Chapter 38 Ren Monroe
38 REN MONROE
The back wing of the Safe Harbor hospital was quiet, dreamlike.
Ren paced the interior of a small office. There was a sturdy desk covered in stray medical notes. Two empty cups of long-forgotten tea. A map hung on the wall, and there were strange, glowing embers marking two separate locations. She eyed those curiously, but could not figure out the significance of either location. Theo was with her. He’d found the room’s most comfortable chair and had somehow fallen asleep. Avid Shiverian and Gemma Graylantian were also in the room. Gemma appeared to be meditating. Avid, on the other hand, was perusing a tome entitled Mathematics and Magic: A Doctor’s Guide to Angular Equations . Normally, that would have drawn Ren like a moth to a flame—but she wasn’t in the mood to learn anything new. Not today.
Gods, they’ve ruined reading for me.
Mercy Whitaker appeared in the doorway. She was framed by Dahvid Tin’Vori and Theodore Crane. Perhaps the most mismatched pair of guards Ren had ever seen. Dahvid was handsome and broad-shouldered. Theo’s cousin, on the other hand, looked so thin that if he turned the wrong way he might vanish altogether. Avid Shiverian slammed her tome shut with a loud thud. The noise woke Theo, who shot to his feet, still half in a dream.
“All the rooms are sealed,” Mercy announced. “There’s no one left at Safe Harbor who can override my access, so unless I’m the one opening the door—no one’s opening the door.”
Ren nodded. “Good. And everyone is okay with me taking the lead on this?”
Nods all around. There had been a brief discussion earlier. She suspected that Marc Winters would have objected, tried to pull rank on her—but Winters was dead. The others felt comfortable enough to let her take the lead. After all, Ren was the one who’d figured everything out.
The group filed out of the office. The viceroy’s holding room was down to the left where the hallway dead-ended. A vertical strip of glass offered a partial glimpse into the now-empty room. Inside, a man sat in a chair, bound and hooded. Ren mentally steeled herself before gesturing to the door. Mercy cast the countercharm to let them inside.
Entering, she heard a low murmur. As if Viceroy Gray were mumbling inside his hood. Speaking to himself. The noise ceased at the sound of their footsteps on the unpolished floors. Ren waited for everyone to take up their positions before removing the hood. The entire right side of the viceroy’s face looked like a nightmare. Heavy bruising. Dried blood covering that cheek. He quietly studied his surroundings. Eventually, his gaze landed on her. There was still confidence in his expression. Like he knew something they didn’t.
“Viceroy Gray.”
“Ren Monroe. Figured it out, did you? I saw you cast that first spell before any of my paladins even pulled a blade. What gave me away?”
“Your scarf. You reached for it even though it wasn’t there.”
She saw his eyes light up as he pieced the answer together. “I was still wearing it during that first meeting. Of course. When the plague arrived, I put it in a back pocket. Didn’t want to risk being associated with the Makers before they took over the city. Clumsy of me.”
Ren decided to go back to the beginning. “During that meeting, you tried to delay us. When we brought up those buildings, you were buying more time for your teams to place the bodies in the water supply. It was clever of you. Playing on our sympathies like that.”
The viceroy smiled. “Good luck proving that at a trial.”
“This is the trial,” Avid muttered darkly.
Ren ignored the other girl. Her mind was still carefully tracing back through all the interactions she’d had with the viceroy. There was the first meeting with Theo, but also the private meeting between the houses. Two separate times he’d asked for evidence. Once to Marc Winters and again to Theo. At the time, it had sounded like he was hunting for something concrete to use against the Makers. Now she realized he’d wanted confirmation that they had no way to counter the story he planned to tell the rest of the city. She hated feeling this outmaneuvered.
“So, let’s walk through your plan. Step one: create and spread a plague that destroys magic. As that happened, the Makers were uniquely positioned to help, because you’ve spent the last few years storing up massive amounts of dried goods. You started giving away food to build sympathy with the rest of the population. Before long, you looked like the charitable saviors—all while the houses further isolated themselves.”
The viceroy shrugged. “Quite an imagination you have.”
“And you knew there would be some people who were immune, because you tested the disease on your own members. The outlying villages as well. A small fraction never got sick. Like you.” When he said nothing, Ren went on. “So, the next phase was to gather us in one place. It was a clever pretense: the city needs us. We’re the only ones who can save them. It was believable. Desperate without being pushy. And when all of us arrived… the plan was what? Just start killing us?”
“Pacify,” he replied softly. “That was the order. We did not go there intending to kill anyone. Their orders were to pacify . If all of you had agreed to surrender, put down your vessels, then we would have simply made arrests. It didn’t need to go the way that it went at Beacon House.”
“Right. I’m sure nothing bad would have happened if we gave up our weapons and came peacefully. There were children in that room. Children who have magic.”
“Children grow into adults. Adults who will possess magic that the rest of the city cannot access. Are you really going to pretend you haven’t thought about any of this? A future in which all of you become gods? That’s what will happen if we do not eliminate magic. One day, the people who still possess it will be worshipped as deities. Our great work cannot be accomplished that way.”
Ren felt a shiver run down her spine. Our great work. Her mother had used those words during their last conversation, and now she’d discovered their source.
“But you have magic?” Ren pointed out. “How does that work? Let me guess. You told your followers that you are the exception to the rule. You get to have what you’ve asked them to set aside. It always goes that way. Power for the few. Nothing but empty promises for the rest.”
She felt the others shift around her. Avid adjusting the fold of her arms. Theo switching his weight to the opposite foot. She’d briefly forgotten that she was in a room where those words were true of her allies—not just their current enemy. The viceroy shook his head in response.
“No. I told them that I will use my gift to destroy as many of you as possible—and then I should be killed too. That’s the difference between me and you. I’ve made peace with my death. I know my purpose in this world.”
Finally, the zealot was coming out. He must have hidden it so well over the years. Every time she’d ever seen him, he’d come off as polished and professional. A man in complete control of himself. Now she saw he was just a good actor. This was not the kind of person that could be reasoned with. Ren had been hoping for that. A liar, at least, could be bought with enough money. Convinced to go a different way in order to save his own neck. Zealots, on the other hand, would see their work through to the very end—no matter the cost.
“Can I tell you the future?” Gray’s voice echoed around the small room. “I have seen it with my own eyes. The people will fear history repeating. What happens when a few powerful people take control of Kathor again? Wouldn’t it be better to just… stop them before that happens? One by one, the remaining wizards will vanish. Murders. Exile. In less than twenty years, there will not be a single wizard left in this city. You might think you’ve won. You might believe that you have power over me—but this future is already written. And I’m the one holding the pen.”
Ren offered him a dramatic yawn. “Gods. Sorry. That was just so long-winded. Anyways. You’re not wrong. There are people like my mother who want rebellion,” she admitted. “She truly believes this world would be better without the great houses. But you know, my mother would never hurt a child to accomplish that. Never. That’s where your manipulation spell comes into play, right?”
His eyes narrowed. It was the look of a child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Ren held up the scarf they’d removed from his back pocket.
“There’s a chain spell woven into the fabric of each one. Manipulation magic that spreads from person to person. It might be the most impressive spell I’ve ever seen. Complex, powerful. It’s the perfect design for people like my mother, too. The magic doesn’t activate until they’ve reached the natural end point of their own desires. Give up magic? Sure. Gather some extra food in the pantry? Of course. Allow your house to be a temporary base? Why not? But there comes a point where what you’re asking them to do is too much. The commands start to edge right up against their moral code. It’s one thing to ask someone to store extra rations—and quite another thing to spread a plague that will kill thousands.”
Ren allowed those words to sit in the air between them.
“That’s when the manipulation spell activates . Right when they would hesitate, a voice whispers to go just a little further. Dig deeper. The manipulation is powerful enough to take a person like my mother from rebel to zealot. But surely, someone who can create a spell that powerful… surely, you see the problem with using a chain spell?”
It was Ren’s turn to smile at him.
“We made chain spells illegal because they’re so easy to alter. In fact, studies show that the longer and more widespread a chain spell is—the more vulnerable it is to alteration. Now, there are two specific things that you need in order to make an alteration like that. The first is a very gifted manipulator.”
Behind her, the others shifted. Clearing a path for Gemma Graylantian. The older woman dragged a chair from the corner to where the viceroy sat. Ren had been surprised that Gemma hadn’t chimed in yet. She supposed the woman had been focused on her part in their play. After all, they were not asking her to perform some trifling magic. This reverse manipulation would be terribly nuanced. Difficult enough that few people in the world could do it. Gemma set her chair directly across from the viceroy and took a seat. Ren could feel the subtle waves of magic washing outward from the heiress. Needling carefully at the viceroy’s natural mental defenses.
“You also need the originator of the spell.” Ren nodded at him. “That’s normally the hard part, but here you are. Most manipulators require a single shared moment to make the kind of alteration we’re attempting. Maybe an encounter at a tea shop. A quick conversation on a street corner. Truly gifted manipulators—like Gemma here—can make a mental change with a single shared glance. But I’m sure you know that the process is easier when you have an extended period of time with the person. For example, if they were a guest at your home… or even a prisoner in a locked room.”
A muscle in the viceroy’s jaw twitched. Gemma’s magic had already latched onto him. Weaving in and out of his senses. Clouding his judgment. Ren saw the woman testing out her magical hold over him. She lifted her chin. In answer, the viceroy lifted his. She looked right. He looked right. A perfect mirror of her suggestions.
“Can I tell you the future?” Ren asked, echoing his earlier words. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. We break through your manipulation spell. People all over this city wake up tomorrow morning to find that the voice that’s been whispering urgently inside their mind… is gone. A few of them will continue on with the revolution. They won’t know what else to do with their time. They’re already in too deep. But most of them will feel what we call ‘waker’s remorse.’ It’s a common term for the post-manipulated. When the magic fades, a person’s natural impulses come roaring back—and they almost always move in the opposite direction. Away from what was controlling them. That’s why most manipulators are so intentional about being subtle in their work. They know that if they take even one misstep, it could ruin everything.”
Gemma performed another test. She rolled her shoulders and he rolled his in response. She raised her eyebrows. He mirrored her. In just thirty seconds, he’d been reduced to a puppet.
“We’re ready,” the woman announced.
Before Ren could signal to begin, the viceroy began to laugh. A loud and jolting noise. The kind of sound that crawled down a spine and sat right in the gut, twisting a person’s stomach into knots. Gemma was trying to regain control, to manipulate him back into silence, but he just threw back his head and laughed even louder. When his head snapped back, his eyes were unnaturally wide. Far darker than the color they’d been before. Ren knew that someone else was looking out at them through the viceroy’s eyes.
No, no, no, no…
“Little Ren Monroe. You have made a grave error,” he said. “Did you really think he was capable of all of this ? Here. Let me show you just how important Martin Gray is to my plans.”
The viceroy’s eyes lightened. From that unnatural darkness to a molten brown color. Ren saw the briefest moment of terror in his expression—and then his skin started to smoke . He let out a terrifying scream, his eyes pinched shut against the intensity of some unseen pain. All they could do was sit there and watch as Viceroy Gray began to burn from the inside out.
Mercifully, Avid cast a spell that muted his screams. Ren ripped her gaze away when his eyelids started melting. Theo drew close to her, trying to whisper comfort, but the casual violence of this moment had cut through all her normal calm. Worse, their only real solution for saving the city had just slipped through their fingers. It was clear now. Gray was not the originator of the spell. She’d been so confident it was him. Especially after witnessing the magic he’d performed at Beacon House. But no, someone else was out there, manipulating hundreds of people. A person who continued to demonstrate that they were more powerful and clever than any of them.
Ren’s mind was racing.
Who the hell could do all of this?