Chapter 1 #2
“I suppose I should’ve specified; how many weren’t even playing with magic?”
Stubborn, Elliot kept his mouth shut this time.
His temper, fed by fear, was far too close to the surface.
He needed to think. If they weren’t going to blackmail him for magic, then there must be something else.
But what was it? Internally, he groaned.
What wasn’t it, would be the easier question to answer.
He didn’t have much regard for certain backwards laws in this country.
And he’d been much less careful since he’d returned from Paris than he should have been.
“No guesses? I’d wager a lot of them. You fellows are rare enough, I just can’t wrap my mind around there being all that many of you. But they tell me there are a fair few and that it runs in families. Maybe we ought to be taking a closer look at yours after all.”
Allen paused as though he was letting his words sink in. Elliot waited for Allen to get to the point, his impassivity a cover for the anger and fear amalgamating and crawling beneath his skin. Not everyone in his family was skilled, but enough were. May was.
“If I’m honest, we’d rather not blackmail you to begin with. What do you say we skip it? We’re willing to overlook your deficiencies in favor of the skills you’ll provide.”
“My skills wouldn’t be useful in war. They’re hardly useful in everyday life.” What use would dreams be? Or the power at his fingertips? When Elliot thought of the war, he certainly didn’t want to be close enough to the enemy for touch.
“Only because you fail to utilize it. Or you’ve never had the opportunity to really see what you can do.
A training camp is being constructed for skilled recruits.
Specialized education, physical fitness, and magic development programs have been crafted.
All we need now are the recruits. And that’s where you come in, Mr. Stone.
Where’s your patriotism? Hasn’t this country done a lot for you?
” Allen pointedly glanced around at furnishings that only appeared rich if you didn’t know most of them were older than his uncle had been and you weren’t examining them closely.
What was he supposed to say? ‘No, I’m not patriotic.
This country hates me for who I choose to love.
What exactly has it done for me?’ Further to the point, he wasn’t a fighter and not fit to be an officer.
Not someone as selfish and self-indulgent as he was.
Soldiers deserved someone responsible issuing orders, someone who believed in what they were doing.
Not him. No, nothing about the prospect appealed.
“I’m not sure what you think you know,” Elliot said, coldly. “But if any of that was meant to entice me, you’re nowhere close.”
Allen’s features hardened, and he crossed his arms. “Hmm. Notice I said we’d prefer not to blackmail you, not that we can’t.
Some might even say it’s our duty to bring your illicit activities to light.
Does your family find it suspicious? How much time you spend with friends?
Gentleman friends, that is? Are all the ladies you’ve been spotted around town with for show? ”
Teeth grinding, Elliot’s body flushed with an angry heat.
He jerked his chin up, refusing to be shamed.
“No. Not only for show.” He didn’t need to explain his preferences to this bastard son of a piss.
His fists curled tighter, and he dug in his nails to stop from saying something he’d regret.
He curved his lips in a smile that felt grim as grave dirt.
“It’s starting to seem like you’re not very reluctant to blackmail me at all. ”
“Not going to bother denying what you get up to?”
It was a taunt. A dare. Christ, Elliot hated this man. He clenched his jaw so tight it hurt. “How long do I have to consider your offer?” Loathing coated the last word, impossible to hold in.
Triumph briefly glittered in Allen’s flinty eyes, and Elliot hated that too. “You’ll receive a letter next week with your train ticket. Be on the train, Mr. Stone. Or don’t and see what happens. I guarantee it won’t be pleasant.”
He left. Elliot stood in the parlor, unmoving, body blazing rage that made his muscles quake with the necessity of restraint.
How had his entire life unraveled in the span of one conversation? What was he supposed to do?
The unfairness of it burned in his chest, made him want to shout and knock things over. Nothing he’d ever done had hurt a soul. Not the men he spent the night with, not the women either. He was always attentive with his lovers. They left satisfied, and it was no one’s business but theirs.
Except small-minded people would always be waiting to judge, to ostracize him. Even if he believed at least some of his family might stand by him—May would—could he subject them to that?
And the threat about examining the rest of his family, the idea of them knowing May was skilled, the thought she could be ripped from her children and forced into a war she had no business being anywhere near, made Elliot’s blood run cold.
His choices were to stand his ground and live to see twenty-six or give in to blackmail, keep his family intact, and likely die on foreign soil before his next birthday.
The uncomfortable sogginess of his clothes eventually pulled him to action.
Elliot forced himself upstairs to change, physical imperative overriding his mental crisis.
Buttons were something he could handle; the looming prospect of his participation in a war he’d already lost so many overseas friends to wasn’t.
Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard.
Love of Christ, he hadn’t been in so much as a fight since he was five and the bigger kids had picked on him. His charm and good looks kept him from needing to. Now they expected him to what? Shoot at people? Kill people? Enemies or not, how could he?
But if he didn’t. If they took May instead…
Hell. He had to go.