Chapter 20 #2
“For now, the best option is for me to stay here,” Tairen said, in a tone that suggested she would not be accepting any competing arguments at this time.
“I’m visible but also protected. It should decrease the scrutiny on the rest of the Idrian population while they decide what is to be done with me.
What kind of due process is demanded, what kind of sentencing is even possible.
I can’t help you with the threat posed by this Blake person, or with the rebuilding, or searching for the missing children. But this?”
“They’ll hate you,” Callum warned. “This will be loud and messy and public. You’ll be the focal point for millions of unjustified grudges. Fear mongering. Name calling. All of it.”
Callum’s mother huffed in amusement. “If I could not bear a few insults with dignity, I would never have attempted to lead our people. Now get out. The best resolution is for this monster—and his artifacts and his plans for war—to be annihilated, so there is no chance of this happening again. To anyone.”
We made our way outside in silence—both of us lost in our own thoughts—until we headed for Callum’s car and found our path blocked by a mass of people exiting a bus. No, make that two buses. Three…
They were a diverse group of varying ages, with one thing in common.
All of them held what appeared to be handmade signs, some small, some large, some rolled up like banners waiting to be unfurled—a protest, I assumed, but they were eerily quiet.
Not filled with energy or indignation, but focused and moving together.
“Hold on,” I murmured to Callum as we crossed the street towards Bicentennial Park. “I want to see what’s going on here.”
As soon as we reached the park, I paused under a tree, pulled out my phone, and pretended to snap some cute couple selfies. And as I posed—as awkwardly as possible—I kept an eye on the crowd.
The moment they were all off the buses, they began assembling in front of City Hall, unfurling their banners, and raising their signs. And it didn’t take long for me to realize what kinds of messages had been written on those signs.
Monsters are among us!
Keep our children safe!
The alien invasion is already here!
The new Cold War - End Magic Now!
“This isn’t good at all,” I muttered, snapping several shots of the crowd under the guise of more selfies. “What do you want to bet that Blake trucked them in here just to make sure everyone stays on edge?”
“Could also be coincidence,” Callum pointed out. “There are numerous anti-magic groups that have existed ever since Idria fell. This is exactly the kind of publicity they live for.”
But I wasn’t sure I believed in coincidence. Not when I’d seen Blake’s hand already at work, stirring up unrest in the city I now called home. Not when he’d been ahead of us every step of the way, with months to continue planning while we searched desperately for clues.
I was snapping a few more pictures when my phone began to buzz with incoming texts.
From Logan.
not just tabitha and jeremiah
gio says maybe 8 kids have gone missing
its like an urban legend in the game
where u can disappear if u play
but it just makes kids want to try it more
Of course it did. And while this news seemed like confirmation of my theory, it could also be nothing more than conjecture.
If a kid suddenly stopped playing, there was no way to really know the reason.
Could be a broken computer, being grounded by a parent, starting a new sport, getting a boyfriend or girlfriend.
We needed more. We needed evidence that these kids were truly missing. And we needed to know whether anyone in the game was actively recruiting them—whether they were willing participants or kidnap victims.
thx
let me know if anyone tries to connect with you
makes any crazy promises or sounds sus
I got an eye-roll emoji.
no one says sus anymore
u sound old
Well, I was old. Old for my age anyway. What other twenty-six year old was out there trying to raise a teenager, work a full-time job, and act as a private detective, while also dating a public figure and hiding from the law?
“Hey, I think that’s him!”
At first the shout barely registered, but it was followed by running feet and angry voices, and before I knew it we were surrounded by sign-carriers on every side—all of them glaring and shouting at Callum with hostility and belligerence.
“Is it true you’re the shapeshifter king?”
“What are you planning to do about the increasing violence between shapeshifters and humans?”
“Are you here to negotiate for the dragon to be released, or will she be allowed to face justice?”
“I dare you to fight me right now!”
“Even a dragon can’t stop a bullet!”
“How many children have you eaten, you monster?”
Okay, so we were in a really bad spot—in a public place, surrounded by hostile humans who were becoming more and more agitated by the minute.
Violence was likely only a few breaths away, and if it came down to it, we were massively outnumbered, and any defensive magic on our part would only fuel the crowd’s ire.
We needed a distraction so we could escape.
Actually, not we…
The protesters were so focused on Callum, they didn’t seem to notice that we were together. As they pressed closer, they jostled me further and further away from him, and I caught the edges of his panic when he realized we were separated.
If only our bond weren’t broken. If only I could send him reassurance that I was going to be fine. That I would come up with a plan and get us out of here. But this time we had no magic to lean on, no otherworldly connection that allowed us to communicate.
All we had was trust, and as I let myself be shouldered back towards the edges of the gathering crowd, I hoped fervently that he would be able to grant me that trust. That he would know better than to believe I would abandon him.
Once free of the mob, I looked around me, desperate for ideas. What could possibly divert the attention of all these angry people long enough for Callum to escape?
Only some larger catastrophe, and I didn’t actually want anyone to be hurt. I knew that a woman or a child screaming in a public place didn’t always draw the attention one might hope, but there was one thing that drew human ire faster than possibly anything else on the planet…
I didn’t have time to come up with a more elaborate plan, so I kept moving backwards.
Hoping to appear as if I were just trying to escape the crowd, right up until I tripped over the edge of a bench—and fell into a clump of bushes.
Big ones. Big enough to hide the fact that I never came back out again.
Instead, it was a tiny white fox that darted out, dodged between the legs of several startled protesters, and ran straight into traffic on Walker Avenue.
Thankfully, the cars weren’t moving very fast, and my appearance was startling enough that everyone slammed on their brakes. The car closest to me skidded across the pavement with screeching tires, while several others collided in minor fender benders. None of them touched me.
But as soon as the traffic was fully stopped, I let out a yelp like I was dying and collapsed in the middle of the street.
“Oh my gosh, Andrew, you killed it!” An older woman’s voice was the first to approach, but I kept my eyes closed and let out another yelp—louder this time.
“Is that doggie dead?” That sounded like a child, and I winced internally. Hopefully, no children would be scarred for life by my deception.
More voices gathered, then I heard sirens, so I started to whine as pitifully as possible.
“Okay, little guy, let’s at least get you out of traffic.” It was a woman’s voice, kind and soothing. A moment later, I was picked up and moved out of the street, then set down again with grass beneath me. She must have carried me back into Bicentennial Park, so I risked cracking an eye.
It looked like fifty faces surrounding me, some of them carrying signs. In the background, I could hear honking, along with the shouts of angry drivers.
“I don’t see a collar,” someone commented.
“You should be careful,” a woman’s voice cautioned, and my overwhelmed shifter senses insisted that the voice was familiar. Where would I have heard it before? “That doesn’t really look like a dog.”
Drat. I’d been hoping no one would notice. But Oklahoma wasn’t exactly overrun with arctic foxes, which was the closest Earth equivalent to whatever the heck I shifted into.
“Hello?” That was the female who’d carried me out of the street. She’d called someone… “Is this Animal Control? Yeah, I think I’ve found someone’s exotic pet. It’s hurt. Probably needs a vet. Yep, Bicentennial Park. It was hit by a car. Don’t see any blood, but it’s whimpering and not moving much.”
I let out another dramatic whine and heard a couple of sniffles from the crowd around me.
Essentially, I’d taken advantage of possibly the oldest and deepest rule of human decency.
There was no way to know what kind of people these protesters were, or what they might have been willing to do to me and Callum.
No way of knowing whether they were motivated by fear, anger, or just plain old money.
But no matter how mercenary you might be?
You never, ever hurt a dog.
I needed to make sure Callum had time to get out of sight, so I lay there for another few minutes, as sirens came closer and the car owners argued about who was actually at fault.
But eventually I heard the tread of boots, and a deep male voice asking, “Where’s the exotic animal?”
The crowd backed away.
And that was my cue for a miracle cure.
I was on my feet and running before the poor animal control officer could even get a good look at me.
He let out a yell and gave chase, along with what felt like half the onlookers.
Somewhere across the park, I distinctly heard a woman shout, “Shifter! It’s a shifter!
” but the crowd was disorganized and most of them were already yelling so no one else took up the cry.
I let them chase me around the park for about five minutes, until the humans were gasping for breath and I was sure that Callum was nowhere to be seen.
Then I circled around to where I’d caught his scent trail, laughed over my shoulder at my pursuers, and disappeared.