Chapter 14 #2
He flexes his hands over the books but stops. “The talisman will neutralize my Imprints, so there will be no record of my spell work, but while this room permits the use of magic, the laws do not. All I ask for in return is your discretion about what you witness.”
“Okay.”
Clinton removes his glasses. “As a Sensitive, you might want to mute your senses.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Hiram is wrong. Very wrong.
A single spell floods the room. Power pours into the space until the air thrums. Ozone and petrichor smother Hiram’s senses, leaving the hair on his arms standing, stomach roiling, and eyes burning.
Clinton’s lips move, but Hiram can’t hear, deafened by a pressure he’s never gotten used to.
Clinton’s eyes flash silver as both books tremble and smoke.
Just when he thinks they will catch fire, everything stops.
“There. It should be fixed.”
Hiram accepts the books and flips one open to the page that was scrambled. All the letters are back where they belong. The librarian will be relieved. When he opens Grace’s book to the page that was scrambled, he pauses, looking back and forth between them.
The scrambled words are on the same topic.
“What do you know about Sight Unseen?”
“It’s a ritual that steals Sight from one person, but at a terrible cost. If it is cast on a Seer, it will render them Unseen.
If cast on a Mage . . . it depends. When performed on the wrong person, it tricks the caster into believing it worked, but there are signs, warnings they do not sense, because they are blinded by their stolen Sight and power,” Clinton explains.
“What type of signs?”
“Disturbances in the Cosmos. Unnatural events.”
Hiram frowns. “What about flowers that grow out of concrete?”
“I see where you are going with this,” Clinton replies slowly. “It is plausible.”
“Spider lilies are thought to be a warning used to foreshadow an upcoming death. It doesn’t get clearer than that.”
“The only other thing I know is that the ritual is akin to a drug. The more it’s done, the weaker the high is and the shorter it lasts.
They will always chase the first one, and the incessant use of raw magic will run them into the ground.
Fortunately, there is no known record of it ever being cast correctly, likely due to the misinterpretation of the ritual. ”
Hiram isn’t so sure about that. “Someone scrambled that specific page of Grace’s book about Sight Unseen, as well as the book here. There’s no telling when the hexes were done, but as random as it seems, they might be linked.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Clinton says.
“Is the name Ariadne Byers familiar to you? I saw it in a log, and I vaguely recognized it, but can’t recall why.”
Clinton’s expression softens. “From many years ago. I will look into it.”
“Thank you.”
“You are curious about something that is beyond you.” A flash of intrigue streaks across his features. “The Cosmos are, indeed, shifting.”
“No, they’re not.”
His denial makes Clinton smile. “I was wondering what was changing the trajectory of events, and believed it to be the movements happening beyond my limits. Now, I realize it’s you beginning to show your face.”
Hiram tenses. “Where did you hear that?”
“Khadijah had a vision recently of you hearing this.”
“Yeah, I did. In April.”
“Ah.” Clinton can’t disguise his intrigue. “It’s rare for her to have visions about the past. This is fascinating. The future is, indeed, changing.”
“No, it isn’t.” Hiram collects the books and stands. “Thanks for this, but consider it the last favor I ask of you.”
“Oh, how wrong you are. You will see.”
Clinton’s smile is the last thing Hiram sees when he walks out.
The frost reforms on the glass, closing the chapter on a strange encounter.
After delivering the book to the librarian, who nearly sobs in relief, Hiram sends a message to Gabriel with pictures of the text from both books.
He’s walking out when he spies Clinton nearing the door, his hand on another librarian’s arm.
Waiting for him to leave is an option, but why should he?
As he passes the pair, Clinton’s comment stops Hiram mid-step.
“There he is, my ride.”
“Actually—”
“Oh! Mr. Ellis. Perfect. I was just escorting him out now that his allotted time was complete.” The librarian is already pulling away. “Next time, please use our Seer log to record your entrance.”
“Must have slipped my mind.” Clinton adds a frail quality to his voice Hiram knows is fake. The act falls the moment the librarian is out of earshot. “I’ll give you directions.”
“I didn’t offer.”
“Would you leave a blind man to fend for himself?”
Hiram doubts there are many who pose a danger to Clinton.
With a sigh, he places Clinton’s hand on his arm and leads him out.
Hiram doesn’t realize they’ve walked into a situation until it’s too late.
Three enforcers surround a familiar little old woman wearing an oversized sun hat despite the cloudy skies.
She doesn’t look strong enough to harm anything, but they have her in neutralizing cuffs tight enough to leave marks.
It’s excessive when their perpetrator is already on her knees, defiantly glaring while the enforcers yell different things all at once.
Their amulets give off a threatening glow while they demand answers.
It’s none of Hiram’s business. He plans to lead Clinton to his car, but when one of them calls the woman Seer scum and Clinton tenses, Hiram stops.
“As I said—”
Clinton turns sharply. “Ruth? What’s going on?”
Of course he knows her.
Ruth whips to them, relief playing in her eyes. “Clinton, they—” Then she notices Hiram. “Well, shit.” The cuffs burn red, making the old woman wince. “Take these off, I’m complying and these aren’t necessary!”
“You haven’t confessed to anything.”
“Why would I? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Clinton lets go to approach in an attempt to defuse, but Hiram knows it’s not going to end well for either of them.
So he moves. It’s too late. He doesn’t hear the spell but sees the white bolt strike Ruth in the chest, causing her to tremble and grit her teeth in obvious distress while the enforcers continue yelling.
“I would advise that you stop,” Clinton says coolly.
“You can get arrested, too,” a different enforcer threatens.
Hiram intervenes. “What exactly happened here?”
The three enforcers look at him before one says, “We received multiple complaints about a suspicious Seer lurking in shops up and down the street, breaking into cars, and doing magic. This Seer matched the description and put up a fight, so we used neutralizing cuffs.”
Hiram doesn’t smell a thing except the copper coming off the officers. “She used magic?”
“No, I didn’t,” Ruth argues. “You can check for my Imprint!”
“Shut up,” one of the enforcers says through gritted teeth, his amulet flaring.
“I refuse.” Ruth squares her shoulders. “You all have nothing better to do than harass old ladies.”
“You injured one of the patrol members,” the tallest enforcer points out as the shortest one steps back to take a quick call.
“No, your piss-poor attempt to restrain me is what hurt him.”
“Backup is on its way,” the third enforcer says after hanging up their phone, frowning when he notices Clinton, then his walking stick. “Who are you?”
“Clinton Desai,” he replies calmly. “Head of the Oracle Council, and Ruth is a member. Call your superiors. We can discuss this in private.”
“No.”
While they argue, and hopefully before the situation devolves further, Hiram gathers argument points. Two cameras on either side. No hint of magic lingering. The unnatural bruises on Ruth’s arms and neck. The officers’ badge numbers.
He doesn’t finish in time. They’re detaining her. Two haul Ruth to her feet while the third casts a silencing hex on her. Clinton is about to step forward when Hiram holds him back, then pushes past him, getting in the enforcers’ way.
“Sir, get out of the way and let us do our job.”
“Now why would I do that?” Hiram asks calmly. “That Seer is my client.”
“If she’s your client, why didn’t she say that?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Mr.—”
“Ellis.” Hiram cuts him off. “Hiram Ellis.”
The light switches on. “The former mayor’s son?”
Another example of when ends justify means. Or so he hopes.
“Yes.” Hiram produces his identification. “I’m also Sensitive, and know the only magic wafting off anyone here is coming from you three. Cameras don’t lie. You let Ruth go, or you—”
“If you’re her attorney, you know how this works. You’re not going to win this.”
“We’ll see.”
They push past him and drag her away.
“I need to make a call,” Clinton grumbles.
“No, you don’t. Let’s go.”
It’s a race, but Hiram marches into the shop as the enforcers pull away, pleasantly asking the clerk for footage of the last hour.
It takes a few empty legal threats, but he gets what he needs.
With Clinton in the passenger seat of his car, Hiram speeds to the FCD headquarters downtown, illegally parking and quickly finding the Seer holding cells.
The enforcers standing around sneer at Clinton. “Here to get another one of yours?”
“No, actually, I am.” Hiram looks at Clinton, then helps him into a chair. “Wait here.”
“I certainly will, ally.” Clinton smiles.
“Shut up.”
Walking away from the laughing old man, Hiram considers calling Gabriel for backup, but decides against it in favor of bypassing pleasantries, ignoring the uncooperative secretary, and opening three empty doors to find who he’s looking for.
Enforcers crowd around a pissed-off and shackled Ruth. With a flick of his wrist, Hiram clears the path between him and the old woman, his ring’s amulet flaring before dimming. Shocked enforcers peel themselves off the walls.
“Trust me,” Hiram tells her. “Hire me.”
“I would never—”
“Fine, then I’ll leave you here alone until a Seer advocate arrives. It’ll be hours, maybe days, before they allow them back here.”