You needed to hear it,” he says when he takes the memories away. I didn’t ask but I was about to—why show me this?

“There’s no way the world is happy with you. You pulled their god off his mountain and made them look weak.”

“I am a wanted criminal, yes.” He seems annoyed by it rather than terrified and I feel him sigh before sarcastically adding “I’m the deadliest supervillain alive now.”

“Is that why you won’t come any closer?”

“It’s one of the reasons. The nature of my ability isn’t compatible with your telepathy. This is the safest I can make it for us to talk. For both of us.”

“I trained to be able to handle entire crowds at close range without anyone suspecting my powers; I’d be fine.”

“This is much more than that.”

“Why are you here, Soothsayer?”

“Because the rest of Alpha Squad is hunting me and it’s only a matter of time before they find me. Adamantine and Nightowl would both kill me on sight—Nightowl because he’s the Paladin’s lapdog and Adamantine because she was ordered to.”

“And you think I can stop them?” Also, holy shit? It’s important to stay calm. I knew more members of Alpha Squad could be dirty but hearing it is still surprising.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m going to leave something here for you. I need you to give it to Sorciere,” he asks. I see him put a leather book with an envelope inside the cover on the rock next to him. It’s hard to see in the fading light, but I’m sure I can find it.

“Why Sorciere?” I ask.

“Because she suspects which spell I used that day but can’t confirm it—or rather she doesn’t want to confirm it. The spell I used is older than anything she or her father have access to so she’s trying another angle. I didn’t want to influence her investigation but at this rate her team will catch up with me before she figures out why the Paladin had to die.”

“I could just tell her.”

“That would reveal a lot about you—I won’t ask you to compromise your secret. The book and the letter will be enough. I’m known as a powerful psychic with a hundred percent accuracy and magical power to match. I sought you out, I left this book, I left—do you understand?”

“The deadliest supervillain alive left without a fight?” I tease. “Even retired, I have a reputation to maintain or Nightowl won’t buy it.”

“You’ve been off the grid for longer than the Paladin has been dead. You don’t know I’m the deadliest supervillain alive—I’m just a psychic that sought you out because I know that Sorciere is looking for you.” There’s a tiny lie in that statement but it barely registers…and I don’t know where exactly it is.

“Wait, she is?”

“Yes, because she knows you’re a telepath and you left your entire hero identity behind within two hours of meeting the Paladin. She wants to ask you why.”

“Then wait here for her and we can explain together. You can’t hike down from here in the dark anyway.”

“No, that wouldn’t end well. It has to be this way.”

I stand up from my cot and go to open my screen door.

“What are you doing?” he asks. I can feel him asking the question out loud as well. “Stop! I’m not joking about our powers mixing badly! And there’s the whole aiding and abetting a known criminal thing. At least if I leave now, you can claim ignorance!”

“Ah, but you just said that I have no reason to know you’re a known criminal. It’s nightfall and you’re still injured from whatever you cast. Stay here until morning at least.”

“No, thank you!”

“Don’t be stubborn, Soothsayer.”

“Who’s stubborn?” His thoughts are agitated and difficult to be near. “Please just stay put.” He takes one last look at the book on the rock and pointedly fills his surface thoughts with it before he starts walking out of my range.

I fly out of the skylight on my tower and fly down to him as he’s about to get back on the trail heading back the way he came. He’s younger than me for sure but the closer I get the more depth I start to perceive about him. I get to the book and pick it up, careful not to dislodge the letter.

“I warned you,” he says, regret on his face. He’s also stopped moving.

“Just wait a second.” I hold up the book. “What’s in here?”

Names. Names. Names. Five thousand, nine hundred seventy-eight names, all with dates and locations of their death. All with one specific cause. I see everything about them all at once and it’s just so much…I can’t—

“Jackson? Jax?” I hear a voice calling me.

Fuck, my head hurts. Everything about waking up feels compressed and muffled—even getting telepathically overstimulated isn’t this bad. This is worse than the headache after that fight I had with those two stone skinned twins who crashed us into a stadium packed with twenty-thousand people who came all riled up for a hockey game and got a superhero fight on top. Fuck, they’d been loud on all levels.

“Ajax, wake up!”

I open one eye to see Sorciere standing over me exactly on time with Soothsayer’s predictions considering the sun is back up. I’m…in bed?

“Hey Minny,” I murmur.

She bristles but she’s actually worried. The book of names is in her hands. “Don’t call me Minny. What happened?”

What the fuck happened to me? It’s a bit slow to come back but it does. “The Soothsayer…left you a present.”

Chapter Text

The first real hint that something is wrong when I get into Jackson’s lookout tower isn’t that the door is unlocked, it’s that he’s asleep on his back when I know for a fact that he’s a side sleeper. He’s tucked up tight into his cot even though it’s August and not having a restful sleep based on the pinched eyebrows on his face. There’s a closed leather book on his stomach; at first, I think it’s his journal but the letter on top addressed to me with my full name—which Jackson knows better than to use—and not written in his terrible chicken scratch says otherwise. Taped to it is a small pill container with a single, unremarkable, grey stone inside. A pebble, really.

There are no signs of a struggle, but Jax was always a light sleeper; he shouldn’t be this out of it when I’m making no effort to be quiet. Something happened and it happened because of me, but who would have known I was coming? Or was this left knowing Jax would reach out to me?

Either way, someone else was here in the middle of the wilderness that I just had to fly over. The fact that I can reach him this easily means someone else could too and whoever it was managed to hurt one of my strongest friends just to leave me a message. After losing Nathan, seeing Jackson like this pushes me to be angrier than I can allow right now. Is it a warning? A threat? Both?

I forcibly uncurl my fists and check his pulse—he’s alive. I check him over for injuries or traces of magic—anything to suggest that he was attacked. He seems to be fine, but he also doesn’t even twitch when I run my fingers through his hair to check the back of his head. He’s caught a lot of sun out here; it’s lightening his brown hair to almost blonde.

I try lightly shaking him next. “Jackson? Jax?” He stirs slightly but whoever did this must have hit him hard, just not physically. I’m going to have to ask about the telepathy if this is what I think it is. Telepaths shut down to protect themselves—that’s what all the books say. Please let me be wrong; if I’m wrong about this, then I can be wrong about everything else. I can live with that just this once. If Jax isn’t a telepath, then his leaving right as Nathan joined Alpha Squad is just a coincidence and the rest of my theory falls apart. Please let it fall apart.

On the small table by his kitchenette is a rather conspicuous bottle of generic ibuprofen and no way this neat freak left that lying around without putting it away. There’s also a clean bowl directly next to it, and several packs of oatmeal right next to that. The kettle isn’t on the stove but right behind all of that, full and still steaming. Whatever happened must have happened within the last…half an hour, maybe? Just in case, I check it all for poison though if whoever was here wanted Jackson dead, he wouldn’t be asleep in his bed right now. I sit back down next to him, still holding the book.

“Ajax, wake up!” I snap in the closest approximation to my dad’s tone that I can muster.

One eye opens blearily, looking around the room before the other eye follows. When the focus comes back to them, he smiles. “Hey, Minny.”

Oh, for the love of— “Don’t call me Minny. What happened?”

More confusion, then he spots the book I’m still holding and almost recoils from it. “The Soothsayer…left you a present.”

I stand up and check through all the windows of his tower, muttering the words under my breath to see if anyone is within fifty miles of here—no one is but that almost doesn’t mean anything to me. That kettle is still hot, but no one is within range of my spell. The Soothsayer is either cloaked or he flew, but I would have sensed that on my way in. He must still be in the area.

I am warding this place top to bottom before I let Jax stay out here alone again! 

“How did he find you? What did he do? Are you okay?” I ask but Jackson has already slipped back out of it, head falling back on pillow with a wince and nothing else.

The Soothsayer was here. The man who killed my friend was the one who did this to Jax, and there’s every indication that he’s still close by. I have to grab the anger before this building loses its roof. What was that monster thinking when he decided to come here?

Jackson needs help first, but I can’t just call Nightowl to send a helicopter all the way out here—he thinks I’m still in Edmonton. There is an emergency frequency pinned to a board next to a radio but that would only mean civilians would be flying into a possible danger zone. I cast every barrier I know around the tower and its base before sitting down to think. I’m not about to fly into an area where a known magician has had time to cast trap spells.

I open the note. It’s not a letter, it doesn’t address me in anyway—no taunts, no gloating, no warnings or threats. Just two pages each with a spell and a list of required components. One is unlabeled and seems complex but is remarkably straightforward; the lines and runes indicate a transportation spell but those are basically a death sentence—it’s not against any laws to use them but no one has ever been able to get them to work without killing themselves or just vanishing forever. Is the Soothsayer arrogant enough to try? Considering his obvious skill, is he actually powerful enough to pull it off?

The other spell is labeled ‘The Invitation for Atonement’ and is a literally unholy mess of lines and old symbols I barely recognize written out in its complex form and its simplified form. It’s older than anything I’ve ever seen—a lot of the runes in the complex form are antiquated even by the standards of an art that by necessity rarely changes. I can’t even begin to parse what it’s for except that it involves ghosts. Oh god. This couldn’t be…that spell, could it?

“I change my mind, this is him gloating,” I snarl though no one hears. Sharing the blueprint for a unique spell is also effectively teaching them how to counter it making it a gesture of trust between friends or an insult to the intelligence of a rival. It’s pure arrogance on his part if he thinks that I can’t possibly figure this out and stop him from casting it again.

I shake out my sun hat until it changes back into a top hat and put that spell and the book inside but keep the transportation spell—if that’s what this really is—out. Is this also a threat? He killed the Paladin, wounded Jax, and then left me a spell that kills foolish magicians? It’s a convoluted threat if so, but it does speak to his education as a magician…is this his way of saying I’m arrogant? Did he just villain monologue at me without actually being here?

Unless.

I risk a nosebleed to expand the radius of my detection spell to eighty miles out. Still no one for miles, magician or not.

He didn’t actually manage long distance transport, did he? That would be impossible—though, technically everything I do is impossible by a certain standard. I go to try and fly down from the tower but almost lose my balance over the railing and stagger backwards. When was the last time I ate?

I shouldn’t have used so much power today, but it was that or try to convince Canadian bureaucracy to lend me a helicopter off the record. I think I’d have an easier time getting Adamantine to crack a smile. I reach into my hat but only find one protein bar—how have I run out already? I got more last week!

Jackson groans on the bed and I stumble back inside.

“Jax?”

“Quieter, please,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“No, you,” he grimaces “you’re thinking a mile a minute; I always loved that about you, but I can’t shut you out of my head right now.”

I pause. Did he just confess the very thing I was desperately hoping wasn’t true?

“I’m sorry,” he looks at me, not getting up. “He told me you knew about it.”

“I’d guessed,” I admit, focusing on the pattern of his blanket and trying to keep the fear under control. “Hearing it is…what did he say to you? What did he do to you?”

“Never mind that, you burned up all your energy flying out here. You can’t lie to me, Minny.”

I want to retort that I wasn’t going to, but he lifts an eyebrow. Ass. He smiles at that.

“I’m stealing your oatmeal,” I declare and stomp away from him to tap the kettle. It’s still hot enough to make instant oatmeal at the temperature I like—the Soothsayer’s coordination of events here is more than a little invasive. Being ten steps behind the most powerful psychic in the world is a bitter pill but at least there’s—I check the package—peaches and cream.

“I thought you hated peaches and cream oatmeal,” I call over.

“I do,” he confirms, curious.

“But you still have some here? Were you hoping I’d drop in?” That’s almost sweet.

He sits up and swings his legs over the bed, clearly regretting doing so. “That’s not mine.”

I drop the package. Then double check it for poison. It’s still clear.

“He brought me my favorite oatmeal. How the fuck does he know my favorite oatmeal?” I demand, but I make it anyway. “Do you have any milk?”

He pointedly looks out the nearest window to the untouched vastness of boreal forest in all directions. “I have the powdered stuff.”

“You need off this mountain,” I proclaim.

He blinks and something is whirring around in that head of his. “Maybe you’re right.”

Well, that’s a nice change from the usual stubbornness.

“I heard that,” he reminds me.

I can’t just ignore this anymore, not when it’s so obvious now. “I’m sorry, how did I not notice my boyfriend was a telepath?” I blurt out. “We dated for a year, Jackson!”

“Because I really didn’t want you to, Mina. I’m just a bit rusty on disguising my reactions; you’re the second person I’ve spoken to in real life in the last six months.”

“You could have told me, Jax,” I accuse.

“Not without also telling your dad,” he quips back.

“What does that mean?” I demand and he winces. Right. Calm. I’m calm.

He nods slightly in appreciation. “Before the Major retired, you two were inseparable; you told each other everything. It wasn’t a risk I wanted to take.”

“I wouldn’t have told him about this. You know me better than that, Jax!”

He clearly doesn’t agree with me, and he grumbles at the indignation I must be radiating. “I also didn’t want you to have to keep that secret from your dad for me since I was breaking the law at the time. Falsely registering my abilities with the Association.”

“So you lied to protect me?”

“That question is a trap.” Jackson reluctantly lies back down when he starts to sway. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you; I should have, especially when—” he stops, shuddering from head to toe. “I met him.”

I want to ask what that means but he’s clearly not ready to talk about it, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to stay calm. Then again, he doesn’t really need to actually say it. Oh god, my crackpot theory is actually right, isn’t it?

Jax nods from where he’s lying on his side. “Eat your oatmeal.”

I do, if only to give us time to put both our thoughts in order. Is he gonna be alright?

“I’ll live,” Jax promises, still not moving. “Sorry.”

“You’d still have heard it even if you didn’t comment, right?”

“Only for a little longer. Just got rattled is all.”

“You were unconscious when I found you and didn’t stay awake longer than a minute—you’re a bit more than ‘rattled,’” I scoff. “Did he attack you?”

“No,” Jax insists. “He warned me to stay away because our powers mix badly. I was the one who didn’t listen—won’t make that mistake again. His powers are bullshit.”

I have so many questions.

“Me too, Minny.”

“Does anyone get any privacy from you?” I snap.

Hurt crosses his face but he’s quick to hide it. “Yes. Mostly. Normally. It’s just hard right now. You know your grandma’s old china cabinet? The one so full everything has to be arranged just so for the doors to close properly?”

I nod. “Granddad and Dad finally went through it last year.”

“I saw one of the Soothsayer’s visions and it mixed up some of my dishes. I can’t close the doors until I put them all back. Until then, other people’s dishes can get in…and I’m surprised one of mine hasn’t fallen out yet.”

“What can I do to help?”

“I just need a few hours—not my first rodeo.”

I hope he can see me doing my best to smother my curiosity and focus on the stunning view he gets up here. We can talk about the telepathy later when the other reason I’m here isn’t looming over us.

“Why are you so afraid your theory is right?” he asks, gently. “The Soothsayer said you didn’t want to confirm the spell he used.”

“He knows way too much,” I curse “and know he knows about you—the blackmail potential alone—”

“I don’t think he will,” Jax interrupts. “He wasn’t untruthful—secretive yes, but I can feel dishonesty at any range. He wanted my help—he wanted me to help you—because Adamantine will kill him to cover up the reasons why the Paladin had to die and he’s running out of time.”

“That’s not what we do—”

“It’s absolutely what the Association does, Minny, that’s the point. I left Alpha Squad when I realized—when I saw in their fucking minds—that the Board wanted a murderer to replace your dad as team leader. That’s what the Soothsayer wants me to tell you: that the Paladin was in that office riding the high of getting his reward for killing hundreds the week before and I had to sit there and pretend I couldn’t see—couldn’t feel—the joy he took in it!”

“Jax, he saved my life dozens of times! He was there when you weren’t—after you left me, left us! He kept us all together and helped us pick up the pieces from you leaving. He encouraged me to find my own path as a sorceress rather than just as Major Arcana’s sidekick. There was no indication that he was anything you’re saying; he wasn’t arrogant, he wasn’t cruel—”

“If you really believed that, then why are you here?” Jax demands. “Something changed, something you found challenged everything you just said, and it terrifies you—I can feel it even though you’re trying to hide it.”

I can’t quite smother the answers, but I pick one particularly green conifer in the expanse below and make it the singular thought in my head.

“You have to face it, Mina,” he encourages behind me. “I betrayed everything I ever stood for the day I chose to run and leave you all with him. This”—I can see his reflection in the window gesturing to the one room hut around us—“is my penance for that failure. I don’t need telepathy to know you’re better than this.”

A deeply rooted self-loathing I know isn’t mine spills over and Jax has to physically pull away to the other side of the room. Part of me wants to follow but the look on his face clearly says to stay away.

He’s right. I hate it so much but he’s right.

“They weren’t tainted,” I choke out.

“What?”

“The ghosts. Necromancers are atrocity made flesh in the magical community because when they compel a dead person’s soul to kill an innocent, they avoid the consequences themselves and leave everything on the soul they summoned. If that soul was already a murderer in life it doesn’t really change anything, but that day? From witness testimony, all the souls summoned to kill Nathan were bright and blue,” I explain. I let the meaning slide across to him freely.

“Bright as in not killers, blue as in murdered,” he says. He doesn’t sound surprised.

I nod. “The magical community is losing their shit over this because the Soothsayer condemned thousands of innocent souls to become murderers when he summoned them—or at least, that’s what we thought.”

“But you said they’re not tainted.” It’s not a question. He knows already what I can’t even say aloud. I hate this.

“A blue ghost—a murder victim—is, by some cosmic law, allowed to kill just one person without damaging themselves,” I say instead.

“The person who killed them,” he guesses. He’s still not surprised. “Did you look in the book?”

I pull it back out of my hat; I still haven’t opened it. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I can say with absolute certainty it is,” he confirms, refusing to even look at it. “The names of everyone the Paladin killed. There’s just under six thousand. Name, age, date of death, and coordinates of their remains, if any.”

“You read it?”

“No, no I did not.”

“What do I do with it? What does he want from me?” I ask.

“Based on how tired and in pain he was when we spoke? I think he needs help,” Jax suggests.

I look at the book and the two spells he’s given me. “I…I only promise to hear him out. There still has to be due process.”

“In front of the Association that purposefully put an actual monster at the head of Alpha Squad,” Jax reminds me. “They’re not going to play fair, not with a psychic who aced the aptitude test and can glean all their secrets. If they were, the Soothsayer would be appealing to them instead.”

“Three generations of my family spent their lives building the Association and all it stands for; I can’t just bring it all down around our ears! This could destroy everything I swore to protect.”

“They ordered Adamantine to kill him on sight. Hearing him out means getting her off his tail. It’s a mess, and maybe exposing them will change everything, but think of it this way, Mina: your great-grandfather built the Association to keep people like us from being exploited by national armed forces while still being able to help people with our powers. The Board of today is spitting on that goal for their own gain. Are you really going to stand for that?”

I’m remembering why I dated this man. “No. I won’t.”

Chapter Text

“Not now, Pat,” Adamantine says the moment I run into the control room, ruffling several manila files on the desk. She doesn’t even look at me. Am I getting predictable? Or is she just way, way too focused?

My incredibly dear sister is standing behind Nightowl who’s typing something into the massive computer that for the past four months—four months, wow—has only had one mission to occupy the massive pile of servers and processers and whatever other technical stuff we keep downstairs in the room I am absolutely not allowed to go near. Ghost is sitting next to Nightowl off to the side of the keyboard, clearly unhappy with their space being intruded upon but they can be uppity about Nightowl using the Association’s most powerful computer when they actually pay for the computer—that’s what Nightowl always tells them anyway. Dick.

“Wow, that was fast even by my standards, Sammy,” I snap back anyway.

“We’re on the clock; use your code names,” Ghost lectures, only looking away from the screen to glare at Nightowl. “And Warpspeed, you know your static is bad for technology.”

That’s what they’re worried about? Seriously? I’ve got a crisis here!

Though what else is new? It has been “Just keep business as usual; don’t show any weakness or grief or anything that makes the world doubt the Hero Association more than it already does” around here for months. That’s what the Board said, that’s what the Old Man said too, but maybe I’m tired of pretending like the Paladin went out for milk and never came back. Do we really need to be unflappable even here? The cameras already caught Sorciere crying that day. Do they even care?

One of the massive monitors is showing a new picture of the Soothsayer—at least, facial recognition says it’s him. He’s cut his curly hair short and dyed it from red to brown but it’s definitely him. Someone must have got lucky and shot that when they saw him getting out of an unmarked van. It’s dated from this morning.

We really found him!

Another screen shows that the picture was sent in from Vancouver, but I don’t want to run over there until I have an exact address and that address had better be south of the bay. I don’t want to be in Vancouver for longer than ten minutes or just not go at all. Maybe that’s what’s got Sam cranky. Alright, she’s forgiven.

“What do you want, Warpspeed?” Nightowl demands when I don’t leave.

“Sorciere missed her check in,” I tell them and that pulls all their attention—Sammy with worry and Nightowl with a grimace though I’m not sure he has any other expressions.

“God damn it,” Nightowl puts what would have been the Soothsayer’s Association ID photo and information off to the side of one of the other five screens and tries to call Mina’s phone.

“Hi, you’ve reached Mina—”

Nightowl hangs up with a grumble and tries three of her other numbers that we have on file. Two are out of service, one goes to an identical voicemail.

“She does have to be careful with her phones if she knows she’s going to be casting,” I try but Nightowl visibly grimaces.

“Obviously I know that,” Nightowl snaps and tries to ping her earpiece. The satellite finds it almost instantly…in a hotel in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. “Check there first and report—"

I’m already clear of New York City by the time he finishes that sentence. Why is Sorciere back in Canada? According to Ghost, there’s no evidence that the Soothsayer tried to cross the border so he must also still be in Canada. Canada might be a big country but it’s not big enough where my friends are concerned. The Soothsayer will be lucky I don’t tear his arms off if this is him…but at the same time, there are worse things in Canada.

The hotel is right off the highway, and I stop just short of the block. “What room number?” I call back to headquarters.

“Two-one-one,” Ghost replies before Nightowl can answer. “Which you would have known—”

I’m in the hotel, up the stairs, and phased through the door in the next second before anyone can see me. It’s only technically against the rules; if a hero suspects one of their team to be in danger, I can swing it past the boss…whoever that turns out to be. The Board is taking their time trying to replace Nathan.

“—if you’d stayed long enough to—” they lecture but something sparks right in front of me, and I’m pulled across the room and slammed into the opposite wall with a very audible yelp before I can react. Was there a Do Not Disturb sign on that door? Yeah, there was. I barely ruffled it on the way in.

“What was that?” Ghost asks calmly. Politely even. Somehow insufferably smug at the same time.

“Nothing,” I lie, paralysed, stuck to the wall, upside down, and at an angle.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Adamantine teases but there’s very little actual warmth in it. That’s been her new normal since Nathan was murdered.

“Is Sorciere even there?” Nightowl asks, ignoring them.

“No, she’s not,” I reply.

“Then what was that crashing sound?” Adamantine asks. “Did she ward the room and you walked right in like an idiot?”

My nose is itchy, and I can’t reach it. “No.”

“I can hear you lying to me, Pat.”

“Uuuugh, fine, yes, she warded the room and now I’m stuck on a—” I pause when Sorciere appears out of thin air looking very much like an exhausted hologram. She’s a little too close to looking like a ghost herself.

“Who the fu—Speedy!”

“Hi, Sorciere,” I greet, monotone. “Help me out and you can be my new favorite sister.”  

“She can have the title,” Sam mumbles.

“I thought you said she wasn’t there,” Nightowl grumbles.

“She does that long distance projection thing to avoid using her phone, remember?” Ghost mocks. “But obviously you knew that.”

Nightowl’s wordless grumbling is loud enough that Sorciere can hear it.

She sighs and says, “The password is one two three four.”

The wall lets me go and I hit the floor face first. “Thank you, Sorciere. Your password is one two three four?”

“The password is ‘the password is one two three four.’ The whole thing’s deactivated now—it won’t catch anyone else, so you’ll have to bring me that bag,” she sighs in that special, totally appreciated way everyone has been doing these past few months when they talk to me. “What are you doing here, Speedy?” Mina asks.

“Looking for you. You missed our check in.”

“I’m fine; it’s just a quick trip to Canada,” she replies, looking off to her left at something. I stand up at a normal human speed which makes her frown and I look her right in the eye.

“That’s what Nathan said, and he fucking died! You can’t just go off on your own without telling us, not when there’s someone out there capable of”—my throat closes—“that!”

Sorciere blinks.

“You were in New York less than six minutes ago before you did that exact same thing,” Ghost points out.

“And that’s enough out of you!” I turn my comms off. I can shut them out for a change. As a treat.

“Patrick—” Mina starts.

“Where are you?” I demand.

“That’s a good question, hold on.” She looks off to her left again for a moment. “So, there’s a hiking trail that starts near the north edge of town called the Lookout Loop, we’re at the…fourteenth trail marker right before the Lookout Tower.”

“I’m coming to you,” I tell her. “Do not move.”

“Okay,” she readily agrees. “We’ll sit right here.”

I think about who “we” means as I grab her bag of technology, carefully exit the room, and vanish out the door, run across town, grab a map from the visitor’s center and follow what looks like four days of normal walking speed up and around two mountains. People really do this for fun?

Sorciere is sitting as promised on a small outcropping of stone in costume which looks only slightly rumpled. Next to her is—oh wow.

“Ajax?”

“Just Jackson,” Ajax corrects. “Hey, Pat. Been a while.”

And whose fault is that?

He flinches; it must be the look on my face. Jax has got himself a farmer’s tan, has gone almost blonde in all this sun, and all his heavy lifting muscles that made him look like the Greek hero his name referenced are gone. He also looks like he hasn’t slept in four days and then decided to start walking down a mountain. I’d say it serves him right for throwing a tantrum at the Board and leaving us all but I’m already hugging him and when his brain catches up to that, he hugs back.

“I’m sorry I left, Patrick,” he says and wow, that actually feels nice. Did I need to hear that? I think I needed to hear that.

“Pat?” Sorciere puts a hand on my shoulder, and I let go of Jax. He still keeps one arm around my shoulders. I’ve missed that; no one else is a hugger back home now.

“I really thought something happened, you know?” I tell her.

“I go off comms all the time,” she reminds me. “I fry them half the time.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…one of us died,” I argue.

“I didn’t realize you were that worried,” she says, and I know she means it. “I’m sorry, Pat.”

 “Of course I’m worried! Nathan was indestructible and then he was just gone; I keep thinking—” I can’t even say it! I can barely even think it!

“Because Sam is indestructible too,” Jax realizes.

It’s all I can do to nod. We couldn’t even bury him. The funeral, the gravestone, the monument, all of it was just…hollow. The Board and the Squad argued for days about whether it was better to lean into the media coverage and make it a big celebration of the greatest sacrifice a hero can make or keep it subdued to not highlight the world’s strongest hero was murdered like he was nothing. I can’t do that again—not for my twin.

“I brought your phone.” I hold out her bag just to change the topic.

“Thank you.” She takes it and checks it. There’s no way she has service out here.

“Nightowl tried to call you,” I say.

“I see it,” she replies, clearly distracted by something else. Ajax—Jackson, right—looks over his shoulder and they share a look.

“What is it?” I ask, not really expecting an answer. I’m maybe a little too comfortable expecting to be ignored. Sorciere actually shows me a text with an address in Edmonton. I could find that easily—I cased that whole city the day Nathan died.

That city again? I’m really starting to hate Canada. Or at least two specific cities.

It’s not from a number I recognize. “Whose number is that?”

“If I’m right,” Sorciere starts, hesitantly. Maybe it’s an old habit, but she shares a look with Jax again and he nods. “If I’m right, it’s the Soothsayer.”

What the fuck? “Well okay, let’s go get him,” I insist, angling to take a step back from Jax so I don’t accidentally vaporize the arm he has around my shoulders.

“Hold on a second.” Jax grabs me by the elbow with that arm instead and suddenly I’m off the ground and practically tucked under his arm like a football. How is he doing this with one hand?

“I’ve missed you,” I admit. I feel the chuckle in his ribs but don’t hear it.

“I want to check it out too, Pat, but the most powerful psychic in the world doesn’t just send an invitation for fun,” Mina warns. “And you’ve already been caught by one magician today.”

“So it’s a trap; I won’t go all the way in.”

“You also shouldn’t go alone,” Jax warns.

“You coming with us then?” I ask. Maybe it’s too much to ask for but if anyone can get Nightowl and Ghost to stop bitching at each other, it’s Ajax.  

“I’ve been told I need off this mountain,” he replies. Something shifts about his hold and suddenly he can’t keep his grip. I get both feet back on the ground and end up grabbing him instead as he loses his footing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, holding him up for a change.

“I’m okay…tired.”

“Yeah, I was wondering why you two are clearly walking down this mountain when you can both fly.”

“We’ll fill you in later,” Sorciere promises. I want to believe her.

“You’d better.” I pick up Jax at the knees, throwing him over my shoulder.

“No, no, no, no—!” he starts but I’ve already grabbed Sorciere the same way and ten seconds later, we’re back in fucking Edmonton right where that ominous text said we should be—I should know, I followed their road signs. We’re in a parking lot for a CostCorp. Jax fights his way down from my shoulder, gently floating down to the pavement before losing his lunch by a cart return. I set Mina down much more gently and she sits on a curb with her head between her knees.

Probably should have warned them a bit better.

“—hate it,” Jax wheezes “when you do that.”

“And now I accept your apology. Seriously though, what’s wrong with you two?” I ask.

“Burnt out,” Mina admits.

“Migraine,” Jax adds just a bit too loudly. His ears must have popped at least once from the change in elevation.

“Oh god, Jax.” Mina leans over toward him, more worried than I’ve seen from her in a while. “We’re in a city.”

Jax shakes his head but there’s something off about him, more than a sudden burst of superspeed should cause. Mina and I pull him away from what he threw up and over to a grassy hill where he curls up on his side hands over his head.

“Mina?” I prod. I think I messed up.

“This isn’t from you,” she assures me “though we really have to talk about giving some warning when you do that.”

Fair. “What is wrong with him?”

She shakes her head, but before I can protest being left out again, she says, “It’s not my place, Speedy.”

“I’m okay. Not gonna,”—he almost faints right there—“pass out.”

“Don’t force yourself, Jax,” Mina urges.

A loud buzz coming from my pocket this time as she’s saying that. I sigh and pull it out; it’s probably the Ghost telling me to get back on comms—oh crap, it’s that number.

“The fucking Soothsayer has my phone number?” I demand. Sorciere looks just as concerned and more than a little annoyed. There’s a story there, I’m sure of it but the text I’ve received on my private work phone just says, “Aisle 22, two minutes.”

“I’ll be right back.” I stand up take a big step back. “Stay here.”

“Be—” she tries but I’m already in aisle 22, having run a lap around the building and all of the aisles, in civvies I borrowed from their clothing section because I’m not going to get the drop on the Soothsayer looking like a traffic cone in the middle of a warehouse full of suburban Canadians. I would be worried about my mask but if he has my phone number, then he probably has a bunch of other stuff I don’t want him to have.

There’s no one even in aisle 22 but to be fair, I am a minute and a half early. Am I really going to start a fight with the Soothsayer next to the laundry detergent? There are worse places to fight a supervillain, I suppose, but it’s a bit of a let down for the deadliest supervillain alive. While no one’s looking I do some quick stretches just to get ready. He’s not getting away just because of a muscle cramp.

He’s not going to cast faster than I can run because even the Major couldn’t cast faster than I could run. No, he’d have to have placed traps early, but I know almost for sure that he’s not here—scratch that, I know for sure because of that picture on Ghost’s computer from this morning in Vancouver. Ghost is rarely wrong.

A woman enters aisle 22 from the other end pushing a cart. She’s wearing the biggest, darkest pair of sunglasses I have ever seen even though we’re indoors and a wide sun hat that drapes over her whole face to the point of touching her shoulders. I can’t even tell what color hair she has. The whole getup screams that she’s hiding something but I’m not sure the deadliest supervillain alive would go to all the effort of a disguise spell just to get a case of two hundred dishwasher detergent pods.

God, she looks heartbroken. And scared. I can see it in her shoulders. Sam looked like that once. I guess we both did.

Another woman enters the aisle from the same side she did, at first idly shopping but I can tell from the way she keeps looking over her shoulder that she’s less interested in the fabric softener and is absolutely stalking the woman in the hat.

“I knew it,” the second woman practically spits. She storms over, ripping off the hat and revealing red hair in a low bun. The first woman flails after it but the second woman tosses it behind her. “You have some nerve coming out here in public after what your son did!”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

Now that I can see her face, yep, that’s Hannah Marie Collins, the Soothsayer’s mom. Ghost had a look at the whole family tree for the profile. I’m not here to start a fight with the Soothsayer; he brought me here for her. The most powerful psychic in the world knew she’d need my help.

It’s a fight to keep my speed normal. I want them to see me coming and I drag my feet so that they hear me.

“Please, I don’t want any trouble; I just need to get some food,” Hannah pleads. This clearly isn’t her first run in with people like this.

“You should be ashamed—”

“Fuck off,” I order. I’m not as intimidating as Nathan or as charismatic as Jackson, but it makes her shut up. It’s not good enough, I need her to leave. “I mean it, turn around, finish your shopping and get out.”

She sputters but points at Hannah next to me. “Do you know who she is?” she yells.

“I do,” I freely admit “and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this by someone as stupid as you.”

She scoffs at me and yells even louder, “How dare you? She—”

“The Soothsayer has the power to match the Heaven-sent Hero and you want to harass his mom?” I counter, still at normal volume.

Hannah blanches and tries to make herself look smaller. I can see why; the Karen was yelling on purpose and a crowd is forming at the ends of the aisle and even in the ones next to us. Sam’s usually the one who de-escalates these things; no one argues with Adamantine. I’m not much taller than either of these two and I’m in sweats, a borrowed green raincoat, and bright orange gloves and boots. No one’s taking me seriously like this though I’m used to that.

Someone emerges from the crowd behind us in a red vest with a name tag. He’s gotta be an employee but when he gets within two feet of Hannah, pulls a knife and goes for an under the rib stab.

I’m at his side 0.1 seconds later, flicking the knife out of his hand with my middle finger where it lodges blade first in a box of cat litter. Then I throw this asshole up almost to the ceiling because his weight doesn’t matter much when my arms can accelerate fast enough to throw a baseball into orbit. He doesn’t go into orbit but while he’s hanging up there for a few seconds, I dart over to the office supply aisle, eat two entire rotisserie chickens on the way over, grab a three pack of duct tape, put back my borrowed clothes except for the coat, and come back in time to catch the would be assassin. I pick all his pockets before he can hit the floor, taking his phone, keys, and wallet before taping him from head to toe and setting him gently on the floor like a dull silver sack of potatoes. If I went too close to the nosy Karen and let out just enough static to demagnetize every card in her wallet in the process, that’s just how it goes sometimes.

Of course, now I’m just standing awkwardly in the aisle in full costume holding a coat in one hand and my new friend’s phone, wallet, and car keys with the other. The crowd balks at the several gusts of displaced air and the sudden appearance of a member of Alpha Squad.

Hannah gapes at me, then the knife, looks at the man on the floor, looks at me again and just says, “You’ve got something on your chin.”

“Oh, whoops. Thank you.” I hand her the coat and wipe my face. “Put that on.”

“Why?”

“Because he just tried to kill you and he clearly knows who you are so lose the hat and glasses, coat on, hood up. Please,” I request as calmly as I can.

While she’s doing that, I rifle through his wallet. Everything is brand new from the wallet to the cards which are all throw away pre-paid ones with no names. There’s a wad of Canadian twenties. His ID is fake but very professionally done. This isn’t just some guy with a knife. The phone is locked but my phone gets a text with a string of six numbers.

Damn it, Soothsayer. Don’t make me like you.

It works, he must be actively watching this happen. I would too if my mom almost got stabbed.

This phone has either made or received three calls in its entire life all from the same private number. I call it back.

“Is it done?” a voice affected by a modulator asks. I don’t reply. “Hello?” There’s a whispered curse under their breath and the call disconnects.

Hannah is shaking next to me, clearly realizing what just happened. “Why?” she asks. Based on the quiver in her lip and the trembling in her fingers, I’ve got maybe another minute before she breaks down. I put everything away either in my belt or in the insulated pockets under my ribs, pull the knife out of the cat litter, and stand up hefting my duct taped friend with me.

“I don’t know, but I won’t leave you until we find out,” I promise. “We need to go. No way this one was working alone.”

She slowly nods. “What now?”

The crowd has phones out. “We leave this mess behind. Do you have a car?”

Another nod. I lead her to the closest emergency exit and push it open setting off the alarm but putting us in the parking lot near where Jax and Mina are still sitting.

“Speedy, what did you do?” she demands, standing up.

“Later. This one—" I jostle my new friend for them “—tried to kill Ms. Collins here.”

“Collins,” Mina states “as in—”

“The Soothsayer’s mom, yeah,” I clarify.

“Liam,” Hannah interrupts, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. “His name is Liam.”

Jax and Mina stand up. Jax looks a bit better, but he’s still got that pinched look that says everything is too loud and bright for him. Is he hung over?

“You’re right,” Sorciere agrees. “I’m sorry.”

“I raised a good man,” she promises. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Again Jax and Mina share another wordless look before Mina says, “It matters more than we first thought.”

Well, that’s cryptic. “O-kay. They don’t look like it right now, but this is Ajax and Sorciere. We’ll get you to a safe place. Guys? The assassin probably has friends?”

“Right, best we sneak out then,” Jax takes over Hannah as she leads them back to her car. I hold up my new friend’s car keys and hit the auto start. A car a row over from Hannah’s small, grey car starts up. I shove my new friend in the trunk after searching for it and check the entire car. It’s a rental from here in town, and under the seat is a crumpled plane ticket from Vancouver.

The Soothsayer is also in Vancouver. What the hell is going on over there?

My phone rings from that number this time. I almost want to let it go to voicemail but if texting isn’t enough, I’m curious as to what he wants.

“Hello, Liam,” I answer from the front seat of the rental.

Whatever he was going to say ends in a small sputter. Got him. Then he coughs in that special way that just screams ‘broken rib’ and my smile drops.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“M’fine,” he lies so expertly but I can hear his breathing. “Thank you…for saving her.”

“She’s done nothing wrong,” I counter.

Another cough that’s almost a laugh.

“Do you…want to talk to her?” I ask. I kinda feel bad for him…wait, what the hell am I thinking?

“She won’t want that.”

Well, damn. He says it with that special certainty that implies he knows it to be true; it must be rough being psychic. Even the Major hesitated to use his cards unless someone’s life was on the line.

“You would win…but still lose,” he says.

“What?”

“You always wondered…if you could beat your sister. You’re…unstoppable. She’s immovable. You can win,” he clarifies before coughing “but you would both still lose. The best thing…is to not fight her at all.”

I’m filing that away for later. “Did someone kick your shit in? What happened to you?”

He groans low in his chest. “Just…don’t—"

“I’m not going to fight my sister,” I scoff. Though if the most powerful psychic in the world—wait, why am I even entertaining this; he’s obviously lying to get in my head.

A door opens on his end and someone steps through in fancy shoes if I’m hearing those clicks right.

“Liam, we just talked about this,” an older man says, condescendingly. “I thought we’d reached an agreement.”

I have to swallow back the bile—of course, if he’s in Vancouver, it could only be because of him.

“Breathe,” Liam says to me, ignoring him. “Not as scary…as he thinks he is.”

“Well now, I’m just going to have to take that personally,” the other voice growls and I hear the phone changing hands. “Hello there.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I want to put the phone down and run straight for home base.

“Shy, are we? Good, just listen. If you keep helping the Soothsayer, I will find you; so what if you saved his mother? A single man with a knife is only…a reminder. My actual people are not so easily dissuaded.”

I want to retort that Major Arcana dissuaded him and his men just fine ten years ago, but I can’t find the words.

“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”

The line disconnects and I almost fling myself south of the border on impulse when Jax taps on the driver’s side window. He opens the door and pulls me out with one hand to my shoulder—how is he this strong with this shitty of a grip?

It doesn’t matter; he’s always known when people need hugs. We loved him for that. Except Nightowl but fuck Nightowl.

Damn it, I thought I was past this, past him.

“You’re okay,” Jax promises.

“The Soothsayer’s…part of his Collection,” I whisper.

Jax just hugs tighter.

Chapter Text

“How do I get out of here without being caught?”

The truth was that there was no way to escape this without being captured and that just wasn’t fair. After everything that day had put me through, I couldn’t even get away with murder. Somebody owed me big for this.

If all of that could even be called ‘murder.’ Everything that happened to the Paladin was technically—maybe more than ‘technically’—self-inflicted. That spell does nothing if the person named hasn’t killed anyone. I only opened a door. It was his fault that so, so many were willing to cross through it. I would be telling myself that for a long while.

And onto the next problem, the next domino to fall in the chain reaction I started when I went to the Hero Association without asking if it would turn out alright. Looking to the future didn’t exactly hurt but it was so difficult to change even a single variable once I knew. I had to teach myself magic to even stand a chance but at the end of the day, I am a human being. There’s only so much I can bend fate. It was kinder to myself to not know; it was better in the long run for me to not know so I made it a rule to never ask.

I will never make that mistake again. I was not a powerless child anymore.

Even self taught, there were some basics I could use to my advantage. Scrying spells—and I didn’t need to ask to know there would be a lot of them aimed at me—could be confused by running water and the North Saskatchewan River was right there just south of the downtown core. I had enough energy to fly—and I had to fly, none of the Edmonton team could and every piece of technology that entered the area where the ghosts had been would have their circuits fried. No pursuit from the air, no meaningful pursuit on the ground. Downtown faded not quite fast enough.

I made it to the river and followed it right into the west end, almost crashing into one of the ravines several kilometers away when my magic finally gave out.

My chest screamed at me, but the pain was offset just by being so cold. I didn’t want to look or ask what it looked like under the bandages I looted from the infirmary. They were holding but I needed help and soon.

“Will anyone find me now?”

Yes.

“Who will find me here?”

The Madam of Acquisition. Fuck. Shit. Ow! Okay. I had to work the problem and quickly.

“How long until…she finds me?”

She was already in the city and was already coming with her men to find me here. I had less than twenty minutes at this rate. I wanted to ask how that was possible—I think perhaps I did but the answer I got back was incomprehensible and made my head swim. It had to be the pain.

There was a strong temptation in that moment to ask if I was going to die there in the ravine just off a hiking trail. I wondered if the answer had changed since I last saw it. I wasn’t fated to die in the recruitment test—that was most of how I knew I’d be able to find a way around the Paladin—but it was also my hubris to not check. The answer to that particular question has changed three times since I could ask it; it could have changed again without my knowing.

“Will the next question I ask after this one kill me?”

No, but it would hurt.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

It was too vague a question and too large, but I had to risk it. I would wake up in a city not my own and I wouldn’t be able to speak; between the pain medication and the Collection’s pet telepath seizing control of my vocal cords, I’d be pinned. They’d have their nurse heal me enough to wake up and I’d know from this very answer that her healing powers require her to experience my wounds and my pain as she took them from me. I’d push her away because she shouldn’t have to heal this. I could compartmentalize this pain because of how I’d eventually adapted to the Gift’s backlash, but she couldn’t. The Master of Appraisal—

Something about him made the vision curl up on itself and the rest of the answer vanished. That had never happened before. I fell to my knees, nose bleeding, vision swimming—I couldn’t afford to pass out yet, but I was tired and wounded and exhausted and the World’s Most Dangerous Supervillain sent his wife to find me and she never failed to secure her target.

I had work to do, so I grit my teeth like I had in that bathroom and pushed through it.

I asked several more questions. The answers I got back didn’t make sense and I couldn’t tell whether or not it was because I couldn’t understand them or because the blood loss was getting to me, but I kept trying right up until I saw a blonde woman in a very out of place luxurious white fur-lined coat coming through the trees with several other men in suits.

I had to let go sometime—that was what the future dictated after all. I didn’t even remember falling.

In the darkness, just under six thousand faces passed me by, heading toward a great light behind me. I couldn’t look at it but I didn’t need to look or ask to know what it was. These souls were moving on, the blue of their sorrow melting away to the brightest, untethered silver.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” they said.

Everything was groggy and heavy and so, so, slow when everything started to come back. There was a dull ache in my chest that dragged me as if by the ear to wake up.

“Oh my god, he’s actually coming out of it—keep it up, Elena,” an older man’s voice praised. There was no response except a tired whimper right next to me. There was a hand on my chest. I remembered this; this was the healer of the Collection. The one who suffered the injuries of whoever she healed.

I saw her face when I woke up in a strange bed in a room much bigger than my mom’s apartment. When the dizziness faded enough for me to remember what she suffered to heal others, I shoved her back. Maybe I was stronger than I thought or maybe she’d already weakened considerably trying to save me, but she went down a lot harder than I wanted her to. I tried to apologize but couldn’t. Why couldn’t I speak? I felt like I should know why but everything was still so fuzzy.

“Oh, I wouldn’t try that right now, Soothsayer,” the man said. Someone else helped Elena off the floor and out of the room. She had to have the ability to heal herself, right? He can’t have been forcing her to heal others just to leave her like that. “Or do you prefer Liam?”

That pulled my focus off of where Elena had gone and back to the middle aged man in a fancy grey suit. The Master of Appraisal was hard to look at for a reason I couldn’t readily define and being cut off from the Gift was new to me. I tried to move further away from him but stuck on this bed and not readily in control of myself, I couldn’t do much more than curl my fingers.

“You spooked him, boss,” a younger man teased from behind me.

“Thank you, Carl, I have eyes,” the Master of Appraisal retorted. “Tell me he's all there.”

“He’s awake and aware—he’s worried about the girl. The meds are affecting his perception.”

That was what I was forgetting: the Collection’s pet telepath. I wondered if I could dislodge him from where he wasn’t welcome.

“He knows I’m here,” the younger man reported. “He wants me to leave.”

“Ah, I am sorry about that, Liam, but you don’t earn the title of World’s Most Dangerous Supervillain and then keep it to my age by letting hero-killing magicians access their spells. Carl here will make sure you behave until you understand the rules.”

The respect I had for his notoriety was overruled by my annoyance. The Master of Appraisal knew I was a hero-killing magician and still ordered a telepath to enter my mind without permission and while he wasn’t fully sure what I was capable of. That was bold of him.

“He’s…unhappy,” Carl relayed, nervously. Oh so nervously. I heard him swallow off to the side.

“Tough,” Appraisal snapped. “Do your job and he won’t be a problem.”

What was it that the world-renowned Master of Appraisal wanted from me?

“He wants to know why he’s here.”

“Right to business, I like that,” Appraisal replied. “The whole world and I just saw you and only you fly out from that branch office looking utterly bloody but alive and uncontested by a certain Heaven-sent Hero, of course. I knew I had to meet you in person so I arranged for my lovely wife and a few of my associates to find and bring you here to this little hideaway of mine—perfectly warded against magicians with some shinier countermeasures for the Association’s non-magical pests. I promise you are quite safe here, Liam, and I am delighted to have you as my guest.”

The threat was rather obvious, but I blinked once anyway.

“I will assume we have reached an accord,” Appraisal said, as he looked over my shoulder. Carl must have nodded because he continued. “If you’re wondering about how long it’s been, it’s been about seven hours give or take, including the time change. You missed the evening news—in both provinces—but I took some pictures for you.”

He brought out a remote and flicked on a large TV I thought was a wall where it was paused on a picture of my face and name “Liam Andrew Collins, the Soothsayer” and the subtitle and banner colorfully declaring me “Public Enemy Number One” and the “Most Deadly Supervillain Alive.” The next few screen caps had the same banners but now had pictures of Alpha Squad—the whole Squad, including the rarely seen technopath Ghost—entering the building. One showed an ambulance with the banner “The Paladin, status unknown.” The last one was Sorciere openly sobbing, the camera zoomed in on her face with the banner now reading “The Paladin, Fallen?” in bright red.

“I held that title for twenty years,” Appraisal sighed. “But for getting rid of the Paladin and humiliating the Association, I will gladly surrender it to you. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Liam. You will be needing my support going forward, and I only have a few things I need in return to make ensuring your safety worth the mountain of trouble you’re sure to bring me.”

There was not fear behind the curiosity about what that meant. There wasn’t.

I could feel more than hear the mental conversation going on between Appraisal and Carl—since Carl had a foothold in my mind, when he talked to anyone else it was like hearing their voices through a wall.

Appraisal smiled reassuringly when he looked back at me. “Oh no need to fret, Liam, I won’t ask you to kill any more superheroes—for this to work, I need your presence here to be a complete secret, after all. Carl has just informed me that a little bird I have in the Hero Association was able to access your registration information before Alpha Squad’s Ghost locked it down. One hundred percent on the psychic aptitude test is no small feat. No wonder they sent the Paladin all the way to Canada to meet you—they probably wanted to make sure you’d end up in New York before I had a chance to hear about you! I wonder what happened there…but I’m not curious enough to ask directly.”

Well shit, what else did he know? How deep in my mind was he?

“You were right on the money about needing to ask questions,” Carl confirmed.

“Of course I was—it’s right there,” Appraisal agreed gesturing to me. What did he see? “I think, Liam, that the best option for you is to keep quiet and let Carl interpret the answers I want. Carl, find out if Louise is ready with that silencing charm.”

I could feel Carl reaching out to someone else—that had to be taxing. He couldn’t keep me pinned like this all the time, could he?

“That’s what the charm is for,” Carl tells me out loud.

“I can see how your Gift works, Liam—though you are making me work for it—and I’ll be more at ease if you’re not freely using it until I can trust you won’t use it against me,” Appraisal added, picking up on what we were discussing.

I glared at him.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Can’t you—aha, no questions, excuse me—you can’t see how wasted unlimited knowledge is on you. You were going to be a hero for god’s sake. You could make billions, take over the world, form an empire based entirely on blackmail. The possibilities are endless. Let me show you the potential you were going to squander on the Association.”

There was no curiosity behind the anger. I wouldn’t allow it.

Carl, of course, ratted me out. “He’s trying to pretend he’s not curious.”

I wanted this man in particular to suffer a cataclysmic stroke.

“And he’s more vicious than he gives himself credit for,” Carl teased. “Like a feral kitten.”

“Now, now, Carl, let’s not insult our guest.”

He said that like he wasn’t offering imprisonment.

“He takes issue with your word choice.” 

“I think you’ll find that the alternative to my offer is actual life imprisonment for killing the Paladin in an actual prison—assuming you’re not handed over to the magical community for judgement instead of the federal government and assuming they don’t arrange your death quietly to minimize the risk you are to their power. I, at least, can offer luxury meals, better sheets, a decent view. I’ll even throw in a better wardrobe; you wouldn’t look good in orange.”

I could always tell the world why the Paladin had to die.

“He says the Paladin deserved it.”

Appraisal raised an eyebrow. “Even if that’s true, who would believe you?”

In that moment, several things happened at once. The Master of Appraisal had stood up uselessly when he realized what he’d said, but by the time he’d got to his feet, the damage was already done.

The Gift told me that Sorciere would believe me if she had approximately five months to figure out exactly what my spell had done; she’s already curious, she just needs the time. It also told me that the Association Board of Directors would believe me because they’d known before hand. That was certainly a problem worth solving. I also knew that Alpha Squad’s former second-in-command Ajax also knew about the Paladin and had resigned about it. Anyone else who knew or gave any indication they might know was dead. More than a few of them had answered my call.

That answer wasn’t big enough to hurt me, but Carl was incapacitated, screaming on the floor from having so much information condensed into a split second and shoved into his brain. His presence ripped away from my mind as he retreated into himself for protection, and I felt I could breathe properly again.

“You make an excellent point,” I conceded, keeping eye contact and not moving to escape or get up in any way. Appraisal stood equally frozen “And I’ve just learned the Association knew what I know about the Paladin and did nothing, so we have a common enemy. I…am willing to help you with some conditions. What exactly do you want from me?”

The answer didn’t come but the pain did. My nose started bleeding again and everything disoriented like it had in the ravine when he’d been part of an answer. Why couldn’t I ask about him? Everyone knew he had some sort of meta ability, but no one knew exactly what it was or its source, and I’d never asked because of some sense of duty or honor in allowing people their privacy.

Another mistake I could not afford to make again though if I had asked this when I first found out about supervillains, I might have died. I ground out “What is your superpower?”

That was the first time I’d thrown up from an answer so small. Anyone else’s superpower wouldn’t have caused this amount of pain—it was a simple enough question to ask. It was a risk to ask but I had to know. I grabbed the source of the pain in my mind and squeezed.

It’s called the Gift of the Appraising Eye; it allows the Master of Appraisal to see any person and know what they were capable of, who their parents are, medical issues, tattoos, literally anything about a person. That was how he formed his Collection—he just kidnapped or threatened people who could make him the most money or protect him and now I was one of them.  I wasn’t sure if he even knew what his own power was called but I was quickly losing the ability to ask. It ultimately didn’t matter; there were other Gifts out there. That was a frightening thought to pass out to.

Chapter Text

The next time I woke up, I was still in a hospital bed but in a different room. Someone had changed my clothes, and the ceiling had been carved with a large ornate spell circle well out of my reach. I tried to ask what it was, but I couldn’t hear my own voice. That would be the silencing charm, then. Unlike Major Arcana and Sorciere, I couldn’t cast spells nonverbally and the etiquette between magicians plagiarizing each other’s spells and techniques kept me from asking how they did it before.

I was starting to get tired of my own naivety slapping me in the face.

At least I was alone both physically and mentally. It would be easier to figure a way out of this room without Carl trying to stop me. I hoped he learned his lesson though it never occurred to me that the answers I get would be visible to telepaths or that they would be so uniquely vulnerable to that deluge. Then again, my childhood was characterized by growing around the fallout of my mistakes.

I couldn’t hear anything in here or outside the large window, so I jumped when I saw Elena had appeared next to me. She looked curious but mostly just…done. I doubt she wanted to be here either. I could see under her white shirt that her chest was bound but the bandages looked new. Unused.

I stopped her from touching me. My chest still ached, and it was still freezing, but I held firm until she backed off. It wasn’t fair for her to have to experience that. Elena frowned but she couldn’t say anything either. She asked a question but if I couldn’t hear it, I wouldn’t get an answer. She left soon after, still frowning.

The days after that weren’t much different. I was fed three times a day though it wasn’t much better than hospital food; I got new clothes—mostly just sweatpants and plain t-shirts. Since I wasn’t allowing Elena to finish healing me, a few of those were sacrificed to the accidental opening of wounds. They weren’t healing much on their own, but I wasn’t dying either. The real problem was the freezing in my veins, but I didn’t want to risk a proper hot shower yet. That and they took my bathroom door off its hinges for some reason.

After almost two weeks of that I could mostly manage to hobble around the room without too much pain and the wounds were finally starting to close on their own. Mostly. The scarring was severe and still tender, and the cold never dissipated even in the shower. Every day Elena would come in with her chest bound and I would refuse to let her near me. The Master of Appraisal could at least let her heal first!

I could watch TV, but every channel was coverage about the Paladin and what the Association was doing to find me. I couldn’t hear it but watching TV with subtitles and the sound off was what I did anyway to avoid accidents. Crime was spiking across the United States but after two weeks the heroes of each city had more or less stepped up to cover the difference. The Association’s recruitment numbers were up to the point that they couldn’t train them all the way they usually did—there was talk of an academy. They were also debating the pros and cons of expanding Alpha Squad since they were meant to support where local heroes needed them.

They worshipped the Paladin even in death. I saw coverage of the funeral with all of Alpha Squad in attendance. Even the former top hero, Major Arcana, was there. He must have been dyeing his hair in his last few years as a hero because he’d gone completely snow white in only three years of retirement.

I knew the casket was empty, but I couldn’t tell from the broadcast whether that was public knowledge or not. The crowd was sure mourning like it was occupied. Footage of the memorial service was put to the side while a panel of ‘experts’ debated who should replace the Paladin. Who could possibly replace him? One of them wanted Ajax to come back—why had Ajax retired early exactly?

Apparently Alpha Squad had promised to bring me to justice for their friend and leader—Nightowl was in charge of the press conference detailing how the Association planned to find me but either the subtitles aren’t very good, or he was just filling his speech with fluff about teamwork and good triumphing over evil. I’m sure it sounded more confident but just reading it was underwhelming. I never thought I’d think that about one of the top heroes in the world but I never expected a lot of things.

In theory, I just needed to wait for Sorciere to figure out what really happened. I knew she would, but would she get there in time? Nightowl’s plan was iffy, but Ghost had control over any machine they could get their hands on and this whole planet was covered in technology. They were the real threat. I needed to find out if Alpha Squad finding me would take less than five months and soon.

That and eleven days of complete and total magical silence was starting to drive me out of my own head.

I spent a lot of that time staring up at the ceiling, trying to decipher the silencing spell, but magicians wrote their circles in their own shorthand to keep others from just stealing their work and Louise clearly thought I wouldn’t be able to figure hers out even if I saw how she wrote it. She might not have been wrong.

It occurred to me, after the fifth attempt to ask something, how reliant I was on the Gift when I used magic myself. I should recognize some of those runes—I’d spent time learning some of the basic universal ones—but even if I learned, I always checked. Far too much of my confidence as a magician came from having a perfectly accurate magical spell check. My vocabulary was clearly suffering because of it.

It was the one thing I said I wouldn’t do when I was a kid but just having the answers at the ready made me complacent. What was that one rune there? I should know it even if Louise attempted to disguise it as something else. Would I really have been able to match the Paladin in an all out fight? The Gift said I could, but I had to wonder. If he took out my hearing, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Now I was here, and it was just me and everything I thought I knew versus the newly demoted Second Most Dangerous Supervillain Alive. Was that going to be enough? Was I enough? What if I wasn’t?

On the twelfth day, I was in the middle of my morning routine of staring up at the ceiling between Elena’s daily visit and lunch when arms grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. It wasn’t lunch, it was two goons who were both twice my size. They dragged me into the hallway which was just as silent as my room right up until they closed the door and my ears popped when suddenly I could hear again. Huh.

I wasn’t going to cry in front of Appraisal’s minions.

There was a new person this time, a woman in a purple dress holding an old leatherbound journal, clearly ready to cast something from it.

“Not one word,” she warned and pulled a flask of something out of a pocket. “Drink.”

I raised my eyebrows at it but said nothing.

“Oh for—it just paralyzes your magic for a few hours. Drink it and come see what the boss has to say or refuse and go back in solitary, your choice.”

Was it though? I decided being able to get out of that room was preferable, so I drank. It was bitter and something closed itself off in the back of my soul, but I didn’t have time to think about what it was as they dragged me down the hall to an elevator.

That must be Louise. I wasn’t sure if I could cast faster than she could retaliate even if I hadn’t just cut myself off from my magic. I didn’t want to risk it. I needed to learn how to gauge these things without asking; I needed practical experience.

The sound of the elevator was almost deafening. It was a gentle hum, and the elevator was a lot fancier than the one back in my apartment building, but after twelve days the tiniest noises were all just so much. My escorts never took their hands off me, which was fine; after days in bed and several more just ambling around my room I had no stamina. I’d have to fix that too.

The elevator opened directly into a large office at presumably the top of the building. There was an empty reception desk right in front of a pair of glass doors set in a floor to ceiling glass wall. Behind the doors was a large, flat stone slab that separated the reception area from the much larger, fancier office space beyond.

One of the goons released my right arm to open them; the other goon still gripping me squeezed a silent warning above my elbow, presumably as a reminder to behave. He pushed me forward into the office.

The other side of the decorative stone pillar was a water fall and it wasn’t the only one. The rear wall behind the desk was solid glass with Vancouver’s downtown arrayed below it. The desk was wide, dark polished wood with brass finishings on a dais surrounded by a moat of all things. Running water—he knew his basics too. The desk was empty but the dining room table that could seat twenty had four people sitting at it.

Appraisal was at the head of the table, on his right facing away from me was his wife, Acquisition, next to her was a dark head of hair I didn’t recognize. Across from them facing me was an empty chair on Appraisal’s immediate left, Elena next to that, and someone else I didn’t recognize on the other side of her. He was older and his eyes were covered by a blindfold that had two eyes painted on—it had to be a magical item. Notably missing from the table was Carl; I definitely felt some smugness about that.

“Ah, Liam. Let’s try this again,” Appraisal indicated the chair next to him. The goon directed me around the table the long way so that I wouldn’t pass behind the boss and sat me down before staying behind me. Louise also stayed behind me, still primed to attack with her spell book.

Appraisal regarded me carefully, the earlier misstep was still fresh in his mind, I could tell that much. “We can attempt a more…respectful approach,” he began. It wasn’t phrased like a question, but it was one all the same.

“We can, provided that it goes both ways,” I agreed. “I was unaware of how Carl would be affected, but I am not apologizing for it.”

I swore Elena suppressed a snicker in her hand, but I couldn’t be distracted by her. If Appraisal thought I wasn’t worth the trouble, I would die or get handed to the Association. I wasn’t sure which was worse but at the same time, I wouldn’t tolerate Carl’s methods again.

Appraisal nodded. “I will consider the incident a…growing pain. There are bound to be more in the future, and we must decide if this…” he paused, searching for the word.

“Partnership,” I tried.

“That is bold,” he commented with an amused smile “but for now it will suffice. We must decide if this partnership is worth those growing pains. I would hear your thoughts on that.”

“I cannot easily ask about you,” I admitted. “If an inquiry of mine encounters you as part of the answer, well, you saw what happened to me. That should be a significant enough advantage for you and your privacy going forward.”

“I noticed. It is also difficult for me to quantify you as I usually can. The last question you asked before you threw up all over yourself,” he paused. He clearly wanted to just ask me, but we both know how that would end up.

“I received an answer,” I confirmed.

“I want to know it,” he ordered.

“Getting the answer doesn’t mean I understand it. I need context if you are willing to provide it,” I invited, hoping it would throw off this line of questioning; if he didn’t know his ability had a name like mine, I didn’t want to tell him.

Based on the sudden shift in his expression, he was not. “I would prefer to not take questions at this time, but we will revisit it later.”

I nodded to him. “I do not wish to injure myself either, but I am curious,” this was unexpectedly hard to not just ask “as to my role here. You did say I was wasting my potential.”

“I did say that.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about that.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a lot of time to think about how you can talk your way out of the box I made for you,” Appraisal sneered. “My dear wife, please locate Carl for me.”

Acquisition shifted to sit up straight and froze for a moment. “He’s gone to his new role already.”

“That’s good, he’ll be out of range of any accidents,” Appraisal mused.

“Never seen him run with his tail between his legs before,” the man at the end of the table with the blindfold laughed.

“He thought he was the meanest dog around before someone bigger showed up is all,” Elena countered. “It’s about time we got the privacy of our minds back.”

“Now, now Elena, Carl was only there for insurance against known flight risks.” Appraisal looked directly at her when he said it and Elena just huffed but she did ever so slightly shift away from Appraisal and Acquisition. I added that question to the list.

“Alright Liam, I do have an offer for you. I know—through great effort—that you are fundamentally a good person. You went to the Heroes because you wanted to help people, but the Association’s hands are just as dirty as mine, as you apparently now know. I’m at least honest about what I do. I also know without even looking that you are young and suffer from the idealism that comes with very limited practical experience in the world.”

I have certainly been learning that. “You’re not wrong.”

“Then perhaps instead of ‘partnership’ we could try ‘apprenticeship,’” he suggested. “I’ve been doing this a long time and aside from one memorable run in with Major Arcana have been left alone by the Association all these years because crossing me will cost them more than it will gain them.”

That was impressive; I think I remember reading something about that but that was years ago. “Your organization survived Major Arcana.”

“Oh I had to start over again, but it was an important lesson. This Collection works on the basis that it is a perfectly legitimate business—magical consultations, we own several medical offices, restaurants, some other details I won’t bore you with. If I can teach you how to best contribute, I would appreciate benefiting from your knowledge.”

I took a deep breath. “When I was fourteen, I asked how to get around the laws against psychics playing the lottery.”

He chuckled. “From what I have found out about you, you haven’t won the lottery so it must not have worked.”

“Only because it relied on being able to pass the test to rule out psychics and magicians. I am technically both and I couldn’t rely on my…on anyone else to do it for me.”

“I’ll save you the attempt at deception and say I already know about your mother, Liam.”

I glared right at him, not caring that my escorts all tensed behind me. “Leave her alone.”

Appraisal clearly wasn’t worried, Acquisition was smiling. “Relax, normally there might be a threat about her safety if you weren’t already desperate for my protection and we are—for the moment—approaching each other respectfully. Which members of the Hero Association have been ordered to kill you once they find you?”

Adamantine has been officially tasked with that behind closed doors—oh wow. Alpha Squad will track me down mostly together but Adamantine will make sure they don’t take me alive.

“Oh, he didn’t like what he got from that,” Acquisition teased from across from me. Wait, was she breathing?

“I need follow up questions,” I said to Appraisal.

“How many follow up questions do you need?”

Four. “Four.”

“Then you may have three.”

Lesson learned. “When will Alpha Squad find me?”

In four months. Damn, that’s faster than Sorciere’s investigation.

“Who outside of the Collection knows I’m here?”

No one.

“How do I keep from being discovered?”

If I don’t leave this building, I won’t be discovered at all. Then why would Alpha Squad be able to find me in four months?

“And that’s three, I trust they will suffice,” Appraisal warned before I could ask.

“No one knows I’m here who doesn’t already, but it won’t last. Adamantine has orders to kill me when she finds me. I have four months to change that,” I reported.

“You can change the future?” the old man at the end of the table asked.

“With a great amount of effort, it can be done,” I confirmed.

“The future isn’t even set until you see it,” the dark haired man next to Acquisition argued. “It’s why you have to buffer it with metaphor and symbolism.”

“Believe me, I have asked in depth about the future and how to change it…I can’t really convey it in English though,” I admitted.

“That sounds absurd,” the old blind man spat.

“The absurd knows the absurd, Dennis,” Louise countered.

Wait. Uh oh.

“Getting back on track,” Appraisal interrupted before Dennis—Dennis from Kansas?—could retort. “The lottery is chump change, Liam, we can do better. Anthony here is the strongest of my psychics”—the man next to Acquisition nodded at the praise—“but even he has trouble with exact numbers.”

“Dreaming the future doesn’t do well with numbers or written words,” Anthony grumbled.

Well, that was a step above what I was thinking. “You mean fraud.”

“Inconveniencing billionaires hardly counts as fraud; we’d just be getting a better peek at the market than our competition. It’s not strictly legal but everyone tries to use psychics to get around the competition—Louise was arrested for it, in fact.”

“Never mind how much fraud actual billionaires get away with, but one broke college student tries and suddenly they care,” Louise added.

“Yes, yes, we’re all heartbroken for you, Louise,” Dennis chuckled.

“And you’re here because…” I invited. I had to make sure.

“Dennis also has an axe to grind with Major Arcana from an incident back in Kansas, if I remember correctly.”

“I was living quietly,” Dennis grumbled. “But someone sent him a letter about my business and suddenly the Association is digging up my past and throwing me in prison.”

Oh. Oh no.

“That does raise an interesting question,” Appraisal chuckled. “Who sent that letter?”

I did. I wrote the letter, detailed the plan, asked who would know the right binding magic. I led Major Arcana right to him, but he wasn’t Major Arcana then, he was still his father’s protégé, Minor Arcana.

“Who?” Dennis demanded when I didn’t answer.

Me.

“Now, now Dennis, it was ten years ago,” Appraisal said. “Go to lunch, everyone. Liam, let’s talk further about some rules I would prefer you’d follow.”

I nodded as the rest of the table got up, even Acquisition. I kept my gaze off of Dennis, looking at Elena instead as the older magician left just to keep him in my line of sight. That was way too close.

“You two can go as well,” he dismissed Louise and the goon behind me.

“Boss?” Louise prodded.

“His magic will be gone well into the afternoon and he’s still recovering from the spell that killed our dearly departed Paladin. Even if he could get past me, he wouldn’t make the lobby.”

He was right about that. Just sitting upright for this long was exhausting. Louise and the unnamed minion left the room, but he at least remained outside the glass doors looking in.

“The youthful idealism of yours I mentioned earlier. You will most certainly outgrow it because that’s what adulthood does; I gave up on some of my own frivolous aspirations from when I was your age.”

“You had wanted to join the Association too.”

“Oh no,” he outright giggled at me “I wanted to rule the world. I thought all adults were stupid and doing it wrong and I could see how badly qualified they all were—I can decide how to view people by any metric I choose, height, age, medical conditions, amount of bribe money received over their lives, et cetera. I carefully recruited individuals I thought I could trust with this endeavour, and I was going to raise an army of superheroes to just take over, but the Association shut that down once they caught wind of me.”

“And you’re not in prison because…”

“I have several very good lawyers who spun a different story to fit the facts presented and the prosecution and the jury were both in my pocket the moment I laid eyes on them,” he summarized, waving it away as if it were boring. “That’s the problem with institutionalized heroism, they can’t disagree when the system that empowers them says I’m innocent and going against their judgement makes them the very thing they allegedly hate. I’m a lot more subtle in my old age—I recommend you start that early. Here’s what I know about you, Liam: you are, underneath all that naive wishful thinking, a worthy candidate to be the left hand of this whole operation. My wife, naturally, is the right hand but I’m getting old. I find myself looking for valuable help and as far as ‘valuable’ goes, you are priceless.”

I raised both eyebrows. “You want a successor.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he chided. “You still view yourself as an authority on right and wrong—you’re nineteen for fuck’s sake—but I think the darkness of this world will wear you down like it does everyone. You’ll be forced to compromise on your morals to survive—as Elena and Louise were—or you’ll just get tired of how screwed up this world is and abandon trying to improve it in order to look after yourself and your family as most of us do.”

“And become a supervillain like you,” I snapped.

“Liam. You are a supervillain. The world has already cast you as a villain and written your lines, but you get to choose the delivery.”

“Why—”

“Ah, ah.” He leaned forward and his hand went under the table palm up as if to grab something. “You’ll only hurt yourself. Don’t ask questions outside of my permission—it’s both a rule and an excuse to not answer questions from your colleagues. It’s a good thing Dennis is blind, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

“See? You need to learn how to lie properly; you’re so obvious. We’ll work on it, but I think you’re due for a nap.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. “In the box?” I asked.

“We’ll talk about granting you some privileges when you’ve earned some trust; there will be some opportunities for that tomorrow.” He waved to the goon outside the office who came back in to collect me. “Oh, since you’re so worried about Elena, she can heal her own injuries almost as fast as she can acquire them, you’re not saving anyone by being stubborn.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I’m dragged out of the chair.

“I’m sure you won’t.”

I could hear my footsteps on the marble floor of the hallway right up until my escort pushed open my door and suddenly everything went silent. Can it be blocked? Did they realize that?

He didn’t shove me inside, but he wasn’t gentle either. Once the door was closed, I tried it as non-disruptively as I could. Locked. I should have guessed but I wasn’t going to assume anything about this place. I lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

That one frustrating rune was definitely some variation of ‘radiate’ but in what root language I couldn’t remember. Alright, back to the basics of the basics. All magics had a Source, the Source of a magician’s power could influence the Qualities of a spell. I didn’t know the Source of Louise’s magic but if she used that rune—‘radiate,’ ‘to shine forth,’—then that spell is…hm.

This should have been easier. The spell can affect any room connected to the rune—is that why I didn’t have a bathroom door? Or anything in here resembling a cupboard or closet? I had a dresser, but I couldn’t fit in the drawers.

Lunch arrived but I ignored it. A supervillain offered me an internship. That was a lot to take in. I was still stuck in a room with no sound. I had to assume that there were cameras in here, but technology and magic didn’t interact well, I wondered if they were even operational. I hoped they weren’t, but I needed confirmation. Or should I just take the risk?

The effects radiated but could also be interrupted by something mundane. The door was enough to block it.

I gave up on the ceiling at my usual time—consistency had been necessary these past few weeks. I ate lunch. I got back in bed. Someone had made the bed and tucked the blankets back in up to my knees. Wait. If the solution was this easy all along, I’m going to be more disappointed in myself than I already am.

Appraisal had said to nap.

I pulled the blankets up, tucking the sheet tightly underneath my waist and pulled it over my head, leaving no gaps, no connection to the room I was in. I was in a separate space than the sigil.

And I heard myself breathe again.

If there was a camera that could see me, I hoped the obvious crying could be perceived as normal considering everything. I wasn’t trapped. I figured this out, I could figure out the rest.

“Does anyone know this spell has a loophole?”

No.

Alright then.

Chapter Text

“Everyone, come to the theatre and look at this right now!” Appraisal orders, using Carl to relay the message to all of us. I put down my book and get up. This can’t be good.

It’s a bad sign that he’s excited—the last time he was this enthusiastic was when he and Acquisition found Carl and convinced him to join us. We are all still suffering that particular decision.

“I heard that, Elena,” Carl whispers inside my head from wherever he is in the tower.

Did I hurt your feelings? Do pigs even have any?

“I’m just—"

 Following orders? Don’t try that shit with me; this isn’t your old precinct. You take his orders because he lets you be as cruel as you want.

The retaliatory sting is almost worth it. The sudden splitting headache behind my left eye, the discoloring vision, and the loss of equilibrium make me stumble against the wall but after a moment the pain subsides. That asshole might be able to incapacitate or even kill an adult but the most he gets from me is a few seconds of migraine before I heal whatever he tried to do.

Two hands smaller than mine take me by the arm and help me stand. I have to look down to see Amelia sliding under my arm. She’s not quite tall enough to be a real support but I know that won’t stop her from trying. Turning eleven has made her stubborn.

“Amelia, you’ll be late,” I scold but she tries to help me stand anyway. I rest one arm around her shoulders but keep most of my weight on my own legs or we’ll be here all day.

“So will you,” she counters, flapping one of her large kestrel wings for balance considering the other one is getting rumpled by my back. “You got stung by Carl again, didn’t you?”

“He had it coming,” I declare.

“Aw, look at the baby hero.”

Go near her mind and Appraisal will skin you, Carl.

“Relax, I know that.”

The theatre is already mostly full by the time we catch up. Appraisal is watching the news—never a good sign. If someone interesting to him is on the news, it’s usually a hero fight. If it’s a hero fight and the heroes are losing, then whichever wannabe villain fighting them might be worth acquiring. It’s the story of more than a few of the people in this room. All Appraisal has to do is see them and if he likes them, his wife gets to go hunting.

“What’s going on?” I ask Sonja as I sit next to her in the second row by the aisle. Amelia has to perch on an arm rest for her wings and holds onto my shoulder for balance.

“There’s—"

“The Paladin is in Edmonton,” Appraisal interrupts her. “And he’s fighting someone new.”

That’s practically on our doorstep going by the Paladin’s maximum speed.

“Hoping for rescue?” Carl taunts. “Aren’t you old enough to have outgrown hope by now, Elena?”

Get. Out.

The chill that runs up my spine whenever Carl reaches out dissipates but never fully leaves. I hate that that’s the standard of ‘normal’ around here.

The news coverage is showing Edmonton’s Hero Association branch office. A dozen stories up, the windows have shattered and a cloud of glowing teal…something is swirling around.

“Expert opinions?” Appraisal demands.

“Let me borrow someone’s eyes,” Dennis demands from the back row. Sonja flinches next to me and she flails for my hand as she watches the screen intently. The headache from Carl not being gentle becomes mine as I take it from her.

“Those are ghosts, sir. Innocent ones who were murdered to be precise,” Dennis relays before letting out a low whistle. “Never seen that many in one place before.”

He’s seen enough, let her go!

“Don’t be pushy, girl.”

You could have just lent Dennis your own eyes! Why bother hurting her? She is the only reason you were able to get pulled out of the prison you should be rotting in!

“Fine, fine.”

Sonja relaxes next to me. “You don’t have to fight him for me,” she whispers.

“Yes, I do.” The more Carl hates me, the less time he spends tormenting all of them. I can take it better than they can, and everyone knows it.

“So, magician?” Appraisal asks the floor.

“A necromancer is more likely than a revenant, but a revenant is more likely to have access to that volume of ghosts,” Dennis informs him.

“Why would a revenant be in a hero recruitment office?” Louise snaps.

Acquisition is silent…then I see that she’s not even here. He’s already sent her out. Whoever summoned those ghosts had better be dead or dying for their sake.

“What spell is that?” Louise wonders from two rows ahead.

“You don’t know?” Appraisal asks.

“The common spells that we all use are the equivalent of fair use. Specialized spells like that are effectively copyrighted and usually passed from teacher to student in an unbroken line. I can tell you that spell isn’t from anyone in my academic tree,” Dennis replies. “To get such a high turnout—what did they offer?”

“Too much, probably,” Louise remarks. “Unless they’re contracted to a lich but those are rare.”

Appraisal is halfway through asking them to elaborate when the entire storm of undead vanishes in an instant.

“Well, that was fun,” Louise declares.

“Is there any chance they survived?” Appraisal asks.

“Either the caster is dead, or their target is. That’s the only way to dismiss a ghost like that,” Dennis informs them.

“No one’s going to just kill the Paladin, are they?” Louise asks.

“My dear wife is on her way to Edmonton. She should be clear of the airport by now, actually. I’d hate to waste her time,” Appraisal sighs. “Anthony, are you absolutely sure your dreams said there would be someone in Edmonton worth collecting?”

“I didn’t anticipate the fucking Paladin showing up,” Anthony snaps back. “Sir.”

“Something’s moving,” Louise excitedly declares.

We all turn to see a bloody mess of a man step onto the balcony. The cameras all zoom in as far as they can considering that whole downtown area is probably cordoned off and they can’t get closer.

It’s not the Paladin. He’s just some kid.

Whoever that is starts flying slowly but brazenly across the sky towards the nearby river. The cameras follow him for as long as they can but one apparently gets too close to whatever just happened downtown and blacks out.

“Technology and magic are such a terrible mix,” Louise sighs.

“They’re not going to find him before we do,” Appraisal declares, pulling out his phone and calling his wife. “My love, were you watching the news? Did you see him? Ah, good, good. We’re going to need him alive.”

oOoOoOo

It only takes a week after that meeting in Appraisal’s office for Liam to get some breathing room. He still has to sleep in that cage Louise devised. He’s constantly supervised when he’s outside of it. This morning, though, he saved Appraisal tens of millions of dollars by predicting the downfall of a mid-tier communications company Appraisal was invested in, so he was granted the ability to eat lunch with the rest of us on the recreation floor.

No one wants to sit at the table with Appraisal’s shiny new apprentice even more than they don’t want to sit with the man who killed the Paladin in under twenty minutes. Unfortunately, all the other tables are full and it’s not like he can cast anything right now—part of Appraisal’s conditions for his supervised walkabouts include being magically suppressed.

He doesn’t seem to mind the solitude or the deathly silence that filled the room the moment he entered. He does seem to care about the four dozen or so pairs of eyes on him, but he keeps his posture relaxed. I can see him fighting to not shrink down under the table, however. It’s easy to see he’s still so young; not quite as young as Amelia but it’s possible he’s closer to her in age than he is to me.

I sit across from him and set my tray on the table. He seems genuinely shocked.

“Hello,” I greet before ignoring him and stabbing my fork through some green beans.

“Hi,” he mutters back.

“No questions,” his muscle head guard snaps at him and he flinches.

“A polite greeting is not a question; go relearn Grade Two grammar,” I say before raising my voice so the room can hear, “Thank you for giving Carl a stroke, Liam, I’m certainly enjoying the quiet.”

That has the rest of the cafeteria murmuring. It’s better than the silence, at least. Carl was hated by all.

“A stroke,” Liam says. It’s not technically a question.

“Not literally but it did take him a few days to wake up. Appraisal had him moved far away for his own safety and we all appreciate it.”

He almost smiles at that. “Saying that won’t earn you any favours.”

“I don’t care about that. This one,” I jerk my head at his escort “can tattle to Her Ladyship if he wants but she doesn’t care about the little details so long as no one tries to escape. Welcome to the Collection!”

He stabs a carrot slice but doesn’t eat it. He hasn’t been eating well since he got here, now that I think about it.

“Yeah, I know, but you can either starve or not let me help you, but you’ll die if you do both. Eat,” I order.

He eats the carrot.

“Good,” I praise. “You’re not taking your medicine.”

He frowns, confused, but figures out what I mean when he looks up at me and sees me waggling my fingers above my plate. “It’s not your job to clean up my mess,” he says.

“I’m very good at it,” I offer but he’s already looking back down at his plate. Not a lot of social skills on this one.

“I’ll heal on my own. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” I repeat. His escort opens his mouth, but I snap at him first “It’s not a question.”

“What necromancy touches is slow to heal but it does with enough time,” Liam tells me. “It’s not your problem.”

“Alright, I’ll concede to your stubbornness. I will still check in on you—healing powers or no, I am a nurse, and you are wounded. It’s the least I can do.”

“I do like seeing”—he panics, it’s almost cute—"people. I’m sorry I’m difficult.” God, he’s so awkward; who raised him? Though I wasn’t much better at nineteen.

“It’s not like I like my powers; though I’ll admit it’s,” I pause “different having someone refuse to use them.”

He nods. “I’m sorr—”

“No,” I interrupt him. “No pity. Not here.”

“Understood.”

There are still people watching us, but the tension is melting away bit by bit. It could melt faster than glacial thaw but baby steps.

“So,” I start. “The Paladin.” Might as well break that particular ice.

He drops his fork, looking up at me. A few heads turn back in our direction, but people are gradually figuring out that he’s just here to eat. When he manages to collect himself, he just says “He killed six thousand people before he was on Alpha Squad. I only gave them the opportunity to kill him back.”

What?

It should be…what he said should feel bigger than it does. He makes it sound so simple but the truth behind that statement should hit harder, shouldn’t it? I shouldn’t laugh but I do. I should stop laughing but I don’t.

“Elena?” he prods, and I lose it.

“Of course,” I laugh “Of course he is! Was! The Association leaves us here to rot because they’re afraid of Appraisal! I’ve been here for eight years! No one cares enough to help us, and no one was strong enough to pull if off except maybe for the Paladin!” I break down laughing though I’m not sure when it changes to crying. “And the whole time he was what, a serial killer?”

The murmuring behind me has started again and it’s louder, but I don’t care. What a fucking joke.

“Alright, that’s enough,” the guard grabs Liam by the arm and pulls him up.

“Wait—” Liam fights but he’s still hurt, and that guard is easily three times his size.

“Sit down and eat,” the guard commands and it’s enough to get most of us to stay where we are. Brown and black speckled wings mantle over me and Amelia pulls me into a hug. I wipe my eyes and try to pull myself back together while I have a bit of feathered privacy; this isn’t her job to look after me.

“I got her, birdie,” Sonja says, and Amelia pulls back her wings back so she can hold me. I’d feel stupid but everyone heard him say that.

Maybe it was a little foolish to have that small hope that the Paladin would do what his predecessor did and take down Appraisal long enough to get us out though it wouldn’t matter. If Acquisition is still here, he can start again, and no amount of witness protection or disguise magic can thwart her tracking ability. The Association is powerless to help us, and we always knew it. It’s just more obvious now.

oOoOoOo

“I can’t believe he actually came back,” Sonja fumes as she follows behind me to Liam’s room—well, his cage. “He was gone for two weeks! No one’s lasted that long against Acquisition since Markus.”

“And Markus died rather than come back, I remember,” I tell her.

“Why do you care? He’s rejected you every time you’ve gone in there since he got here!” She speeds up to step in front of me and stops. “Why does he matter to you so much?”

Who even knows? This kid has been weird since day one, even knowing I would heal his wounds faster than he could didn’t stop him from refusing help. It was almost sweet of him, if stupid.

“Is this even allowed?” Sonja whispers as if changing her volume was going to hide her from Carl who made his triumphant return to the Tower yesterday. Four months of peace brought down by Liam successfully escaping the Collection for two weeks. How much longer could he have lasted if he hadn’t turned himself in?

“Even if it isn’t, I’m still more valuable than Carl.” But she isn’t, not when it comes to Appraisal’s long term goals. I wait until she catches on and leaves the entire hallway, heading back to her room.

At least now I know why there was a six digit number under my pillow the day Liam left. I unlock his door and step inside. If Liam didn’t want me here, why give me the number? The silencing spell is still up but I can almost hear the wheezing that would be happening considering the state of his chest where he’s lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Carl asks. He’s not in the room but that has never mattered. Of course he would know the moment I got within range of his new favorite chew toy. Liam is still feeling the effects of Carl having unfettered access to a silenced magician. No magic, no weird question ability either. Defenseless in more ways than one.

My job.

“Right, like Mr. Bleeding Heart here is going to let you; but I suppose if you had the code…”

Liam isn’t restrained physically but based purely on the glee that comes over from Carl’s thoughts, he doesn’t need to be. He’s still awake; no way Carl is going to let him sleep this off. He shakes his head at me—gone are the days where he would fight, and kick and tear open a stitch to keep me back. We’ve moved on from that.

I kneel in front of him and pull the collar of my shirt off my shoulder where normally there would be bandages to help with the side effects of my healing. I’m not bound today. I’m not here to heal, at least not with my damned curse. He looks confused. I hold out my arms and hope he gets the intent.

His eyes close for what he probably intended as a blink, and he twitches as Carl probably stings him again to keep him awake. Fucking asshole.

Enough is enough. I pick the idiot up off the floor and tuck him under my chin. He sags into my chest but doesn’t fight. Sonja was right, if he really was in the clear, why did he come back here?

“How sweet.”

Let him go. You’ve had your fun.

“I was told I could do what I want except kill him.”

And I’m telling you to fuck off.

The sting I get for that statement makes my vision swim and Liam looks up at me now much more aware than he was a second ago, but just as his gaze sharpens enough to recognize what’s happened, Carl gets back in his head, and he shrinks back into a fetal position, breathing heavily.

Carl can’t hit us both. Stinging me pulled his attention away from Liam for even a moment.

“You know I can feel you planning something.”

But if you want to know what it is, you’ll have to leave him alone.

“I’m not that invested.”

You’re a bitch.

The next sting is enough to white out my vision and make me collapse into the foot of Liam’s bed. He falls with me but then he’s up and grabbing for the blanket. He tries to tell me something before Carl turns back on him, but we’re still stuck in this damned silence. Seriously, why did he come back here?

“It’s time for you to go,” Carl orders. “Before I tell the boss.”

Liam is still clutching at the blanket, but he’s also weakly trying to pull away from me. Does this idiot really expect me to just leave him here?

“If you won’t listen to me, then maybe…” He trails off and I see an image of Sonja because he lets me see an image of Sonja.

Leave her out of this.

“You know you could have had it all if you’d just not got attached to anyone in here. You have no physical weaknesses; no one can hurt you worth a damn. If you’d just kept up that ruthlessly pragmatic attitude of yours only Acquisition herself could have kept you here but you just had to go and decide that you could help this pitiful bunch. You realize ‘helping’ them only made them easier to control right?”

He lets us both feel Sonja’s pain and I realize something. One way or another, I am going to kill that man. He’s going to slip up at a prime moment and I’m going to kill him, Appraisal be damned.

“Rude.”

Carl’s retaliation makes my vision black out, but Liam shifts next to me, jerking upward. There’s a crash I can feel as something hits the floor next to me and I can hear again.

“What does Louise’s patron look like?” Liam asks and I feel the agonizing scream from Carl right before all telepathic contact cuts out. It’s silent even though I can hear again in this room. I look up at Liam as my vision clears. His one eye that isn’t swollen shut is crying blood. The ceiling that had been maintaining that spell is completely shattered; there’s drywall everywhere except on us.

“Is he dead?” I ask.

Liam flinches. “No, but he’s not getting back up from that—it’s not great to look at that thing.”

“Then how are y—”

“Please don’t; not about that,” he begs before sitting back against the foot of his bed and breathing carefully in relief. “Do Appraisal and Acquisition know about Carl? Okay. What will Appraisal do when he finds out? Shit.”

“Bad news?”

“I’m officially too much trouble to keep alive,” Liam replies and starts trying to stand even though he has several broken ribs and has apparently looked upon the face of what Louise once described as “Cthulu Lite” after being psychically tortured.

“Let me.” I reach for him.

“No.”

“God damn it, Liam!” I stand up and pull him to his feet. He almost passes out right there. “Do you know what I realized after you left?”

He freezes. “I do now.”

“Say it,” I order.

“I do to you what you try to do for Amelia. You realized that we’re the same. You were angry because”—he stops to cough—“after months of being here, I was still trying to do everything on my own. It was obvious I had a plan but the fact that I didn’t tell you—Elena, he would have—”

“Stop right there. I’ve already helped you right now. Appraisal is going to find out I helped you ruin Carl; he’s going to figure out that my presence here is how you got out. How much trouble am I going to be in when he does?”

Based on the hurt that crosses his face, a lot. Fine then.

“There, you see? We’re in this together now. I’m not sure if that was your plan all along when you gave me that code, but here we are. We’ve both had enough of this place, but you came back for seconds when your powers should’ve been enough to keep you out of Acquisition’s reach forever. Why would you—” I stop. This idiot, I swear. “For us?”

“I can—”

“We can. Stop suffering unnecessarily and let me help you. I get what you’re trying to do for me, but I am not a child, you are not responsible for me—fuck’s sake, I’m old enough to be your mother!”

He frowns. “No way.”

“Continuous healing, Liam. How old am I?” I ask.

“Oh.”

“There you go. I am not a damsel to be rescued, Liam, I am making my own decision here. You’re starting a war with Appraisal, but can you win without my help?”

“I can,” he insists.

“Could you win faster if you had my help? Will you survive long enough to enjoy victory if you do this alone?”

His shoulders drop just enough that I know I’ve won. “I’m sorry,” he offers. “If I’d been able to hold on a little longer, the timing would have been better. They’re not ready yet.”

“Who?”

“Ajax and Sorciere.”

“Alpha Squad won’t lift a finger to save us. Aren’t they trying to kill you?” I demand.

“Ajax knows about the Paladin and Sorciere trusts him enough to look into it properly.”

“How does that help us?”

“It’s complicated but if everything lines up, Appraisal won’t be able to keep us prisoner anymore.”

“Then I’m definitely going with you. I’m done being brought back here and unlike previous escapees, I can’t die. Can you keep us both out of Acquisition’s hands until the time comes?”

He nods, but he’s obviously tired. I pull him into a hug before he can stop me but he’s either accepted his fate or is just too tired to fight me anymore as I put a hand on his back. Wounds close, bones set…but…

“I’m not taking on your wounds,” I realize. When did that become a thing? I want to ask but I can feel his legs about to give out.

“Long story,” he says. The sheer amount of relief must be making him drowsy.

“How do we get out of here?” I ask.

“The code…master access,” he replies. I put an arm around his shoulder and get him to the door. He lets me half-carry him into the hall and over to the elevator. No way is he doing stairs like this. I put in the code and the elevator starts going towards the basement where all the company cars are.

“What’s our best bet for getting out of here?” I ask.

The elevator stops on one of the residential floors before he can answer. There’s no time or place to hide Liam and this jailbreak is definitely what it looks like. The door opens. The hallway behind her is empty, thank god, but it’s still Amelia. The feathers on her wings rustle in agitation as she sees all the blood on Liam’s clothes and his face. Of all the people who could have found us, why did it have to be her?

“Elena?” she asks, not taking her eyes off him. “What are you doing?”

Neither of us can lie about this; everyone knows Liam was caught after trying to escape and everyone knows Carl came back around the same time and that Liam is being made an example of to the rest of us.

“We’re leaving,” Liam mutters.

“You can’t!” she says, much too loudly. “They’ll just catch you again!”

“Shh!” I insist but a door opens down the hall. “Hide!” I hiss at Amelia, and she gets in the elevator with us right as the doors start to close in a panic.

Fuck.

Liam shares the sentiment based on the look on his face as the elevator starts moving again. “What will happen if Amelia stays here after this?” he asks and he doesn’t quite hide his reaction. Amelia doesn’t know about Liam’s questions, but everyone knows—or at least thinks—he’s psychic. She can’t stay and she knows it just from his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks and Liam winces.

“How do we get her to safety?” I ask and he gets his focus back.

“Mia,” Liam sinks down to his knees to face her. “Appraisal is very angry with me and that isn’t your fault at all, but he will blame anyone he thinks helped me escape.”

“But I didn’t!”

“I know. You didn’t ask for any of this. It’s okay to be scared but you can’t stay here anymore. If you come with us, there’s a chance we can beat Appraisal and free the Collection,” he says.

“Really?” she asks.

“Really,” he promises, and I believe him. “But it will be hard. You will need to be brave; Elena and I will do our best to protect you, but I need you to trust me.”

Whatever lingering reservations she has about Liam, she’s more afraid of Appraisal. She nods.

“You’re braver than I am, Mia,” Liam tells her. “Alright, we have to steal a car.”

Chapter Text

It’s a testament to how much work Patrick has put in over the years to keep control of his emotions as well as he is. Hearing the voice of the man who once kept him shut away from the world along with Sam rocked him so badly that I could feel his terror over the clamour of the suburbs. He has control now and he’s talking calmly over the phone to the Association’s Compensation Department about reimbursing someone for a chicken while driving Hannah Collin’s car perfectly at the speed limit.

He's really grown up since I left.

“And who’s fault is that?”

There is going to be a lot of that coming my way. I wasn’t going to come back—I’m still not planning on it—but Pat and Mina and Sam were family once and even Ghost has an affectionate side for most of Alpha Squad though they’ll die before admitting it. I can at least give all of them the apology that Pat clearly needed.

And then comes the task of making all of this right. The Soothsayer—Liam—was quick to tell me that leaving the way I did ultimately prevented more tragedy, but it still means that everything that happened to him that day was largely my fault for not speaking up sooner. I have to do better or why was I a hero at all? Patrick might believe me about the Paladin but would Sam? If the Soothsayer wasn’t lying to me—and he at least believes that Sam was ordered to kill him—then she’s willing to throw everything she’s worked for away and for what?

Though I suppose, from her point of view, the Association gave her everything. The Major adopted her and her brother. His family from his own grandfather to his daughter helped build it and protected it all their lives. What would Sam do to protect that? What would Mina do? She’s at least willing to hear Liam out but what happens if she doesn’t like what she hears?

Pat pulls into the parking lot of a police station and gets out of the car without a word. He goes to the trunk where our knife wielding friend has been sequestered, and with an orange flash is already inside the building.

“Should we…?” Hannah trails off gesturing after him.

It would be super obvious, even if I wasn’t drowning in the tension of this car ride, that having two of the teammates of the man her son killed in her car plus one guy who has obviously been out in the woods for a few months is awkward.

“They’re going to need your statement, Ms. Collins. If you’re up for it,” Mina gently suggests.

Hannah shakes her head. “The police haven’t cared about anything that’s happened to me since L-Liam…” she stops, her feelings overshadowing her train of thought. Worry, fear, anger, sadness, and a surprising amount of bitterness tangled up in guilt. There is love, too—swallowed by other guilt—but there is still love. That’s a good sign.

“What do you mean?” Mina asks, sitting forward in her seat and I inwardly cuss myself out. I can’t get caught up in whoever’s closest to me; it’s not fair to either of us.

“Well, being doxed didn’t help—” Hannah starts but I have to block her out and close my eyes.

I pull myself inwards and use the grounding exercises I haven’t needed since I first learned how to function past the telepathy. I am a tree planted in firm ground; though the storm might kick up around me, I don’t have to look at other trees’ leaves even if they fall through my branches. I can shake them loose and stand tall. I can build a greenhouse to keep the wind from ruffling my leaves, keep them from landing in other people’s space.

It takes a few repetitions to get started on pulling myself back together but it’s going to take longer than if I was still back home. There’s a profound sense of dread hanging over this city. No matter how varied individual people are in their thoughts, a city can still swell with pride, or sit heavy in sorrow. Edmonton is ashamed and angry. One of their own killed the world’s greatest hero and that’s what they’re known for now on an international stage.

“—it doesn’t matter,” Hannah abruptly cuts off her explanation. I keep myself away from her resignation which is hiding behind forced cheeriness. It’s the lie in the mask she’s putting forward that makes me feel nauseous and try as I might, Mina notices.

“Jax?”

“M’okay.” This sucks. Going from no contact with the outside world to a city full of agitated strangers while overstimulated is shattering but falling apart here would ruin everything. I have to get my shit together; I will just be doing it under a bit more pressure is all.

“Liam used to get like that when he was a child.” Hannah turns around in her seat to look at me before trying that not-smile again. “I never even suspected that he might be psychic—my ex-husband and I don’t have powers and none of the grandparents do either as far as I know. There was never any…event or catalyst and we don’t even know any other magicians. I never thought those episodes of his were superpower related…but we never found a medical reason for them either.”

Images of a much, much younger Liam in a hospital bed float across to me but I can ignore them. I will ignore them. Echoes of old sorrow and confusion are easier to deal with; if she’s already processed them, so can I. The problem is she hasn’t processed them very well.

Mina clearly wants to ask about Liam’s childhood, but I grab her hand to stop her. Hannah isn’t actually ready to talk about it; she just doesn’t know how to make small talk with two internationally renowned superheroes. Not that I can say that.

“If it was his visions manifesting, they can sometimes resemble seizures or delirium,” Mina says instead. “It’s possible he saw that telling people would put him or you in danger. There are plenty of dangerous people who want psychics to tell them the future, especially accurate ones.”

Based on what Pat heard on the phone, that’s exactly what has happened to him only I’m not about to tell her that her son has been kidnapped by the former top dog supervillain.

“That sounds about right. School always seemed to make it worse, so I pulled him out. He didn’t go out much either after the one serious incident when he was eleven; is that why? Did he see that leaving the house was dangerous? I was so surprised when he said he was going to apply for a job, but I was just so happy he might finally be spreading his wings. Now I wish he’d just stayed home. I didn’t know it was for the Hero Association; I swear I didn’t know any of it!”

“We’re not blaming you, Ms. Collins,” Mina assures her, but Hannah’s false cheeriness is cracking and everything she is holding back is threatening to spill over.

“You’d be the first,” Hannah sniffles before rummaging through her own glove box for tissues.

The front door opens, and Pat sits back down in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t turn the car on; he just takes a deep breath.

“Everything okay, Speedy?” Mina asks.

“Yeah, just multi-tasking. Our friend is going to stay in police custody for a while; he’s apparently”—he clears his throat when he glances at Hannah—"he has some priors that’ll keep him stuck in the Canadian legal system for a very long time.” Pat stops again, and I realize he’s not tired, he’s angry and trying so hard to keep that under control. I’ve never been able to directly read his mind—he’s thinks way too fast—but emotions are slower than thoughts and hang around longer. He looks back at her, perfectly calm on the outside. “When I told them what had happened, I found out about the 911 calls you made. I called Ghost and, after they stopped yelling at me for going off comms, they pulled the recordings. A lot of people are going to be fired for what they did—or didn’t do—when you needed help the most.”

Hannah looks horrified. “You didn’t have to—”

“I absolutely did. Their job is to protect people; if they’re not going to do that, they have no business wearing that uniform. If I didn’t go after them for this, then I’d have no right to mine.” He pats the orange friction resistant armor over his heart.

I am so proud of him.

“Th-then, thank you,” she says but it stings to feel her realizing this is the only real kindness she’s received in four months. “What do I do now?” she asks and as much as her need to distract herself from these feelings hurts, I also need it.

“I wouldn’t recommend going home,” Pat gently suggests.

“They’re trying to evict me anyway. I’m only fighting it because no one else will let me rent and I couldn’t afford to move anyway because I got fired…it doesn’t matter.”

“It absolutely does, Hannah,” I insist. “What if we took you to the Association safehouse in Ontario?”

“It wouldn’t work. If Acquisition has seen her, she doesn’t even need to be nearby to track her down,” Pat disagrees.

“Acquisition?” Hannah asks and the regret from Pat almost stabs me. “As in the Madam of Acquisition? Why would she—is she the one who—” images of the man with the knife flash across her surface thoughts.

“Ah shit, I’m sorry.” Pat smooths his hair back over his head. “Okay. After that whole thing at the CostCorp, I sort of got a call from your son…it sounds like Liam, uhm, made an enemy of the Master of Appraisal.”

The instant terror from Hannah is ice cold in my chest and the indignation from Mina is dizzying.

Her thoughts come over to me as clearly as if she’d said them. “You could have shared that; he hates Appraisal.”

“Leave it alone for now, please. He has this under control.” I tell her and hope that only she heard that. Based on the look she gives me, I succeeded.

“Look, Ms. Collins, I don’t know anything about your son or how you feel about him right now, but he guided me right to you in the exact aisle I found you in just in time to protect you. He wanted us to save you even though he’s in danger himself. If he—” Pat stops, trying to find the words. “Appraisal and Acquisition are very smart and very dangerous, but Liam is a powerful psychic with one hundred percent accuracy. I think if anyone could outwit Acquisition’s tracking powers, it’s him. I’m betting that he’s in the situation he’s in on purpose and that makes me think that he knows what he’s doing.”

That assumption isn’t any better for her mental state, but I get what he’s trying to do.

“That and he called us to help you and not him even though he has the ability to communicate with the outside world,” I try but that doesn’t seem to help either.

“Would you even help him if he asked?” Hannah counters.

He was so tired and cold and desperate, and he still came all that way to find me. “I would,” I admit.

Pat and Mina both have some feelings about that but only Mina knows to try and hide them. Pat doesn’t quite hide the eyebrow raise but he’s caught between wanting justice for the Paladin and not wishing Appraisal on his worst enemy even if that happens to be the Soothsayer.

Hannah tries for a smile again but doesn’t quite make it. “You were his favorite, you know. He was devastated when you retired, Ajax.”

“Oh.” What do I say to that? “I’m honored?”

“Sorry, was that a weird thing to say?” Hannah asks. “Yeah, it must have been weird.”

Don’t panic. “I just—I haven’t thought about having fans in years. I wasn’t in it for the publicity.”

“It took four separate meetings just to get him in the calendar,” Pat chuckles.

“Oh god, don’t remind me about the calendar,” I plead.

Hannah doesn’t tell me that Liam still has that calendar but unfortunately, she does not need to.

“We’re getting off track,” Pat declares. “Would you let us bring you to headquarters? Acquisition is dangerous but she’s not stupid.”

“I don’t want to be in the way,” Hannah insists.

“It’s not being in the way if it saves your life,” Pat argues.

“I can’t just go to New York and be under the protection of the comrades of the man my son killed with a ghost army,” she states calmly but while being incredibly aware of how strange that sounded. “You’ve all done enough; far more than I deserve.”

“It’s not about ‘deserving,’” I tell her. “But I understand. We’re all strangers with a lot of power and these two have an axe to grind with Liam. I don’t. I found out about everything that’s happened in the last four months yesterday while I was living in the woods without Wi-Fi.”

“Did Sorciere tell you?” Pat asked.

Mina looks at me and I nod. “Nope,” she says.

“Liam hiked out to my watch tower. We talked.”

If we weren’t already parked, I imagine Pat would have slammed the brakes. “Say again?”

“You saw him?” Hannah demands. “Is he alright?”

“He seemed tired, but I do live on the other side of a four day hike. The point is I know why Liam did what he did, and he found me because he knew that any other hero would attack on sight…and because he knew I would understand.”

“Careful, Ajax,” Mina mutters.

“No,” Pat turns around and looks right at her. “No more secrets; no more cutting me out. Spill.”

“I can sit outside if this is a…team thing,” Hannah offers.

“We’re not kicking you out of your own car,” Pat refuses. “We’ll go.”

“You deserve to know if that’s what you want,” I reply.

Mina is not happy about that but she’s not stopping me either. Hannah nods. So does Pat.

I look at Mina. She has the book squirreled away somewhere where no one but her can reach it; if she doesn’t want this to get out, she can make that happen right now. It’s what the Major would do.

However, the Soothsayer entrusted the book specifically to her. He must see something I don’t. When Mina reaches into her hat to pull out the leather-bound journal, I realize he might be right, and I feel guilty for ever doubting her. How is it that the Soothsayer trusts her more than I do?

“I don’t need to believe when I know it for fact,” Liam had said. Psychics.

“He left this for me,” Mina says. She doesn’t even want to be holding it and offers it to me but having had the contents seared into my brain, I don’t even want to look at it. Pat steals it and reads at superspeed.

“This isn’t his list of victims, is it?” Pat asks, smothering a burnt edge on the last page where he almost ignited it with the friction.

Hannah whimpers and covers her mouth.

“Not Liam’s. Nathan’s,” Mina quickly corrects. While Hannah’s renewed grief whiplashes into confusion and relief, Pat’s disgust intensifies into panic. It takes every ounce of my will to reinforce my greenhouse against the deluge. At this rate, solitude will be my only hope for recovery.

“Nathan. Our Nathan?” Pat demands.

I nod. “I think the Soothsayer’s powers have something to do with proximity; he wouldn’t have known about the Paladin until he was closer.”

“Jax,” Pat states, opening the book to a random page. “There’s just under six thousand names in here. Just over a third of them are from the same day in the same place.”

“The Paladin was a murderer?” Hannah asks. “That’s why Liam—and he came to see you because you knew?”

“How?” Pat demands. The combined outrage is actually easier to manage. Marginally.

“That part is a ‘team thing,’” Mina interrupts. “But the point is, we need to talk to Liam before,” she pauses. “He’s convinced that Adamantine and Nightowl will kill him.”

Pat gets out of the car, and we all follow. It was getting a bit stuffy in there. Thankfully, he doesn’t go far before sitting down on the grass. We end up joining him, though Hannah is kneeling like she might bolt. I would not blame her.

“Speedy?” Mina asks.

“I trust you both with my life—you know that, right?” he starts.

“Of course,” Mina agrees.

“But this is fucking crazy. How are you both on his side?”

“Of course I’m on his side; I knew from the moment I met the Paladin that day before meeting with the board,” I admit.

“Seriously, man?”

Mina takes over. “Not just that; his conversation with Jax filled in a piece of the puzzle that had been bothering me since we investigated that building the day it all happened. I didn’t want what I found—the implications of what I saw—to be confirmed but then Liam gave Jax the book and a copy of the spell he used. I have to decode it but if it works the way I think it does then he didn’t technically kill Nathan.”

“What?” Hannah asks, voice now very small.

“I’d need to spend some time in the family library to confirm it but—due to a cosmic loophole—it was technically Nathan’s victims who killed him that day.”

I think we officially found the threshold for Too Much because Hannah’s emotions drop into numbness.

“I’m sorry,” I try but she shakes her head.

“No, I’m—I can’t,” she stammers. “Don’t just say—what does it change even if it’s true?”

“Liam is a confirmed magician; it falls to the magical community—the Sages, in this case—to judge him,” Mina explains. “And, from what I’ve seen—as much as I hate that I’ve seen it—he deserves a fair chance.”

“And then what? He just comes home after everything?” Hannah demands and I see the crowds outside her building, the jeering, the drones trying to fly into her windows, the dispatchers hanging up on her. That’s a bad sign if I’ve gone back to seeing things against my will. “He hid so much from me that I can’t even argue against what he’s done because I just don’t know him as well as I thought! When did he become powerful enough to kill the strongest hero? How was he willing to kill in the first place! Why did he hide so much from me? I chose him,” she cries.

I see a man with Liam’s face but dark brown hair, arguments, paperwork, moving out of a much larger house with her son in tow and little else. I see Liam inconsolable for days in his room, torn apart by the knowledge that only one parent loved him. No matter how much she tried to reassure him otherwise, he’d never once believed her. With everything having turned out this way, what was it all for?

I’m out of practice keeping my own emotions in check but her pain would spike into my chest even if I were in top form. I can’t stifle the tears that blur my own vision or the loss of equilibrium. I slipped too far; I have to get control back. Shutting down again like this will be harder to come out of.

“What’s wrong with him?” Patrick asks, but it’s like hearing him underwater.

“Pat, get him out of the city,” Mina urges. “Now!”

I feel myself being lifted and the air being forced from my lungs as Pat abruptly leaves Edmonton behind. When my senses come back, we’re on the edge of a lake and everything is wonderfully quiet. There’s maybe twenty people in range of my telepathy but they’re far enough away that I can’t see specifics. They’re calm. They’re at peace. Half of them are fishing.

The closest one is washing a dinner party’s worth of dishes and listening to a wellness podcast. It helps. Maybe that’s the metaphor I need. I need to wash my dishes—just my dishes—and put them back in the cabinet. Plates—foundational thoughts, personal codes, memories. Bowls for holding emotional soup together. The mess is whatever the Soothsayer’s vision downloaded into my brain. It’s alphagetti now; I scrape it into a container with an airtight lid. I can’t take it out of the cabinet yet…but I can secure it. And then I can finally close the doors.

Patrick is holding my shoulders where we’re sitting on a park bench.

“Jax?” He’s still worried but I can tell from his face and not his emotions.

“Oh, that’s so much better,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

“What is wrong with you?” he demands. “You were fine on the mountain but then—I thought it was me—but now you’re okay. You are okay, right?”

“I promise I’m alright.”

He lets me go and leans back into the bench. “You really knew about Nathan the whole time?”

“Yes,” I confess.

“You left us so fast, even by my standards. I would never have guessed that you were afraid. I guess you put a lot of work in to seeming angry. Both you and the Soothsayer met him up close but you two are the only ones to know he was dangerous. You’re not psychic too; I jump-scared you all the time. You had us all thinking that you were jealous of him or felt threatened by his power set; that was on purpose, wasn’t it? You were threatened but not directly. That list suggests he wouldn’t have bothered threatening you to keep his secret if he knew you knew. Whatever you learned, you learned without his knowing the same day you met him. Jax. You’re a telepath.”

“Wow, Pat. That’s…wow.”

“And now I know I’m right. Run fast, think faster,” he sighs. “I’m not spaced out all the time because I’m stupid—I’m waiting for you guys to catch up half the time. I just let Nightowl and Ghost think they’re the smartest on the team. I mean, Ghost is for sure smarter than Nightowl, but I beat them both just in processing power.”

“I can’t read you,” I admit. “You think so fast it’s like your head is empty.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he snipes but there’s no malice in it. “Though, wait, you have telepathy on top of super strength and flight?”

“It’s all psychic type power,” I admit, putting one finger on his elbow and lifting his entire body straight up a few centimeters before setting him back down. “Just added some theatre.”

“Okay but like…wow, you lied to the Major’s face. You falsely registered your powers with the Association—Mina must be pissed.”

I groan and lean back. “Yep.”

“I won’t tell anyone; I’m not a snitch. Does she know all of it?”

“She had guessed same as you did…the Soothsayer did rat me out to her though.”

“Bastard,” he says then winces. “Don’t tell his mom I said that.”

“She’s in a lot of pain and I couldn’t block her out. Edmonton is in a lot of pain. Where did you take us?”

“No idea, I just followed one of the smaller highways a bit. I think I passed a motel down that road.”

“How far?”

“Like three-fourths of a second.”

“In mundane speeds?”

“Like ten minutes if you make it a brisk walk. I think. I could just—”

“No thanks, you’ve already got me twice today. I’m only not throwing up now because I haven’t eaten since I threw up in that parking lot.”

“Suit yourself. Do you have your wallet?”

“No.”

He vanishes without another word. I blink and take a deep breath and scrub my face with my hands. I can’t even hear the highway out this far. I wonder where he was going—back to my tower maybe? I get up and start down the road toward where that motel is—I need to sleep.

I’m about to set foot in the parking lot when Patrick reappears with a backpack—my backpack—and hands it to me. “Ransacked your drawers for all your stuff, checked in with Mina and Ms. Collins, called your boss—you’re officially being replaced, sorry—got you a room here and ordered some pizza. I’ll go pick it up in twenty.”

“You’re amazing, Patrick.”

“You’re welcome, boss.”

I blink. “I’m not your boss anymore, Pat.”

“Old habits. You’re not coming back, are you?”

“Somehow, I think falsely reporting my powers to the Association twice won’t go over well. Plus you and Mina know now—you’d be caught up in it too.”

“Like they could catch me,” he brags.

“That’s not how it works, Pat.”

“I know, I know, I’m not above the law just because I can outrun it. The Association is how we keep world governments from freaking out over people with powers like ours who think like that. I still remember all your lectures.”

“Doubt.”

“Asshole,” he accuses and hands me the key to a room. “What should we do tomorrow?”

“I can’t think about tomorrow yet,” I admit and drop my backpack before face planting the bed with a groan.

It was for dramatic effect, but I think I may have actually fallen asleep because it’s dark when I startle awake to Patrick’s “Oh shit!”

“Whazzit?” I roll onto my side.

He’s watching the news, and the banner beneath the breaking news story reads “Soothsayer spotted in Vancouver.” There’s footage taken from a cell phone camera showing the Soothsayer, arm around an unknown middle aged woman with short dark hair. Both are standing in front of a child with large brown bird wings.

Liam screams in rage as a minivan impacts a pale dome of energy that he’s projecting over the three of them. The van crumples but bounces off into a restroom building. The camera pans in the direction the van came from showing a blindfolded magician readying to throw someone’s old beater car.

Live streaming a superhero fight is nothing new. It’s not encouraged, and some cities consider not evacuating the scene of a hero fight to be illegal, but this person is determined. Or dumb. The footage is put to the side while the other half of the screen shows a field reporter being held back from going up the long, narrow drive to the terminal by police before cutting to a long distance aerial view from a helicopter or drone. A lightning bolt cast from the blindfolded magician fires up into the sky on one half of the screen and the other half shows it impacting the terminal’s communication tower, starting a fire and narrowly missing the helicopter which has to bank to avoid it.

“—Tsawwassen ferry terminal, the fight between the Soothsayer and an unknown magician is escalating, citizens are advised to avoid the area. Look, Soaring is joining the fight,” the reporter points up.

The camera pans up to a man with massive wings flying—well, soaring—across the bay from Vancouver.

“Soaring?” I ask.

“The new—well, newish in the last two years—captain of the Vancouver team,” Pat tells me. “Wait, doesn’t that kid have wings?”

The phone camera—which has been pulled back to hiding behind a car filming this—is still fixated on the Soothsayer trading spell for spell with the blindfolded man, ruining dozens of empty vehicles that had been lined up to get to Vancouver Island, but the camera abruptly pans back to the girl as she screams. A blonde woman in an expensive looking white coat rushes them from the left along with another magician in a purple dress who summons glowing green tentacles from an old leather book. Gross.

“Wait, there’s a new arrival,” the reporter listens on her earpiece. “Oh god.”

“That’s the Madam of Acquisition,” Patrick whispers, his hands shaking so badly they blur. I roll onto my feet and reach for him, but he backs up almost to the bathroom trying to avoid me. “Soaring won’t make it in time…but I—”

“Pat, don’t!” I dive for him, but I end up almost face planting the carpet as one second, he’s here and the next he’s gone. I look back at the TV. Soaring is still in the air; Liam is now holding off two magicians single handedly, trying to repel the tentacles while dealing with the blindfolded guy who apparently has switched to throwing fire magic instead of cars. They attack simultaneously and Liam’s barrier cracks before it pulls tighter around them. He says something I can’t hear.

The woman with dark hair rushes out from Liam’s side and draws back for a punch. She lands a solid hit on the Madam of Acquisition’s face so powerful that she skids back into a fruit stand ten feet behind her but now she’s open to a counterattack from the tentacles which surge toward her. The tentacles vanish and the purple dress magician hits the ground unconscious or dead I don’t know but Patrick is above her, fist raised.

“It’s Warpspeed from Alpha Squad!” comes the unnecessary commentary from the man holding the camera. “Oh shit, is he gonna avenge the Paladin?”

“Fucking run!” Patrick orders directly to him but the camera man doesn’t move. I’m almost grateful for that. Acquisition is already back up, white coat now various shades of berry, smiling at him.

“Amy!” Soaring desperately shouts as he lands right on the blindfolded magician, interrupting a spell that fires wide and grabbing one of his hands behind his back.

The girl—Amy—looks at Soaring with clear apprehension and anger ruffling her feathers and she cowers behind the Soothsayer who has knelt down and begun casting something new that’s taking him more time to finish. I can almost hear Mina tutting about viable battle spells.

“Elena!” Liam calls, and the dark haired woman retreats to them. “Soaring, he’ll tase you!”

Soaring leaps up and back just in time as purple lightning erupts from the blindfolded magician and covers his body.

“Hold on!” Liam orders and his two companions grab hold of his shoulders.

“Amy, please!” Soaring shouts.

Patrick is fist fighting Acquisition, but something is wrong—he’s fighting at a normal person’s speed and losing. Acquisition never seems to take meaningful damage from his hits, and she even manages to backhand Patrick across the face, staggering him toward Liam.

The camera glitches out for several seconds as it can’t process a deafening bang and a blinding flash of light and the stream glitches for several long seconds. The helicopter view shows Soaring hurtling back as the blast of wind catches his wings and hurls him into the terminal’s fence. When the cell phone camera comes back into focus, Patrick is on the ground in front of the guy with the phone, clearly dazed but still conscious and moving. The Soothsayer and his two companions have vanished leaving only a smoking rune scorched into the ground.

“Louise, wake up!” Acquisition orders, striding towards it. “Someone tell me what spell that was!”

The blindfolded magician gets up, still wearing his lightning like a cloak and staggering forward to investigate. Then he laughs. Then he keeps laughing, almost doubling over.

Soaring hops from where he landed and glides over to Patrick and the idiot with the phone but just holds position in front of them as Pat slowly picks himself up off the ground. “Where are they?” he demands, his own feathers ruffling. “What the fuck did he just do?”

“That little upstart actually thought he could pull off long distance transportation,” the blindfolded magician laughs. “That spell is impossible to cast. He’d rather have atomised three people than just come back quietly!”

“What?” Soaring tenses, his shoulders dropping but wings flaring out.

Pat lunges and manages to grab Soaring’s arms before he can take flight, pinning one of his wings.

“Let go!” Soaring demands.

The reporter on the other screen is silent. No one is talking. The banner below the two screens changes to “Soothsayer, slain?”

That can’t be it. Not after all that effort to come find me, not after leaving that book for Mina or getting caught up with the Collection. Liam did not just die on national television before I could do anything help him. Oh, no, Hannah. I curse my long dead cellphone a thousand kilometers away.

“You’re certain they’re dead?” Acquisition demands.

“Can you sense them?” the magician counters.

I can’t see what she says or does with Pat and Soaring in the way but one of the magicians starts flying the three of them out of there, heading back into the city. Soaring struggles but Pat keeps a firm grip. Rather than break free, Soaring just walks them both over to the scorched ground and collapses to his knees, wings flaring out to make room. Pat lets him go and then blips over to block the camera’s view.

“That’s enough,” he says grabbing the phone and shutting down the stream. It doesn’t stop the news crew on the other half of the screen from hearing a gut wrenching half human wail, half kestrel screech echo across the water.

Chapter Text

“Soothsayer, slain?”

The sound Hannah makes in my hotel room when the banner onscreen changes is gutting. That. That did not just happen.

What the fuck was Patrick even thinking going back there? He clearly can’t handle being near Acquisition unless there was another reason for why he wasn’t using his speed against her. I know both he and Sam have trouble focusing their powers when stressed but to not be able to use them at all is something I have never seen from him before. It bites that I’m stuck here in Edmonton with no way to get to my little brother who I can’t even see because he shut off the stream.

If I can’t solve that problem, I can focus on the other. That blindfolded magician must still have enough sight to recognize the magic being used; the blindfold itself is probably a magical item. That or he’s just that sensitive to the magic around him. I can’t shake the feeling I know him but where would we have met before?

I reach into my hat and pull out the spells Liam left for me. One to summon ghosts…and the other to cast long distance transportation.

“That’s Liam’s handwriting,” Hannah says. She’s trying so hard to keep it together, but the world has spent the last few months saying her son is a monster and now it’s saying he’s dead. There’s a disturbing amount of evidence against both assumptions.

“I think this is the spell he just used. I think…hold on just one more minute, Ms. Collins,” I plead.

Maybe Liam wasn’t insulting me when he gave me that one. The spell he just cast left a rune on the ground when he left, and I need to see it. I get out my phone from the mostly magic-proof bag I usually keep it in and call Patrick. He doesn’t pick up for a few rings but the tension in my shoulders melts when he does.

“Sorry, sis, I got my hands full right now.” I hear him struggling. “Do not fly after her; you will die!”

“I don’t care!” I hear Soaring shout.

“Speedy, please tell him there’s a chance they’re alive,” I order. Hannah gasps next to me; I’m sure she just stopped breathing.

It’s a chance. A small chance. Not even enough to hope, but much like I tried to tell the team the day Nathan died, if there’s no body there’s a chance. I just hope I’m right this time.

I hear Patrick trying to get Soaring to listen and maybe he does because the struggling stops.

“Okay, you’ve got maybe ten seconds to explain before he goes back to trying to chase her down,” Pat warns.

“I need you to send me a picture of the rune from the Soothsayer’s spell,” I ask.

“Okay, hold on.”

I hear the phone fumbling and mine buzzes with a text. I quickly check it. It’s identical to the circle I have.

“Give me that,” Soaring demands. Pat hands his phone over. “Well?”

“I’m almost certain they’re alive,” I reply. “I need Warpspeed to check something for me but that means leaving Vancouver; please do not try to fight Acquisition before he gets back.”

“Haven’t we tolerated them enough?” Soaring demands. I can hear police cars getting closer to them in the distance.

“We don’t have the firepower to take them on—” I start but I hear Patrick taking the phone back.

“We can argue about that all we want later,” he insists. “What do you need, Sorciere?”

“The base of Ajax’s lookout tower should have another circle like that one somewhere nearby—if there is, then they’re definitely alive.”

“Gimme a minute. Soaring, are you going to stay put?”

“I’m going with you,” I hear Soaring insist.

“Sorry, friend, I’m going a province over and your wings are a bit of a logistical problem. I will be right back and hopefully with good news.”

The phone line cuts out and I’m stuck watching the news coverage as police and the rest of the Vancouver hero team flood the terminal. A moment later the reporters get brave enough to follow them in.

“The situation seems to have resolved; we’re just learning now the state of Soaring in the aftermath of the fight,” the reporter—Sarah—says as they jog to the scene. An orange blur whooshes past them and since Patrick can make his speed match the frame rate of the camera, an incredibly cursed orange mannequin in a running stance just sort of glides by.

Hannah bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I just—does he know?”

“He does it on purpose,” I sigh. “It’s his way of saying the situation is secured—he makes jokes.” He might have even done it for Hannah’s benefit but I’m not going to give him the credit.

“Uh, Sarah, I think,” the anchor back in the studio chuckles. “I think you just missed Warpspeed.”

“Oh, did he do the camera thing?”

“He sure did.”

One of the Vancouver heroes pulls some water from the bay to douse the fires, the rest close ranks around Soaring as the reporters catch up. Soaring refuses to budge an inch and says nothing to anyone until Patrick appears a few feet away behind the police line around the rune. Only then does Soaring join him—leaving his team behind—and I see the incoming call before it rings.

I answer immediately. “You were right on the money,” Patrick says. I see him looking down at his phone as he sends me another text. It’s a rune scorched into exposed bed rock but it’s there.

“Oh my god, they’re alive,” I say. Soaring takes Pat’s phone again.

“This proves it?” He asks, facing away from the camera. “This definitely proves it?”

Hannah is asking me the same just without words.

“It does,” I confirm, and Hannah just nods and puts her head in her hands. Soaring visibly relaxes on camera, and it zooms in on him—that could be a problem later. “The Soothsayer has cast that spell before and survived but no one is going to believe it until he turns up or someone tries to summon his soul and fails. That spell works best at night so those three have until nightfall before Acquisition finds out,” I say.

Patrick leans back in. “It doesn’t work like that. Acquisition always knows where her people are especially when she’s been around them a long time. I don’t know how long they had Liam, but the other two? Forget it. She knows exactly where they are,” Patrick sighs. “Acquisition only retreated because there was no reason to stay here and keep fighting.”

“No one has been able to scry Liam since that day, but Acquisition can find him just like that?” I ask. No wonder he and Sam wouldn’t leave the house without Mom, Dad or Grandpa in the beginning.

“She’ll still have to catch up to him but if he can teleport now then that’s as safe from her as he can get though that just means you can’t let Ms. Collins out of your sight. If Acquisition can’t chase Liam, she’ll try to bait him out.”

“I’ll take care of her,” I promise more to her than to him. Hannah nods but she’s clearly unhappy about it.

“Be careful, sis. I, uh, I still have that book. I’m going to follow up on it.”

“Speedy—”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it—we need to be absolutely sure about whether the Soothsayer is telling us the truth before we go any deeper and there is a lot of ground to cover. I know you have your evidence but “The ghosts were the wrong color” won’t hold up outside of magical court. I’ll look after Jax too; he’s probably freaking out.”

“Did you bring him with you to a villain fight?” I demand.

“No! Of course not! Who do you think I am? He’s back where I left him. I hope. I’ll check in later when I can. Toodles!”

He hangs up on me. He’s getting a single tictac for Christmas this year.

Patrick puts one hand on Soaring’s shoulder before nudging him back to where his team is waiting and then vanishes from the scene. Hopefully, he’ll have cleared the whole city. The camera follows Soaring as he walks back to his teammates, but he already seems less tense, and the reporters notice.

“Soaring, what did Warpspeed say?” Sarah calls.

“No comment,” the water hero snaps back before putting herself between the camera and her captain though she’s a foot shorter than he is. I mute the TV but keep it in the corner of my eye.

Hannah has gone oddly quiet. “How do you deal with stuff like this all the time?” she asks.

“Practice,” I reply “but most days are actually pretty quiet. When it does get to be too much, I have people I can lean on. Warpspeed and Adamantine are my siblings and my father still understands the life even though he’s retired. Do you—"

She shakes her head. “No one wants anything to do with me and I don’t want to risk bringing my parents into this. I haven’t been this stressed since the divorce; I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’ve been tempted to just walk away but I can’t turn my back on him like his father did. Do you think that’s foolish?”  

“No,” I insist. “I’m not a parent but I know what it’s like to have a good mom. I think Liam does too, why else risk pissing off Appraisal of all people to protect you? However this shakes out, I’ll make sure he gets a fair trial.” It might be a trial using a truth spell older than most of human civilization, but she doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Even if that means stopping your teammates from killing him?” Hannah asks.

I’ve been putting off thinking about that. If it is true, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know my team or at least I thought I did but my ex is a secret telepath, and my brother currently has a book with the names of my captain’s alleged murder victims.

Nightowl’s always been arrogant, but I don’t think he’s a bad person overall. We can respect the quality of his field work even if talking to him back at base can be difficult sometimes.

Sam is my sister. Yes, it took her a bit longer to heal after escaping Appraisal, but she’s always held onto things longer than Patrick has though that’s more a statement about Patrick than her. She fought long and hard to get to where she is today. She can be stubborn and it’s hard to get her to change her mind sometimes, but she’s not a killer. I hope.

“I don’t know what exactly Liam has seen or even how he sees it but I promise to keep an open mind on that. In the meantime, I know you didn’t want to come with us, but it might not be avoidable now.”

She frowns but her reply is interrupted by her getting distracted by the silent TV. The coverage of the scene in Vancouver stops and the studio takes up the full screen. Everyone seems to be panicking, members of the crew stepping into view of the camera holding their phones. I unmute it.

“What does it mean?” a man asks, waving his phone around.

“Get out of frame!” someone calls. “Jim, we’re still on air.”

Jim the main anchor looks back at the TV. “Well, for the folks just joining us, the—uh—the entirety of our newsroom has just received a—uh—rather strange text,” the anchor is nervous, putting his phone on the desk and pushing it away from him like it might explode. The screen divides into two again but instead of going back to the ferry terminal, a video shot on a phone camera pops up with a very tired Liam sitting front and center on a slab of brown stone with his two companions staring resolutely at the camera. They’re outside and it’s sunny wherever they are. And they’re alive.

“Hello Vancouver,” Liam says when it starts playing. “I would appreciate it if you would put this clip up on your broadcast right now—if you won’t, that’s fine, I sent it to every newsroom in Vancouver and trust me, there are magicians around the world who are either dismissing what happened like Dennis just did or are eagerly awaiting proof of our survival, but this message isn’t for them. This message is for the Master of Appraisal and the Madam of Acquisition. Richard,” he pauses again, and his face hardens into a glare that has Hannah’s fingers curling in her lap. “I have decided not to follow your advice. This is only going to end one way, and I am going to win.”

The clip ends and the two anchors actually sit in shock for a moment. “I would like to apologize,” the man says, still staring at his phone with fear and regret. “For the earlier remarks I made regarding the Soothsayer; that was wrong of me and unprofessional and I’m so sorry, please forget my phone number.”

Hannah snorts once before smothering it. It jars me back out of trying to process that one internationally recognized supervillain just declared war on two other supervillains after casually solidifying his place in magical history. My phone rings again. I expect it to be an unknown number but it’s Dad.

“Come home,” he says before I can say anything.

“No,” I say on reflex.

“Mina—”

“I’m at work, Dad.”

“Vancouver is about to become a battleground and you’re far too close,” he declares.

“I’m a province and a half over.”

“That hardly matters now that the man who killed the Paladin can apparently teleport, and he has a connection to Appraisal? What if he was working with him from the start?”

“There’s been no evidence of that,” I argue. There’s been no evidence against it either; not when no one has seen Liam until now.

“Scrying spells still won’t work directly on him, but he didn’t use a neutral background for that recording, and your grandfather managed to scry the rock they were sitting on.”

“You know where they are?” I ask and Hannah leans in slightly. I tilt the phone to let her.

“We know the approximate region in Turkey but do not lead your team after him. As for Vancouver, the Association is already pulling the teams from the neighboring cities on a volunteer basis to assist with maintaining order, but we have maybe half an hour before people get stuck on the highways trying to evacuate and one of the ferry terminals is a warzone. I saw your brother take pictures of the rune left behind; come home so we can try to pick apart how that spell operates and prevent him from using it again.”

“I’m protecting someone right now,” I say. It’s not quite the refusal I want it to be but just telling him no could kick off an argument I don’t want right now.

“Oh? Who?”

I check with Hannah who nods. “Hannah Colins. Appraisal sent an assassin.”

“Smart thinking,” Dad praises and even if I’m in my twenties that still makes me giddy. “I would bet that the Soothsayer’s message would compel Appraisal to keep his strongest fighters at home to prepare for whatever the Soothsayer has in store for them but it’s not a guarantee. Bring her with you; we can protect her.”

“You’re coming to headquarters?” I ask. It’s worth a shot but he knows better than that.

“No? She’ll be safest back at our house behind the wards while the two of us pick apart the family library to see how in the hell the Soothsayer cracked long distance transportation.”

“I can’t just disappear now; what if—” I start like I haven’t been leaving Ghost and Nightowl on read for the last few hours.

“Both sides of whatever war the Soothsayer wants will have to prepare their strategies and resources. From that video alone, I can tell—and so can you—that moving from western Canada to inland Turkey nearly burnt him out. He’d be a fool to attack any time in the next few days. That gives us time to prepare too. I managed to stop Adamantine from coming to get you herself, but Warpspeed isn’t answering his phone.”

“He has something he needs to do; he won’t go near Vancouver until it’s done,” I reply.

“What exactly is he up to?”

“It’s not the right time to talk about it,” I evade.

“Hm. Either way, when the Soothsayer puts his plan into motion, we’ll need to be ready. You know the best thing to do is research, and I really want a look at that circle. C’mon, kiddo, let’s make an afternoon out of it like the old days.”

He’s not wrong but seriously? Kiddo? “Fine, but if we get the call, I’m going.”

“Deal,” he says. “Your ride should be landing in an hour. See you soon.”

He hangs up and I take a deep breath.

“He seems a bit pushy,” Hannah remarks.

“It’s just how he is,” I assure her. “He’s a lot different when he’s not worrying.”

“And he worries all the time because his daughter’s a superhero and he’s retired?” Hannah assumes.

“That about sums it up, yeah,” I agree but I can see the concern she’s trying to politely hide. “It’s fine, really. He…never mind. How are you with flying?”

“That depends on if we’re in economy,” she says.

“No economy on Alpha Squad’s jets,” I say proudly. “I wonder which one they sent.”

“The shiny silver one that goes Mach six?” she asks hopefully.

I smile. “Maybe. Is that one your favorite?”

Her expression falters and she clears her throat awkwardly. “Liam was a bit of a fanboy before all this happened.”

“Right.” I nod but what if… “Maybe you’ll get to make him jealous.”

Now she smiles. “Here’s hoping.”

Chapter Text

If Liam is half the fanboy Hannah says he is, then he’s never going to live down that his mom got to fly shotgun on Alpha Flight. I insisted she get at least a dozen photos on her phone of mischievous smiles and pretending to fire missiles—not that there were any on board but still. It was good to see her actually enjoying herself after the very, very long day we just had.

The rest of the flight was quiet, which we both needed, but today is catching up to us and it was already evening when we left. At least Association jets can land almost on my family’s property without too much trouble. There’s been a runway on the next property over specifically for us since Great grandpa built the place.

Now we’re here and I don’t know what to really expect other than the usual. It’ll be a bit odd bringing the parent of a supervillain to my house, but the house has seen weirder things in its time. I think. I hope.

“Is this it?” Hannah asks as I approach a small one story house just off the runway and unlock the door.

“No, this is where we keep the stuff that wouldn’t survive the wards—technology doesn’t mix well with magic; I burn through about six phones a year and triple that in earpieces. You’ll have to leave yours here or the barrier will ruin it.”

I open the door and step inside. It could be a basic house; it’s just a TV and computer room with another office and a half bathroom. On one table is a bunch of baskets for charging phones and laptops and a reminder to Pat that he’s not allowed to run in here next to the reminder about casting in here.

“Ah.” She’s not happy about it but there’s no argument either when I hand her an empty basket. “Don’t know why I keep it around honestly. I’ve had to change the number like four times.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer.

She shrugs. “Maybe the quiet will do me some good.”

“I certainly hope so, Ms. Collins.”

“I think you can just call me Hannah at this point, but I’ll still call you Sorciere.”

I smile. “Mina. Though maybe not in front of my parents—Grandpa’s a stickler for protocol.”

“Sure thing, Mina.”

We lock up the house and follow the road up to the fence. I pause at the worn, wooden arch that marks the only way through the wards.

“What can I expect in there?” Hannah asks.

“It’s just—" I pause. “I want to say it’s just my family’s home but from the outside I guess that’s still a bit…”

“Mind blowing?” she finishes. “After all, how many Majors Arcana live here?”

“Right now, just the two. The first one, my great-grandfather, passed away back in ‘98. He built this place after he was disowned by his family for joining the US Army in World War Two. Our family’s been tending it ever since but magical history aside, it’s a home for a relatively normal family.”

She nods slowly and takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’m ready.”

“Just hold your breath for a few seconds and keep pushing through,” I advise her.

Hannah sucks in a deep breath and grips my hand tighter as we cross into the barrier. Sound stops and the air gets uncomfortably dense. The barrier is only about a foot thick, but it restricts almost all movement purely from how old it is. It sucks that the sun is down and we’re doing this in the dark.

 It’s not so rough on me—it knows me—but since Hannah is a non-magical guest, I have to drag her through four generations of wards meant to keep out everyone who isn’t part of my family. It’s like walking through molasses and almost as suffocating but then we’re through and catching our breaths.

I manage to get her over to the garden bench we put here for this exact reason.

“That…felt awful,” she wheezes.

“And you have Permission; imagine what Acquisition would have to suffer if she tried to break in. Welcome to the family acreage, Hannah.”

“Thank you for doing this, Mina. I’m sorry you have to risk your family home.”

“Acquisition and Appraisal already know where this place is but they’re not stupid enough to attack the home of three Majors Arcana, two of which are still alive…though I wouldn’t count out great-Grandpa’s ghost.”

She sputters. “Ghost?”

“That was a joke, sorry; he is completely at rest,” I quickly assure her. “Though he was the one who set the original barrier, and he was apparently a prickly person with strangers. There’s always a bit of yourself in your magic and a bit of magic in the self.”

“I don’t get it.”

“That’s okay; you were about ready for bed before that broadcast, and I just flew you right into the middle of Kansas.”

“It has been…a day,” she admits.

“I understand completely. Oh, I almost forgot, you can go anywhere inside the grounds—the fence is where the barrier is—but not the building behind the house. Also, Grandpa is really good at knowing when people are lying to him.”

“Got it.”

I help her up and we go towards the main house. It’s almost like when we first showed this place to Pat and Sam; to me, it’s just a baby blue, two story farmhouse with a covered porch on one side but she’s gaping like it’s a centuries old castle; it must be the motes of light we use. Really, it isn’t that much. It’s just home.

Then the front door opens, and Mom comes running out shrieking with joy. “Hi, Sweetie!”

“Mom, I’m at work,” I argue before getting run over in a hug.

“Which is why I’m not using your name,” she defends. “It’s so good to see you—I only ever see Warpspeed these days but now my girls are coming home!”

“Girls? Adamantine’s here?” I ask. That could get awkward right now.

“Well, she’ll actually be in the day after tomorrow,” she says and looks me up and down. “You’ve been over casting, I see.”  

“It’s not that bad,” I argue. Yep, this is familiar.

“Go to bed; I don’t care what your dad says. You need to sleep, and I will personally dispel any alarm charms you set.”

“Mom, I’m twenty-two.”

“You’re dead on your feet and you know it,” she asserts before turning to Hannah. “Hi, I’m Christine.”

“Hannah Collins.” They shake hands and Mom shifts from my arm to hers and starts shuttling her up to the house.

“We’re thrilled to have you; let’s get you settled. Are you hungry? I’ve got zucchini bread.”

If we’ve got zucchini bread, then she must have argued with Grandpa over something—he hates the stuff—but the whirlwind that is my mother has Hannah inside the house before I can blink. Maybe I do need to sleep. The moment I’m inside the house, I hear Grandpa arguing from Dad’s office. It’s pretty late and he’s supposed to be taking it easy. I listen for a moment. I don’t hear Dad so it’s probably a mirror link.

I sneak up to the office but don’t go in. I hear Travis’ voice so it’s an Association call. Of course the Board is worried, and Travis is about to be in charge of it. The other voice I think is Miranda which is odd—I only know her because Nathan introduced us once at the Christmas party. Why is she in a call with the Board’s future chair and a retired Major Arcana?

“…speaking of Soaring, have we investigated his possible connection to the girl the Soothsayer was travelling with?” Miranda asks. “The matching wings are rather obvious.”

“Obviously they’re related but that just means that Soaring somehow got assigned to the Vancouver team without meeting the criteria of having no living parents, siblings or children for Appraisal to exploit—how did that get missed?” Travis demands.

“I believe you were in charge of North American recruitment for the last four years, Travis,” Grandpa replies, tone cool. “But if the girl is a relative of his and she’s not with the Collection now, then whatever pull they had over Soaring is gone.”

“No, now it’s the Soothsayer who has that leverage over him,” Travis sarcastically remarks.

“I’d still give him a fair shot but if you really can’t trust him, then let Marina take over the evacuation efforts,” Grandpa recommends.

“I’d rather entrust the entire operation to Alpha Squad,” Miranda states.

“I haven’t had a chance to debrief Min—Sorciere,” Grandpa corrects. He almost said Minor Arcana, even after three years, he’s still stuck on that. “Warpspeed and Adamantine have a complicated history with the Collection that clouds their judgement and emotional states, as we all saw. Ghost isn’t a field agent and is far too appetizing a target to Appraisal to have on site. Nightowl’s new obsession with the Soothsayer is a topic for another conversation entirely. Soaring and Marina are both qualified, know the lay of the land better, and Soaring’s personal stake in seeing the downfall of Appraisal might work in our favor.”

“Downfall? You’re not suggesting that we let this fight happen?” Miranda demands. “The Board voted to officially recognize the Soothsayer as a supervillain because that kind of power and that level of skill could destroy the Association if turned against us. You’re proposing that we let a tornado start a war with an avalanche and leave Vancouver stuck in the middle?”

“I’m saying we do what we can to minimize the collateral damage and then pounce and clear the board of whoever is left after—three very dangerous but potentially very weakened birds, one stone. Appraisal and Acquisition have been left to take what they want with impunity for more than fifteen years and they’ve clearly forgotten the lesson my son went out of his way to teach them ten years ago,” Grandpa grumbles. Even at seventy-four and retired from field work, I wouldn’t put it past the Second Major Arcana to go to Canada himself.

“But that’s exactly the point: the Third Major and his team at their prime weren’t able to permanently put those two out of commission,” Travis argues. “Now the Paladin is gone, and as you just said, the current Alpha Squad isn’t ready to take on this challenge.”

Well, that hurts to hear. It’s not wrong and as much as I wish I could be there I’m in no shape to fight right now. What does it say about us that Nathan’s death cut our effectiveness down this much? How did we get to this point?

Jax always said getting existential late at night meant it was time for bed. I wonder if my late night thoughts worried him. Or annoyed him.   

“With all the volunteers from across Canada, we have twenty-four heroes already in Vancouver with another sixteen on the way. Seattle and some of the nearby US teams have volunteered but international cooperation means more hoops to jump through. Edmonton’s team especially is insistent on going,” Travis continues “and they all need dependable leadership. Bench Soaring entirely until we know the full extent of his involvement with the Collection and put Marina in charge until Nightowl can join the effort.”

“I don’t trust Nightowl to remain objective if the Soothsayer is involved,” Grandpa warns.

“Noted,” Travis states and the faint glow from the room dulls but doesn’t fade away.

“Well, that was more spine than I remember ever seeing from him,” Grandpa remarks.

“He’s finally going to chair the Board and doesn’t intend to let go; even you should worry about antagonizing him,” Miranda warns.

“I can handle Travis, especially now,” Grandpa dismisses before sighing. “Good night, Miranda.”

I’m already tiptoeing away before Miranda says “Good night, Major.”

Well, maybe it’s a bad decision to stay up and try to solve Liam’s circles but how can I sleep now? Even after all this time, he still doesn’t trust me or my siblings. Worse, he’s probably still upset about the choices I’ve made. I thought we’d moved on, but I guess expecting a former spy to tell the truth is asking too much.

I haven’t had to hide under my covers with a mote of light to read since I was thirteen, but I don’t want anyone knocking on my door either. At least if the room is dark, no one will risk waking me up. I pause when I hear footsteps going up the hall but open the two notes once they fade.

The Invitation for Atonement is far beyond anything I can hope to understand without being in the library. And rested. And caffeinated. I also will probably need Dad and Grandpa’s help and that just…sucks.

Besides, it’s the other spell that’s more interesting right now. I might be holding the only transcribed copy of a working long distance transport spell—does it even have a proper name yet? When did he make this?

I thought he was insulting me at first but now I have to wonder what has he seen? Why did the world’s most powerful psychic give me a copy of this spell? To prove he could? To let me assure Soaring the way I did? Given how close Soaring was to fighting Acquisition solo that might have been enough of a reason on its own but much like trying to interpret my father’s cards, I can’t assume anything.

It is a bit of a let down that one of the top unsolved spells is so…simple. I knew from the moment I saw it in Jackson’s tower that it was a transport spell, and the lines and runes all make sense. How did no one else guess this would work? There’s a circle within the circle that doesn’t cross any of the other lines—a place for a material cost? Wait.

I take out the pebble that was taped to the outside of the note. Oh wow. Oh no. Liam didn’t just give me this spell; he also wants me to use it but why? And when?

“Well, Liam, I refuse.”

If I don’t understand this spell in its entirety, I’m not touching it. That’s magical safety rule zero: don’t know, don’t guess, don’t touch. Despite that, the language and pattern he uses make so much sense to me, it’s chilling. How a magician writes their runes indicates how they view the world and themselves; how a person uses magic is affected the same way. The magical world despises necromancers because partly what kind of person would they have to be for their magic to be shaped like that?

Liam’s circle looks like mine would. Are we really that similar? It can’t be that simple. I learned from my father and grandfather; there’s no reason for Liam’s spell to resemble my family’s magic but it does. More than that, it reads exactly like mine would.

It’s in my shorthand. He knows my shorthand! That goes beyond plagiarism; he’s basically claiming to understand who I am. Is this the real threat? I think to the newsroom, how he somehow had everyone’s phone number to get their attention. I’ve never seen a psychic do that; numbers in dreams and visions are impossible to trust. Who or what exactly are we dealing with?

Maybe now I should sleep.

oOoOoOo

“Sorciere! Breakfast!” Mom calls. I reach out from under the covers for my phone then remember where it is and groan. The sun already seems to be fully up too. Staying up late may have been a mistake. I didn’t even get changed last night. Since Mom has a pretty strict “no work at the table” rule, I throw my costume in the laundry and go for jeans and a t-shirt I’m pretty sure I stole from Jax. It’s not like he missed it.

 Downstairs, Dad’s at the stove finishing scrambling some eggs while Mom and Hannah are chatting over coffee. She already looks better.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Dad teases.

“What time is it?”

“Ten thirty-ish,” he says without judgement. “You clearly needed it but why were you so tired yesterday?”

“Long story.”

“We’ve got a lot of breakfast,” he counters before bending to pull a platter of pancakes out of the oven.

“Are we feeding eight people?” I ask.

“Well, it’s you, me, Mom, Grandpa and Ms. Collins. I tried to get your brother on the phone this morning, but he texted that he’s busy. What did you say he was doing again?”

“I didn’t. When is Adamantine coming?”

“Tomorrow,” Mom answers. “Tried to get her to come home early but she says she’s fine.”

Dad hands me the pancakes and pulls out the sausages behind them.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“Please.” I sit next to Hannah who at least seems to be calm about Sam coming here. Even if she wasn’t, we could blame that on meeting another member of Alpha Squad later.

“Where’s Grandpa?” I ask.

“Out at the shack; the Vancouver Branch sent us the Soothsayer’s circle. Shouldn’t be long now,” Dad answers before pausing. “He just crossed the wards.”

So I have maybe two minutes to be presentable and I’m still half asleep from staying up even later than I planned. I chug the coffee as it’s handed to me.

“You do realize we have a long day of sitting still in front of some books, right?” Dad teases.

“And I want to be awake for that,” I counter with the same smirk. That gets half a laugh from him.

“First, you’re going to eat something other than instant oatmeal and protein bars,” Mom chastises. “Your brother was kind enough to inform me that you’ve been running yourself ragged these last few months. I know Nathan meant a lot to you—we all miss him—but he’s not going to get justice if you burn out.”

Hannah nervously takes a sip of her coffee, but I see her other hand curl in her lap under the table. Maybe we shouldn’t have told her about that, especially considering we hadn’t verified it.

“I know,” I say to both of them.

The door opens and there’s a bit of shuffling as Grandpa kicks off his shoes. He comes into the kitchen, setting a file down next to the French press before sitting down at the table.

“What’s that?” Dad asks.

“Updates. You’ll never guess who that blindfolded guy was,” Grandpa excitedly replies. “And I got some pictures of the circle—"

“No work-talk at the table,” Mom reminds him with one raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, sorry. I did manage to talk to Adamantine about yesterday—she insists she’s fine as always.”

“And she keeps her feelings closer to her chest than you do,” Mom growls. “Now we just need both of them back home, especially if those two monsters are active.”

“Warpspeed is fine,” I promise. “He’s looking something up for me.”

“Like what?” Grandpa asks.

“Work stuff,” I evade, glancing at Mom who nods though she’s clearly curious and worried. “But he’s not alone; he should be with Jax.”

“Ajax?” Dad sits up straighter. “You tracked him down? Why?”

“I wanted him to come back.” It’s not a lie; I’ve wanted him back since the moment he left but whatever hope I had about that died when I felt that wave of self hatred from him. “But he won’t so…back to breakfast.”

“I miss him too,” Dad admits.

I didn’t mean to make things awkward, but the table is pretty quiet after that. It’s preferable to whatever questions Grandpa probably wants to ask Hannah, but it’s not polite to just say, “How did you not know your own kid was magical?”

“This was wonderful,” Hannah says when she’s done.

“Thank you,” Dad says. “Retiring from the field has given me time to pick up some new skills.”

“Why pick cooking?” Hannah asks.

“I wanted to spend time with my wife,” Dad declares and Mom blushes.

“Oh, you.”

“He’s a natural,” Grandpa admits with a nod. I see Dad light up slightly. I guess we both want our dads’ approval.

“Alright, off you go. Hannah, do you mind if I use a bit of magic to clean up?” Mom asks.

“Not at all.”

Mom waves her hands, and the empty dishes clear the table. The leftovers end up in the antique fridge that’s almost as old as refrigerators themselves.

“I thought technology didn’t do well here,” Hannah asks, looking at it.

“It doesn’t, my grandparents discovered that when they bought it and rigged it to work anyway,” Dad replies. “Not all magic is flashy; a lot of it is utterly mundane. Saves a lot of elbow grease in the bathroom.”

Hannah ponders that for a moment; I wonder what she’s thinking.

“If you’d known, you could have given him so many more chores,” Grandpa jokes.

“Grandpa,” I snap.

“Liam used the dishwasher because he never told me he learned any magic,” Hannah states, staring him down. “He never even told me he was psychic. That is all I’m going to say about it.”

“Understood,” Mom quickly agrees before unsubtly kicking Grandpa under the table.

“My apologies, Ms. Collins.”

“Thank you.” Only then does Hannah stop glaring. Not many people would try to intimidate the Second Major Arcana in his own house, but I suspect Hannah is long out of patience.

“Alright, you three, off to your books,” Mom dismisses.

Dad and Grandpa practically flee. I hesitate.

“Go on,” Mom insists. “Hannah, would you like to go for a walk with me?”

“Yes, please.”

Well, I guess I have to trust her to handle herself. It’s not like Mom would hurt her.

I get up and follow Dad and Grandpa to the library. I have Liam’s notes in my pocket but once we’re inside Grandpa puts several high quality pictures of the rune in Vancouver on the table. Dad brings out drawing paper and pencils and we all sketch out the rough shapes before adding the specific runes.

Since I’m much more familiar with it, I finish first and it’s definitely the most accurate. It’s still unnerving as hell thinking about it. Either he understands me more than my own family does, or he’s a better psychic than the Association’s test could possibly account for.

“First impressions?” Grandpa asks.

“It seems familiar,” Dad remarks. Yup, it definitely should. “It’s just an after image but it’s so crisp; no hesitation in the casting at all. He likely knew it would work or has even cast it before successfully. It could be both, honestly.”

Well he just guessed what it took me a phone call to verify, and it stings a bit that Dad doesn’t recognize my shorthand. Have we really grown that far apart? Or is he just seeing what he wants to see?

“Does this look like the work of anyone we know? We haven’t found anything about the Soothsayer or who his teachers are,” Grandpa asks.

“You said you knew who the blindfold guy was?” Dad prods.

“Yep, he’s one of your old collars from right before you took over as Major: Dennis Cole.”

“Oh wow, I knew he was familiar!”                       

“Is this Dennis’ work?” Grandpa asks and I almost scoff. Now that’s just insulting!

“Definitely not,” Dad vehemently disagrees “though Dennis resurfacing as part of the Collection is concerning. He was in prison until last year and the Soothsayer would have been nine or ten at the time I got that letter.”

“Would it be too far fetched to consider if he was an especially bold nine year old?” I ask. Stranger things have happened in Liam’s proximity—the knowledge he has access to is unheard of for any psychic I know.

“That letter was written by someone with the same skill level as your dad at the time,” Grandpa dismisses but Dad pulls a box off a shelf and pulls out a yellowed pile of papers and the original envelope.

“This is an Edmonton return address,” he says, holding up the postage.

No way. I’ve read that thing a hundred times over the years as well as Dad’s report of the fight. The concept of someone handing out incredibly specific knowledge about a person or situation is familiar, but it’s not conclusive.

“No,” Grandpa insists, and I desperately wish I could dismiss it as easily. “The letter was typed and printed in a public library but the addresses on the envelope weren’t written by any of the librarians. The stamp was put on by a stamp roller and not the sender’s spit so we couldn’t successfully scry the origin—I’m not ascribing that level of caution to a nine year old child!”

“A nine year old extremely powerful psychic,” I remind them. “Hannah says he started experiencing unexplained fits around the same time as well as his tendency to isolate himself from others. What if he saw something and sent Dad four pages of weaknesses and battle strategy to guarantee victory beyond a shadow of a doubt?”

“The sender being psychic I could agree with, but the magical theory portion? Absolutely not. Maybe if he had a teacher to help him, but there’s no evidence the Soothsayer does or did,” Grandpa scoffs. “Anyway, let’s focus on what we know he has done. Every magician on the planet wants what we have here—I expect someone will leak it from evidence eventually but not everyone is going to respect academic integrity.”

“I mean, we’re not,” Dad points out.

“That’s wildly different,” Grandpa argues and pointedly picks up his sketch of the circle and checks it against the picture. I guess this discussion is over.

I have permission. Liam practically gave me permission. He shared it with me in a way that I could understand in an envelope with my name on it.

Dad glances at me before finding a few books and sitting down across from Grandpa but I stay at the other end of the table and just…put the whole notion of Liam’s particular brand of foresight to the side so I can figure out exactly what he wants from me before two world class magicians who are both stronger and more experienced than I am figure out how to take him down.

Chapter Text

At a certain point trying to glean further insight from Liam’s circle is just hurting my eyes even though I’m reading by magical light that is supposed to prevent that. Now it’s just up to my willingness to even attempt it. That pebble is getting heavy in my pocket but t’s not like Liam left me any instructions on when!

I don’t want to show Dad or Grandpa the Invitation for Atonement if only because I want to see if I can solve it myself. I guess that comment from last night about Alpha Squad’s readiness is still stuck in my head. ‘The current Alpha Squad isn’t ready to take on this challenge.’ Not if I have anything to say about it.

Maybe Grandpa will finally get over my not taking on the title of Major after Dad retired. It just didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel ready.

And Nathan encouraged that. At the time, I thought it was him being a good friend or trying to get a sense of how to be a good leader. Mostly it just felt good to have someone validate my feelings and skills instead of constantly pushing me to do better or go further like I wasn’t already doing my best. Now I have to wonder if the title of Major Arcana threatened him. Did Nathan just agree with my own insecurities for his own gain? Just the idea is enough to make my skin crawl. What else has he done to us under the guise of friendship?

I can’t get distracted by that now. Right. The Invitation for Atonement. The Invitation for Atonement is written twice, once in its complex or ‘true’ form and once in what is presumably Liam’s shorthand which is definitely different than mine because I do not know what is going on here. Oh wow. At least with a mostly full night’s sleep, breakfast, and coffee, I don’t feel quite as much out of my depth as I did last night.

It’s a monster of a spell but that just means its intended function is specific and the boundaries are incredibly well defined. There is a verbal component which Liam has helpfully provided. ‘Full name, I invite you to atone.’ That lines up with what the recruiters were able to remember past the shock. What I really need to know is if this spell is fatal by design but I’m just not there yet.

Maybe it’s because this room is protected from sunlight that I don’t notice what time it is before Mom comes and finds us. “Mina, Patrick wants you to call him back, and then you can all get some dinner.”

“Dinner?” I blink. “What happened to lunch?”

“Well, we had a late breakfast and/or early lunch so now it’s late lunch and/or early dinner,” she reasons. “It’s not like you came out looking for food, and I know how you all get when you’re interrupted.”

“I’ll be a while; I don’t want to lose my place,” Grandpa says, not looking up.

Mom gestures to him with a flourish, “Like that. You get five minutes.”

Grandpa grumbles while Dad and I get up and stretch before following her out. The sun is a harsh reality when I step outside. Hannah is on the back porch of the house in the shade with a glass of something. She waves once. I wave back.

“How is she?” I ask Mom.

“Exhausted,” Mom sighs, full of sympathy. “But her shoulders are starting to come down from around her ears, so I’m not too worried. I’m also not sure she should ever go back to that city but that’s for her to decide. For now, I’ll make sure she has quiet.”

“You’re the best, Mom.”

She smiles then nudges me toward the road. “See if you can’t convince Patrick to come home. He’s trying to hide it, but I can tell he’s upset.”

Oh no. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.”

I don’t run but I walk quickly down to the wards, and then run to the shack, pick up my phone and call Patrick’s number.

It rings twice and connects. “Mina,” Jax greets. He sounds tired.

“Jax? Where’s Pat?”

“He zipped over a hill to throw up, but I can still see him.”

“I told him not to take that book.”

“He wanted to see it for himself but…” he trails off.

“What,” I pause. There’s no easy way to just ask this. “What have you found?”

“More than we thought we were going to; the Paladin was mostly careful about evidence but we’re…we’re at the place where the largest number of names were buried. Since it was blamed on a natural disaster, it’s…he didn’t feel the need to hide anything; he just buried it in a mudslide because he could. Patrick’s been, uh, digging.”

“Get him out of there,” I order. “I mean it, neither of you need to do this right now.”

“Even if a man’s life is at stake?” Jax demands.

“That book was left for me,” I remind him. “I’m not going to ignore it and there will be a proper investigation. Just…get Patrick to come home. Come with him. We can talk this out with Dad. I should probably catch him up anyway.” I should swallow my pride and let him help.

“Yeah.” Uh oh, I know that voice.

“Problem?” I ask.

“No! Maybe,” he quickly amends.

“Jackson?” I prod.

“I don’t know which Board members are dirty!” he blurts. “I couldn’t figure it out that day, I—it’s…hard to—it was just so much to have someone with those emotions standing so close. I couldn’t focus on who knew and who didn’t. I could only throw my tantrum, hope my acting was good enough, and run into the woods.”

“And you’ve already told me that half of them knew which sucks considering both my father and grandfather are on the Board,” I finish the thought. It’s a bad thought. “Well, that’s just another reason to come home, then; Sam’s coming tomorrow according to Mom. I know what Liam said, and I still hate that he’s right about Nathan, but my sister accepting an order to kill is a step too far.” 

“I know,” Jax readily agrees “but…who else could convince her?”

“They would never,” I disagree. I’m not sure he agrees with me based on the pause.

“I’ll talk to Patrick. Hopefully, we’ll be there soon,” he says instead.

“I’m holding you to that, Jax. Have you two even slept?”

“We had an early start,” he admits. “But I slept most of the time between leaving Edmonton and that news broadcast—I’m fine.”

“And…you’re feeling better? You were really looking terrible before Pat got you out of there.”

“I sorted out my dishes,” he evades. “And I should take the time to reacclimatize properly to cities. And get another eleven hours of sleep…but I’m not going to faint on you again. I’m not going to let you down again.”

“Careful, making promises to magicians is risky behavior,” I joke. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

“If you’re back to teasing me then I will be. Pat’s coming back. I’ll take care of him.”

“And yourself too. See you soon.”

He hangs up and I put my phone back before waiting outside on the stairs. I’m going to give them five minutes before I call Pat back and try to lure him home. Luckily, he still respects Jax’s opinion enough that four minutes in, he appears right in front of the shack with Jax being cradled against his chest like a princess. Pat sets him down gently and Jax sits on the ground looking a bit greener than normal.

“I’m okay, hug your brother,” he insists and puts his head between his knees.

Patrick is paler than he should be, and his gaze is fixed on something I can’t see. He’s also covered in dust and mud spatter and his hands are a mess up to the elbows. Then he looks at me and I know without asking that he believes us about Nathan now. I open my arms, and he walks right into them at a normal pace and buries his face in my shoulder. He’s shaking but I can’t tell if it’s anger or heartbreak. Considering how I was in the beginning of all this, it could be both.

Jax picks himself up off the ground and I reach for him. I’m not used to him not having muscles, but a Jackson hug is still a Jackson hug, and Pat always liked his hugs the best. He doesn’t move from me though and Jax just wraps around us both as Patrick tries to pull himself back together.

“I hate this,” Pat says, still in my shoulder.

“I do too,” I tell him.

“What do we do?” he asks, every bit the scared little boy I first met him as.

“We can’t do anything until whatever happens in Vancouver happens. Grandpa wants to let the three of them fight it out and then have the Association take down whoever’s left. There are around thirty heroes already in the city.”

“Bad idea,” Patrick insists, pulling away. “Appraisal has a network of informants and blackmail that spans most of North America but it’s not just information that makes him dangerous. If he’s learned anything from last time, it’s to recruit people to fight for him that want to be there and not just kidnap people he finds interesting. Then there’s her.”

“She’s got a tracking ability; we knew that,” I affirm.

“We’ve seen evidence of a tracking ability but it’s more than that. We’ve never been able to pin down exactly what either of them do—Appraisal knows you better than you know yourself just from seeing you and Acquisition doesn’t let anything stand between you and her if she wants you. She also just doesn’t feel pain and never takes visible injuries. It’s kind of like Sam and Nathan’s indestructibility but even they’ve taken hits that can hurt or incapacitate them. I’m not sure the Madam ever has—it feels different with her, like we’re just too small to hurt her so we can’t. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s been a while since I’ve been near her. I guess I’m just lucky she decided against trying to take me back.”

“Yeah, you had me pretty worried there,” I admit. “Do not make me storm Vancouver.”

He almost smiles at that. “I’m starving.”

“You’re in time for lunch,” I invite.

“It’s pretty late for lunch,” Jax comments.

“Alright, it’s closer to dinner,” I admit. “Had a late start. Recovering from flying across two mountains does that.”

He winces. “I’m sorry.”

“That was my own dumb decision; I forgot how Canadian you get. Come on, Mom’ll be glad to see you.”

He recoils slightly. “I doubt that; I broke her little girl’s heart. She might turn me into a frog.”

“She’ll feed you first.” I grab both of them by the arm and drag them through the barrier. Jax has been here before, but it’s been a while, and we weren’t expecting him. Patrick and I get through first and reach back for him as he gets stuck.

“I forgot about this part,” Jax groans when his head comes through. “Has it gotten worse since I was here last?”

“It’s complicated,” I evade and pull him free. “And you weren’t exactly invited by the Head of House.”

Dad comes out of the house first because he would have felt a stranger coming through the wards but whatever he was going to say visibly dies in his throat when he sees Patrick and Jax shambling up the path.

“Oh my god.” He glides off the porch through the air right up to Pat trying to find ‘the injury,’ but Patrick has never been injured longer than an afternoon in his whole life.

“I’m okay, Dad.”

“I’m sure you are now, but what about before?” Dad asks.

“This isn’t from a fight,” Patrick insists but the lack of eye contact isn’t helping his case.

Rather than press my obviously distressed little brother, Dad rounds on me. “What was he doing for you? Where did you send him?”

“She didn’t send me anywhere!” Patrick snaps and tries to scrub the tear tracks from his face. “I went on my own!”

“Where?” Dad demands, now looking to Jax. “Ajax, report!”

“I’m retired, Major.”

“So am I, but now my son looks like this less than twenty-four hours after a fist fight with the Madam of Acquisition and I want to know where exactly you two have been!”

“Never mind that; I’m fine now!” Patrick shouts and I hear a plate almost drop in the kitchen. “Did you know?” he demands.

“Know what?” Dad asks, now getting worried. “Patrick, talk to me.”

“Did you know about Nathan?” Pat demands. Jax and I share an uneasy look, and Dad notices immediately.

“What about Nathan?” Dad asks us all. He does seem legitimately confused but I’m still a little on edge about how easily the people closest to me were able to lie to my face, and now there might be two more on that list. Could I be wrong about that for fucking once this week?

The front door opens, and Mom and Grandpa step out. Mom jumps off the porch and flies just like Dad did right up to Pat, but he pulls back from her hug with a quiet, “I’m a mess.”

“Oh, for—!” She claps her hands, and the dirt and grime vanish instantly from both him and Jax. “Now, what happened?”

“We were just getting to that part,” Dad asserts, raising both eyebrows in a clear expectation of an answer.

“Not now!” Patrick says instead and blips upstairs to his room in the next second, slamming his door for emphasis. 

Mom clearly wants to follow him, but she spots Jax first and actually has to blink twice before finally recognizing him. “Jax?”

“It’s good to see you,” Jax nods. “Ma’am.”

“Stop that and get inside this house. We can talk about everything else later.” She pointedly glares at Dad and me before dragging Jax towards the door. “Who has been feeding you this poorly?”

I start to follow but Dad stops me. “What’s going on, Mina?”

Grandpa walks down from the porch, face grim.

“You both saw the ghosts the day Nathan died on the news, right?” I start.

Both nod.

“Did you notice anything odd about them?” I ask.

“Get to the point,” Grandpa orders.

“Dad,” Dad snaps. “There were too many to take in specifics, at least from a long distance camera.”

“But you saw they were all blue, right?” I press on.

“I did.” Dad lowers his gaze. “They were all innocent souls; to condemn that many at once is—”

“They weren’t condemned,” I tell him.

“What do you mean?” Grandpa asks. “They were compelled to kill—”

“They were not,” I insist. “They were moving on when I tried to commune with them. The Edmonton Office wasn’t haunted; no one was corrupted. They had all crossed over by the time the sun set that day, and they had all gone from blue to silver.”

“Then they weren’t compelled to kill,” Dad realizes. “They were granted justice?”

I nod.

Dad looks between me and Grandpa “But that would mean—”

“It would mean the Paladin, the Heaven-sent Hero, and leader of Alpha Squad was a murderer of thousands,” Grandpa spits. “Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?”

“And that’s why I investigated further,” I continue, somehow keeping my tone even. “Dad, when you retired, we opened two places on Alpha Squad: one to fill in as leader and add some raw power and the other to fill in for your accuracy at cards. We had Nathan to lead us, but without you to fill in the gaps, Alana wasn’t accurate enough and she stepped down. We went through several more before we gave up trying to fill the position and the Soothsayer was chosen to join us because of how high his score was. What happened when a psychic with one hundred percent accuracy got within thirty feet of Nathan and why were thousands of murdered ghosts suddenly able to pass on after killing him?”

“That is a reach,” Grandpa mocks.

“No, it isn’t,” I insist. I hate that look on his face, the blatant dismissal in his eyes. He’d rather argue with me than just listen!

Sure enough, the next thing Grandpa says is, “Then why didn’t you interview any of those other candidates—”

“Of course I tried that! Alana quit because she wasn’t accurate enough and she swears she knows nothing, the second one was killed in hit and run car crash at night with no cameras, and the third one had a fatal heart attack at twenty-six!”  

“You suspect foul play?” Dad asks.

“I couldn’t be sure of anything; I didn’t want to suspect my captain of murder. I needed another perspective…so I went looking for Jax.”

It’s still not a lie, I needed his perspective as a telepath. Grandpa doesn’t indicate if he could tell, but he’s hard to read when he’s like this.

“You can tell them,” Jax says to me from the kitchen.

“No, that could ruin your life.” I refuse. “The Soothsayer had the same idea; he found Jax first to leave me a list of the names of Nathan’s victims. That is what Patrick was doing for me.”

“The Soothsayer went after a former hero—after not being seen anywhere for months—and you didn’t report it because…” Grandpa prompts.

“The situation developed rapidly after I found that out,” I answer and it’s still not a lie, not technically. “The point is the Soothsayer had a reason to attack Nathan and I’m not even sure if the spell he used was intended to be fatal.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then that cannot get out,” Grandpa insists. “Bringing a hero who has failed to uphold the Association’s ideals to justice is one thing but the captain of Alpha Squad? That will destroy people’s trust in the Association and humiliate us all on a world stage!”

“We can earn their trust back,” I argue “but we need to transparent—"

“It’s not that simple!” Grandpa almost yells. It takes a concerning amount of willpower not to flinch.

“Your mom looks mad. Incoming,” Jax warns.

“We’ll talk about this later,” I snap and take a step back before going inside, not even looking at Dad who remained silent through all of that.

Mom had been hurriedly making some sandwiches to feed to Patrick on top of lunch and had apparently just stepped away when I enter the room. There are already several protein bars on a tray since we weren’t expecting him to actually agree to come home.

“Good, I thought I’d have to separate the two of you,” she murmurs.

“Sorry, Mom.”

She nods but she only replies when Dad and Grandpa catch up. “I know you all care about what’s happening—and that’s a good thing—but you’ve been researching for hours. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and there’s the looming threat of a conflict between supervillains when only one of the three of you is certified for field duty and you two”—she points to Dad and Grandpa—“both worry about her because you love her. Am I wrong?”

Grandpa—wisely—doesn’t argue but he isn’t happy either. Mom ushers them to the table but hands me the tray after loading it up with the amount of food necessary for an active speedster. “I think I heard your brother finish with the shower. He doesn’t need to come down but please make sure he eats.”

“Okay.” I take the tray upstairs to his room and knock.

“Speedy?”

“Come in,” he calls. Instead of finding him brooding, he’s already in sweats and a t-shirt and has a murder board going complete with multicolored yarn. It’s covering up the wall of art he’s made over the years and a few of his paintings are leaning up against his bed.

He sets a string in place connecting the NYPD to several numbers that must be case files. Names that are probably from the List connect to dates labeled ‘meeting Nathan’ with arrows pointing to dates of death. Most are less than twelve hours apart. Nathan really had to cover his trail when it came to telepaths. Jax only escaped the same fate by the skin of his teeth and I’m glad he did even if his leaving broke my heart. I hate that this somehow blunts the pain of those memories.

“Ooh, grilled cheese?” Pat asks.

“And whatever else we had in the fridge.” I set the tray down and force myself to look away from the board. “How are you feeling?”

“I mean, I had a run and a shower,” he replies. “And I did some sketches I can burn later; looked at some of my old stuff, ran through some of the old grounding exercises…got a hug from my sister. It’s close enough.”

“You’re not just burying it, are you?”

“No,” he assures me. “I just don’t feel like pretending I don’t process things a lot faster than the rest of you. I don’t really want to stay in that place, you know?”

I nod. “So long as you’re okay.”

“I know it makes me look like a heartless asshole—I mean, who else can literally dig up a third of Nathan’s list without being affected? I mean, Nightowl probably could but I was affected, and I was upset, and I still despise all of this and everything we’re going to have to do later, but I,” he pauses “I’m ready to move on from today; I just hope you know it’s for the right reason.”

“Eat and walk me through it?” I invite.

He smiles appreciatively. “It’s a bit…it’s a lot to just talk about. The proper authorities are handling the technical and legal details. It’s definitely not a natural disaster, I can tell you that much—just trust me on how I know that.”

I can imagine it just fine. “Okay.”

“And—don’t be mad—I had to bring in Ghost.”

“Why would I be mad about Ghost?”

“Because I’m not sure how tight of a circle you wanted on this and I only had this morning and a few hours this afternoon to dig up what I could, so I had to delegate the stuff that is more convenient to find with a computer. It’s a good thing they’re a technopath because they have apparently run into so much red tape about the rest of this list it would take anyone else months to cut through it,” he explains.

“What have they found?” I ask.

“Both of you stop,” Jax warns. “You’re being listened to and not just by me.”

I have to grab the cold in my chest and breathe. It’s not a problem until I hear for sure that it is.

“Who?” I ask. At least I hope I do; I don’t know how this works.

“A fair bit, actually—gave me lots to follow up on,” Pat replies almost seamlessly. “But they’ll keep at it. I didn’t tell them what it was about, but I suspect they’ll figure it out along the way.”

“Your Grandfather. I can’t—and won’t—read his mind but his emotions are not lining up with your mom’s story about gardening unless he really has a lot of negative emotions about thyme.”

“Can you see his hands?” I ask.

“No.”

Well, shit. It’s too hard to reliably cast any sort of detection spell while in a bubble of pure magic surrounded by spells meant to fill in for the absence of electricity and the Qualities of Grandpa’s magic were formed by protecting the Association through the Cold War. I’m not likely to pick up an eavesdrop from him even on my best day but maybe I can bluff him.

I want to believe that this is just him being nosy and thorough the way he was trained to be, and I don’t want to panic either. Jax told me back at the tower that half the Board knew and two gave Nathan the orders. Please let Grandpa be on the other half. Please let his hesitation just be to the prospect of other people abusing our family’s legacy.

“Let’s sidestep the…biggest part. Has anyone else stood out to you?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah, all of the psychics we ever had on the Squad except for Alana.”

“Those were ruled as accidental.” Damn it all, I was right!

“Yeah, but they’re on the list anyway,” Pat murmurs, raising an eyebrow and glancing at the door.

I nod.

“Also at least three NYPD telepaths—all accidental but all traumatic. One in particular was reported missing after he didn’t come back from a solo boating trip—except we found his body and his boat. There’s a hand print shaped hole right through the keel from the bottom. He was on that trip after taking a sudden unexplained leave of absence from his job less than twelve hours after Nathan dropped off a carjacker at his precinct. I know it’s not concrete—yet—but they have to consider the magical evidence, right? And psychic evidence can be submitted via that scary truth spell?” Pat asks. “That’s assuming Liam makes it to stand trial.”

“He will,” I promise and take a breath. Here goes everything. “Because I still believe Sam won’t kill him and we’ll stop her if we’re wrong.”

“He did not like that,” Jax reports.

“Right,” Pat nods but he’s openly frowning. He hates this more than I do; how can he not?

“Eat your food,” I order. “Or I’ll tell Mom.”

The platter disappears from the desk and he’s sitting in bed eating at normal speed because Mom’s food is to be savored. It’s also possible that all this is ruining his appetite, but his metabolism waits for no one.

“Do you remember how Nathan even got recommended?” I ask, trying not to lose hope.

“Checked that too,” Patrick tells me between mouthfuls. “Travis was the biggest name putting him forward but there was this other woman—Molly? Marissa?”

“Miranda?” I ask.

“Yeah, supposedly they were on the same team, but I don’t think Nathan ever said what team he was from before Alpha Squad.”

“Nathan told me he felt he had to step up after Dad retired,” I state and take another breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“When I got in last night, I heard Grandpa on a call with Travis and Miranda. I hope it’s nothing.”

“Well, Trav has been pushing for a better seat on the Board since Nathan died,” Pat suggests. “And I don’t even know who Miranda is outside of what Nathan told me at the Christmas party about her being an old colleague.”

“He’s very concerned about what you might have heard,” Jax reports. “I think he’s trying to come up with an excuse to leave the table.”

“Come upstairs, Grandpa,” I order. Please let me just clear this up so I don’t have to suspect my own family.

“Do you want backup?” Jax asks.

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

I vacate Pat’s office chair and put it between us and the door. I hear the footsteps coming up the stairs and the door opens without so much as a knock. The look on his face is withering; I do my best to return it but I’m sure plenty of his old enemies are still haunted by that steely focus of his. He closes the door behind him.

“You’re either smarter than I thought or I’m getting sloppy,” he starts and sits down, eyes not leaving mine. He at least keeps his hands visible and pressed up against his legs. I keep mine curled up at my sides where he can see them.

“Both can be true,” I counter. It’s juvenile but he’ll underestimate me no matter what I say.

Reacting to that jab is apparently beneath him. “Are you going to make me ask what this is about?”

“If you can eavesdrop, I’m sure you can piece it together,” I invite.

“I eavesdrop because I prefer to be included in the conversation. As do you apparently.”

“Are you seriously lecturing me about that right now?”

“Don’t be childish, Mina. You want to drag Nathan’s name through the mud and for what? The Soothsayer? His mother? It’s obvious he’s been leading you right to the evidence he wants you to find; you can’t trust—"

“The fact that there’s evidence at all—"

“Kids! Your sister’s here!” Mom excitedly calls.

Great, now there’s every chance this could get worse. “She was supposed to be in tomorrow.”

Grandpa doesn’t even flinch, and Pat is torn between leaving us alone together and going to find his twin.

I nod to him. “Go.”

Patrick is not happy about it but then he’s gone with only the suddenly opened door to show where he went.

With that, I can turn my attention back to not rising to Grandpa’s obvious bait. “You are not an active member of Alpha Squad; I don’t have to include you in anything. This is an active criminal investigation made between my team and the relevant authorities in as many countries as there are victims. It is not childish to not include you; it is protocol.”

“Protocol? Stumbling blindly around Canada without checking in with your team is you following protocol? Letting your brother run straight back into a city with a criminal underbelly ruled by two extremely dangerous individuals—individuals who have a personal interest in him—is following protocol?”

Don’t take the bait. I take a breath without looking away. “There was a thread to follow, and I followed it just like I was taught—”

“I did not teach you whatever this is.”

“You taught me to be thorough and cautious—”

“This is caution?” He gestures to Patrick’s board and glares, but it isn’t the mocking glance I would expect. He’s reading it and I don’t think he likes it. He’s also not surprised and while that is normal for him, not reacting at all is suspicious—that board is an annotated horror show. He’s either deep in denial or he already knows, and his reputation is as a man who doesn’t flinch away from anything. I always admired that about him.

I take a deep breath and move to sit on Pat’s bed so I’m at eye level with him. “He didn’t kill just under six thousand people in three years,” I start and raise a hand when Grandpa opens his mouth. “It would have been too risky for him to do all of that while he was part of Alpha Squad. And with all his power?” I shake my head. “Who could tell him no? You had just turned seventy, Dad had just retired from field work, and most of his original team had been long retired before him. My team and I were too green and even now all of us at our best wouldn’t have been enough. Did he ask for the job?”

Now Grandpa stares at me in rare open surprise; it feels like an accomplishment all on its own, but I don’t have time or room to enjoy it. After a moment he finally takes his eyes off me and stares at his knees.

“I really have underestimated you, Mina.”

“Not bad for ‘stumbling blindly around Canada?’”

He huffs. “I thought giving you plausible deniability would be more useful.”

Something almost cracks in my chest. Cold spills through it and settles just below my heart wanting me to shiver, to sob, to scream, to do anything that isn’t just sitting here in some strange mixture of resignation and shock. But I don’t flinch.

“What have you done?” I ask. I don’t want the answer—I don’t want any of this—but I will face it.

“What I’ve always done. What this family has always done. Our duty, as it was passed to me, as it was passed to you, is to protect the Association and all it stands for.”

“By violating what it stands for?” I demand.

Disappointment crosses his face. “What the Association is meant to do is stand as a show of strength and unity the way the magical community does. Both groups are a warning against the exploitation of magical and meta abilities to anyone who wants them like every empire in the last four thousand years. That message is even more critical to send in the nuclear age. My father made the Association and gathered us all together under one banner but unlike the magical community, he put us back in our communities to ‘protect’ them. What we’re really doing is just ensuring that any sort of government effort to restrict us would be seen as unpopular to the masses at best and a guarantee they’d be hitting their own at worst.”

“There’s more to it than that!” I argue and stand up again.

“Of course there is nowadays,” he agrees. “Services for the unique needs of some metas keep the cash flowing but this is a time of peace. Membership was going down every year until Appraisal and Acquisition were found to be kidnapping people for their powers. Suddenly, people remembered that the Association protects them from people who want to abuse their powers.”

“Like you did with Nathan?” I snap.

“That is different—”

“Not from where I’m standing!”

“He volunteered!”

“Of course he did if you spun that garbage for him!” I shout.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing but I do anyway. The family legacy is his life.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He stands up and only a wordless, desperate warning from Jax downstairs lets me be able to counter what feels like a stun charm. He didn’t even have to lift a finger or say a word, but the spell was perfect anyway.

It doesn’t matter now. I break his spell and in that brief moment of shock—because neither of us can believe that I pulled that off—I hear the scraping of chairs downstairs.

Grandpa hears it too and immediately raises his hands. I only just get my barriers up before he blasts me through Patrick’s window and into open air. Only instinct from years of training lets me correct my trajectory and come up in a defensive stance without landing. He follows me into the air; being seventy-three isn’t much of an impediment when flight is involved.

He dives right at me and gets a hand on my shirt, but I roll out of the way and come up with a stun of my own like I was trained. It doesn’t work; the intent behind my spell is embarrassingly weak because I can’t even fathom hurting family. Not only that, but casting against my Source makes my arm go numb as the spell rebounds.

Grandpa apparently has no such hangups because another next blast sends me almost to the ground. I expect to eat dirt, but Patrick catches me and the next thing I know I’m at the edge of the barrier.

“What is going on?” he asks.

“Are you hurt?” Jax asks.

“Stay with Hannah,” I order. I get confusion and frustration from him but ultimately acceptance. He’s not ready for a fight and he knows it.

Adamantine clearly is. She’s sprinting right at us with Grandpa close behind in the air. I see Mom stick her head through the remains of Patrick’s window, but Dad flies out the front door and right to us.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands, pulling ahead of the other two and blocking them off from Patrick and me.

“Your daughter’s been holding out on us,” Grandpa holds up Liam’s notes.

“It’s my investigation and I’m handling it,” I say but I can’t help but check my pocket. He actually pickpocketed me. Luckily, the pill container is in my other pocket and is still there.

“Give them to me,” Dad orders, and Grandpa reluctantly hands them over. “Mina, what is this?”

“It’s the spell that Liam used—"

“To kill Nathan? Why do you have it?” he asks.

“Because he left it for me when he left the list,” I answer. “But that’s not important right now; Grandpa—”

“Is wondering why you feel the need to keep us in the dark,” Grandpa starts. “Come on, kid, you know better than to go it alone when you’re in over your own head. You’ve got your father’s pride but attacking me is step too far.”

Dad looks at me and I fight back the embarrassment? Rage? “You attacked me first.” It sounds childish but I don’t know what else to do. He actually tried to hurt me; what if Patrick hadn’t caught me?

“Breathe,” Jax soothes. “I know all of this hurts, but you need to breathe.”

“Oh? Which of us is suffering recoil?” Grandpa counters, and I realize that he really isn’t. He holds up his hands and they’re not marked or burned or even shaking.

Now I lose control of the sob in my chest. At the core of his being, I’m not family to him. When did that happen?

But that’s not how Dad sees it—how could he? When I don’t raise my arm, he steps forward and grabs my wrist, pulling up sharply. I almost scream at how tender it is but even if I had managed to hide that, there’s no hiding the grey running parallel to my veins or the uncomfortable thrum of the aberrant magic under my skin. There’s no way he doesn’t notice.

“What have you done?” Dad calmly asks but he might as well have shouted.

I can’t say anything. I try but I can’t find my voice. I need to calm down. I need to be in control.

I need to fix this but how?

“For god’s sake, let her go.” Patrick flicks his pinky at Dad’s wrist to get him to drop my arm before stepping in front of me. I can’t help it; I shrink behind him and try to massage my arm against my chest. I’ve never had a rebound this bad before and this isn’t some stupid apprentice mishap.

“Do you need help?” Jax asks.

“Stay put!” I snap and I almost feel him flinch but much like his hugs, the assurance remains. It certainly isn’t me feeling this confident.

“I’ll keep Hannah safe even if it’s against your old man,” he promises.

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” I admit. My certainty in anything is cracking. I really don’t know what anyone is capable of. “But I think his plan hinges on Liam dying quietly to cover his mistakes.”

“Then I won’t let him do anything. How do I get Hannah out of here?” Jax asks.

“I’ll draw them away. Dad will follow me for sure. It’ll be you and Pat against Sam and Grandpa if he doesn’t also follow me,” I explain.

“Are you sure?”

I am so tired of everyone doubting me! “I can get you five minutes at least!”

There’s no reproach, only a brief apology and a wish for luck and then he’s gone and suddenly this is all so much scarier and heartbreaking. I can’t worry about that now and fling myself backwards through the barrier.

It’s fighting me worse than it should be, and I see Grandpa weaving his fingers to try and shut the exit. Luckily, wards are meant to prevent entry and not exit. I strain to fly for that extra boost and Sam steps up through the air as if climbing stairs to grab my ankle. Pat runs up the barrier—it has just enough solidity to give him traction. He grabs Sam and grapples her mid air; she has to let me go to maintain balance and, in that moment, something grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me the rest of the way through. I just barely keep airborne, but I don’t see what grabbed me.

I can’t worry about that now as Dad runs past Pat and Sam fighting and starts following me. I land and run to the shack. If anything I do with this plan is going to matter, I need to sever their communications to the rest of the Association. It’ll strand Jax and Hannah, but Pat at least can run for help with either or both of them.

“Mina!” Dad shouts but I barricade the door and cast four different locking spells on the doors and windows which were reinforced against magic before they were installed. The printer dies with a sad fizzle, but I just bought myself at least two minutes to…what?

I feel the pill container in my jeans. Apparently I have two minutes to do something incredibly stupid. Damn it, Liam!

“Mina, let me in,” Dad orders but I’m already drawing the spell circle on the floor. “Please, we can talk about this.”

“Oh, now I get a say?” I snap back, filling in the runes from memory, drawing the space for the material component. Permanent marker on hardwood floor is not an ideal medium for rune casting but I am out of options. There’s no way this will work but I’ve been wrong about so much lately, maybe just maybe I’m wrong about that too.

“What are you doing?” Dad demands and I see he’s moved to the window. “No! Don’t try it! Mina, please!”

I draw the last rune and put the pebble in its place.

The shack shakes and the whole building pitches back off of its foundations as Dad gets desperate enough to apparently shatter the walls and blast the roof off but it’s too late. I lend my magic to the spell and my vision goes white.  

Chapter Text

I’m more aware of the brilliant colors raining down on us than I am the thousands of tonnes of concrete in front of them. The Facility’s dull grey ceiling breaks apart and brilliant orange and yellow fire spills into the gym through the cracks. Sparks fall from the dull fluorescent lights as they fall away from the ceiling and the cold grey aesthetic vanishes for the first time since I can remember. I’m not even sure I have names for these colors beyond the crayons Appraisal lets me have if I’m good.

My sister is pulling on me to try and get me to move but I’ve got so much time to watch this. It’s far too beautiful not to. I’m fast enough to run us both to safety when it gets too close anyway. The falling ceiling parts down the middle and the explosion swirls away from us toward the walls of what used to be the gymnasium. This might make running a bit more difficult now that the doors are on fire. I may as well keep watching.

There are people in the new gap, two are falling and two are gliding safely downwards towards us. The sky behind them is so blue. When was the last time I saw that?

I think I recognize them; this is Alpha Squad isn’t it? Appraisal doesn’t like them which makes me think that they’re better people than he says they are. The first down is a short woman in blue armor, and she speeds straight down past the others into Acquisition feet first like she weighs a ton, but the Madam just grabs hold of her ankles, swings her around and throws her into one of the cracking walls.

With her own momentum against her, she hits the wall hard enough to leave an impact crater. The blue in her suit disappears as the wall as it collapses, but I think that was intentional. Vines erupt from under the floor, adding shades of green I have never seen before and suddenly Acquisition is restrained and struggling. Since when could anything do that to her?

“Adamantine, sound off!” the man dressed as a stage magician that’s gliding down—the new Major Arcana—calls and there’s shifting under the rubble. She actually survived that? She’s gotta be tougher than my sister.

The next one to come crashing down is a tall man in red body armor. I think his name is Stalagmight? He lands with a similar boom near Appraisal and our drill instructor, Gary. Appraisal runs while Gary gets punched across the face and goes down hard. Good; I hate that guy.

 Out of the vines, a fifth person made of plants forms and immediately tries to help Adamantine out of the rubble but Adamantine just stands up out of the pile with a smug smirk as Acquisition tries to break through the vines holding her. The plant hero must be new; I don’t know them.

Major Arcana and his grey friend land softly near one of the service tunnels which is open now that the door has been torn apart by a chunk of concrete the size of a car. I don’t recognize the grey person either. They run into the tunnel without looking back and the Major stands guard over the entrance hands at the ready. The computer room I’m not allowed near is that way.

Now that the fire and concrete aren’t going to hit us, my sister changes her mind on running and tries to pull me in the opposite direction towards the door that leads to our room. Unfortunately, that door is right next to Appraisal. I really don’t want to go near him right now; he has that look on his face as he watches his base fall apart. I almost want to tell our five invaders to run but I can’t find my voice. This is all happening fast even for me.

I’m not sure they could hear me anyway. Major Arcana spots us and starts running towards us, leaving the service tunnel unguarded.

“Stal, there’s kids!” he shouts. Stalagmight turns towards us with open fear on his face—he’s not scared of us, is he? That doesn’t seem to be it. “Switch with me!”

Appraisal spots us too and sprints towards us, face full of fury. Nothing else matters to me except we have to get away from him and I go to grab my sister and finally escape, but she’s stuck herself in place again and nothing can dislodge her unless they break her focus. Only the Madam has ever managed to get her to let go. Stalagmight looks like he wants to chase Appraisal down but Major Arcana flies over him and he goes for the tunnel instead.

As much as I want to get away, I am not leaving my sister. Not ever. I put myself in front of her and whoever gets to us first has to go through me.

That doesn’t seem to be Major Arcana’s plan as he catches up to Appraisal and waves a hand. The air distorts in front of Appraisal, and he runs into it like with a loud crack and staggers back holding his nose. I know that shade of red more than I should but it’s so weird to see it on him of all people. Major Arcana takes the opportunity to run past him, shrugging out of his black coat as he runs and drapes it around us both. I’m too stunned to move.

“Stay here,” he says and turns back to where Appraisal is holding his face. He’s not running away; that can’t be a good sign.

“Oh, you’ll pay dearly for that,” Appraisal promises, and I believe him. Even if it’s Major Arcana, he can’t just make the Master of Appraisal bleed and get away with it.

“I’m sure I’ll live,” the Major retorts and pulls back his left hand like he’s holding something, and Appraisal’s legs sweep out from under him, landing him squarely on his back.

Appraisal grunts but covers it up with a laugh. “Oh I will guarantee it, Adam Ewert; you’ll need to watch after all. What’s her name? Your daught—”

I see the sphere of power form above where Appraisal is lying and I see it crash down onto him, denting the floor in the next second. That impact shakes the floor hard enough to distract everyone. Acquisition looks at where Appraisal is—there’s no way that was enough to finish him off—and shrieks high enough my teeth hurt for what feels like an eternity. The five of them have to cover their ears and whatever focus the green hero has on their vines breaks.

Acquisition leaps across the room in a single bound at Major Arcana who instead of trying to fight her turns and grabs us. Maybe it’s because she’s too shocked but my sister doesn’t stay rooted, and he sweeps us up and runs toward the hall his friends have just disappeared into. He puts us down through the threshold and stands between us and her in the doorway.

Acquisition doesn’t care and lines up to charge at him. The plant hero gets in her way—they shouldn’t get in the Madam’s way!

Acquisition swings wide as she approaches, trying to just swat her opponent away like I’ve seen her do to anyone who doesn’t move out of her way fast enough, but the hero grabs her arm in the vines again and tries to pull her down. These vines are different; they’re covered in vibrant red and blue thorns in a way that screams “Poison!” Acquisition doesn’t fight it this time and the hero actually gets their vibrant green hand on the Madam’s face where her mouth is. Sickly and purple bruising sprouts immediately across Acquisition’s chin and the Madam actually looks terrified for a very, very brief moment. I didn’t know her face could look like that. If it wasn’t for my speed, I would have missed it. The Madam of Acquisition showed genuine fear, and I actually got to see it. What could she possibly be afraid of?

Then Acquisition’s fury is back and focused entirely on her opponent who has managed to get their other hand on the Madam’s remaining wrist. At first, I think they’re evenly matched but then I realize that Acquisition isn’t trying to get free on purpose. I’m not the only one who sees it.

“Viridian, let her go!” Adamantine screams but it’s already too late. Acquisition’s face might be multiple sickly colors right now but grabs the hero by the throat anyway. I turn to cover my sister’s ears and block her sight but as I turn to protect her, the world goes completely colorless for far less than a second and all sound mutes to nothing.

The fire, the sky, everyone’s uniforms—everything goes black and white and utterly silent for about the same time as I saw the fear on Acquisition’s face. It makes that white coat of hers stand out as eerily bright. The hero starts to fall—she’s alive but something has changed about her. The Madam turns to me next and that just shouldn’t be possible. Her face is unnaturally angled on her body, and I shut my eyes and cover my sister’s face.

“You’d better keep quiet,” she warns.

I can hear her perfectly—it’s the only thing I can hear—then the sound of fire and combat and the alarms return, and I can see the blue in my sister’s eyes. She didn’t see; none of them saw or heard what just happened. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as I can or speak fast enough that only I can hear. I carefully turn back but I don’t want to see her. I see some of the vines across the room. They’re withering away to a dull brown.

I hear Viridian hit the floor and suddenly there’s more yelling from Major Arcana and enraged screaming from Adamantine who skids on her knees to her friend’s side. I can’t help but turn all the way back to look. The Major blasts the Madam back a few feet but Acquisition doesn’t care. She’s staring at her hands like none of us even exist.

“Run, love,” Appraisal urges from the floor, and she does, jumping up through the hole in the ceiling and into the blue beyond. I’ve never seen her run from anyone before; I’ve never seen a lot of things from her before. Just when I think she couldn’t be any more terrifying, she finds a way to surprise me. When will I learn?

“Addie, the kids; get them out of here,” Major Arcana orders but she doesn’t move. “Adamantine! Secure Appraisal first—let me—"

He stops as Viridian has started moving slowly. They’re alive but something is still wrong about them, and I think Major Arcana knows it too because he doesn’t seem relieved that they’re okay. He tries to help them up, but their arm unravels back into the vines that made them. Faster than any of them can react, Viridian becomes nothing but weeds retreating into the earth.

“V-Viridian?” Adamantine asks. She tries to say something else, but it catches in her throat and it seems to confuse her. “I can’t—”

Major Arcana tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but she bats him away. “What was their name? Their real name—Major, we know their name. They told us the day we met!”

He nods, face paling. Hands shaking.

“Then why can’t I just say it?” Adamantine demands. “Major, what is their name?”

Appraisal starts laughing—and coughing up blood—and it catches both their attention.

Major Arcana stands up and strides over to him, sparks flying off his hands and the rubble parting out of his way before him. I back up two steps but it’s too fascinating to see Appraisal get pulled off the ground by his own tie by someone who is somehow scarier than he is. I’d be afraid of him but it’s so obvious that his anger is not for us.

“What did she just do?” Major Arcana growls.

Appraisal just laughs in his face. “You think I know?”

“You married her!”

“I don’t have to understand her to worship at her feet,” Appraisal scoffs. “Even if I see her better than most, she is still such a sublime mystery—it adds to the allure.”

I hear a voice on the intercom down the hallway where the two other heroes went. Since the PA system is gone in here, I have to strain to hear a voice declaring that to the whole Facility that the computer systems and door controls were under Ghost’s control now. That must be the grey hero I saw. Maybe grey isn’t such a bad color after all.

“He’d better rot in a cell for this,” Adamantine swears.

“Don’t…bet on it,” Appraisal smirks before going limp and dropping to the ground as the Major lets the tie slip through his fingers.

oOoOoOo

Mina yawns, which means my sister yawns, which means I yawn. Christine—Mom, I guess now—chuckles watching us by the mage light. The sky is getting lighter in the east and it’s cold even though it’s July.

“We’re minutes out,” Joseph—Grandpa?—announces, setting a large metal bowl on the ground right next to the barrier.

“Why did we have to be up at dawn?” my sister complains.

“Ah, because dawn is a powerful symbol of new beginnings and fresh starts,” Adam—Dad, I get to call Major Arcana Dad—explains past the huge smile. “So dawn is the best time to do this. You two are at a crossroads in your lives since you were rescued and over the last few months, we’ve all become something more to each other than what we were: we’ve become family. This is just making it official.”

“Right now, you’re still technically guests,” Mom continues the explanation. “You have Permission to get through the wards, but that permission can still be revoked. We’re going to add you to the wards as the sun comes up so that every day after this you aren’t just the kids we’re protecting, you’re ours. The wards will never keep you out and you can extend Permission to others on your own.”

“Which we will need you to be responsible about,” Grandpa interrupts. “This place will be yours to protect now too.”

“But I can’t do anything,” my sister objects. “I got the stupidest power ever.”

“Well now, that’s not true,” Grandpa gently disagrees. “You just have to find the best use for it; Adamantine and Stalagmight have some ideas for you.”

“We can talk about that later,” Mom warns. “Normally, these sorts of promises are sworn in blood, but…”

“No more needles, please,” I beg.

“I don’t bleed,” my sister adds.

“And so we need a way to forge this connection with something else, something that is a part of you, but can be connected to us,” Dad looks at us all. “What do you think, Mina?”

My new older sister thinks it over. “It’s Meaning over Material, right?”

An approving nod from Dad.

“Then…what about our hair? We’re all between hair cuts right now; we can braid it together. It’s something we’d have to make together rather than it simply being from us,” Mina suggests and pulls her dark hair forward, sliding it out of the hot pink scrunchie.

“An excellent suggestion,” Dad nods.

“We’ll have to be quick,” Mom warns and cuts several long strands of hair from her own head with a wave of a finger. “May I?” She asks me. I nod and she takes a chunk from the side. It has been getting kinda long. She holds it in the air and ties the strands end to end as Dad and Grandpa are doing the same thing. Dad finishes first and helps Mina and my sister with theirs.

Six strands of hair, one in my reddish brown, one blonde, three in dark brown and one snowy white. We each hold the end of ours while Mom starts weaving them together. I’ve never braided hair before but once I see the pattern forming, it’s easy to follow. I pass my end to Mina and taking up Mom’s, then passing Mom’s to Grandpa and picking up one of the dark ones. Once it’s done, she burns the ends together and puts it in the bowl as a ring.

“This next part is for the parents.” Grandpa trades places with Dad so Mom and Dad are practically leaning up against the wards, hands on the bowl.

“Remember what we told you about your true names,” Mom encourages. “Now is the time to change them. Leave the crossroads and choose for yourselves the path you want to walk.”

“It’s time,” Grandpa urges.

“Samantha Carol Ewert,” my sister says. She’d been agonizing on that middle name for days. I figured I’d have some idea by now, but I’m still stuck. Now it’s basically too late.

I panic. “Patrick Star Ewert!”

“From that cartoon?” Grandpa frowns.

Mom just laughs and she and Dad push the bowl into the wards right as the first rays of the sun hit the barrier. The whole dome shines briefly in gold and the bowl and the braid are gone.

“Well, little starfish, how about some breakfast?” Mom teases.

It might be from panic, but it still feels right. It’s comfortable somehow and the old name just feels clunky and awkward—not that it was much of a name to begin with. I’m pretty sure Sam is the same way—I’m not even sure I remember her old name. Based on her face, I’m guessing she feels the same.

“Weird,” I say.

“But does it feel like home?” Dad asks.

I look at the house behind us. We’ve been here for months but just existing here didn’t bring familiarity; it was just a nicer place to live than the Facility.

Now I see dawn hitting the blue walls and reflecting off of Mina’s window and I feel…settled. Warm. Not just protected but something more.  I might have to try and paint this feeling for my therapist. I like it, I think.

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

Chapter Text

“Kids! Your sister’s here!” Mom calls.

Mina frowns and I fight to keep lunch down. It’s exactly like she said: I can accept that Liam was right about Nathan and one of my best friends was a mass murderer but every cell in my body wants him to be wrong about Sam. This has to be typical supervillain manipulation and that would track if Appraisal was interested in Liam enough to meet him at least once. That message made my skin crawl when I watched it; I believe Hannah when she says she raised a good man, but I also think Appraisal must have had a significant part of the last four months to sink his teeth into Liam if he could be that terrifying.

I know how he likes keeping useful people around.

Then there’s this whole mess threatening to catch fire in front of me. I’ve never seen Grandpa this intense about anything and Mina is matching him perfectly. I’m not sure she’s really accepted what’s about to happen, but her optimism is the bedrock of our relationship.

She only looks away from him a fraction of a second to nod at me. “Go.”

I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. It’s a little alarming that she and Grandpa are doing that polite magician hands-in-view show of good faith; I would assume that good faith was implied but I never really paid attention to the etiquette lessons for mages. I didn’t think I’d need to.

I leave the room and skid to a stop outside the house. Sam didn’t change out of her green armour which isn’t typical; she doesn’t like to bring work home. She sees me and starts running, not even slowing down to keep from colliding. I don’t stop her, and she just picks me right up off the ground and spins me around in a massive hug.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She demands right into my ear. Fuck everything else, I need this. I hug her back and just breathe.

I purposefully take a whole minute before I say “They needed help—”

“Not that badly,” she disagrees, setting me down and gripping my shoulders. “Vancouver? She—“ Sam spits out the word with all the hatred she still has for the Madam “could have killed you! Or worse.” The fight goes out of her. The fear she never really let go of is back. “She could have taken you back.”

“But she didn’t.”

“She might have tried. We both know what she could have done to you if she really wanted to.”

“But she didn’t,” I repeat. Of course I know what Acquisition is capable of; I know better than Sam does! “I think she hates the Soothsayer more than she wants us back.”

“She can have him!” Sam spits. “Let them tear each other apart and save us the trouble.”

Here goes. “Because if Appraisal kills him then you won’t have to?” I ask.

She lets me go and I take a step back, not breaking eye contact. She’s the one who looks away and I see her shoulders start to shake. I can see her trying to figure out something out in her head like who told her or how I knew—no, I can’t assume anything.

I’m now keenly aware of the telepath in my kitchen but if Jax is listening, he’s not telling me about it.

“It’s not true, right?” I ask. One last bit of hope but I know how Sam thinks. “It’s one thing if they asked that of you—that’s on them—but tell me you didn’t say yes.”

By the sudden gasp, I have my answer, but I want to hear her say that I’m wrong. She doesn’t.

“Sammy…”

“He’s a threat to the Association—”

“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I cut her off. “The Association is—Nathan was—”

She tries to hide the recognition behind shock, but her emotions might as well be slow dancing across her face.

“You knew.” I accuse. I have to take another step back towards the house. “When did they tell you what our captain had done and when did you decide not to come to me or Mina about it?”

“It’s to protect you both!” she hisses.

“Protect me? My sister becoming a murderer doesn’t protect anything because I will not have a murderer for a sister,” I declare and something about her freezes. She’s quick to try and mask it but I still see it. She can’t have already—she wouldn’t just—how could she have agreed?

I can’t afford to lose control here. I grab hold of the ball of yarn that starts festering in my over thinking speedster brain. Feel it, pick it apart to its base components and name them. I can draw it or paint it out later, I can talk to—who can I even talk to? Nope, think rationally. I still have Mom. Mina. Jax. Ghost. I am not alone; this will not break me. It can’t.

“Who?” I choke out.

She doesn’t answer and actually has the audacity to look offended. I would rather fist fight Acquisition again rather than face the emptiness in my chest. Something presses on my mind, a slow but persistent alarm that I only realize is Jax trying to talk to me when I hear the window on my room shatter. I turn and see Mina tumbling backwards before reorienting herself. Grandpa is right behind her—are they actually fighting?

He dives at her, and she rolls to avoid letting him touch her. He does get something in his hand before she tries to stun him. I’ve seen her do that a hundred times, but it doesn’t work and it looks like she’s the one in pain.

Grandpa lets loose his own loud and concussive spell and I know there’s no way at that distance for Mina to avoid hitting the ground. I catch her right before she does and loop the house before ending up at the entrance in the wards.

“What is going on?” I demand but she doesn’t answer me; she just looks back at the house. Her arm is shaking and she’s clearly breathing through the pain, but her eyes are fixed on Grandpa flying towards us and Sam who’s sprinting.

Dad flies out of the house towards us, easily overtaking the other two and landing between us.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands. I also want to know but it’s all I can do to keep it together. I can barely look at Sam, but I have to because that’s where everyone is.

“Your daughter’s been holding out on us,” Grandpa accuses and holds up two pieces of paper I assume he stole from her during their ‘fight.’

“It’s my investigation and I’m handling it,” Mina counters, checking her pockets quickly.

“Give them to me,” Dad demands, and Grandpa hesitates but hands them over. Dad gives them a cursory glance. “Mina, what is this?”

“It’s the spell Liam used—”

“To kill Nathan? Why do you have it?” Dad demands.

“Because he left it for me when he left that list,” she answers. “But that’s not important right now; Grandpa—”

“Is wondering why you feel the need to keep us in the dark,” Grandpa interrupts. “Come on, kid, you know better than to go it alone when you’re in over your own head. You’ve got your father’s pride but attacking me is a step too far.”

I am one hundred percent positive that that is bullshit. Mina flinches and unfortunately for her she blushes when frazzled by someone she respects. “You attacked me first.”

It takes more than a lot of self control to not immediately react to that. He’s been my grandfather for ten years, but Mina’s also been my sister for that time. I don’t know what to do; I can’t help but look at her to tell me but she’s falling apart and still clearly in pain and instead of helping, Dad is caught between them.

“Oh?” Grandpa smirks. “Which of us is suffering recoil?”

I remember something about that from those lessons I clearly should have paid attention to. Mina looks at his hands and something in her expression just wilts. She’s fought some scary people in the last few years without any show of fear but this? I don’t know what to do with this.

So it’s especially worrying to hear the sob in her chest and the tears forming in her eyes. I don’t know what’s got her this upset but it makes my fingers curl into fists.

Dad steps forward and I don’t stop him from grabbing her arm and pulling up way too sharply. There are dark grey lines running up her arm and the trembling in her fingers is worse. More than that, the scream she lets out tells me it hurts worse than the time she broke her wrist a year ago.

“What have you done?” Dad asks. I thought he was going to help her.

“For god’s sake, let her go!” I have to remember to use my pinky to flick his wrist because any other finger would break his bones. I’m not that angry. Yet.

I step in front of Mina with the resolve to do whatever it fucking takes to get this to stop, but this is clearly some magician bullshit. I don’t know how to help. Mina is breathing hard behind me and she’s actually hiding from them. That’s fine, she can have a minute, and we can all talk this out—

Mina flings herself into the wards and all hell breaks loose. Grandpa immediately starts casting something and the wards darken to molasses where she’s trying to fly out of the barrier.

Sam steps up through the air towards her and grabs her ankle while it’s still on this side, trying to pull her back.

“Are you serious?” I call and run up the barrier—I don’t know if it’ll work but if Grandpa is trying to make the wards thicker, I can use that. I grapple my twin in the air and make such a nuisance of myself trying to put her in a headlock that she has to let Mina go and focus on keeping us airborne.

Mina keeps struggling her way up and out, but I’ve never seen the wards this clingy before on someone who isn’t a guest. I see while she’s flailing something grabs her collar based on how it stretches up—and suddenly she’s free and already flying out.

Dad dives in after her but she’s flying towards the shack. I have other problems.

“Damn it, Patrick!” Sam drops us out of the air, and I have to let go to roll when we hit the ground.

I’m up in the next second and back to grapple her again; it’s all I can do to keep her here. Sam is essentially a brick wall that can’t be moved. People have always joked our powers are opposites. If my superpower is moving superfast, hers is keeping still to the point where she can walk or stand wherever she wants for as long as she can focus—on a wall, upside down, midair, anything. Nathan once flew into her at Mach four on a bet while she was anchored and actually concussed himself. Actually fighting her is out so I’ll have to wrestle and if I can’t build momentum then she’s going to be stronger than me.

And it’s not just her I have to worry about anyway.

I see the stun coming painfully slowly towards me and save the anger for after I take the five seconds I need to pick up Grandpa, move him to the back of the property, and bury him in Mom’s garden up to his shoulders. I will deal with him later.

Sam has just started to go after Dad and Mina when I catch back up to her. I can only dodge her as she tries to punch me, and I can’t just put her in the dirt for a time out. My usual tactic of picking my opponents up and running them through a spin cycle until they puke won’t work either.

“If the Soothsayer tells the world about the Paladin, the Association will fall,” Sam tries.

“You don’t know that!” I counter as I grab her fist and try to lock it behind her back. She just runs up mid air like it’s a wall, rolls across my shoulders and tries to headlock me.

“I can’t take that chance! Without the Association, we are sitting ducks! Appraisal will come back for us—”

“You don’t know that either!” I duck out of the headlock and just barely avoid the kick as she swings down. If I wasn’t me, she’d have won already.

Whatever she wants to say next is drowned out by a brilliant white light and a rumbling along the ground that we can feel despite the wards which shimmer across the whole property with the impact.

I turn to see the shack is completely gone and Mina with it. Considering the last time I saw that spell I got thrown in to a car, I can recognize it easily enough.

Dad can too. He was thrown halfway to the airfield and is now stumbling towards the smoking ruins. Shit, he’s bleeding.

I can deal with Sam later; I fight through the wards and catch up to him as he staggers.

“Dad, sit down,” I plead and try to pull him down.

“No,” he growls but he’s not really able to fend anyone off right now. “There’s no way.”

I leave him and check the wreckage. Everything has been reduced to splinters and there’s a very familiar rune scorched into what’s left of the floor. It’s not as pretty as Liam’s but more importantly, there isn’t a body in the middle of it.

Mina did it. I refuse to believe otherwise. If Liam left her instructions, he must have known she could pull this off. If not, and he set her up to fail, then I will quickly lose the ability to judge Sam for her choices.

Sam is through the barrier and running at Dad; Mom, Hannah and Jax are following. I see Grandpa fly above the house possibly because I forgot to tape his mouth shut earlier, fuck.

“Is she—” Dad calls before finally falling to his knees. I’m back with him in the next instant.

“She’s alive, understand? If anyone can figure it out, it’s Mina,” I insist, trying to hold him up.

“But I couldn’t even—”

“That doesn’t mean shit and you know it. Mina figured out the Soothsayer was alive before his grand reveal; she’ll have figured this out too.” Certainty in her is about all I have going for me at this point. I kinda wish she hadn’t torched all of our comms on her way out, though.

I’m not sure if Dad has accepted my logic or if he’s just badly concussed but I can argue with him later. Sam and Mom make it through the wards with Hannah and Jax struggling to get out behind them. Grandpa starts flying towards the barrier but he’s staying up and out of my reach.

“Adam!” Mom calls and flies towards us.

“He needs a hospital,” Sam insists when she catches up. “Pat, you have to take him.”

Of course, I know that, but even I’m not fast enough to just leave this mess unsupervised for the time it would take to get him to town. Mom grabs hold of Dad as he sags slightly but my attention is on Grandpa nearing the wards. I go to Jax and Hannah instead to get them the rest of the way out. Jax keeps one hand on my arm and the other around Hannah’s shoulders.

“What’s happening?” Hannah asks.

“I wish I knew,” I admit. “Do we run?”

“Your dad needs help,” Jax argues.

“That’s leaving you two alone with Gramps and Sam,” I object, looking back to where Sam is still with Mom and Dad.

It’s hard to look at Sam like she’s a threat when she’s shoulder to shoulder with our parents wearing the armor I helped her design when she became a hero. Her guard is completely down—if I was fast enough, could I get her far enough away to get her out of this fight before she anchored herself back in place? Would it be far enough to get her out of this fight and win? I want to throw up just thinking about it but what choice do I have?

A reassuring squeeze and Jax sets me down.

Grandpa has reached the wards. He usually has the easiest time with them, but he seems to be struggling this time. That’s fine, I’ll do anything for more time right now. I take the first step to build the speed necessary to get Sam away from our parents and freeze. I can’t fucking do this. More than that, Liam risked pissing off the Master of Appraisal to tell me not to, didn’t he? If Mina can trust that guy enough to try casting a super dangerous spell, can I?

I pull away from Jax and Hannah and walk at normal speeds back to where Dad is.

“Truce,” I tell Sam.

She nods.

I carefully lift up Dad and make sure his head is properly supported before I run.  

Chapter Text

Without the usual alarm clock to slam me back into consciousness, it takes a moment for the rain to wake me up. I haven’t been woken up so gently in an incredibly long time considering Appraisal had us all on a rigid schedule. For our mental health, he said. Like he wasn’t the cause of all our problems.

I’d be tempted to just lie here and listen to the rain hitting the cliffs above our cave, but we are definitely in a cave and my ability to instantly recover from spending the night—or day—on a stone floor only starts when I actually get off the floor and stretch.

There’s a moment of panic when I don’t immediately spot Amelia’s wings in the dark next to where Liam is still out of it, but she’s right by the door peeking out with the flashlight when I turn around. Of course she would be; when was the last time she saw the sky without a pane of glass in the way?

When was the last time I did? I am not awake enough to think about that safely.

Amelia sticks one hand out into the rain, just past the barrier hiding us from the outside. The sun is down so no one should still be around here to notice her sticking a hand through the illusion. She wants to step out; I can see it in her shoulders.

“You’ll get your wings wet,” I whisper to her, but I doubt she’s going to listen to me.

It was a half-hearted warning anyway even before I see the astonished look on her face when she turns back to face me; the plea in her eyes makes her more puppy than bird. She needs this. If I was completely sure the idiot still asleep next to me wouldn’t poof himself out of this cave without us to fight on his own, I’d go with her.

I relent and nod permission. “Keep close, don’t get lost.”

Amelia takes a tentative step outside of our cave house and the illusory barrier Liam put up yesterday ripples with one of the flashlights we managed to barter from a gift shop on our way here. I can still see her as she looks up into the dark sky, lightly flinching as the drops hit her right in the face. She puffs out her wings and flaps a few times. Normally that means she’s agitated but she’s smiling and twirling around in the rain as it slowly grows stronger.

She’s a chick in a birdbath. That is adorable; I wish I had a phone but even if that wasn’t a risk, any technology we had cooked itself on the way here. If we hadn’t found that nice bus driver who gave us a ride and let us borrow his phone, that video would have gone out much later.

The Reappearing Stage Magician is much more impressive when the audience is still watching, I guess. Personally, I think faking our deaths would have been easier, but Liam said no almost immediately. I’m still a little shocked at how he could accurately type dozens of phone numbers that fast but from what I’ve gathered about his childhood, he did not get out much before all this happened.

Thunder rumbles overhead and Amelia screams and runs back inside.

“You’re okay,” I promise when I suddenly have my arms full of damp bird-child. At least she’s holding onto my shirt and not trying to pull out her own feathers from stress, but we’ve dumped a lot on her lap in the last twenty-four hours.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“Why?”

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this when I helped Liam escape. Neither of us saw it coming.”

“I thought he’s psychic,” she says, still buried against my chest.

“He is and he isn’t.”

“How does that work?” she asks, clearly confused. That’s on me.

Liam stirs next to us, but I gently smooth a lock of hair out of his face. “Go back to sleep.”

He does but he’s not as relaxed as I’d like and there’s not exactly a bed in the abandoned cave village. At least the backpack made it and can be a serviceable pillow.

“Is he okay? He’s been out since the bus.” Mia asks and Liam flinches. He must not be as out as I thought, and children are curious.

“He’ll be just fine,” I start “but there’s something we need to talk about first and I need you to not ask any questions right now.”

“What’s—”

“Not any questions, Mia. This is serious. Any sentence or part of a sentence that begins with who, what, when, why, or how could be a question—I know Sonja taught you that in school.”

She nods. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“It’s very important because of how Liam’s power works.”

“Because he’s psychic,” she assumes.

“He’s not actually psychic; that’s just what Appraisal wanted us to tell everyone. When Liam asks questions himself or hears them, he gets the answers automatically.”

“Like a computer?”

“Something like that. The kicker is some questions can hurt him. Even ones that seem small to us might get answers that are too big for him to safely know.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” I agree. “But that’s how it is. If you’re not sure, try to remember to phrase your questions like statements. For example, instead of asking if he’s feeling okay, just say ‘you look sick.’ He’ll understand what you mean.”

“M’fine,” he mumbles.

“He’ll also lie; he shouldn’t do that,” I pointedly add so he hears.

“Liam! Are you—” Amelia starts.

I clear my throat loudly and raise an eyebrow at her.

“I mean, you look like death,” she tries again. I nod.

Liam chuckles, still not opening his eyes. “I’m not gonna die today.”

It occurs to me that he probably knows the exact date and time for that but if he doesn’t, I don’t want to do that to him.

“How long since Tsawwassen?” he asks.

Mia looks at me to answer that, but I just shake my head. “He knows that already. It’s why he asked. The real question is about whether he’s rested enough.”

“Nice phrasing,” he evades.

“Liam.”

“I can lie here a bit longer,” he hesitantly agrees. “The longer I stay down, the better the odds.”

“The odds of what?” Amelia cautiously prods, finally climbing out of my lap.

Now Liam sits up. Even if I healed him—and I’m still waiting on the story behind how I did that without living through everything Appraisal and Carl did to him—the mental toll is something else. He seems fine but he’s also the apprentice of a professional liar and far too stubborn for his own good.

Liam smiles at her. “You’ve been playing in the rain.”

“Elena said I could,” she says, lowering her gaze like she’s done something wrong.

“He’s asking if you had fun,” I clarify.

“Why not just ask me?” she says and freezes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It takes some getting used to. I didn’t ask directly because I wanted you to answer and not my superpower,” Liam explains.

“So you just know anything you ask,” she says. “That’s cool.”

“It has its moments. The less I use it right now the better, however.”

“Because he’s tired,” I answer the question I know is coming.

“I’m mostly hungry,” he counters, and Amelia goes for the pile of stolen snacks we carefully looted from the gas station before the terminal. Turns out stealing is super easy with absolute certainty we wouldn’t get caught.

Liam picks up a protein bar and devours it before leaning back against the wall. “The rain sounds nice.”

“Haven’t heard it in a while,” I agree.

The thunder rumbles overhead and Amelia tries to burrow into my side again.

“Not used to thunder?” Liam prods.

“Flying in storms is dangerous,” Amelia replies, not getting up from me.

“Good advice,” he agrees.

“I’d like to know where we are,” I request.

“Turkey. This village was abandoned a few decades back due to an earthquake. It’s a neat tourist spot but we should be fine for now.”

“You chose here on purpose,” I assume.

“I did. Turkey doesn’t have much of an Association presence even in the big cities. Out here? No one was going to know who we were until we were long gone.”

“So, that bus driver…”

“By the time he sees the video online and calls the authorities to try and look for us, we’ll be back in Canada,” Liam assures me.

“We’re leaving.”

He looks uncomfortable. “Back to Vancouver.”

“It sounds like we’re leaving soon,” I prompt.

“The faster we get back to hit Appraisal, the less time he has to prepare. The timing’s going to be a bit fuzzy, but I set up this whole mess as best as I could while I was out unsupervised.”

“Does that mean—” Amelia stops. “We’re going to win.”

“Exactly,” Liam approves “but here’s the thing: we’re all going to have to be really, really brave.”

“We can’t take her with us,” I object.

“We have to. No matter how I tried to get around it, if we leave Mia somewhere safe, Acquisition will find a way to circle around us and take her back when we’re not there, and then we lose.”

“I can do it,” Mia insists, finally pulling away from me. “I can fight.”

“You won’t need to fight,” Liam promises. “But there is something that I need you to do, and you’re not gonna like it at all.”

Her wings are giving her mood away again. “Will it hurt?”

Liam reaches for her hands, and she takes them. “I will die before I let that happen, but I need you to do it anyway.”

“Tell me,” Amelia whispers.

“I need you to make peace with Soaring.”

“No!”

“I know it’s a big ask—”

“I don’t want to see him!” Mia rips her hands back and stands up. “You don’t know what he did!”

“Yes, I do,” Liam assures her “and I’m so sorry I peeked but I had to know.”

“Know what?” Mia demands, at full volume.

“How much he loves you,” Liam tells her.

“He doesn’t care about me,” Amelia scoffs.

“Yes, he does,” Liam pleads. “He loves you more than anything. It’s why we had to prove we’d survived as fast as we did because losing you would have broken him.”

“Then why—can I just ask?” Amelia demands.

“Alright,” Liam agrees.

“Why did he let Acquisition take me back then?” she demands.

“He wasn’t strong enough to stop her. It was a bad choice, and it’s hurt you for years, but I swear to you there was no other option. He wanted to fight, but that would have meant you both would have been killed. Acquisition is,” he shudders “please do not ask me anything about her, but she is worse than dangerous, and our only advantage is she is only partially aware of it. Soaring couldn’t come rescue you either because she would have seen him coming and then she and Appraisal would have killed you. The only way to save your life was to let you go and hope.”

“I don’t want to just forgive him,” she argues but she’s not yelling anymore.

“You don’t have to. I can’t tell you to forgive your dad when I haven’t forgiven mine. I just need you to be able to stand near Soaring without biting him.”

She frowns. “Does—”

“Please do not ask about my father; I don’t want to know anything about him. He doesn’t even know my name is Liam Collins. What you do in the future is up to you; if you want Soaring to leave you alone, I will make sure he does.”

I’m not sure she wants that by the sudden frown on her face. She forces herself to take a breath and her feathers settle back into place.

“I remember when I first met you, you insisted your name was Amelia,” I say. “You hated any other nickname. Soaring called you Amy.”

She glares at the floor and mumbles “Didn’t want to be his. I’m not Amy anymore. Liam, why do you call me Mia?”

“A different Amelia who is also brave and doesn’t run from anything.”

I look right at him but he’s not looking back at me on purpose. “Anne Hathaway?”

“It’s a good movie,” he defends.

Amelia takes a step back towards the door. The thunder rumbles again, but she fights to keep still and takes a step toward the door.

“I thought you hated thunder,” I say.

“I do.” She takes another step. It’s pouring outside now as the heart of the storm has reached us to the point where the wind is blowing into our cave and the delay between the flash and the boom is growing shorter. “But I want some practice being brave before we go.”

Kids are scary these days.

“You must have got a lot done in those two weeks you were missing,” I whisper to him where she can’t hear.

“I sure did,” Liam agrees and then does not elaborate.

“You’re not going to do something stupid like heroically sacrifice your way to victory,” I say. It’s not a question.

“I know,” he agrees, but I can hear the “but there is something only I can do, and I need you to let me do it no matter what it means for me. On the other side of that, there is something I am trusting to you. You’ll know it in that moment.”

Well, that’s unsettling. I nudge him in the side of his leg. “I’d like some context.”

“It would only get in the way,” he refuses. “I’d like you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

I nod. “You got us this far.” I’m going to have to pounce on him and remind him that I’m a lot more durable than he is, but if he’s going to be stubborn, I’ll have to be precise in my timing. “You’re very invested in her taking Soaring back.”

“There’s still hope for them,” he simply says. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s jealous.

“Your dad—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sounds bad,” I assume.

He grumbles but then relents. “I asked and I learned exactly what my dad feels about me. Or rather”—a sigh—“what he doesn’t. Let’s talk about anything else.”

No pity. Not here. “Understood. So when I fixed you without hurting myself, you knew I could do it.”

“Ah. I’m sorry, I needed to understand exactly how the Collection was so effective. How your power works—and some of your personal history—was part of the answer.”

“Hold on, I thought asking about him hurt you.”

He nods. “If I run into a subject that’s too much for me, I have to build up a foundation of understanding to comprehend it properly. I did that to build up a partial resistance to the backlash but Appraisal—both of them, really—uhm. We don’t have time for both conversations. You’re more important right now.”

“Okay then. I always wanted to know why I’m like this; I would have asked earlier if Appraisal hadn’t told us all not to. I never used to hurt myself, but this power never used to be this strong either. I figured I developed something like an M-RAAD, but I couldn’t let that stop me. Appraisal certainly didn’t.”

He turns to face me properly. “The answer is heavy, but it’ll be better to hear it from me and not…him.”

I shift around to mirror his posture sitting knee to knee. “I’m ready.”

Liam nods and takes a breath. “You don’t have an attribute deficiency; you are—plain and simple—burnt out. You care a lot about the people around you; it made you a wonderful nurse. Depending on the power, some meta abilities respond to a person’s emotions and for a long, long while now, your emotions have been extremely negative and directed almost entirely inward.”

I have to scoff at that. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been a captive of two supervillains and their organization for eight years. You’ve been forced to help them keep people prisoner by doing whatever it takes to make them more compliant, and you’ve seen and felt what happened to them when they refused. Even if you’ve adapted to the stress of that to survive, anyone else would be suffering permanent damage to their body and brain but you aren’t.”

“Because I heal,” I remind him “so it doesn’t matter.”

Liam shakes his head. “Continuously using your power to heal yourself has made it so much stronger than it was when you first met Appraisal, true, but that’s because it’s constantly in use to keep you healthy. Worse than that, when you heal a physical wound on someone else, you also balance their brain chemistry better than any medication could.”

“I’ve been messing with people’s brains?” I demand. It’s not phrased like a question; I hope it doesn’t count.

“Not consciously,” he insists. “You care about the people who are trapped with you. I hope you can keep that compassion in the future. It’s against your nature to not help so you’ll do whatever you need to do to protect them, and Appraisal knows it.”

“Of course he fucking does,” I spit “but if that’s what they need—” I stop when his expression changes in the dim light. It’s odd being worried over, and it’s odd that I’m not used to that feeling.

“It’s a short term fix, Elena. When people hit a noticeable low point, it’s your job to keep them healthy and in line because that’s what keeps them alive and on Appraisal’s good side, so you end up spending more time with them. From Appraisal’s perspective, it’s the perfect system except for one thing: you’re losing hope, which means you’re using more of your energy for yourself just to keep going.”

He inches closer to me as a tear falls off my cheek. When did I start crying? I snap my hand up to wipe it away, but he grabs my hands.

“You have to let it out,” he urges.

“I can’t—”

 “I know. The Collection has always looked to you for stability because you’ve been there the longest. If you’re not calm then they get restless which spirals their mental health, and you have to use more energy than you have to make up the difference. On top of all of that, you despise your power. When you use it, it’s another reminder that the very thing that gives you a bit more freedom in the Collection is the reason you’re there at all and deep down you hate that so much your power rebounds on itself as a last ditch effort to protect you.”

“But it’s always been like that,” I sob. I could break my hands out of his hold but I…don’t.

“Most meta powers are strengthened by practice. You went from being about as strong as an ibuprofen to as effective as major surgery, but you haven’t had any time to rest or recover for yourself. You need to stop. When the Collection is free and this is all over, you need to step back and rest,” he insists.

“But then how—aside from you refusing me—did you know—” I stop and breathe.

“I didn’t know any of this when we met; I just knew that you suffered when you healed. I didn’t want to do that to you, especially not when this”—he pats his chest before putting his hand back on mine—“might not have healed properly for you.”

“You said it would,” I accuse. It’s better than crying.

“And it has,” he evades. I glare at him. “Mostly. Physically.”

“And the rest?” I prompt. Hassling him is easier than thinking about all this.

“I can no longer cast healing magic but we’re not talking about me. You need a long break from using your powers. You need to relearn that they’re a gift and not a curse. You need the freedom to use them on your own terms. You’ve done your best which means you’ve done enough; you’ve been enough.”

“So in your case…I didn’t heal you for Appraisal. I healed you for you,” I reason.

He nods with a small smile. “I think—and I didn’t ask—I think you found some hope again. I’d like to think that.”

“Me too,” I admit. The fact that he knows my emotional state better than I do is worrying. I don’t have words for the ache in my chest and that can’t be good for me. At least I can attempt to be done with this conversation. “When are we leaving?”

I think he knows I’ve had enough. “Less than an hour.”

“So we do have time for more than one conversation,” I tease.

“No, you’re not done crying,” he refuses and rifles through the backpack for several travel packs of tissues.

“I can’t fall apart if we’re going to be fighting,” I argue and blow my nose.

“For the first part, you’re not going to fight.”

“Excuse you?”

“I’ll go over the plan when we’re together. Take a minute. Let some of that poison out.”

Liam moves back against the wall, and I join him. Mia is still in the doorway—I’m hoping the rain covered up our talk. I’m not going to cry—I don’t want to—but I do let myself lean on his shoulder for a few minutes.

I’ve been looking after Sonja and the others for so long, I can’t imagine life without them. I can’t imagine life outside the Collection either, but I always thought they’d be with me but isn’t that just holding them back? I was the one who kept them from breaking; would I just be a reminder of everything? Would they blame me? I certainly do.

Well apparently, Liam was right about the crying. He doesn’t say anything, but we stay huddled up in silence, watching Mia and the storm as I try and fail to keep my composure. When the rain starts to clear up—both the sky’s and mine—Liam stands up and starts drawing that damn circle on the stone floor.

“Mia,” he calls once he’s done.

I get up and wipe my face and put everything back in the bag.

“It’s time,” Mia assumes. She doesn’t look scared, but I think she’s been crying too.

“It sure is,” he agrees.

“I hate this part,” she complains.

“Me too,” he admits, kneeling down. “But at least there’s sand on the other side this time. Grab on.”

We do, both grabbing as tight as we can considering last time, and I close my eyes.

The floor rips away from our feet and I feel compressed through a tight space on the front of a bullet train. It’s only for a few seconds and we impact on warm, damp sand. I hear the waves crashing near us but aside from that, it’s quiet.

The beach we landed on is deserted when I open my eyes. I’m pretty sure Vancouver’s beaches should be fairly popular considering it’s a nice summer day. Liam gets up and shakes the dust off the shirt he stole from the ferry terminal gift shop. Mia flaps the sand out of her wings as she stands up.

And then someone screams.  

Chapter Text

I’ve had buildings collapsed on me before and Nathan’s hugs were sometimes a bit too tight, but the way this spell just crushes the air out of my lungs redefines the concept of pressure for me. At the same time, I am not at all prepared for the extreme inertia despite semi-frequent trips with Pat. Patrick has never run as fast as I feel myself going now and it’s a fight to keep myself together instead of being ripped apart. This spell—the whole concept of it—is dangerous for a very good reason. Was Liam lucky enough to have devised this or was he just this reckless? Am I already dead and I just haven’t realized it? No, Liam survived. It can be done, so I will do it too.

Just as soon as I can adjust and brace myself against it, everything instantly stops, and I get hurled forward face first onto rough, damp, sand. I breathe some in right as I inhale and roll right into a wave of cold saltwater which would be almost fine if I didn’t roll across my right arm and agitate the recoil still eating through me. I roll again but this time bury my left side in softer sand. Then everything is finally still and soaking wet and smelling like salt water and seaweed.

Did I really just pull that off?

I cough up the sand and scrape more of it from my face in a hurry to check just in time to get another stinging wave directly in my eyes. I’m outside. I’m near an ocean that Kansas definitely does not have. That is definitely the Vancouver skyline to my…north, I think. It's a bit too much of a battle just to stand and get my hair out of my face but casting with recoil was asking for trouble. I shouldn’t have risked lighting a candle, let alone hurling myself across a continent. I can almost feel both Dad and Grandpa’s grumbling about my recklessness from here when I desperately don’t want to think about either of them. Assuming they even care.

Oh fuck, I’m in Vancouver. Alone. Wounded. I’ve been on TV enough over the years that it would be a miracle if Appraisal and Acquisition hadn’t seen me. Is that enough? Do they know I’m here?

Across the bay and standing just a little bit taller than most of downtown is Appraisal’s dark glass Tower and the stain it has left on this city. The lights are all out on every floor except the top floor which is shining brightly. I can see several helicopters keeping about ten blocks away from it in any direction. The Vancouver team must have evacuated the downtown core and set up a perimeter. Hopefully Nightowl is actually doing his job properly. I should be there, injured or not, to make sure. Maybe that’s where I should go.

But maybe I’ll just take a minute first.

“Sorciere!” someone shouts behind me. I turn to see a line of news vans and trucks parked almost in the sand and a dozen cameras now pointing in my direction. “It’s Sorciere!”

“Oh my god, it is! Jerry! Jerry, bring the camera!”

So much for that plan. I’m not in costume and my hair is down, but I suppose I don’t bother covering my face normally and I did arrive via an explosion. I’m standing in my soaking wet running shoes, jeans and an oversized t-shirt that I’m just now realizing is from one of Jax’s obscure Icelandic metal bands. The Association PR department is going to be especially spiteful to me after today. The news crews all start to swarm toward me—how have they not evacuated yet? Are we even in that zone?

I want them to leave since I can’t myself. I’m not even sure I could run even though I desperately want to, pride be damned.

“Sorciere! Was that a long distance transport spell?”

“What’s the situation downtown? Has there been any movement from the Master of Appraisal?”

“Do you know where the Soothsayer is?”

It’s a struggle to keep from backing away or even clenching my fists. “No comment,” I try to sound authoritative but my arm twinges and the damage to my hand isn’t exactly covered right now. “Step back—"

Another section of the beach flares with the same bright light and three people skid across the sand, drawing the cameras’ attention away from me.

I know who it is without even looking but it takes one reporter an extra second before screaming “Oh, god—it’s the Soothsayer!”

That has everyone running back towards the parking lot with one camera man shouting, “Do something, Sorciere!”

What the hell am I realistically supposed to do? Even if they’ve retreated back off the sand, the cameras are still on us. This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on Liam in person, but I can’t help but feel that I know him fairly well. Maybe it’s because he looks like Hannah or maybe it’s because he gave me a spell. Maybe it’s both. The problem is I don’t actually know what I’m getting into here but I’m already here. I start walking toward the three of them as they pick themselves up out of the water.

Liam wanted all this to happen—did he know that the incident at the house would happen like that? Was he counting on it? Did he know it would come to this from the moment he left me that list? What could I possibly do about any of that now?

I shouldn’t have left the house. I don’t think Grandpa will try to hurt Hannah or Jax, but I didn’t think he’d be capable of hurting me either and I left them all with him! And Sam? I’m not sure what she and Pat talked about, but he was not happy to even be near her. Something happened and now I’m missing it because I panicked and ran away! What sort of sister am I? What sort of hero does that make me?

I approach them while keeping my distance and put myself between them and the news crews. At least if I’m facing away from the cameras, they can’t see me about to lose what’s left of my composure. Liam looks about as bad as I feel. The other two—Elena and Amy, if I remember correctly—get up just fine but he stays down until they both pull him to his feet.

“Absolutely not,” Liam snaps at me when I get close enough and I freeze. “I need you to pull yourself together.”

What.

The other two look confusedly at him. Elena looks worried. “Liam—”

“No, I know what you’re about to say,” the Soothsayer interrupts her “and it’s completely different from you.”

“I don’t see how,” Elena argues.

“We are in Vancouver; there is no margin for error until Acquisition is dealt with. She has to go down first,” Liam declares.

“Does she know we’re here?” Amy asks.

“Mia,” Elena warns.

“It’s a good question,” Liam assures them. “And yeah, they’re both watching the news and there’s a camera pointed right at my face. It won’t be long before they start getting antsy.”

He’s nervous; it’s not a great sign in a psychic with his aptitude but he does take a breath and wipe the anger off his face before taking a step toward me. “You braved a lot to get here; I’m aware of the situation you left behind to come help.”

“I didn’t come to help; I made a stupid decision out of panic and now I’m here. What was I even thinking?” I snap.

“You were betrayed and wounded by someone whose legacy you are a part of. You knew you weren’t a match for him and that fighting wasn’t an option, but you decided to protect our moms and Jax by keeping his focus on you. You could have gone along with what your grandfather told you and put your trust in the Second Major despite what it would mean for me and the victims of the Paladin, but you didn’t. You chose to stick to your ideals despite what it could mean for your future. It was the best call you could make because without my spell you would have been stuck in Kansas with your dad about to follow after his dad like he’s always done. It was a terrible situation, but it would have been worse without my interference, in case you were wondering.”

“How?”

“If I hadn’t visited Ajax first, he wouldn’t have left the mountain with you. He would have told you what he knew about the Paladin, but he needed a push to forgive himself for the choices he made. Everything that spiraled out from there would have left you unprepared for the conversation at your house and the fight. You would have woken up in custody, accused of collaborating with me after going AWOL from your team with your reputation and position in tatters. No one would have listened to you about the Paladin and the Association would have kept its secrets.”

“That would mean he was prepared to destroy his own legacy,” I argue.

“Well, what he has planned for your family is none of my business and we don’t really have time but the rift in your family your arrest would have caused would have left your dad free to remarry.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I refuse. “That’s ridiculous.”

“And now it won’t happen,” Liam promises. “And for the final concern that’s about to hit you, you will not be exiled from your family.”

On any other day, the prospect of facing one of the worst of my childhood fears would threaten to paralyze me, but instead I snipe “I thought Dad would go along with Grandpa like you said.”

“By the time the Second Major gets the chance to ask your dad to banish you, he won’t be able to because you will have taken the choice from them.”

“Me? Take over as Head of House? I’m not ready.”

“Your self-doubts are going to get everyone on this beach killed,” Liam scolds. “You are capable enough for everything that needs to happen today and I’m going to prove it.”

“Do I want to know how?” I ask dryly.

He smirks at me, looking much too much like Hannah. “Nope but look at it this way: you put more trust in me when you cast that spell than you’ve given yourself when I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

“That’s an understatement,” I grumble.

“I know,” he agrees “but this isn’t: for protecting my mom, I would grant you, Warpspeed, and Ajax any boon you wish within my skill.”

Oh, wow, okay. “Together or separately?” I ask.

“Separately.”

“You can’t just throw those promises around like they’re nothing,” I warn.

“I’m not,” he assures me, and I believe him. He holds out his left hand; it’s a bit nontraditional, but he can see what’s happening to my right. I can barely move it.

I take his hand. “Then, I will hold you to your promise, Liam Collins. What’s your plan? Storm the Tower?”

“While the Madam of Acquisition is in residence? No, that would get us all killed even if the Association’s reinforcements agreed to help,” Liam disagrees. “It’s also what they’re expecting.”

“Why is she so—”

He covers his ears and tries to turn away. “Do not ask me that directly!”

Elena takes a threatening step towards me; I don’t think I want to know what she can do. Liam tentatively removes his hands when I purposefully keep quiet.

“So your visions are based on what you can hear. That’s why you were in the hospital so much as a child,” I assume.

Liam nods. “I do need to explain what I can about Acquisition if we’re going to make it out of this in one piece, but you can’t ask any questions until I’m done.” He says that but then he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he looks down at Amy. “He’s here.”

The wind is blowing through the leaves of the trees further away from the shore, but I hear the wingbeats over that. Soaring flies over the news crew drawing excited whooping and applause; I suppose they think Soaring might be more interesting since I’m very obviously not fighting the Soothsayer on what I assume is national news. He lands about a foot away from all of us, but he only has eyes for Amy.

Now that I see both sets of wings up close, these two are definitely family. Soaring is also much taller than I thought and since he’s clearly agitated, his wings make him look massive. He seems torn between going straight to her and going for the throat of the known supervillain next to her.

“Why would you bring her here?” Soaring demands.

“Because if we didn’t, we’ll be running forever,” Liam replies.

Soaring doesn’t like that one bit. “Amy, we have to go.” He reaches for her, but Amy takes a step back and half hides behind Liam.

“It’s Mia now,” Mia objects.

“Since when?” Soaring asks.

“Since now!” she snaps, literally putting her foot down. “And I’m not running away.”

Neither of them makes a move towards each other—how long could they have been separated? Pat and Sam don’t even remember their birth parents, but Mia clearly knows who Soaring is and is not happy to see him.

“Remember what I said,” Liam soothes.

Mia huffs, sounding utterly resigned. “No biting…”

“You were saying about Her Ladyship,” Elena prods.

“Right,” Liam acknowledges. “Is Acquisition close enough to the fountain? How long until Nightowl’s squad crosses the bay?”

“What?” Soaring asks.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re all here and there’s no more time to delay. There are thirty-seven heroes downtown and they know we’re here. This has to be over by the time they reach us. We have a chance to end things today and above all, we are enough to make it happen. Your job, Soaring, is to protect Mia and Elena. You will not fail her again.”

Soaring’s feathers ruffle again at the obvious threat, but they smooth back down just as quickly. “No, I won’t.”

“Don’t even think of leaving me out of this,” Elena warns.

Liam nods. I think this is an ongoing conversation for them. “I’m not. Sorciere and I will take out Acquisition; Louise and Dennis will be along for the ride, but they’re not going to be a problem. When the three of them fall, Appraisal’s power over the Collection will effectively be finished. He won’t be able to keep them, but they won’t leave unless they’re absolutely sure she’s gone. Someone needs to lead them out of that damn building, and they won’t trust anyone but their own. That’s up to you two.”

Elena gives him a cold stare. “You’ll be there too, right?”

“It’ll be two on three,” Soaring warns.

Liam turns to face him fully and presses his hands together. “If you get within arms reach of Acquisition you will die. Do not stray from your job for any reason. You three fall back to where the news vans are. Get them to leave if you can.”

“How?” Soaring demands.

“Acquisition is going to be arriving in a few minutes and I’m going to piss her off on purpose,” Liam says like we’re expecting her for brunch.

Soaring just nods. “That’ll do it.”

Oh, fuck. “We’re not ready,” I object. I’m certainly not ready. Acquisition is coming here; it’s all too fast. I’ve only ever got a few details out of Dad and Sam about what she was like up close and what Patrick has told me in the last two days is everything he’s ever said to me about her.

“She thrives on fear,” Liam warns “and to cultivate that fear, she shows just enough of herself to the people around her that they recognize that she isn’t actually human. Don’t—” he stops Soaring from asking the obvious question. “Let me put this in perspective. Picture everything you’ve ever done, everything you’ve ever learned, everyone you love and loves you, the things you want to do in the future, everything that makes you who you are, how you describe yourself.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” Elena mutters.

“Now,” Liam pauses for dramatic effect. It’s almost refreshingly silly. “If you’re part of a certain subset of humans, all of that complexity—personality, goals, skills, hopes and dreams—all of it can end with something utterly trivial like a bee sting. The bees can’t understand the full scope of what they’ve done—the one who did the stinging is dead, life goes on except now there’s a body next to the beehive. That’s where Acquisition came from.”

What the actual hell? “She’s the human and we’re the bees,” I guess.

“Mostly. The metaphor breaks down when some of the bees managed to bring part of the body into the hive and experiment on it to try and make super bees and accidentally make the Acquisition we know, but we can talk about that another day if you really want to.”

“And you think we can win against that?” I demand. Just trying to extrapolate what he said to what Acquisition truly is harder than I expect.

It’s uncomfortable to have Liam look me right in the eye and say, “Better, I think you can win.”

It sounds sincere enough that I could believe it but then my arm twinges as the recoil reaches the nerves in my elbow and I remember that he’s asking me to fight an entity beyond my comprehension one handed.

I try not to shoot that down immediately. Liam glances at the other three who are just as confused and openly horrified. Then they look at me trying to see what Liam clearly does and apparently coming up short. I can’t help but agree but that might be the wet shoes talking. Still, she’s going to come here anyway and that means everyone here is in danger.

“Go,” I tell Soaring.

“Should I call my team?” he asks.

“They’re on their way already. Everything will be done before they get here,” Liam answers.

“Don’t die,” Mia orders.

Liam nods. “I promise I will not die.”

Elena conveys a similar sentiment to him entirely with a glare before stepping back with Soaring and going with both of them towards the parking lot. Mia comes out from behind Liam but strategically puts Elena between her and Soaring.

“Are they going to—" I try.

“That’s not our business,” Liam snaps and starts walking toward the beach. “Come on; we’re on the clock.”

I have to take a deep breath before following after him until we get almost to the water’s edge. I am not seeing what Hannah apparently does in him but, then again, I’m not his mom. “You seem pretty confident we can do this,” I prod.

“And you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge you can.”

“Look, I never found evidence of any formal training for you so here’s a free lesson: it’s dangerous for any magician to wallow in self-delusion. Their Source will crumble like wet cotton candy at the slightest contradiction to their self-image. You’re asking me to fight the Madam of Acquisition while I’m dealing with recoil.” I hold up my hand. It’s gone almost completely grey. “Or did you not see that?”

“I saw everything I needed to,” he dismisses. “And the recoil will help you. Probably.”

“How?” I demand.

“Figure it out.”

“Oh, come on!” I shout.

Liam waves his hand, and the beach in front of us flattens into a perfectly flat disk. He starts drawing a circle with a piece of driftwood; it’s not his long distance spell but it is a similar concept. One of the runes is definitely a summon.

“Is the Madam of Acquisition in position?” he asks.

“How would I…” I pause. It can’t be that simple. “You can just ask and know the answer.”

“Sure can. Some questions are dangerous. I can’t control which ones I want an answer for.”

“And you just admitted that to me because…”

Liam stops writing the circle and walks around it again to check before ending up standing next to me. “Because before I started any of this, I asked if you can be trusted. You can, so I will.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I know I’m not leaving you any choice but to trust me back, but you will get out of this. If anything, Acquisition is the perfect opponent for you right now.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“You’re angry and hurting and she can’t die—pummel some catharsis out of her. Before that, you have to take out the small fries. Louise isn’t even a real magician; no training, no talent, just a contract to a patron that is essentially a scavenger feeding on the body outside our beehive. You’ll spot the solution to her immediately. Dennis is even more delusional than last time because he thinks the letter says only your dad could have defeated him.”

Last time? Wait—"It was you who sent that letter; I was right!”

He’s not surprised; I doubt I’ll ever surprise him at this rate. “I know you were the only one to guess correctly. I told you I’d prove you’re capable so here’s a challenge for you: even with my advice, it still took your dad almost four minutes to defeat Dennis. You can do it in under one.”

“What about Acquisition?”

“Well, after I use this circle to summon her and the other two here, I will have enough magical power leftover to hold Acquisition for less than a minute before she can retaliate. You have to have the other two squared away before then. Ready?”

“No!” I shout but he pulls out another small piece of rock, tosses it into the circle, and channels the spell.

In the distance, the top of the Tower explodes in a brilliant white light before the circle in front of us erupts with the same light. When it fades, a massive stone fountain with part of a very expensive looking floor has been wedged almost sideways into the beach with three people in front. Acquisition doesn’t seem to have been thrown off at all and Liam immediately pins her inside a bubble before she can take more than a step towards us.

“Now!” he urges but his hands are glowing like he’s placed them on a spotlight—never a good sign.

On my right, I see the spell book lying open in the sand before I even see the girl in the purple dress on the ground trying to claw for it where it’s out of her reach. It’s instinctive for me to raise my left hand and with a wave set that part of the beach on fire. The book hisses as it disappears into the puddle of molten glass. I wasn’t going for that hot, but my finer control isn’t exactly working.

Louise recoils from the blaze but when she raises a hand at me and says something not in any human language, nothing happens. “No! No! What have you done?” she demands.

Liam yelps and his bubble falters; the Madam of Acquisition gets one step closer before he gets the bubble back up again but now his nose is bleeding. Before I can try to help, a bolt of fire hits my left arm from elbow to shoulder, throwing me off balance. I hit ground from the impact, and I just barely get my still pulsing right hand up to protect Liam from a second attack. My barrier actually folds itself up like a paper snowflake before fizzling out, but I don’t have a choice.

Dennis starts walking towards us. I propel myself off the ground and land in front of Liam to just barely deflect another blast but sacrificing the rest of my left arm. “You’re Major Arcana’s brat. Sorry, little girl but it took the actual Major Arcana to beat me. Even if you could cast through that pain, you’re just not on our level.”

Dennis Cole’s sense of identity is rooted in his entitlement to talent and power which he will kill to preserve. This falsely allows him to draw on more power than he has rightfully earned from his training but leaves him vulnerable to being corrected. Break his delusion with reality and he’ll recoil against his own Source.

 I have that damn letter practically memorized.

“You weren’t defeated by Major Arcana,” I shout before wincing. “You were defeated by a nine year old boy with a library card! To a child, even a fourth rate hack like you looks dangerous. Everything else was just Minor Arcana following his instructions! We only know your name because we were focused on the details of his letter for years! Hundreds of magicians wanted to read that letter because of the obvious skill of the writer.” I jab my elbow at Liam standing behind me.

Dennis seems confused. He looks past me to Liam, and I don’t dare risk turning around to see if Liam confirms it, but I hear him laugh and I see Dennis’ face contort with rage behind that blindfold.

“No,” he denies, raising his hands. I have nothing left and none of my fingers can move but if I’m right that shouldn’t be a problem.

“You didn’t even try to do any self reflection after the last time,” I scoff. “You just decided to believe that only Major Arcana defeated you and therefore you must be strong. My dad wasn’t even the name on the envelope; my grandfather—the ‘actual Major Arcana’—read the letter and dismissed you as not worth his time. Dad only went to see if it was true because he was bored, and you were close by!”

“Then why didn’t Appraisal tell me it was him?” Dennis argues, pointing at Liam. What a mistake to make.

“Why should he? Liam is more valuable than you. Everything useful about you crumbles if you finally learn that the only worthwhile thing you’ve done is lose.”

Dennis bellows incoherently and raises his hands but the lightning bolt he casts rebounds across him and hurls him so far down the beach he disappears behind an embankment.

Has it been a minute yet? I guess Liam was right about—

Something happens.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. My ears pop. Something shudders all around us where I can’t see. I’ve never been good at sensing ambient magic or the magic in others, but this is just too big to possibly miss. There is a change in the air and by the time I catch up to whatever it is, the Soothsayer has collapsed on the sand behind me without a word.

“That, I think,” Acquisition states “is quite enough.”

Chapter Text

I don’t know his name.

I thought it less than a second ago. I said it a few minutes ago. His name has been everywhere in my life for the last four months as I tried to find him; I would read it in reports, hear it in Nightowl’s ranting, see it on the news screens as his trail grew colder and colder.

And now I can’t even remember what letter it started with. There’s just an uncomfortable void where it should be in my memories. I know without looking that every written reference to his name in reality is blank like it was never written down. It’s what happened to Viridian, too.

It takes a lot of effort to force myself to even look at her, but I have to. It’s just too dangerous to not keep the Madam of Acquisition in my sights at all times. After all, this is the worst thing she’s ever done to anyone that we know about. I still remember the weeks Dad spent trying to get Viridian’s name back; the lost sleep, the missed meals, and the tears he thinks he hid from us when he knew he had to give up.

How am I going to explain this to Hannah? Does she already know?

Acquisition pivots her whole body with one sharp movement to face me properly and smiles. It’s the same smile that she gave Patrick at the ferry terminal and the hairs on the back of my neck would stand on end if they weren’t already up.

But isn’t that the point? The unnatural stillness, the lack of breathing, the severe and precise movements—it’s all to convey that she is Other and should be feared. Even her face is unsettling—what was that term? The Uncanny Valley?

The standoff ends when Elena’s enraged howl echoes across the beach. I risk looking to see Soaring and several reporters, who have not left despite the Soothsayer’s warning, restraining her and Mia. Soaring has to keep both arms around Mia’s waist and is getting wings to the face for his trouble, even flapping his own to keep balance. Elena is being held by six different people and even with two grown adults holding her legs, still takes a step forward. I risk wrapping the Soothsayer in a blanket of sand and moving him as close to them as I can, but he only gets about half of the distance I want him to. He gently rolls when he lands…and I see him curl onto his side facing away from me. He's alive.

The Madam actually has the audacity to tut at the display. This bitch.

I’m already grabbing my wet shoe off my foot and throwing it at her. I know what it’s like to travel faster than sound because of Pat and invented a few spells centered on that experience. I know he would appreciate the blatant disrespect; it’s perfectly fitting to throw an old, worn, soggy running shoe at the Madam of Acquisition and have it break the sound barrier halfway to her. The shoe does not survive impact but the resulting boom hurls sand everywhere and rattles the tide.

A normal human would be liquified after taking a hit like that at this range, but Acquisition’s chest just warps around the blast like some G-rated Saturday cartoon character—which is somehow worse to witness—and she’s thrown back through the stone fountain that brought her here and out across the water. While she does bounce four times across the surface, she is—unfortunately—intact when she finally goes under with an enormous splash.

The satisfaction of actually landing a hit on her is enough to block out the pain. The recoil, amazingly, allowed it to cast flawlessly. Then again, the aberrant magic eating my right arm is the result of my magic attacking itself because I technically attacked myself because that’s what family and legacy are supposed to mean. I went against the reason I exist and now my arm is full of chaotic magic that needs stability and structure I’m supposed to provide. It itches but there’s also a buzz under my skin that isn’t from the recoil, a pull, a calling. A certainty that this is also something I am supposed to do.

All this from attacking Grandpa—no, from defending myself from him.

It’s not fair; it shouldn’t be up to him, not when he’s betrayed everything he claimed to stand for. Years of following after him and Dad, trying to catch up to both of them and the literal legend whose name I couldn’t even claim because there was no way I was worthy of it, and that is what I thought I fell short of? My expectations were too high and that scares me—how do I measure my progress if the bar is so much lower than I thought? If anyone’s a failure, it’s them. If anyone should be suffering recoil, it’s him.

What if I could do better? Oh, I can not go near that right now.

It’s easier to focus on the actual supervillain in front of me, however fucked up that thought is. Acquisition had better not be swimming away—she doesn’t get to just leave again after everything she’s done. I’m not done with my ‘catharsis’ yet. I grab hold of the ocean with stiff hands and wrench it apart going back dozens of feet. It’s not as tiring as it should be. I teleported across a continent a few minutes ago and now I’m parting a bay. I should be exhausted. I’ve definitely used about as much power as I did when I flew over Jackson’s mountains, but the only thing I can reliably feel is clarity. Certainty.

Acquisition falls out of the water and into the sand halfway down the drop off and slides another few feet. I watch carefully as she claws gracelessly out of the silt. Whatever she is on the inside—whatever she’s made of or where she came from—I am not scared of her because no matter what happens next, she has to look up at me from the muck. How many people can say that? It is beyond satisfaction; what is this feeling?

I take a step towards her. And then another. Acquisition cast such a large shadow over my family after we met my siblings. We knew the two of them would learn where we lived the moment we brought the twins to the house, and we did that anyway. We braced for an attack that never came for years. That was scary enough for me but for them? I remember sitting with Sam and Pat in the aftermath of a thousand nightmares in the last ten years that were definitely her fault. I was already prepared to devote my life to the family legacy, but it was them that made me understand why it was so important; they made it real. How much practice did I put in to be strong enough to protect them from her specifically?

Oh. I get it now. I made defeating her part of my purpose. I can’t walk away now, everything I am in this moment is to bring her down. For Pat and Sam and Viridian.

Acquisition stands up as tall as she can on a dripping wet hill and pulls a long strand of seaweed off her white coat before tossing it aside. There’s no tension in her muscles, no sign that she’s going to move. She’s waiting me out. Ripping the ocean apart was fine but holding it—imposing order—isn’t agreeable right now. I think she knows that fighting a magician is a game of endurance.

I keep walking down towards her, sacrificing the high ground and closing the water around us; sealing us in a dome and freezing the whole structure just so I don’t have to actively hold it. I don’t feel the cold; I hope that’s not a sign I’m about to burn out. The ice reminds me of Sam—it’s her grey-green, cold, sharp, and keeps Acquisition trapped with me.

“Are you sure you want to do that? Only one will leave,” Acquisition taunts.

“That’s the idea.”

She scoffs and leaps right at me with a single step. I try to block with a barrier, but I might as well have tried that with tin foil for how easily she tears a hole through it. I wrap it around her to try and pin her down, but blue fire erupts across her white coat instead and the spell unravels. That wasn’t me losing control over the magic, it was the magic being burned away. The coat is untouched. Pat said Acquisition has never taken damage from a fight except for whatever Viridian was trying to do that day. Is this why? No, coat or no coat taking that shoe to the chest should have pulverised ribs at least.

I don’t quite dodge her backhand and it sends me rolling backwards headfirst down to the drop off. With both arms injured, I can’t brace myself properly and hitting the wall of ice at the bottom that I made is painfully ironic. I don’t have a minute to stay down, but I need one anyway; everything is catching up to me.

“That’s better,” Acquisition smirks down at me. “Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to break you. Wouldn’t that be insulting to your precious legacy?”

The saltwater and sand in my burns is a fresh hell, but her attitude makes it easier to fight to stand. I have to lean up against the ice to keep balance but I’m up.

I take a page out of my grandfather’s book and risk casting a stun without using my hands. It’s not as pristine as his was—subtlety is his magic’s truest form—but the flicker of gold hits her shoulder and the coat flares blue in response. Any magic that touches that coat without her permission must get perfectly shredded.

Acquisition chuckles. “Cute. So that one trick was all you had. I’ll admit, it’s been a while since anything was able to hit me like that.”

She leaps back down the hill at me, matching my own foolishness and swats me back into the wall before grabbing my throat and pinning me there. If she feeds on fear, I don’t want to panic but the instinct is impossible to overcome. Think of something else, anything else!

She can’t make up for earlier. She’s still covered in the muck I threw her in.

I’m apparently not scared enough because she pulls me forward and slams me into the ice again. I’m running out of air. Why doesn’t she just do whatever she did to the Soothsayer and remove my name from existence?

Unless she can’t, and if she’s magic proof, then how was my shoe able to send her flying? Why would someone who is at least as durable as my sister need that caliber of magic resistant clothing? Think, Mina. I didn’t hit her directly with that spell. The actual spell was cast on the shoe; it was the effect that did the most damage. If that’s the flaw in her defense, then I’m going to exploit it.

I reach and try to pull the sand behind her down to where we are at the bottom of the hill but it’s sluggish. Acquisition just laughs in my face for even trying. I need that sand to move but earth is a lot less malleable and I’m almost out of time. If she’s focused on me, she might not try to run until it’s too late. This time, I unfreeze some of the ice in the dome to flood everything with water and force it to mix in with the sand and silt. The sand bar becomes quicksand and the beach floods down towards us at the lowest point.

A shudder passes through her, and she lets go of my throat. I inhale and start fighting to get away. I can dig myself out with magic and maneuver around to her side and out of reach, but Acquisition is stuck; physics aren’t on her side as the pressure pins her…or at least it should but she starts making disturbing progress digging herself out just by clawing at it. It’s solid when she hits it but liquifies around her again almost as quickly. She actually seems like she’s in…discomfort. Not quite pain, but she clearly doesn’t like this.

Her fingers double in length as she keeps digging; the anger that she’s finally showing on her face is making her face distort far, far beyond what could be considered human, and she bends her head back to look at where I’ve floated behind her at an angle most humans would die from. I remember that she is actually married, and I want to throw up.

“What are you?” I demand. “Do you even know?”

Acquisition doesn’t answer; she ponders her hand for a second but then resumes trying to dig to me. She gets one set of claws forward and I have to scoot back to stay out of reach as her arm extends. It’s unnerving and that feels too close to fear, so I need to fix that. Was it the captain of the Austin hero team that could stretch his limbs a hundred feet or Sacramento? It’s normal for him; I have seen this before. I am calm.

“The Soothsayer probably should have elaborated on the part where humans made you from the corpse of Something that got too close to our beehive, but he was short on time, and he probably knew what you were going to do to him and what it would mean. On the other hand, maybe how you got here wasn’t relevant.”

I float closer to her but behind her, careful to stay out of range of her other arm which has also started to elongate. “I think the question I really need to ask is ‘are you still allergic to us?’”

Though what part of us is she allergic to? What was the ‘bee sting?’ Acquisition isn’t listening to me but that’s fine. She swipes at me, and I push her further into the muck to her neck, burying one arm and trapping one in the air unable to bend at the elbow…well, the first elbow. She shrieks at me, and I don’t quite cover my ears as the resonance cracks the ice. Water starts leaking back in; too much and the quicksand will just be sandy water and I’ll be back at square one with no energy. This has to end now.

Her head rises from the muck but not because she’s getting free, it’s just stretching like the rest of her. What is wrong with her? I didn’t think quicksand would be enough to do this; she was gloating over tormenting me a second ago. What changed?

The coat might be magic proof, but she isn’t. If she was, she wouldn’t need it. It’s also not a perfect defense to begin with; she’s stuck in quicksand…made from water tainted with my unstable, contradictory, raw magic. The coat is not going to help with that—it actually seems to be getting in the way of her distorted arms. It’s too durable to allow her to move.

Maybe she’s allergic to magic itself and I’ve got a numb arm full of homemade chaos that wants out. I reach down and put my hands directly on her face. The grey starts to leave my arm and sprout across her skin but ten times worse. I could do it. I can already feel something withering away under my fingers; I just need to keep it up.

But.

Some bees die when they sting.

Would it be worth it? With Acquisition gone, the Collection would be free—Sam and Pat would be free. I became a hero knowing this could happen. I’ve been to more than a few funerals for heroes who made this choice and everything in my being is still singing for her defeat loudly enough to hide how much damage I’ve taken. This is my purpose; it would be cheating myself and others to not fulfill it.

“…but you will get out of this.”

The Soothsayer seemed pretty adamant that I would live but he also neglected to tell any of us that Acquisition was going to erase his name either.

Is there a way to defeat her while getting to live in a world where she doesn’t exist? Do I get that luxury? It would be worth it to the world to not have to look over their shoulders in fear of these two monsters finding an interest in them but to my family I would just be something else that they took away.

Acquisition is going to be too big for me to kill without sacrificing more than my magic and she knows it. She’s given up the struggle, but I can see in what’s left of her eyes that she’s found peace in taking me with her.

Well, fuck her. I’m gonna live. This world will go on without her because she is getting off this ride. She’s absorbed most of the chaos from me and it’s wreaked absolute havoc on her body. I don’t know what she looks like beneath the sand, but I can almost sense the changes underneath where I can’t see. I don’t want to look.

I start weaving more from instinct than theory, writing the runes in the air around her head, drawing the circle, channeling the power as I go. The Soothsayer taught me how to travel long distance and then he demonstrated how to summon long distance. I incorporate elements from both circles as best I can together but instead of a command to call forth, I write the runes for banishment and reunion. In the material circle, I put a chunk of her own hair—a contradictory spell fueled by contradictory magic.

I’m sending her to herself, wherever the rest of her is.

I put hands on the circle. This is going to work, and I will make it out of this, not because the Soothsayer promised but I because I am promising myself.

I swear there’s a moment of panic in her face before it vanishes. One moment she’s here, the next she’s gone. No explosion. No bright light. Just a shudder in the cold.

The cavity of quicksand starts immediately filling in. I see white—fuck, I see white!

I reach in and grab for it…and her empty coat is all I find. It worked.

It worked.

It fucking worked!

It—my magic decides that enough is enough and I fall out of my hover. She took the recoil with her but that was a lot of magic, and I hit the liquid sand with a squelch. I need out of here. The water is still leaking in from the cracks. I grab that coat, and I start half swimming, half crawling back towards the beach. When the sand starts feeling a lot more solid, I risk flopping back down and catching my breath, hand still clenched around the sleeve.

That’s good. That’s far enough. They might have to carry me out of here, but I can live with that if it’s just this once.

Then again, there are people up there waiting to see if the Madam of Acquisition just took down both the Soothsayer and Sorciere. Those cameras are probably still up there too so the entire country, possibly the world was watching a supervillain fight. Fuck.

Well, there are better places to collapse than inside an ice dome anyway. I stand up and practically have to claw the rest of the way up to the top part of the dome. It might be easier if I wasn’t dragging the coat with me but if anything is going to convince the world—and myself honestly—that I beat her and she’s gone hopefully for good, it’s this.

I actually did it. It doesn’t feel real, but it is. Now the question is: is it enough to have earned the title? Fighting Acquisition and winning is something even Dad has not done. Am I ready for everything that will change if I come out of this dome as the next Major? The title is as much a work of magic as any spell. It’s interwoven with the house and the wards; taking it would oust Dad as head of the family.

That’s not so much a counter argument anymore. Out of the three Majors, Dad held the title the shortest amount of time. Before that, thanks to Grandpa refusing to let go of the it until years after the end of the Cold War, Dad held the apprentice title, Minor Arcana, the longest. That must have left a mark on him and his magic. He’s not a leader; he’s just the figurehead that lets Grandpa stay relevant to the Board, the Association, our family, all of it. It hurts to recognize that about the man I admired the most, but I have to.

It’s time they both retired.

Chapter Text

I’m pretty sure there’s not supposed to be something in there. I’ve been to Mina’s house at least four times before now and I’ve been shoved through that barrier like swimming through honey and tried to be graceful about how suffocating it was. I joked every time that it doesn’t like me because saying that would make Mina laugh which was always worth it; “The barrier is just magic,” she said.

Something about the barrier now makes me feel that maybe I was right and that is not a good thing. The hairs on the back of my neck are up like I’m being watched but everyone else is focused on what’s happening by the entrance to the wards. Did any of them feel that something noticed when Pat’s room exploded just now? It’s their magic after all. I would keep my barriers up, but Mina needs me, and I need to at least be open to people’s emotions. That means I’m open to whatever the hell this is.

I can’t afford the distraction.

“Are you hurt?” I ask her, already knowing that she is.

“Stay with Hannah,” she orders. It bites that she needs me, and I can’t help her. I want to be there for her like I used to be, but I’ve been out of the game too long.

“We need to get out of here,” I tell Hannah.

“Why? What’s happening?” she asks.

“The three of us just found out that her grandpa is involved in the plot to kill Liam,” I explain.

Hannah seethes but she still takes my hand as we leave the house, hopefully keeping out of sight or at least being uninteresting enough to let pass.

Mina’s stoicism breaks with the rest of her heart and her usual stubbornness is faltering.

“Breathe,” I encourage. “I know all of this hurts, but you need to breathe.”

I say that but this is the most upset I’ve ever felt from her, not that I was ever in the habit of reading her mind. I’ve never felt her lose control before; her training demanded perfection. Maybe that’s the problem.

She’s in pain and the Major is making it worse. I shudder to feel an echo of whatever happened when she tried to defend herself from her own grandfather. We’re halfway there, I could help her.

“Do you need help?”

“Stay put!” she yells. Of course, I have my job and she has hers. It’s not enough to promise that I won’t let her down, I have to live it.

“I’ll keep Hannah safe even if it’s against your old man,” I promise. I think I can remember how her dad fights enough to win. Her grandfather might be a different problem.

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” she warns. I can tell she doesn’t like the uncertainty “but I think his plan hinges on Liam dying quietly to cover his mistakes.”

“Then I won’t let him do anything,” I assure her. “How do I get Hannah out of here?” It would be really nice if we could just walk through the wall, but sadly, I think that arch is the only way in or out.

“I’ll draw them away. Dad will follow me for sure. It’ll be you and Pat against Sam and Grandpa if he doesn’t also follow me.” She has a large amount of discomfort about her grandfather. He attacked her—his own granddaughter—I can barely process that. I can’t imagine what that’s doing to her.

“Are you sure?”

Her indignation rattles my teeth. “I can get you five minutes at least!”

Assuming we all get out of this, I have a lot to apologize for. I can only hope that she’ll be okay. I pull back from her mind so that I don’t distract her. I can still see her, but we both need to focus for whatever happens next.

Mina’s emotions have solidified into determination to lead the two Majors away so we can go in the other direction, but we all need to get to that archway from the house to do that. I see her shove herself into the barrier, I see her shit excuse for a grandfather start to do something to the wards and then somewhere from all around us, Something in that magical dome disagrees with what he’s doing so violently that I can feel it. It’s all I can feel for a moment; it’s everywhere and that is so wrong. It’s not human—it can’t be human, it’s supposed to just be magic—but I can hear it so something about it is human enough to register for me.

And it chooses Mina with no small amount of affection and pride that washes over the whole property though it only seems to be me who notices. Mina gets pulled out from where she’s stuck and it’s Joseph that staggers back with failure. He’s too angry for me to feel safe going near and he’s already proven that he can attack his own family without remorse.

“What the hell is going on?” Christine demands as she lands next to us. I can at least tell she’s genuinely confused.

“No time,” I insist. How do I tell her any of this?

“Make time!” she counters.

The Second Major fires a stun at Patrick who weaves around it with perfect ease, darts over to him and disappears with him behind the house. Then he’s back before Sam can even turn to follow after her dad and sister.

Christine gasps at the sight but Joseph attacking her son is fairly self explanatory. There’s resignation and a thick, sour, hatred she must have been harboring for years finally bubbling to her surface thoughts. She’s too angry and too close to ignore even if I was keeping my barriers up. Then she gets eerily, perfectly, calm which is so much worse.

“Help us, Christine. Mina, Pat, and I found a conspiracy to kill Liam Collins because he saw that the Paladin was a murderer, and that the Association covered it up. Sam’s on the wrong side,” I plead.

Sam runs up the air and flips over Pat’s shoulders to try and headlock him from behind. I’ve never seen those two fight outside of a sparring mat and they never took it seriously. I risk a peek at their emotions and find nearly identical discomfort; Sam, at least, is much more conflicted but its utterly repressed by how terrified she is.

“My girl,” Christine laments before grabbing Hannah’s hand and pulling. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannah says but Christine shakes her head.

“When we invited you to this house, we promised—”

In the distance, the shack explodes in a brilliant white light, catching us with the earthquake and rattling the barrier so hard whatever It is that I can hear grumbles as if rudely awoken by it. I really hope It goes back to sleep; I don’t want to throw up again this week.

The twins both look over. I try and search for Mina, but I can’t find her thoughts.

There are only a few circumstances where someone’s thoughts just end but I know what she was trying to do. I know what this spell looks like. I refuse any reality where she didn’t succeed; god, she’s brilliant.

Patrick spots his dad limping and bolts for the barrier.

“He’s hurt,” I report.

Christine takes a step before pausing and looking back at us. Hannah practically shoves Christine when she hesitates. I nod and Christine flies to catch up to them.

“Stay close,” Hannah pleads.

“Of course,” I promise.

We start jogging after Christine before Sam can try anything but her only focus is family now. She makes it through the barrier first as Pat is sifting through the wreckage. Then Christine fights through and immediately flies to where the Major has staggered back to the ruins.

That leaves Hannah and me with the very angry Second Major behind us. I risk a peek as I push Hannah into the wards and see him surveying the battle from the sky above the house.

Once Hannah’s about halfway through, I follow. I don’t want to get caught if Joseph tries to block the way again, but I can also fly and I try copy what Mina did to push us through.

Something grabs my mind even as my body is still trying to move. I feel an awareness focus on me, and my whole self feels the pressure and shock of being drowned in a frozen river. It’s not a human mind; I can’t see it back and that isn’t anything I have ever encountered before. It’s just pressure and intent. It’s not curious—I don’t think it can be—but there is an expectation it has for me.

I try to block it out, but it filters through my walls like a ghost, and I really don’t want to know if that’s a metaphor or a fact. It demands an explanation. I think. It won’t let me go until it gets something from me, but it can’t speak. It can barely ‘remember’ though it tries. Joseph tried to force it to block Mina but between her pain and feeling of betrayal and Joseph’s desperation and lack of affection for her—oh god, no wonder she was so upset—it chose her. It should not have been able to do that. It shouldn’t be able to realize that either.

I think of Joseph hovering above the house and try to reply. Traitor! He attacked his family! Betrayed the Association! Covered up thousands of murders! I let it see mine and Pat’s efforts yesterday and this morning. I let it see the list of names Liam’s vision downloaded into my brain.

The rage almost makes me black out, but my head clears the barrier on the other side and Patrick pulls me through. I manage to stand though I have to lean on him and Hannah. Just leaving the barrier was enough to sever the connection; the strange presence retreats from my mind entirely and I can breathe again. Time to push all of that to one side and focus on keeping it together.

“What’s happening?” Hannah asks.

“I wish I knew,” Patrick replies. “Do we run?”

I do a quick check and can feel the Major’s concussion from here. I stop Pat from trying to lift us and bolt. “Your dad needs help.”

“That’s leaving you two alone with Gramps and Sam,” he argues, looking at where the three of them are kneeling. The conflict is tearing him apart. Whatever he chooses, I don’t think it’s violence. I squeeze his arm and let him go.

Patrick approaches them at a normal human speed, hands at his sides. “Truce.”

Sam nods and Patrick wordlessly picks up his father much the same way he carries me when I have to tag along. Then he’s gone with only a dusty road to show for it, and I turn back to where Joseph is fighting the wards. The surface isn’t supposed to warp like that—at least I think it’s not. It’s just supposed to be a heavy curtain that blocks out unwanted visitors but rather than get free, the outer surface of the barrier warps around him, keeping him contained. I guess my message got through. I don’t risk checking—everything about That Thing feels wrong.

“Jax?” Christine calls from where she’s sitting with Sam in the wreckage. Right, we should be running. Probably.

Without the Major, Pat, or Mina to provide answers and Sam beginning to shut down on what used to be the stairs to the shack, Christine is looking to me.

“What is going on?” she demands. “Is she—is Mina—”

“She cast long distance transportation,” I try to explain. That might as well be confirmation of a death sentence based on the panicked look on her face and the jittery emotions that threaten to spill over. I put my barriers higher to keep them out, bracing for my least favorite of all emotions.

Hannah steps forward before Christine can fully panic. “If Liam could do it, I know Mina could too…right?”

Christine blinks and the tide threatening to consume her stills. “R-right. It’s been solved and successfully cast. We all saw the news. The whole community is probably still talking about it. Still, there are…you can’t just…I need to see her. I need to see she made it.”

“How do we do that?” I ask, keeping my tone calm. The last thing we need is to lose what’s left of our composure.

“We…” she stops when she finally sees the Second Major stuck in the wards, furiously trying to get out but whatever is happening is well outside of my area of expertise. I won’t go near that thing psychically, but Joseph looks angry…and scared? What does he have to be scared of other than the consequences of what he did to Mina? In all the times I met him, I’ve never felt anything like that from him. I guess I still haven’t.

Well, if he’s afraid of his secrets getting out…

“Christine, we have to go,” I urge.

“Why?” she demands, looking at all of us. “And what did Pat mean when he said ‘truce?’ Why were you even fighting?”

Sam looks uncomfortable and her emotions are a mess. She wants to help her grandfather, but she doesn’t want to hurt us.

“Come with us, Sammy,” I plead. “You don’t have to do what he wants.”

“Without Nathan, it’s only a matter of time before they try to test the Association. We’re not strong enough without him. I am not going back there, Jax,” she whimpers.

“You won’t,” I promise. “And they won’t do anything. I won’t let them.”

She scoffs, an angry tear starting to fall down her face. “Then you’ll die or”—she chokes before whispering—"like Viridian.”

“If that’s what keeps you safe, I’ll do it,” I vow “but you can’t trade the Soothsayer’s life—Liam’s life—for your own safety; that’s not what we do.”

“But you’ll trade yours?” she challenges.

“What are you talking about?” Christine interrupts. “Please just talk to me.”

No one does for a tense minute. How would Sam even begin to tell her mom this? How can I help without giving myself away?

“Liam is convinced that Adamantine was ordered to kill him to cover up what he knew about the Paladin,” Hannah explains. “That’s what you said, right?”

I nod. “He told me when we met.”

Christine scoffs. “She wouldn’t do that, Jackson.”

“Patrick disagrees,” I counter.

“I love Patrick with my whole heart, but he can catastrophize at the speed of light; I know my daughter,” Christine snaps at me.

“I was asked,” Sam admits—manages to admit—before clamming up again.

Christine turns on her but somehow keeps that eerie calm. “Then what did you say?”

Sam opens her mouth to reply—or at least try to reply—when the barrier pitches Joseph out face first into the dirt on our side. Oh shit.

I expect him to get up and go right back to what he was doing before but he just stays down. I can tell he’s still awake and he doesn’t seem to be in physical pain. It might be the wind, but I think he’s shaking. The hostility is completely gone but not because he’s calmed down. I don’t want to check anything else, but it might mean we’re not in danger. Might.

Christine doesn’t give him the chance to recover and steps forward. I just barely get over to her to stop her. “Christine, don’t.”

“He attacked my son; I’m guessing he also attacked Mina,” she surmises.

“Well yes, but—”

Her gaze narrows on Joseph, “Then he should be prepared for what comes next.”

“Christine, he’s down; if we attack first, it’s assault. I get that you both don’t like each other but he’ll use any attack on him to hurt you. We all saw him attack Patrick and we have evidence that connects him to the Paladin’s crimes; that’ll be enough for us to do the same. Let’s get into town and find Pat and the Major.”

She growls but relaxes her hands. “Fine. Fine! Sam?”

Sam doesn’t get up from the stairs and I know from her face that none of us can make her. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Christine reaches down and hugs her, whispering something in her ear which makes Sam relax just a little. I take a step back towards Hannah to give them privacy. Hannah is silently crying.

“Are you okay?” I ask though that’s probably not a great question right now.

“Do you think I’ll be able to talk to”—she pauses before clearing her throat—"my son like that?”

“I think you can even if it’s awkward,” I tell her.

She doesn’t seem to agree under the surface, running her hands through her hair, trying to scrub her face. There’s a growing discomfort, frustration aimed inward.

“Ms. Collins?” I prod.

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.”

Well that’s not true based on the nausea that passes over me, but if she doesn’t want to tell me then she doesn’t have to.

With just as much dust on the road as when he left, Patrick is back alone…and he is visibly terrified. “Mina’s in Vancouver!”

“What?” Sam stands back up.

“It was on the news at the hospital,” Patrick walks right up to us. “There’s a bunch of news crews outside the evacuation zone where Mina landed; the Soothsayer is there too. I think he planned it that way. Sammy, we have to go.”

Sam shakes her head and takes a step back into the wreckage.

“She’d go if it was you!” Patrick shouts.

“Patrick, breathe,” Christine orders. “Not going to fights you’re not ready for is rule one.”

“I’ll go,” I volunteer. “If Patrick can get us there, I’ll go with him.”

“You’re not an active hero, Jackson,” Christine warns.

“It’s Mina,” I argue before turning to Hannah. “And I owe it to…”

The name dies on my tongue before I can even try to sound it out. Right next to me, Hannah’s unease spirals into fear. What was her son’s name? She scolded us for not using it right when we met.

“‘…’His name is—”

She’d said it with such determination after months of hearing how the Soothsayer was the most dangerous supervillain of our time, she insisted on his name. We’ve all been better about using it since—even minutes ago—but now it’s…gone.

No.

Patrick catches on and tries, finding only that same confusion. “Oh god. Mina’s with…the Soothsayer…so she…”

“The Madam is there too,” Sam realizes.

“What’s happening?” Hannah demands, tears worsening. “Why can’t I remember—he’s my son, why can’t I remember his name? He walked right up to me and told me he wanted to change it after his father left. He was so determined and I just wanted him to be happy after so long,” she pauses to wipe her eyes. “What kind of mother am I?”

“This isn’t you,” Christine insists, immediately taking her hands. “It’s the Madam of Acquisition…she can do something to people’s names. We’ve only seen it once before.”

Hannah doesn’t know what to do with that information, but Sam and Pat have both froze completely and even Christine is afraid. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We couldn’t help Viridian,” Sam admits. “They were just…gone.”

I don’t have a word for the emotion that overflows from Hannah’s mind. I slam my barriers up as high and as thick as I can get them to the point where I start losing both my hearing and my vision, but it isn’t enough. Being near a parent who has lost their child is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced from another person; I can’t even think of becoming a parent for fear of experiencing it for myself. Christine tries to calm her down—or at least I think she does, but I can’t even tell. I just need away from here. I’d shut myself down right now if I could.

Patrick puts a hand on my shoulder, and I jump. He picks me up when I don’t respond, and I know what he’s going to do. I manage to close my eyes and mouth this time before he starts running. Hannah’s presence fades instantly and the gut wrenching inertia of running with Pat is a welcome replacement for what she is going through. If I can breathe again, I’ll take it. Damn it, I promised I would be better than this!

I hesitantly lower my barriers and am met with Patrick’s concern for both me and Mina. I don’t stop him from where I know we’re going. He needs to do this; more than that, he can.

Anything could be happening on that beach. The Madam of Acquisition is classified as a supervillain for a reason and Mina was already wounded when she left. Did she have enough strength left over once she got there? Surviving casting a dangerous and untested spell is one thing but doing that and then fighting someone Alpha Squad lost one of their own trying to catch?

I’d also arrogantly thought I’d be able to repay the Soothsayer. Is it really too late? I heard from Stalagmight and Ghost what happened to Viridian; no one in the previous generation of Alpha Squad has ever forgotten that failure.

We’re not getting there fast enough, and I think Patrick thinks so too because I can feel him pushing himself under my ear. I can barely move when we’re going this fast but before I can try to calm him down, we stop and slide. Patrick drops me before I’m ready and I have to fly just to not end up eating sand and catch my breath ten feet in the air.

“Sorry!” Patrick calls. There’s a long skid in the sand behind us.

“I’m okay,” I call back, but I don’t land. I need to be ready.

The beach is quiet which is alarming considering Mina and Acquisition are supposed to be fighting. The news crews are all pointing their cameras at a massive oblong dome of grey-green ice stretching into the bay being buffeted by the waves. A small distance away from the ice, the Soothsayer lying on the beach being surrounded by Soaring, Amy, and Elena who is trying to get him to wake up.

I don’t see Mina anywhere.

Patrick’s arrival has pulled some of the attention off the dome and someone spots me but neither of us is in costume; Patrick had apparently just managed to grab his boots. It takes them a few moments to recognize that it’s him but oddly they don’t move from their spot by the parking lot. He has to go over to ask about Mina, but I keep my eyes—just my eyes—on the ice.

I don’t want to risk peeking into that dome. From what I’ve heard, Acquisition’s mind isn’t something I want to touch, and I don’t want to distract Mina either. Oh who am I kidding? I don’t want to look into Schrodinger’s box. I’m too afraid of what I might find. Only one of them is walking out of that and I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s not Mina.

The dome cracks and I land between it and the Soothsayer. If it’s Acquisition, I should at least try to distract her so Patrick can get some hits in but if she’s going to come out of there and immediately go after three of her Collection, I need to get them out of here. I know she can jump beyond human limits, but she can’t fly on her own, right? I’ve gotten too rusty; I should know the best play here and I don’t.

It’s not Acquisition. I almost fall to my knees when I see Mina trudging up the hill and into the light. Her left arm is a mass of horrible burns that have cracked. There are bruises forming on her neck and her face and hair are covered in dried sand and salt. Her right arm looks a bit pale but it’s clutching an equally sand covered white coat. That white coat.

Holy shit.

Patrick slowly walks right up to her, assessing, trying to look past her into the ice. In response she just holds up the coat a little higher so he can see. He just stares for a moment before hugging her as gently as he can.

“Holy fuck, she actually did it,” Soaring mutters.

I turn around. Soaring is half kneeling in the sand, using his wings to shield the scene from the reporters who are more concerned with Mina who holds up that coat for all to see. Now the cameras move, going in for close ups, better angles and bringing the deluge of questions, but I don’t have the time to look back at them.

The Soothsayer is barely conscious, but his mind is…fractured. Something was ripped out of him and his sense of self is crumbling around it, trying to make sense of something that isn’t supposed to go missing. The longer it’s left like that, the more the fragments will jumble until all semblance of his mind is lost.

And yet, something is holding him together, pressing the now shattered pieces together hoping it’ll stick. Unlike last time, I’m ready to try and block him out before he can repeat what happened at my tower, but I don’t know the trigger for his visions if there is one. Would that even still work if he’s in pieces?

“Come on, you idiot, wake up and tell me your name,” Elena orders against his forehead. “What were you thinking?”

Something underneath his mind shudders, rippling up towards the surface. Oh shit—I just manage to block out the small deluge of information before it can drown me like last time, but I catch the gist of whatever it was: Acquisition would have won if he hadn’t baited out her ability to erase names. She didn’t have the strength to use it on both of them, but Mina had a far better chance if he made himself the juicier target…he made that decision long before he broadcasted that message to directly challenge her power and her pride.

If that was one of his visions, it devastated whatever progress was being made on putting his mind back together. The Soothsayer shudders, curling up on himself both physically and mentally but he still doesn’t wake up.

I walk right over and kneel down in the sand, earning glares from all three of them though Soaring is mostly confused. It’ll be harder to anticipate needing my barriers at this range.

“It’s okay, I can help.” I try to assure them, but everyone here is incredibly stressed.

“Who are—" Elena growls.

“That’s Ajax, Alpha Squad’s former Vice Captain. Not sure how super-strength helps,” Soaring interrupts her.

“I’ve got some other stuff,” I hesitantly admit. “I think the Soothsayer just had a vision and it made the damage to his mind worse.”

“His mind…telepath!” Elena spits, trying to just pick him up and run. I can see in her panic…oh god, the damage. She’s been stung psychically so many times I’m amazed she’s sane.

“Who did that to you?” I ask.

“Oh no,” Amy panics.

I get an image from Elena’s mind about a man screaming as his mind was torn apart while he was still connected to her and the satisfaction she took in knowing he was not getting back up…and I get a vision from the Soothsayer about Carl at the same time—a disgraced NYPD telepath who tortured confessions out of people and was arrested for it. Appraisal found him and made him head of security with the explicit instruction to terrorize the Collection for Acquisition’s benefit with only one exception for Mia.

Holy fuck.

“I am not him,” I say through gritted teeth, pushing away the vision, her rage and mine, and gripping a fist full of sand to just stay rooted to this moment. I can’t make this work if his powers are just going to keep blindsiding me. “Wow, those visions hurt. How does he—”

“Stop!” Mia shouts. “Stop asking questions!”

“Questions,” I repeat.

“Just wait a second. What’s in here?”

Ah.

“Okay. I think I get it. I am not whoever Carl is. Was. Good riddance. The Soothsayer already sought me out once and he left his mom with me and Warpspeed over there. I promise I can help him.”

I reach for him. Elena bristles; her hatred isn’t really about me, but it itches all the same. “Don’t make me regret this,” she warns and hands him over. I shuffle so that I am holding his head in my hands and he’s lying in the sand.

“Just don’t let anyone interrupt us; I’m going to have to keep my barriers down, so I need you all to be calm or you’ll just distract me,” I urge and shut my eyes.

“I got you, Ajax,” Soaring promises. His admiration and Elena’s resentment mix together into something that reminds me of drinking orange juice directly after brushing my teeth.

I nod anyway and get to work. The Soothsayer is physically healthy, but it doesn’t take long to see a big problem. Elena might have some residual psychic dysregulation but the Soothsayer? He was tortured and stitched back together. If his powers hadn’t made him so mentally resilient, he would have died already. It’s bad enough I have to piece him together again, but the pieces might as well be covered in soot. I can’t tell what’s what until I clean them off.

And that thing beneath it all? How does he get anything done? I don’t want to touch it but this deep in his mind, it’s like I’m trying keep my head above water over a steep drop off. Not only that but parts of his mind seem to come from it…including a rough map of what he’s supposed to look like on a telepathic level. I think.

“His power…he uses questions to know what he wants,” I prod as I work on a section of his mind that I think came from whatever is beneath his surface thoughts. “And the answers become a part of him.”

“That’s about it,” Elena hesitantly replies.

“So if he asked himself about his own mind…” I reason.

“It’s probably in there,” she agrees starting to sound hopeful.

“I think he did. That’s…pretty smart.”

“He’s so…fucking reckless,” Elena insists.

“I’m not gonna fight you on that but it is helpful.” I use the pattern in his mind to map out the rest to the point where I can feel him become able to perceive me. The gaping hole is still there…and it’s missing from the map too; I can’t extrapolate what it’s supposed to be.

“Welcome back,” I whisper just to him.

He’s worried and quickly becoming agitated the same way he was when I stupidly walked right up to him and asked a question at point blank range with my walls down.

“Okay,” I start “If asking the question makes the answer part of him, then I think I understand why he let Acquisition take his name.”

“Because he could get his name back from being asked!” Elena excitedly realizes, distractingly happy and relieved enough that I don’t quite retreat from the Soothsayer’s mind fast enough.

Oh no. I open my eyes and reach for her. “Wait!”

“What is your name?” she asks.

Chapter Text

Why didn’t that work?

It should have worked, damn it! I asked the question; of course I asked the question! The Soothsayer had a plan. He had something he needed to do, and I had to let him do it—not that he gave me a choice! He must have known that I was watching for this exact scenario, this fucking idiot. He told me he left something for me afterward and that I would know what it was. I thought I did. The answer was right there in front of me.

So why the hell is it going wrong?

Ajax shrieks next to the Soothsayer and collapses, holding his head and crying. The Soothsayer is just as bad next to him, almost convulsing in the sand before opening his eyes and screaming “I don’t have one!” loud enough that Soaring has grabbed Mia and leapt backward about fifteen feet before any of us can register that he moved.

Mia doesn’t fight him; she actually turns around and tries to burrow under his chin. I’d be glad if this moment wasn’t all kinds of wrong.

I don’t know what to do. I check the Soothsayer but aside from the obvious thing wrong with him, there’s nothing that I can fix which is rare for me.

Warpspeed helps Sorciere—though the reporters are loudly calling her Major Arcana—over to us, but she looks about as terrible as anyone else does after fighting Acquisition. The only difference is she is the one standing, holding that damned white coat like the trophy it is. I can process that later when we fix this—it was supposed to be fixable, wasn’t it? Otherwise, why would he have done it? Unless he was lying about being able to fix what looks like a textbook heroic sacrifice. That had better not be what this is; we had an agreement.

“What—” Warpspeed starts.

“No questions!” I shout at him, and he flinches. I would feel bad but until I know where I went wrong, I won’t risk anything else happening to the Soothsayer.

“Shit, Jax.” The new Major collapses to her knees next to him and pulls him onto his back. “Tell me you’re okay.”

At least she’s quick on the uptake.

Ajax whimpers but eventually one bloodshot eye opens and then the other. “I saw…true nothingness. If absence was absolute.” He looks right at me. “You get one more try. I can’t…I can’t.”

“Speedy, take him to Vancouver’s Branch Office,” Major Arcana orders.

“I got him,” Warpspeed promises and reaches for him.

“No!” Ajax fights him off. “N-not runnin’ ‘gain.”

“Jax, it’s dangerous for you to be here,” Warpspeed argues.

“D-don’t care…”

Slurring words is never a good sign; I can put aside my baggage with Carl enough to help him. “Give me your hand.”

Ajax wants to ask why but takes my hand anyway. I can’t take away whatever he saw, but I can help with how his body is punishing him for seeing it. I was right to intervene; reversing a stroke is easier the earlier I can get to it. It would have been worse if he’d left; it’s cold comfort in the face of the pain that flares through my brain, but it’s not as bad as the last one I fixed. I’m not even surprised that I’ve gone back to taking injuries into myself, it’s just normal. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

When Ajax recovers enough to sense what’s happening to me, he tries to pull away immediately even though I’m not done, horrified the way the Soothsayer was when we first met. Honestly.

“You can’t both be idiots about this,” I snap.

“I’m fine,” Ajax evades but for all his reputation as Alpha Squad’s previous heavy hitter, he’s a trapped kitten in my grasp and I don’t let him go until the last bits of brain damage melt away and some color comes back to his cheeks. I don’t remember being this strong before, but I’ll take it.

“You are now, yeah,” I coldly inform him as he jerks his hand back. “You wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t stepped in…and it was my fault you were hurt at all. I’m sorry.”

“I clearly missed something,” Major Arcana infers.

“She hurts herself to heal others,” Ajax replies and now everyone is suddenly looking at me all concerned. It would be sweet if it weren’t annoying; just let me do my job, for fuck’s sake.

“You would have died,” I insist before turning to Major Arcana. She could lose that arm considering there’s definitely ocean water and everything that lives in ocean water in those burns. “And you need those burns treated.” I offer my hand to her next. “I’m amazed you’re still conscious.”

“I’m still riding the magical euphoria of fulfilling a long-held personal goal and taking on a mantle that was always meant to be mine. I will be fine; there are plenty of healers who can help me without hurting themselves to do it,” she argues.

“I’ve already healed everything I took from Ajax; it’s fine. You’re definitely risking infection, part of that t-shirt is fused to your skin, and there are other heroes about to come here led by a man who wants the Soothsayer dead,” I counter. “I will not let that happen.”

Heroes killing the Soothsayer is apparently a sore subject for all three of them based on the collective shudder.

“We can’t have both of you down right now,” I continue. “Look at that Tower over there, really look. That Tower is full of terrified, desperate, hurting people. There are people who thought they were getting a better life—an easier life—and have now had to do whatever Appraisal needed them for over and over again to justify being kept alive. Some of us have been there for years. Then, there are people who are there just so that their loved ones, who are more useful out here, take his orders and don’t cross him—like Mia was for Soaring.

“They’re not going to believe Her Ladyship is gone until they see you waving that coat in front of their faces. Appraisal and Acquisition have convinced them that the heroes outside want to arrest them for what they’ve had to do to survive; they’re going to fight back, and the Association won’t hold back either and it’ll all go to shit. You need to take charge of that mess, and you can’t do that if you go into shock when whatever magical wispy-woo bullshit pain relief stops working. Major Arcana”—I hold my hand a little higher—"take your damned medicine.”

Warpspeed is the only one looking at the Tower directly but then looks back at us. “She’s right, sis.”

I can see the gears turning in her mind before she—apparently against her better judgement—offers me her burned left arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” I snap, taking it with both of my hands. “Not a single member of the Collection will be helped by pity. Pity Appraisal’s kneecaps for what I’m going to do to them.” If he’s lucky.

The Major nods, trying to find the words which is enough of a distraction to start the process. I’ve never been set on fire before, so this is new and horrible. At least with burns as severe as hers have become, the nerves are gone…until they aren’t. We both feel that transition. She bites back a whimper and my eyes water but the red fades from her restored skin…and that shirt starts falling away in charred flecks now that it’s not attached to her.

Warpspeed grabs The Coat and puts it over her shoulders for modesty before freezing as a dozen camera shutters go off in the background. “Oh. Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

Major Arcana looks equally disturbed but she’s facing away from the cameras and doesn’t move to take it off. Honestly it looks good on her which is an opinion I apparently have.

Something deep in my core ripples and twists and I have to stop far before she’s completely healed. Letting her go makes that feeling lessen, but the now minor burns remain longer than they usually do on my skin. The relief makes me lightheaded. The Soothsayer was right, I can’t keep doing this. I’m still healing myself but it’s slower now and all my muscles ache like I’ve fallen down all the stairs from the penthouse to the ground floor. The new Major is still going to need some hospital time and some reconstructive surgery for the scars but she’s not going to drop either. That’ll have to be enough.

“Alright, now we can try and fix him too,” I declare, trying to hide how much my hands are shaking. The Soothsayer looks at peace which might have something to do with how intensely Ajax is looking at him.

“He was waking up,” he explains when he catches me looking. “He’s…I can’t go back in and fix him again; it’s just…it’s too much when that thing…”

“Could we—” Warpspeed starts only to stop when I look at him. “Sorry. Major, I’ve changed my true name before, would that—fuck, sorry—maybe…that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Major Arcana admits “we helped you change your name, but you did still have one. Not knowing isn’t the same as not having. We could try giving him one, but if we get it wrong, he gets up as someone different.”

“True names,” I repeat.

Major Arcana nods. “Your true name is the second gift you receive after life; it forms the basis of your sense of self as you grow around it. On a magical level it’s the key to who you are. We can hold the Soothsayer together but without his name, he’s just going to fall apart.”

“And you can just change something that important,” I ‘ask’ Warpspeed. God, I miss questions.

“I…had to,” he hesitates then clears his throat. “Appraisal didn’t keep any record of the first one.”

“Appraisal…oh. Right. You’re one of the twins.” I don’t know what else to say; bringing up those two was a great way to make sure Acquisition was in a bad mood for days. 

He nods once, much more tense than a second ago. “Yeah. Whatever our names were, those two didn’t use them. We were literally just “the girl” and “the boy.” We had to start over from scratch.”

“I need to know how this works,” I plead. “I have to fix this.”

“Warpspeed changed his name as part of his adoption into our family,” Major Arcana explains when Warpspeed obviously defers to her. “Though it helped that he didn’t know his birth name; it made it easier to change it. Warpspeed and Adamantine escaping the Collection gave them the first real opportunity to become the people they wanted to be, and they chose to become my family. For magicians, though, it gets a bit messier; protecting your true name is paramount. We typically have three or four extra names that we add and then keep from all but a few people. That way, no one knows our complete full name except us. Changing it completely isn’t a decision we make lightly.”

“The Soothsayer changed his name too,” Warpspeed realizes. “Hannah told us so.”

“It must have been right after his parents divorced,” I guess. “He told me his father didn’t know his name. He has a few issues there, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“That’s almost exactly what she said, yeah,” Warpspeed confirms.

I nod. “He asked if his father still loved him and was…disappointed by the answer.”

Major Arcana scowls but quickly hides it from everyone. “Then yes, if he was angry enough, he could have chosen to cut the already weak bonds tying him to his father and redefined his whole self as his mother’s son. I would bet that he woke Hannah up at dawn to do it.”

“And…it has to be a parent,” I assume.

“For matters relating to the parents yes, though if the Soothsayer’s answers become a part of him, maybe reminding him of his choice will be enough.” She says that but she looks to us—well, to Ajax—to confirm it.

“The rest of him is still there; it’s just jumbled,” he confirms. “If he gets his name back, maybe I can help him. Later. Way later.”

“We just have to pick the right question this time,” I grumble. I cannot fuck this up again, not when he trusted me to fix this. He doesn’t have a name, and I just put that reality right in front of his soul like he didn’t already know. Could I try asking what it was before it was gone? That sounds too easy. I didn’t think it through enough before…now I think I’m overthinking it. Fuck.

What happens if I’m wrong again?

“He’ll die anyway if you don’t try,” Ajax offers.

“Get out of my head!” I snarl.

“I’m not in your head,” he swears “it’s just obvious what you’re thinking. If you leave him like this, he’ll break down until he’s functionally brain dead and that won’t be quick.”

“I might be wrong,” I argue.

“If you’re wrong, he’s dead anyway but if you’re right…” he trails off.

I look around at everyone in this circle and then over at where Mia is holding her eyes shut like we taught her whenever something awful was going to happen, but she isn’t running either. No one here got as far as we did by giving into our fears, I think. I hear helicopter blades in the distance coming from the direction of the Tower; I guess we’re out of time no matter what.

I pick the Soothsayer up out of the sand and nod to Ajax who relaxes.

“Now you need to move,” I warn him. “I can’t fix you again either.”

He nods and Warpspeed helps him stand up before hauling him to the other end of the beach. Major Arcana fights to stand and takes a few steps before facing the sky, trying to find that helicopter. I guess we get some privacy for this part.

The Soothsayer grimaces and shivers despite the warm summer’s day around us as he starts to wake up.

“Tell me you can hear me,” I whisper.

He hums once.

“When you were a child and you wanted nothing more than to not be your dad’s son; when you wanted to change yourself and your future so badly that you got magic involved,” I hesitate. Here goes nothing. “What name did you choose in front of your mom?”

He freezes in my arms and for one terrifying moment the certainty that I’ve failed overwhelms everything but even though he doesn’t answer, the uncomfortable nicks in my memory fill back in and I know his name is Liam Andrew Marcus Collins. I didn’t realize how hard it was to look directly at him until this exact second but rather than think about the implications of that, I drop him back into the sand.

“You fucking dumbass. There is so much I want to yell at you about; do you know how fucking scared I was for you?” I ask on purpose.

Liam flinches but stays down, letting one tear slide off his face on the side away from the cameras which I assume were still recording behind us. “It was this or she would have won. I couldn’t tell you because you would have stopped me.”

“You’re absolutely right I would have!” I snap. “We had an understanding; you were supposed to stop doing everything on your own!”

“I didn’t do any of this on my own,” he argues, putting one hand on my knee. “I needed you to bring me back; this only worked because I trust you more than I trust anyone else.”

“And I almost fucked it up, Liam!”

“Do you really think I would have gone for this plan if I knew it wasn’t reversible?” he asks before having the audacity to look offended. “Wow, okay.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” I warn.

“I promise I won’t let any more clones of dead god-beings eat my name.”

This kid is going to get himself killed and it might be me who does it. I take a deep breath and count slowly to ten. In that time, Mia has finally looked over at us before pulling away from Soaring to come investigate.

“I know your name again. Does that mean it’s over?” she asks.

“We still have to save our friends,” Liam reminds her.

“Hopefully they can wait until you’ve seen a doctor,” I insist.

“There’s nothing a traditional doctor can do for me right now,” Liam sighs. “At most we can take twelve hours to rest. Appraisal is the only one who knows what happened here; he’s not about to let it slip that the base of his power was banished to another dimension, but there were witnesses to my grabbing the three of them. The longer it is that Acquisition doesn’t return triumphantly, the more they start to doubt she will. Some of them will get reckless enough to rebel but not enough to outweigh the ones who are too scared to disobey Appraisal.”

“And if I’m not there to keep the peace…” I realize. “I’ve been gone too long.”

“You can’t heal anyone else for a long while,” he warns. “That won’t change whether we rest or not.”

“Soothsayer!” a voice shouts down from above us through a megaphone. “You are under arrest!”

Chapter Text

It’s the subtle yet no less exasperated sigh from Major Arcana that tips me off to what we’re in for. I almost don’t hear it. She certainly doesn’t show it while all these cameras are pointed at her, but I know I heard it right before the helicopter started drowning everything out. As if today wasn’t stressful enough.

Liam lazily sits up in the sand and we all watch as a massive helicopter touches down on the sand and the side hatch thing opens up to a man in dark grey tactical gear already standing up…does he have lights pointed at him from behind? He does; he’s seriously got a lighting rig set up in there shining down on his dark grey avian themed helmet and matching cape to throw the rest of him into shadow. It might work if the low roof of the helicopter wasn’t forcing him to slouch.

And then he pulls out a matching dark grey megaphone even though we’re less than twenty feet away…though the reporters are more than forty. Maybe I’m reading too much into this; it has been a long few days.

“It’s long past time you’ve answered for everything you’ve done! I’ll make sure of it!” Nightowl—because who else is this going to be—declares with a flourish of his other arm, but the massive helicopter makes him look small and the matching grey between his armor and his vehicle washes him out. Maybe I’m not reading too much into this after all.

Liam sighs in a much more obvious fashion than the Major but doesn’t acknowledge him. “I can’t believe I ever thought he was cool,” he says to me.

Nightowl waits for the blades to fully stop cycling above him before he hops down from the helicopter into the sand, bending his knees just a little too much for such a small landing. The cape even flares out at the ends, for fuck’s sake. Only once Nightowl has finished with his grand entrance are the rest of the heroes on board allowed to disembark, fanning out at either side looking resolute…or at least annoyed.

I notice all of them are burly-looking men. Several of them are wearing some variation of a steel breastplate or bracers that are obvious homages to the Paladin. That could be a problem. It’s a neat illusion of strength and unity…but then Liam smiles and stands up to greet them and at least two of them blanch. One of them almost takes a step back.

They don’t even know that this kid risked his own life for people he didn’t even really know…and why would they? Every time the general public has seen Liam, he stunned them with something impossible, terrible, or both. I’m not sure Liam intends to dispute that reputation either. It’s far too easy to see what drew Appraisal to him and it’s easy to see what effect Appraisal’s “apprenticeship” has had on Liam too. I’m just glad it didn’t change anything. If this was just about taking down Appraisal, he could have done it without risking himself for the Collection. I have to believe that.

“I’m afraid you’re too late.” Liam sounds almost contrite, still smiling but it’s still that cold smirk with teeth that Appraisal must have taught him. “I’m afraid I’ve already surrendered to Major Arcana.”

“Are you sure?” the Major almost whispers.

Nightowl doesn’t let Liam answer; he storms right up to us with four other heroes and pulls out a set of dark grey hand cuffs. “I am the one taking you into custody as captain of Alpha Squad. Soothsayer, you are under arrest for the murder of—"

“Last time I checked, Alpha Squad didn’t have a captain,” Major Arcana growls.

“I think the Board will be most receptive to my candidacy, Sorciere,” he dismisses, somehow managing a haughty glare from behind a mask. “And once it’s official, I’ll be doing some restructuring.”

“How much did you offer them this time?” Liam asks before openly snorting at whatever answer he receives.

“What?” the Major demands, now focused on Nightowl who just scoffs at her. Her self-control is really something else; he needs a smack.

Nightowl freezes for a moment before fumbling one half of the cuffs open in a sudden hurry. “We’re not about to take your unhinged ramblings as fact.”

“Unhinged ramblings? I am an Association certified psychic with an accuracy rated at one hundred percent,” Liam reminds him. “I know the contents of your fridges—all nine of them—let alone your past bribery of the Association Board for Alpha Squad and I can help interested parties prove it.”

That makes some of the other heroes a bit nervous, mostly the ones not wearing Paladin-esque armor. One is outright infuriated. Then they seem to remember that Liam is a known supervillain and some of the earlier mistrust comes back.

“Why am I not surprised you bought your way in?” the Major asks with a slight wince as she catches herself with the question.

Liam subtly shakes his head in reassurance. “Because it’s obvious how he thinks. He came in person to arrest me despite my reputation and obvious ability for the prestige and the bolster to his public image, for clout with his fans and the Board. That’s all any of this is for.”

“Someone gag him!” Nightowl orders and one of the silver-clad heroes steps forward and pulls what looks like a mask off his belt.

Mia steps in front of Liam, wings flaring fully in an obvious threat. It’s just too bad she’s only eleven and Liam is still clearly visible behind her.

“No,” she demands. “He saved us!”

Nightowl doesn’t even look at her. “Remove the child.”

Soaring steps in front of her, flaring his own wings which are large enough to block Mia, Liam, and me. “Try it.”

“You defend murderers rather easily,” Nightowl jabs “but what else can I expect from a traitor who’s in Appraisal’s pocket?”

“A bruised trachea,” Liam mutters.

“Shh.” Even though I try to hush him, that delivery was dry, and I can’t help the smile. At least no one can see it past Soaring.

“Everyone, calm down,” Major Arcana orders. “Nightowl, we’re in Canada, you can’t read the Miranda rights. Even if you could, you can’t read anyone their rights with a stage name; say his name properly or let someone else. Soaring, Mia, it’s going to be okay. There are numerous protocols for someone compelled by supervillains, especially when lives are at stake.”

“In that case, no one can read him his rights; he doesn’t have a name,” Nightowl explains slowly.

The Major looks over at Liam with the obvious question.

“Proximity,” is all Liam says before smiling. “Well, Major, looks like it’s up to you after all.”

She nods. Whatever evidence she has, however this case is going to go, Major Arcana can’t just not follow the rules. “Liam Andrew Collins—”

Wait, did I get a different answer than her?

“Don’t do it,” Mia begs.

“Mia,” Liam calls and she looks over at him. “It’s what I want. Don’t blame the Major for it. Stick close to your dad and Elena, okay? He’s going to help you with your job.”

“Fine!” she snarls, clearly unhappy. Today might be a bit much for her.

“Thank you.” Liam nods to her. “You’re being very brave; it’s going to help me be brave too.”

“Really?” she asks.

“Really,” he agrees then looks back at Major Arcana.

“Liam Andrew Collins, you are under arrest for murder by magical means and use of forbidden magics.” This time, her poker face is immaculate though I would like some context.

He only nods. “I, Liam Andrew Collins, know and understand the charges brought against me and am invoking my right as a magician to judgement by my peers.”

“Then until the Sages can be summoned, you’ll be taken into Canadian”—she emphasizes for Nightowl’s benefit—“custody.”

Nightowl offers the cuffs, but the Major ignores him which obviously rankles him. No love lost between these two, I guess. She raises one hand to Liam’s chest.

“I have to block you,” she quietly warns.

He nods again. “I trust you.”

She writes a rune in the air, and it sticks to his throat. Liam coughs once as it sinks into his skin but doesn’t say anything. When he checks back with me, he just gestures like he’s zipping his lips.

“Silence,” I guess. Like he didn’t endure enough of that.

“He can still hear,” Major Arcana assures me. “Complete Silence is just cruel.”

“It’ll be fitting for Louise then,” I growl.

Soaring puts one hand just above Liam’s elbow but it’s not really a hold and it does let him stand next to Mia who refuses to move from either of their sides. I hope that means there’s some form of goodwill towards her dad.

“Will that be enough?” Nightowl asks. Someone needs to shut him up.

“It will,” the Major declares before addressing some of the others. “There are two other magicians in the area, but both should be depowered. One is a woman, early to mid twenties, purple dress, short brown hair. The other is a man, late forties to early fifties, blindfolded, wounded somewhere over that hill,” she points, and several heroes go searching. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off Louise but without her magic she’s just a punk kid and Dennis exploded so…it’s probably fine. Right? Can I have that much?

Nightowl opens his mouth once again. “What about Acqui—”

“Gone,” she interrupts Nightowl. That was far too close. Liam doesn’t look worried, but if people are going to poke at him like this, I don’t know what will happen. I’m starting to understand why he keeps to himself.

“We have to get moving. Liam said we can take twelve hours at most before the situation worsens,” I urge. Liam nods emphatically next to me.

“Then we’ll make the most of them,” the Major declares before looking in the general direction of where Warpspeed went. I don’t see him, but I don’t expect he’ll stay away long.

Sure enough, he reappears without Ajax but with Louise, wrapped extremely securely in duct tape. Neat.

“Found her halfway up the hill—I think she tried to curse me,” he explains when everyone stares. “I don’t think it worked. Jax found a bakery and coffee shop; I told him your order has literally never changed.”

Major Arcana allows a soft smile at the thought.

Warpspeed holds up a paper bag for Mia. “Listen, I uh, I remember Appraisal being weird about the Collection’s diet—didn’t exactly keep me well fed but anyway—when was the last time you had a donut?”

I see Liam’s eyes water, but he blinks until he’s normal. I don’t think that hurt him but considering I haven’t had a donut in almost a decade, I think I get why he’s upset.

“Literally forever,” Mia solemnly replies and Warpspeed surrenders the bag to her. Mia, to her credit, offers half of what looks like a Boston cream to Liam who shakes his head with a smile.

“You enjoy that, kiddo, you’ve earned it,” I encourage.

 “If we’re done coddling the supervillain…” Nightowl mocks.

“He stood in front of the Madam of Acquisition and basically invited her to kill him so the Major could take her down,” Warpspeed snaps “we can show him a little respect.”

“Respect? He killed the Paladin, or have you forgotten that?” Nightowl yells.

“Nightowl, save it for court,” Major Arcana snaps.

“Assuming he makes it that far,” Nightowl growls.

I stare him down in his stupid owl mask. “You won’t touch him.”

“Speedy, transfer the Soothsayer to the Vancouver Office’s medical wing and watch him,” Major Arcana orders.

“Yes, Major,” Warpspeed says, pointedly looking at Nightowl and then Liam is just gone from my side a second later. That is…uncomfortable. I guess I’ll have to trust that Warpspeed knows what he’s doing…or at least trust that he knows what our real enemy is like as well as I do. He’s a Collection kid too, after all.

“We need to get everyone here back to the evacuated zone. If Appraisal knows that Acquisition is gone, he might do something stupid like try to leave,” Major Arcana orders.

“We should be so lucky,” Soaring mutters. “Didn’t the Soothsayer say he was effectively finished? Why are we still waiting?”

“Because we have nothing left to fight with,” Major Arcana admits. “And because these two at least need to sleep. We don’t know what sort of counter measures Appraisal has on the place; we are not going in without a break, food, and a proper briefing which I am sure Liam is sure to provide.”

Some of these meat heads still don’t look too sure. A few of them look trigger-happy. I am not trusting my people to the Association, not when they let us rot for years. I’m making an exception for the New Major because she took down that monster and because Liam can clearly see who she is.

“I can confirm that every entrance to the Tower, every stairwell, every hallway, is rigged against intruders. I don’t know very much about magic, but there’s a lot of it and more waiting for you if you try.”

Major Arcana nods. “Let’s move out. Everyone who’s coming with us needs rack time.”

Nightowl’s mini-Paladins are looking to him for leadership but the rest of the heroes fall in line. Nightowl gives in under the pressure. Defeating the Madam has somehow banished all traces of the disheveled, frightened girl we met on this beach when we got here. There’s something about the way she stands now, the power in her stare, the way that the others can’t help but look at her. It’s more than confidence, but it can’t all be explained by magic.

Whatever it is that makes Nightowl listen, we all eventually get onto that stupid helicopter. Mia can negotiate her wings, but Soaring doesn’t even try to get on.  

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises. “Should probably catch up with Ajax anyway.”

“Ajax is here?” Nightowl demands from the pilot’s seat.

“You’re going to want to watch the news from today,” the Major remarks from the co-pilot’s seat.

“Promise?” Mia asks.

“I promise.”

“Do you want to go with him?” I ask her. I can see she does but there might be a second problem. “I know Appraisal never let you fly.” I wonder if she even can.

“In or out, make it quick,” Nightowl stresses. “I need to start pre-flight.”

Mia looks at me and then leaps out at Soaring who catches her. I swear I can see part of his soul coming back from just holding her. He doesn’t even set her down as he gets clear of the blades.

The door closes and I just can’t bring myself to care about anything else that’s going on. I think someone tries to make small talk but what do I have to talk about? I try to rest my eyes but all I can see is the Madam standing and Liam falling. I try to focus on after. The sonic boom, the fight, the dome. It still doesn’t seem real. When will it seem real?

Maybe Major Arcana has a point about resting; just trying to think about today is exhausting.

The Vancouver Association office is south of the bay and built almost in direct opposition to the Tower. I wonder which one was built first; both were already up when I got here. After about half of us have been dropped off, Nightowl takes his giant helicopter and Paladin flunkies back north to where the rest of the Vancouver team is.

Soaring flies over us a minute later and I’m content to watch as he laps the block with Mia twice, gently diving before ascending several times before finally landing near us. Mia is fully asleep in his arms when he does. Considering she usually has to be with Sonja or me for that to happen, it’s a rare treat to see.

“Wonders never cease,” I whisper.

“It’s how I used to get her down when she was a baby.” Soaring adjusts his hold on her, refusing to let anyone else near them as we go inside. “Guest quarters are this way.”

The Major and the heroes she must have picked in the helicopter have already disappeared. Soaring takes the stairs rather than the elevator.

“Where’s the infirmary?” I ask.

“Down a few floors. I know what you probably think of the Association, but my people are solid—especially the medical staff,” Soaring promises. “The only weak link here is me but you and the Soothsayer solved that problem the moment you got my daughter out of there. I can’t ever repay what I owe you both for that, but,” he pauses, clearly uncomfortable. “I can help you with the rest of the Collection. The Soothsayer looks half dead; I’m not sure he should come with us.”

Something tells me that the next part is for me to do anyway. “You don’t want to bring Mia to the Tower either, do you?”

He stops three floors down from the roof and nods to the door. I hold it for him and he squeezes past me.

“It was enough of a struggle to not just take her and fly directly to the Island when I took off from the beach,” Soaring admits “but if I really want her back, that’s the last thing I should do; I know that. I just wish I didn’t feel so fucking scared for what’s going to happen next. I think I’ve spent the last three years either terrified or numb.”

“I wasn’t in the room that day, but I remember when Mia first came to the Tower,” I say, and he shudders. “It won’t happen again because Acquisition is gone. Appraisal might be dangerous but having her at his back was most of that and he knows it.”

“I want to see him scared for a change. How do I even begin to make this right?” Soaring asks, stopping in front of a closed door with a keypad. “Four, seven, one, two.”

I put in the code and the door opens. I get the lights as he follows me in. This room is nicer than my room back at the Tower even if it is a bit austere. There are also two bedrooms. Soaring side steps into one and puts Mia to bed with more tenderness than I have witnessed from anyone in years before gently closing the door not quite all the way.

“I get the feeling she won’t want to wake up without you nearby,” Soaring sheepishly explains when he catches me staring. “Could you look after her just one more day?”

It strikes me how young Soaring is too. Or maybe I’m getting old and everyone looks young to me. That’s certainly a feeling.

“Where she’s concerned, you can ask me anything,” I promise.

Soaring smiles. He doesn’t have any laugh lines on his face. “Thank you. God, there’s so much I want to ask you. Am—Mia—clearly trusts you.”

“She didn’t exactly have a choice. None of them did.” How bad is it back there right now? What are we risking by wasting our time like this? Is Sonja okay?

“Sleep. I’ll keep watch, if you want and I can check on the Sooth—Liam—in a bit,” Soaring offers. “Even trying to sleep is better than no sleep at all. The Major is right: we’re not saving anyone like this.”

He’s right and I hate it.

Chapter Text

I’m not sure I get twenty minutes of sleep in the next eight, but the sun goes almost all the way down and Soaring’s phone goes off outside and I guess enough is enough. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep when this is over.

‘When’, not ‘if.’ What a concept. It’s not just one of the useless fantasies I used to have in the early days when I needed it all to stop, it’s reality. It’s happening soon, which is only a step and half away from happening right now. The Madam is gone; there’s no one on Earth who could match her skill at hunting people down. I am, effectively, free to leave. It would be easy; even Appraisal would have a hard time catching me again.

But I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if everyone else was still trapped. I will see this through to the end. For them. For myself. Doing what Appraisal wanted meant I was part of the reason they were trapped. I have to be the one to set that right; I know that, but still…

I can see the Tower in the dying daylight from this window when I sit up; it’s truly unnerving to see it from the outside. I forgot that it was so dark to look at; it sits above the rest of the buildings and hovers over them. That’s by design; Appraisal has quietly made sure any other building project trying to build taller than him within a certain distance fails in the early planning. An entire section of this city has no choice but to look up at his castle. He has bragged extensively about it. It’s also the only building that still has power; everything else surrounding it is dark though the only room with light is Appraisal’s office right at the top.

I can just barely see the gaping hole from Liam’s spell; a flaw in the dark glass broadcasting Appraisal’s weakness for all to see. Someone hurt him; someone can hurt him. The longer Appraisal goes without putting Liam in his place, the more people will start to think he can’t. Unfortunately, I know better than to think they’d succeed. Getting up close to Appraisal is just handing him your weaknesses; he encourages people to try. This isn’t any different and that… If we can’t settle this today, Appraisal will make us all regret it forever.

“Elena? You up?” Soaring calls from outside.

I get up and open the door to the living room where he spent the night—well, day—camped out on the couch. I think he got some sleep; I hope he did.

“Got you some stuff.” He holds out a bag that has toiletries, fresh clothes, and a large towel.

I take it from him. “What’s going on?”

“Well, the Major made some calls but before he could be suspended, Nightowl threw a tantrum, took his ball, and went home. So that happened. Alpha Squad’s Ghost and Marina—my vice-captain—are now in charge of the forward perimeter. Nothing’s moved from the Tower since yesterday—well, earlier today,” he reports. “The Major wants us there in an hour; she’ll go over the rest of the plan then.”

I nod. This is really happening then. “I’ll be right back.”

The shower only makes it easier to feel the buzzing under my skin; I don’t necessarily feel better just more organized. Less greasy. It’ll have to do.

Mia is at the table wolfing down what looks like a breakfast wrap when I come back out. I don’t blame her. There’s probably bacon or sausage or something else ‘unhealthy’ and therefore wonderful that the Tower’s carefully regimented meal plan would never let us have.

I think Soaring may have taken yesterday’s donut conversation to heart because he hands me another brown bag and I can see grease coming through the paper. I blink and it’s in my hand. Whatever half-baked plan to celebrate the Tower’s liberation with junk food I didn’t have to sneak around for in almost a decade vanishes as, apparently, my self-control has decided not to do that, no matter how symbolic.

I have fucking missed hash browns. I eat four of them and my own wrap way too fast, and Soaring offers me a cup of what is hopefully coffee to wash it down.

Oh, even better: it’s a mocha. With chocolate. I’d be tempted to thank god if I hadn’t long given up on the concept of gods.

“Are you…okay?” Soaring asks.

“I’m very nearly perfect,” I reply, stifling what might be tears. I’m not going to lose it over breakfast; pull it together!

“When are we going?” Mia asks.

Soaring still looks uncomfortable about that. “Soon. Are you sure you want to go? No one would blame you for wanting to stay back.”

Mia looks up at him with an iron she shouldn’t have at this age. “They’re my friends; I can’t just keep sitting on the sidelines while they get hurt—that happened enough when I couldn’t behave. Right, Elena?”

Soaring looks speechless at the mention and glances at me in horror, asking without words. I don’t exactly want to get into all of that right now, but of course I have to say something. That guilt is exactly what Sonja, Audrey, David, and I were trying to avoid.

I put a hand on Mia’s shoulder. “None of that was your fault. We stepped in because we knew you needed a parent, not just a warden. We wanted you to have the space to learn and grow without having to worry about what might happen if you made mistakes in a place where mistakes were over punished. None of this is your responsibility to fix, Mia. You’re out, you’re free. You’re allowed to enjoy that, and you don’t need to earn it by doing this.”

“What about you?” she asks.

I smile. “Liam’s right: they won’t trust anyone but their own. I won’t feel safe until Appraisal is dealt with either.” As soon as possible.

“Me too,” Mia agrees before standing up and stretching her wings all the way out and back in before facing her dad. She’s nervous. “Liam said…that you had no choice, you know, that day. He said both of us would have died if you’d told them ‘No.’ I-I think I get it but doing this is a choice I can make now. Don’t take it from me.”

Soaring’s eyes widen a fraction before he closes them and bows his head. “I won’t.”

Someone knocks on the door and Soaring goes to answer. I don’t see who it is, but I can hear.

“Cap—do I still call you ‘Captain?’” a nervous sounding man asks before clearing his throat. “Captain, a woman claiming to be Sorci—I mean, Major Arcana’s mother has requested you take this to the Major when you go.”

“How did you know it was actually her mom and not a complete stranger?” Soaring demands.

“Because Adamantine was with her!” the man panics, and my heart almost stops. “Sir. Adamantine left the building, but her mother and the other woman—there’s another one—are asking to see the, uh, the Soothsayer,” he whispers the last part.

Soaring looks back at us. I shake my head. I don’t know what Adamantine is playing at, but we can’t be distracted by it right now. I think Soaring agrees.

“Put them in a conference room and keep them supervised,” Soaring orders. “Get them anything they ask for except for access to the Soothsayer. Who did the other woman say she was?”

“She, uh, didn’t.”

“Well, how did she sign in at the front desk?” Soaring coaxes.

“Hannah Collins, sir.”

Collins? Oh shit.

“And the Soothsayer’s name is Liam Collins,” Soaring realizes.  

“Oh. I didn’t know that, Captain,” the voice admits. “It’s been a little…weird trying to think about it, like, shouldn’t I know? And trying to find clips online has been…there’s just a blank space on every screen where it should be.”

“Don’t worry too much; I don’t understand how any of this works,” Soaring admits. “Put them in a conference room anyway until everything else is settled. Put the base on alert when we go to the Tower. I don’t want any surprises happening while we’re gone.”

“Uh, yes. I can do that. Good luck, Captain.”

“Thank you. I’ll get this to the Major.”

Soaring is holding a black silk top hat when he closes the door but he’s pinching it between two fingers like it might explode. To be fair, the previous Major once pulled an illusionary elephant out of the thing that was real enough to crush a car. I don’t know what’s in there but if it helps our new Major, so be it.

“I can’t let you see him either, in case you’re wondering,” Soaring says, still holding the hat. “But I checked in on him. He managed to get some sleep but only after terrifying the medical staff into leaving him alone.”

I scowl. Damn it, Liam. “He does that.”

There’s something about this situation that I’m missing—or is it just the nerves? I run the checklist in my head: I’ve slept, showered, eaten, coffee, checked on Mia. We can go now. I don’t know what else I can do here.

But now Hannah Collins is here; that is important beyond the call to get out there and end this, but that mocha is taking its sweet time to kick in. I think I know who that is but Liam hasn’t exactly been open about his family other than his dad.

“Leave her alone,” he’d growled directly at Appraisal.

Of course. That’s his mom; the only parent Liam even wants. Wait.

Does she remember his name? No one who wasn’t there with us when I asked got an answer, if I’m understanding any of this correctly. The world knows that his name is gone. For several terrifying minutes, four months of my memories were poked full of holes; what happened to anyone who knew him longer than that? What is still happening to them?

“Are we ready to go?” Soaring asks.

“Not yet. I want to talk to Hannah Collins.” I can at least tell her son’s name. It’s not right that I know it and she doesn’t.

“Do we have time for that?” Soaring asks. “Our deadline’s gonna be tight.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” I promise.

“Okay,” Soaring agrees and pulls out his phone. “All visitors have to wear a tag; it’ll be easy to track which one’s been assigned to her.”

I frown. “You didn’t make us wear one.”

“You got off a helicopter and went right to bed. Plus, you’re under our protection right now; giving anyone the ability to know where you are is risky.”

I’ve had more than enough experience with someone knowing exactly where to find me, but I can let it go. She’s gone. I have other things I can do today because she’s gone.

Soaring leads us down the stairs another three floors to the conference room in question. I can see a woman with dark hair—definitely the Major’s mom—sitting at the table watching another red headed woman pace, trying to say something to her. The pacing doesn’t stop, and Major Mom looks worried. Hannah looks furious and I don’t know what that anger is for, who it’s for. She’s here now, is that a good sign? Or was she just dragged here because she was with the Major’s family?

And the way Liam stopped me from even the most casual question about his dad just means that there’s no way he’s asked about how she feels about any of this. Could he handle her leaving too? Did he expect it?

Do I even have the right to interfere? What am I supposed to say? Will I just make things worse? How is it that facing Appraisal would be preferable right now? Don’t I have a job to do? How am I here and not trying to get my friends out?

“You don’t have to go in there,” Soaring whispers. He doesn’t have to; the door is closed. When I don’t move, Mia takes my hand and pulls. I have to swallow the shame as I let her pull me back towards the stairs.

“It’s okay,” Soaring says once the exit door closes but I start walking back upstairs.

“No, it’s not,” I choke out.

“Yes, it is,” he insists, following. “You’re not ready for that conversation, if it’s even yours to have. I texted Liam’s name to my doctor and asked him to make time for her. It doesn’t have to be you, especially not right now.”

Mia squeezes my hand as I wipe away tears. “Maybe you’re right.”

Soaring has us fitted with bullet proof vests, though Mia’s is probably just one of his with the way it wraps around her shoulders and sides and is entirely too big for her. I don’t exactly need it, but not getting shot is always nice.

We get into a much more reasonably sized helicopter than Nightowl’s monstrosity. Soaring still doesn’t try to get on with us, but he takes off first and stays within sight of Mia’s window as we take off. She has to lean out of her seat anyway just to fit. She’s…jealous?

“I can’t fly,” she tells me through the headset when she catches me looking. “Dad says the muscles in my back and wings aren’t strong enough anymore. I could barely glide yesterday, and I almost fell into the bay.”

Oh no. “You can train that back up, can’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s what Dad said,” she sighs. “It just sucks. I finally get out of there and I can’t even do the one thing I wanted more than anything.”

“We’ll get you in the air, Mia,” I promise. “We’re all going to heal put this behind us. We’re going to be happy but Appraisal? He’s going to rot in prison.”

“Or worse,” she threatens.

“That is not our job today,” I warn. “Our job is rescuing our friends and nothing else. If things get risky, Soaring is going to get you out of there, okay?”

She doesn’t look happy about that, and she doesn’t agree either.

“It’s that or you don’t go,” I warn. “You have to listen to everything Soaring says.”

“Fine, I get it!”

“Thank you. I just needed to hear you say it.”

She pointedly huffs into the microphone, but I leave it at that. Today has been exhausting and it hasn’t technically started yet. We don’t know what’s going to happen once we get there.

If I even survive getting there. The Tower grows larger and more imposing with each second and we’re descending as well. It looms over us the way it did when I first came here. I was so fucking young then—how was I so naïve at thirty-five? I didn’t have the sense to run then even if it wouldn’t have mattered. I want to run now—I can run now—but I keep my mouth shut, let the helicopter land on the roof of a building roughly four blocks away, and I carefully help Mia down from her seat. I’m not going to fuck anything else up today. Our pilot leads us to the elevator but doesn’t come down with us.

“Are you okay?” Mia asks after the doors close.

I nod. I can’t trust myself to say anything else.

We’re driven to the command center which is just a cordoned off avenue between two skyscrapers. Several heroes I don’t recognize are hovering a dozen feet above us, surveying everything. The Tower is out of sight a block over. Whoever picked this spot actually did a good job; there’s no way to spot us from the Tower while we’re back here. It’s odd to see this city completely dark except for the lights shining on the camp’s perimeter.

The rest of the heroes here are staring at us but a few openly glare at Soaring as he flies right through their aerial perimeter and lands near us. He doesn’t react to them in any way just forges onward to us and leads us to a…dark grey Nightowl themed party tent?

Well, at least it smells like it’s gonna rain anyway so he can have this one. Nightowl, luckily, is nowhere to be seen as we step under it.

Major Arcana has already made herself comfortable at the head of a folding table, Warpspeed on her left. Both are in full costume now, but the Major has abandoned the stage magician’s suit she’d shared with her father in favor of keeping the Madam’s coat on. The left half hangs off her shoulder because her left arm has been thoroughly bandaged in some sort of dyed green gauze covered in silvered magic runes and pinned to her side in a sling. It’s not exactly a standard dressing but I don’t know enough about magic to argue. I can’t exactly fix her myself anyway considering what happened last time. Maybe I’ll let Liam have the last word on that.

Next to Warpspeed is a person in a silvery-grey costume in their fifties with a crown braid and a greying beard that can only be Ghost. Appraisal had some rather caustic opinions about them from the last time they met, which is the only way I even know it’s them. Ghost doesn’t exactly get out much these days, possibly because they guessed the depth of Appraisal’s hatred for them.

The chairs are low backed enough to allow for her wings, but Mia turns hers to the side out of habit anyway and sits on her knees with the back of the chair under her arm. Soaring remains standing behind her after passing the top hat to Major Arcana who frowns at it before setting it down on the table without a word.

“Good evening,” the Major greets. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’ll sleep better when this is done,” I evade as I sit down between Mia and the Major.

“Won’t we all,” she agrees. “This is Ghost, Alpha Squad’s dispatch and overwatch. The Soothsayer was on the verge of breaking out of the hospital to be here, but he is under arrest. He did type up some notes for us to use.” She holds up several sheets of paper with a slight scoff. “Not nearly as thorough as last time.”

“What have we missed?” I ask.

“We have most of a plan; we just need your input, Elena,” she replies.

“Me?”

“Liam was very adamant that we’d get the best results on your advice. This can’t be an Association standard operation. For one thing, Appraisal is expecting that. For another, Liam insists that most of the people in that building will listen to you if given the chance. Taking Appraisal down will be mine and Warpspeed’s job but you, Soaring, and Mia have to make people believe that this will stick this time.”

“I’m still on the fence about that myself,” I admit. I was hoping the actual, veteran heroes would have more input than leaving it to me while I can barely keep it together.

“It was us who underestimated his reach the last time,” Ghost admits. “Rectifying that mistake has been the goal of my career. The Soothsayer has already agreed to help us bury that asshole, but I haven’t been idle either. Untangling his web of shell companies has taken years but we’re here. We have a case with evidence; we just need the arrest. With Acquisition gone, we will make this happen, Ms. Kendal.”

I haven’t heard that name in a very, very long time; it might as well belong to someone else. “Alright. We can do this.” If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it.

“What happens if we can’t?” Mia quietly asks. Soaring puts a hand on her shoulder.

Ghost leans forward, resting their hands on the table and looking right at her. “With the Madam of Acquisition banished from our entire plane of existence, there’s no way for Appraisal to track the Collection which means witness protection would be a viable option again. If we fail—and I will not allow that to happen again—we’ll get you and your dad new identities, amulets that prevent magical tracking, and move you to another country. Would that be enough?”

“I don’t want to just keep running,” Mia argues.

“I know, but your friend Liam’s notes were very clear about no one killing Appraisal and I agree. Death is letting him off easy. Trust us to the take the longer, harder, path to bury him somewhere cold and dark for the rest of his life,” Ghost pleads.

“So, what’s the plan so far?” Mia asks with as much stoicism as she can. Ghost clearly approves but of course they do; Mia could be a real hero someday, more than just the wannabe celebrities playing the popularity polls. She’s certainly doing better than the shaking hands I’m hiding under the table.

“Louise’s portion of the Tower’s magical defenses have expired and since I bound Dennis, his portion are dormant. It looks like only the first seven floors have connection to the Internet,” Major Arcana reports.

“Appraisal has learned from last time,” Ghost smirks, flipping over one of the pages Liam gave. “Four separate intranets across forty floors, each isolated from the rest to keep me out and only the first ten floors have internet, but they also don’t have power right now. Last time I got to his server room and took over his setup in under a minute. He’s really making me work for it this time.”

“Yeah, he does not like you,” I agree. “If there’s no power, we’ll have to take the stairs and they’re rigged to explode—not magically,” I add when the Major raises an eyebrow.

“Can we just fly up and break a window?” Soaring asks. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“That might get us in, but it doesn’t get the Collection out,” Ghost reminds him.

“They’re also scared and who knows what kind of fucked up hostage situation Appraisal will resort to.” I shudder at the thought. “I might know the Tower like the back of my hand, but Appraisal knows me just as well if not better. He’s not going to just surrender.” Even Carl knew that hurting Sonja in particular could get under my skin.

“Why does he even bother with any of this?” Soaring grumbles.

“Power and influence,” Warpspeed replies, finally speaking up. “The first Collection were mostly volunteers attracted to that power and what it could bring them. Then he started kidnapping people who could be useful to him. He was raising my sister and me into weapons, though he never made it that far—”

“Then why wasn’t he stopped back then?” Soaring demands.

“The jury,” Warpspeed sighs. “The whole trial was doomed from the start because being in the same room as the jurors, the lawyers, and the judge…he knows things about the people he sees. He probably spotted you on the news one day and knew instantly about Mia. He knows Dad’s name, and he learned at the Facility raid that Dad had a daughter”—Warpspeed nods to the Major—“but I don’t know how deep that knowledge goes. If he’s anything like the Soothsayer—"

“You can’t ask Liam about Appraisal,” I warn “it hurts him. Don’t let him try to tell you that it’s fine either; he tried to know Appraisal’s power from the first time they met and knocked himself out for an entire day. On the other hand, Appraisal can’t quantify Liam as easily as he does with other people. We might need to let him come with us, Major.”

Major Arcana ponders this a moment, but she clearly doesn’t like it. “That’s what he said too, and I would agree, but what we know about the Paladin isn’t common knowledge. Bringing a known supervillain who has already threatened Appraisal publicly isn’t going to earn us any favors.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the actual monster on Alpha Squad who should be the one who was branded a supervillain,” I deadpan. “Why not just come out with that now?”

“And cause a riot among the heroes containing the Tower?” the Major counters. “You saw how many are wearing silver, if they leave—or worse, double down—our job gets harder. I have a plan for everything Warpspeed and Ajax learned about the Paladin, but this isn’t the right time.”

“How much longer does he have to live like this?” I demand. “He did not work this hard for you to sweep him under a rug and pretend everything is normal.”

“That is not what we’re going to do,” Major Arcana promises. “And for the record, the right time is in a week.”

“A week?” I repeat.

“I still say that’s a bit early,” Ghost remarks “after all, the goal is convincing the public that this investigation has been thorough and handled correctly and isn’t just a supervillain pointing fingers and planting evidence to justify a murder. I got a lot of leads from the Soothsayer’s book and Warpspeed and Ajax’s global search but in order to pin those bodies to the Paladin, we need forensics teams across more than a dozen countries to have catalogued their findings and built the cases. Then we get on the podium and reveal the results of our internal investigation to dig up the Association members who were complicit in all this, which is happening right now. There have already been several arrests already, but nothing goes public until next week.”

They make that report without a single emotion passing over their face, like this is just another criminal case about just another villain on just another day at the Hero Association. Alpha Squad’s Ghost has always been rumored to be exceptionally professional and mocked as cold. Their tell is in the way they’re forcibly keeping their hands folded on the table—one hand keeping a white knuckled grip on a cellphone while the other is forcibly relaxed trying to hide it. They’ve been with the Association for decades; why wouldn’t this be difficult? How would they not be angry?

“And you thought interns were a waste of time,” Major Arcana teases, and a little light returns to Ghost’s face, which may have been her goal.

Ghost tuts, exaggeratedly rolling their eyes. “Intern One has earned his keep, Two through Four are hopeless. Intern Five works for Nightowl, so she’s been sent on a wild goose chase somewhere cold and windy. Anyway.” Ghost slides over the papers to me. “The second page are the names and approximate locations of each Collection member though they might change. The Soothsayer even color coded them by who’s a hostage, who volunteered and regretted it and who volunteered and don’t regret it.”

I read the names. It looks like most of the noncombatants are in the cafeteria managed by some of the more powerful enforcers. Appraisal has made sure none of the sympathetic ones are in that room; they’re on the lower floors. Sonja is in her room. Audrey is in the infirmary—shit, her heart is probably giving her trouble. At her age, even I can only manage her condition, not cure.

“The infirmary on the eleventh floor; it’s possible there’s a medical emergency. Audrey Davison has an unmedicated heart condition.”

“Davison? As in Saul Davison, the mayor of Vancouver?” Soaring asks.

I nod.

“No,” Mia whispers before grabbing my arm. “We have to go get her first.”

“I’m already clearing the ambulance to come in, lights off,” Ghost assures her though I don’t see them typing anything on the phone in their hand. “Major, we might need you to make a detour on your way up.”

“Agreed.”

I stand up. “Well, Liam did say twelve hours. I guess this is why.” Any longer and this situation costs lives. We can’t wait any longer.

Chapter Text

I can see it in her face: Elena’s not going to keep it together. This isn’t something she should have to do, but I get the feeling she’s gonna try anyway and damn the consequences. I understand; of course, I understand. This is everything I’ve wanted since I was carried out of the Facility in Dad’s coat with my sister: to be the one who saves instead of the one who gets saved. To be strong enough to walk out on my own feet this time.

I move from Mina’s side to Elena’s as we all leave the tent. Mina will be fine—more than fine given all of that—but I take Elena’s left and Mia takes the right and Soaring follows after her.

“You can do this,” I try. Not a great start. “And if you think you can’t, I will help you. Just point me where to go.”

Elena nods, rubbing her face. She doesn’t look tired—I wonder if that’s from her healing—but I can still see the weariness from overusing her powers in her eyes. I’ve certainly pushed the limits of my own speed training for this day.

Maybe it’s good that Elena is holding us back. I’m far too eager to just get in there. How fast could I run up to that top floor? What traps could possibly hurt me that I couldn’t just dodge? One of the monsters I’ve been running from for ten years is gone and my own sister is—rightfully—wearing that coat that once haunted my nightmares. I want to see the look on Appraisal’s face—I want to be the one that takes him down. Mina got the Madam, but the other one is mine or how else am I going to process this? How else will I believe it?

I hadn’t expected Mina to come out of there alive. That dome of ice cracked open, and I’d braced, Jax behind me, ready to—

But it wasn’t her. It was Mina, my sister, Sorciere—no, not Sorciere, not anymore. There was a familiar pull that usually points me towards Dad; feelings of love and pride, a promise of protection—the center of my family.

Major Arcana, at last. If I didn’t know it in my heart, I’d seen it in her hand. Maybe she’d wanted to distract me from her ruined left arm or the bruises on her throat, but she’d held up that coat and I knew that its owner was a ruined smear or worse somewhere down in the sand. Mina would not have come up otherwise; she’s never been one to leave a job unfinished.

“Speedy?” Mina asks and I jerk back to the present. I could process that stunning image in my head later. Hell, I’d already made sketches this morning.

“Sorry, Major,” I tell her and I am. This isn’t the time…but hell, I need this. “I wasn’t expecting to finally be here.”

Elena laughs once. “Me neither. If it wasn’t Liam saying it,” she pauses “I wouldn’t believe it would work.”

“It’s going to work because we will make it work,” Mina declares. “If we’re not prepared to give our best, we shouldn’t go at all. I don’t have to follow Liam’s recommendation.”

That gets Elena’s attention and more than a little ire. Mina and Elena staring each other down is its own sort of terrifying but Elena shakes off the lethargy and fear and glares back. I’m glad she’s on our side.

“I’m going anyway,” Elena growls and maybe the push from Mina was the whole point. Elena grits her teeth, opens the pages from Liam and takes a breath.

“If the bottom floors have no power, then we’re taking the stairs up to the infirmary. The first ten floors are for Appraisal’s legitimate businesses; other than the location, you won’t find any other connection to his other dealings. The Collection lives on floors eleven to twenty—everything is cut off except for what he wants us to see and that isn’t much. Everyone has a unique code to move around but some codes are more restricted than others. If we can get Ghost to the server room in that block, that still only gives us a quarter of the building.”

“I can do a lot of work with one quarter of a building,” Ghost promises.

“We’ll need to secure the stairs at least in the first block,” Mina surmises. “And those notes say the first few floors are where most of the goons are.”

“If we flood the place with heroes, we’ll never get the Collection to move. The hostages might, if they believed that your side was strong enough to keep that promise but the henchies? Half of them want a fight, the other half want out but know—or have been told—that they won’t get any mercy from this side.”

“Do you think they’ll just let us in?” Mina asks.

“I don’t know. I think if you held out that coat, you could turn a few heads,” Elena says.

“That I can do,” Mina promises. “They’re mostly in the cafeteria…I think we can talk to them.”

“With that image thing you do?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“The only problem is, the henchies guarding the cafeteria are the loyal ones.” Elena points at the names.

“Then, the ones most likely to cut and run are upstairs?” I ask.

“It looks like most of them are downstairs to get in our way,” she corrects, double checking the page.

“And they know how to fight?” I push.

“What are you thinking, Warpspeed?” Mina asks.

“Talk to them first. You’re the hero that took down the Madam, Elena is someone they know if not trust and I’m a former Collection kid who got out and stayed out. We get that group to move first, maybe they get the others to stand down…or at least choose between keeping the Collection hostage and protecting their boss.”

Elena checks the notes. “It could work. At the very least there’s nothing here saying not to try.”

“No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Liam gave us a good start, but we’ll have to make up the rest on our own. I like Warpspeed ’s idea, you?” Mina asks.

Elena nods and Mina whispers the words under her breath while folding her fingers in a way that makes mine ache to think about.

My vision of the street vanishes, and Mina stretches her projection and splits it between multiple floors, finding just under a dozen pairs or trios of people who were no doubt meant to slow us down on the way up.

“They can see us,” Mina declares, and I watch each group startle simultaneously.

Elena blinks next to me trying to take it all in. “This is nauseating. Alright, I think I see everyone. Everyone listen up; the Madam of Acquisition has been defeated. She’s finally gone.”

It’s a bit dizzying to have a dozen people start to argue or try to ask for clarification. It’s the world’s worst conference call, but they clearly can’t hear each other. I catch snippets of their disbelief—even now, the Madam commands so much fear. I can definitely relate; it took me months to accept the wards at the house were strong enough to keep her out.

Mina pulls the coat from her good shoulder and holds it up like she did for me. It finally sinks in that none of these people have access to the news. The gasps sound like static all together. I see a man fully collapse to the floor against a desk. Then there are questions I can’t quite parse.

“I know,” Elena calls over the growing clamour. “If I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t believe it either, but I was there and Sorciere defeated her so completely that she’s become the Fourth Major Arcana. I know you probably felt the Soothsayer lose his name but he’s fine—Liam is fine. The Master of Appraisal has no cards left to play. The Madam is literally no longer on this Earth, and Louise and Dennis are under arrest. This can end today, all you have to do is stand down. I know what brought you to the Collection—I know how each of you got here. I know what happened to everyone who tried to leave or even just disobeyed. I know how scared you are,” she pauses, holding back tears “but I’m asking you to trust us anyway. She can’t hurt us anymore and now that she’s gone, he won’t be able to either.”

“What about—" one person starts. The questions turn to something about the cafeteria. At least they’re on the same page. One woman, who is alone on her floor, is completely silent.

“Let us handle that situation. The fewer allies Appraisal has, the faster this goes. Everyone is getting out today,” Mina promises. “He can’t enforce your loyalty anymore.”

I can see the fear on their faces. Even with our assurances, even with the proof in Mina’s hand, this is a big ask. I remember how much coaxing Dad had given to Sammy to even leave the Facility because what if the Madam came back and discovered we weren’t there? The refusals blend together in front of us.

“If you can’t walk out on your own, I’ll carry you,” I promise. “Adamantine and I were in the Facility; we needed to be carried out too, it’s okay. We know what we’re asking. The Third Major promised me that I would be safe and happy and ten years later, the Fourth Major made that promise permanent. I’m not here as a member of Alpha Squad; I’m here as someone who got out and built a new life. It’s possible if you want it.”

“We’ve also got people standing by to take your statements and with the Madam gone, we can guarantee your safety,” Ghost offers. “Anything that can hurt him can help you; it won’t be like last time. He isn’t untouchable.”

There’s silence for a minute and then I see the one lone woman start towards the stairs on her floor, step by hesitant step. One trio of men link arms and start helping each other down, even as the middle one immediately starts tearing up. It’s a little disheartening that they’re the only ones, but a promise is a promise.

I leave the range of the spell and enter the building a second later. The front lobby is empty but it’s also well lit. Almost welcoming.

Creepy as shit.

A door near the back of the room opens and the woman from before steps out. She spots me instantly but doesn’t approach, waiting for something. I hear footsteps and a minute later, three men come out, two of which are crying, the third just looks terrified. The four of them start towards me but they’re just as wary of me as they are their surroundings.

“You’re going to be—” I’m cut off by the intercom spasming to life above us.

“Look at the little hero all grown up,” Appraisal mocks and everyone freezes. “And home at last. Hold that thought. You four,” he pauses, and one man violently jerks back toward the stairs. “I can’t blame you for wanting a bit of fresh air so bring me Warpspeed and all will be forgiven.”

This fucker. “How is he going to make good on his threat?” I challenge. “His enforcer is gone.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” the woman snaps. Her hands are shaking, and the tips of her fingers are starting to freeze over. “You don’t know—”

“I do know!” I take a step forward. “I know exactly what the Madam was capable of—I was there when Alpha Squad lost Viridian—but all Appraisal ever did was give orders. That’s all. He knew how to use her to get what he wanted and she used him as a focus to get what they wanted with dread and precision. They were terrifying as a unit, but now? Unless he wants to come down here himself and fight, he’s got nothing except a reputation that was mostly his wife’s doing. I’m sorry it took the Madam being forced off the whole fucking planet for me to have the courage to come here; I’m sorry that I am only here because he has nothing left to fight with. I want to see what that looks like.”

No one says anything. Not even Appraisal, though trying to speak at all would only undermine himself. He’s given his orders and these four know his expectations. I just need them to believe what I’m saying and refuse him.

One of the men reaches for the woman who is still literally frosting over and looking like she could snap and attack. “Come on, Princess. We all want this more than we fear him. I think I understand Marcus now.”

She lets out a slow breath and the temperature in the room starts rising back up. “Never should have let the kid pick Frozen for movie night,” she says before looking back at me with a much less hostile expression. “Can we go now?”

It takes a bit of self control to not nod too vigorously; I know moving a singular part of my body in superspeed freaks people out. The four of them walk towards the doors, hesitating by the glass…

And walk out into the night. Good for them.

The intercom is silent, and I am tempted to be smug about it but that just means Appraisal is angry. That used to mean something. I really hope it doesn’t anymore.

I hear an ambulance in the distance. Whatever wrath Appraisal wants to bring will have to wait—

“What did you think you would gain by giving them false hope?” Appraisal asks. “Just because you and the girl were left alone does not mean you were beyond our reach. Or perhaps they’ve simply lost the will to live and prefer to die as free as they can be. It’s a foolish choice that’s been made before.”

Oh, fuck this.

“Speedy—” I hear Mina’s voice from outside, but it fades away as I take the stairs, skipping over all of the groups we’d just talked to on the way up.

This building really was built like a fortress. The first staircase dead ends exactly like the elevators do ten floors up, and the floor where the next one connects is built strange with hidden corners where a person could take cover, and panels in the walls that can open discreetly. The tenth floor is just one narrow, trap-filled hall between one staircase and the next. All that might mean something to someone who isn’t as fast as I am.

There are about a dozen people standing ready to fight in black blazers; Appraisal’s sense of style has apparently not changed in ten years. Most just have guns; one is unarmed but he can’t be much older than I am. I grab each firearm as I see it and disassemble it to the screws in front of them before jamming bits of glock into all the panels to hopefully jam them from opening. I run back down the walls towards the unarmed one. Not having a gun is either a sign he can’t use one or a pretty strong signal for not needing one. If he has powers, I don’t want him to use them on me.

“Patrick!” Mina shouts in my earpiece and I stop. It’s been only a few seconds but there’s only the sounds of tiny screws and useless scrap hitting the floor. To their credit, only one of them tries to pull the trigger with his empty hands. The young man with no gun immediately cowers in front of me, much to the ire of a much older man next to him who reaches down.

“Get back up and—”

“Touch him and I will strand you on an island in the Arctic Circle,” I warn “and Canada has so many to choose from.”

“Warpspeed?” Mina calls and she sounds like she’s right behind me which shouldn’t be right. I whirl around. She’s projecting again and despite the anger and worry on her face, I calm down.

The rest of the hallway, however, stops breathing.

Maybe this is the drawback to Mina keeping the coat; she’s looking at me, she’s only angry with me but four out of the ten people in this hallway drop to their knees in surrender just from that entrance. She’s not even really here. How much of this is the coat and how much is it her? Is it both? Surely the woman who finally took down Acquisition would be just as terrifying as she was.

And now from their point of view both Major Arcana and I are clearly out for Appraisal’s blood and not interested in the fodder that gets in our way. That’s not why I put on this suit. That shouldn’t be what any of this is for.

I take a step back from them and walk at normal speed to Mina’s avatar. “I’m sorry, I just…” I mutter to her, and she softens immediately.

“I know. You’ve already thought it through, right?”

I nod. It’s been a while since I was this angry.

“I know what this means to you; I know that every second you’re not up there kicking his door down is an eternity, but you made a promise—we made a promise,” Mina pauses. I take a deep breath and turn back to Appraisal’s henchmen.

“Who wants out of here?” I ask them.

The unarmed young man immediately puts his hand up, still shaking. “I thought it was a legit job offer; I needed the money. I didn’t know it would be…this.”

The man who had threatened him rolls his eyes. What, you gonna arrest us? Not happening.”

“What is wrong with you?” I demand but it’s a waste of time. Liam had everyone in this Tower categorized for a reason. I’d bet I know which list this guy was on.

I walk back over to the younger man. “What’s your name?”

“Matt.”

“Okay, Matt. Do you know where Audrey Davison is? We’ve been told that she isn’t doing so great.”

“She’s on the next floor,” Matt tells me. “She’s in her sixties or something, I think. We need Elena to fix her heart; where is she?”

“Fucking traitor,” the man next to Matt mutters.

“Seriously dude, shut up,” I snap. “Elena is here, but so are some ambulances. Is anyone else hurt?”

“I mean”—Matt shudders, like something up here stinks—“does Carl count?”

“Who’s Carl?” I ask.

“Telepathic bastard,” Matt spits. The others don’t disagree, even the cranky one. “Appraisal let him walk all over our minds like he was the Thought Police. Do so much as daydream about leaving and get zapped. The Soothsayer must have messed him up good; Carl hasn’t woken up since the three of them escaped.”

Jax’s condition makes much more sense though that just means that Liam has fried him twice. And now there’s another telepath who’s in a coma? It’s hard to reconcile that kind of ruthlessness with Liam’s desperation to protect Hannah, Elena, and Mia.

“We have to get Audrey to a hospital. Can you show me where she is?”