Chapter 3
Quinn
Exhausted and blurry-eyed, I stumbled down the steep steps to the train the following morning. Adam gave me his usual big, friendly wave and fussed over my absence yesterday before putting me to work.
The remains of Ezra’s protein bar still coated my mouth, and I found myself lifting crates with more exuberance than I could usually muster at five a.m.
“I see someone else is excited the Architect woke,” Adam said.
My motions slowed, and my heart raced. I’d been literally existing for this moment, whether I wanted to or not… and the only reason I knew it happened was a side comment from Adam. What did that mean?
Did I miss a proclamation? Had I already screwed up somehow? Would he summon me now? Did I go to him? What if Chancellor Morgen was correct, and he wanted more from me than I was willing to give?
“Quinn, snap out of it.”
Adam’s voice made me realize I’d frozen in place while my thoughts spiraled.
“This isn’t a surprise, right?” he continued. “Your TB was glowing with his magic this morning, too?” Adam’s organization didn’t slow; the man was a machine. “I know you’re not a morning person, but you need to focus. The train needs all your attention.”
I finished lifting my pile of books and forced myself to take a breath. I was still here. Just a normal morning… What if there was a summons on my TB?
“Look, Quinn, I know mentalists are terrifying to some people.” Adam took my stack from me and pointed at a smaller one.
Like a robot, I went to it and matched up the scrawl with the correct books.
“Our TBs are a part of the Architect. Everything on every TB goes directly into his mind. They glow because he’s tinkering and learning everything he missed. ”
I swallowed, suddenly grateful I couldn’t use my TB. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“Now, don’t be like that.” Adam stopped working. “That’s a lot of information for one man to take in. I don’t exactly understand how his mind works, but I doubt he’ll even register whatever messages you don’t want him to see.” Adam frowned at me. “You got a problem with mentalists, Quinn?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never met one before. I guess I was thinking of my phone.”
“Your what?” Adam asked.
I took another deep breath and pulled myself together. If there were a message on my TB, I wouldn’t see it until the end of my shift. I just needed to put my head down and work.
“Never mind.” I waved at Adam and dug into my pile. After moving a few books, my curiosity got the better of me. “Actually. Could you tell me more about mentalists and the Architect?”
Adam grinned. “I’m not an expert, but I’ll tell you what I know.”
By the end of my shift, my mind was spinning, and my nerves wouldn’t settle.
Adam made mentalists sound like gods. They could read minds, manipulate memories, and alter people’s perceptions with just a thought.
They could scramble a person’s brain or make them forget how to breathe, leaving them to suffocate, and they didn’t need to be close to do any of that.
“But mentalists, especially our Architect, don’t do that.” Adam put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “He uses his powers for good. I’m old and worthless. The Westwaters cut me loose, but he picked me up and placed me here. I owe him my life. Just like he did for you.”
A shiver ran down my back, but I couldn’t say anything. It was clear Adam virtually worshiped the Architect. Maybe because the Architect infiltrated his mind?
“Don’t even think it!” Adam barked. “I see those gears turning. I’ve seen that look too many times. Our Architect has morals. He lives by a strict code. My thoughts are my own, and my loyalty is my choice.”
“How would you know?” I whispered, regretting the four words immediately.
“Bah.” Adam released my shoulder with more force than necessary and clenched his fists. His lips flattened into a line. “I would know. I just would. Get out of here and think before you judge.”
I bolted for the exit before I could make his annoyance flare into anger. If my bag of gold hadn’t been enough motivation, having the man on whom my existence here rested, awake and capable of pulling every secret out of my brain, lit a fire under my ass.
This was a world of everything I’d spent my life pretending I didn’t have. Magic was at my fingertips, and I had to figure it out today.
I walked through the front door of The Rooster, and Matt blanched. The color drained out of his face, and his gaze snapped to the far corner where a few empty tables rested. I slowed down, picking my way toward the little opening next to the bar.
“I said back door,” Matt hissed. “Rowan first, now this. You can’t do this to me.”
I raised an eyebrow. Until this very moment, I assumed working to see my TB was normal. I ran up a tab I couldn’t pay. It was technically theft. But wanting to hide my comings and goings? Was it really fair that none of my hours counted toward paying off my tab?
I wrinkled my nose. “Whatever you’re doing isn’t legal.”
“What?” Matt asked.
I tried to think if anyone had used the word legal and couldn’t recall. “Making me work to see my TB goes against the family.”
Matt scowled. “The family doesn’t care. Rowan found you here, and nothing happened.
” Despite his words, he still looked around nervously.
“Go polish. We added all the damage your last visit caused to your tab, as well as the extra hours we had to spend cleaning it up.” He pointed toward the back. “Back door when you leave.”
“Make me,” I said as I stepped past him.
Those two words made me feel powerful, even if the reality was the opposite. Or maybe not. Rules only mattered to those willing to follow them, and I was pretty sure this entire situation was breaking most of them.
Instead of continuing to the back, I stopped and met Matt’s gaze. “TB first, or I stand here, visible to the world.”
A sharp pain lanced through my hamstrings. I clenched my jaw, but it only worsened until my legs gave out. My knees slammed into the wooden floor, the impact biting deep. Footsteps echoed from behind, and a pair of scuffed, dark leather shoes stepped into view.
“You waltzed into my establishment and dared to steal from me,” the thin, gruff voice hissed.
“From my family. I don’t know what kind of delusions you’ve let crawl into that head of yours, girl, but the Architect backs every one of my methods.
Now pay me back, work, or kneel here and choke on your ego at my feet. ”
I looked up. Horax’s frog-like build towered over me. His light purple clashed with his brownish-green suit. A single clawed hand stretched towards me as if he were Darth Vader from Star Wars using the Force. I wanted to laugh, but the agony knotting the back of my legs obliterated everything.
“All three work for me.” He grinned and adjusted his belt.
Any bit of rebellion I’d felt died. I forced my limbs to move, one at a time, keeping my gaze focused on his shoes. With every inch forward I crawled, the agony burning my muscles eased.
Once I was close to his shoes, he leaned down. “I wouldn’t have minded the kneeling, Architect’s pet,” he said softly. “I own you; you just don’t realize it yet.”
He stepped to the side, and the pain increased.
I started crawling toward the back again, and it eased slightly once more.
It wasn’t until I crossed onto the tile of the washing room that the pain vanished.
I pushed up onto my knees and pressed on the back of my legs.
I wasn’t hurt. Not physically, anyway. Magic.
It had all been magic. I pushed my hands together to keep them from shaking.
“I didn’t realize she had so much spunk in her,” Horax’s voice drifted from the bar.
“You must use a heavier hand, Matt. Logistics makes it hard for me to be here in the mornings. I know your Majekah doesn’t directly touch nerves like mine does, but you must learn to inflict pain with what you have.
Pain is the only true equalizer between men.
” He chuckled. “Very effective in quickly subduing. There’s a fox in the henhouse, and when he moves, it will be very lucrative for us. ”
I forced myself to breathe as their meaningless words flowed over me. With the pain gone, embarrassment replaced it, then anger, and finally a moment of clarity. With him making me drop to the floor, no one could see me.
They were taking advantage of me. What would have happened to me if I’d actually made contact with Moose?
With shaking hands, I slipped into my apron and started polishing.
I didn’t know the rules. My dorm didn’t come with a handbook.
But I’d heard enough at this point to know that slavery existed and individual rights were a luxury from my past. A chill burned where the collar had clasped around my neck, and the three spots on my lower back ached, which had nothing to do with Horax.
If all of this was real, then so were my first three delusions.
Gandalf.
The druid with his followers.
The man with the coal-black eyes and gold teeth.
Each one had gotten worse… and now I was here. Would the Architect become another name I didn’t want to remember?
My hands shook as I polished. Each glass took more time than the last. I swear I could hear a clock ticking down the seconds until I could see my TB.
A lifetime of what-ifs and anxiety later, Matt appeared with my glowing square in his hand. As I took it from him, the light blue vanished.
I’d never flipped my TB around so fast looking for messages, but all I could find was my new schedule and more messages in my group chat. Nothing from the Architect or Rowan, although I had been hopeful about the latter. I’d probably be more likely to get a message from his saddle.
I’m okay. If I can crack a joke, then I’m still better off than before, I said to myself.