Chapter 10 Gilded Age #2
“You know who,” he says. “He told you that he would send you a sign, and he always keeps his word. A good sign for a potential partnership, right?” I take a step back and collide with the wall.
Nobody else seems to notice us, but I’m not sure I can run away without attracting attention.
I scrutinize him more closely and notice the aura emanating from his center, a deep choking purple oozing around him.
The whole room is cloaked in it. I have no idea what it’s doing, but I’m sure it’s nothing good. “Do not fear. So long as you give him—”
“I don’t understand. How did you find me?” I cast about for JJ, but she is nowhere to be found.
He laughs. “You’re very predictable. He knows you. And, of course, your power is a beacon.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, and he wrinkles his nose.
“No need for that kind of language,” he says, his voice grating.
“He understands that you need more information. You have power, a demon’s power.
You cannot use it, not really, because you are a human.
He is a demon, and he would like it. If you give him what he wants, he will never hurt you or your loved ones. ”
“He’s not even here himself. Is he scared? He must be pretty weak if he’s so desperate for the power I got without even trying.” I know I shouldn’t antagonize him, but I can’t stop myself from masking my terror with bravado.
“He may want your power, but he is not weak.” There’s a flash of anger in the man’s eyes, but despite my veneer of confidence, the only thing I feel is all-consuming, thought-devouring fear.
“Sooner or later, you will give in. Money? Influence? Love? Simply name your desire. Alternatively, I’d advise you to remember that you have no defenses against him, and he will destroy your life. ”
It’s not a great villain monologue, and something about it gives me strength. “My life is already destroyed.”
“You ought to take this seriously.” He grabs my wrist. “What do you want?”
My eyes close, and I see the clinic with no protesters outside it. I see a woman smiling and waving as she enters. And then I see myself smiling back at her. There’s a lightness about this version of me, one that I recognize from years ago.
“Whatever you want, it could be yours,” he whispers.
With his words, the scene turns sour, wrong. I see it for what it is: a veneer. A demon can’t fix depression. I yank my hand away.
“I am taking this seriously. I’m not giving you anything.”
“Your funeral,” he says. When he steps away from me, I start feeling sick. The haze in the room intensifies, and I stumble forward, about to fall over, when someone catches my arm.
“Are you okay?” they ask.
“I’m fine,” I reply as I search for an exit.
“What brings you here?” she asks. I almost laugh at the inanity of the question.
“My friend invited me. I love the Art Institute.”
“Are you affiliated with the cause?”
“Um, not exactly.” I remember JJ’s warning and try to stay vague. “I work at a health center in Rogers Park. Up north.”
“Oh, they’re doing great work over there,” a man says as he joins us.
A few others have gathered around us as well, standing in the way of any possible escape.
“I’ve heard that cutting just one more abortion clinic in this state could save as many as sixteen hundred women a year.
The Rogers Park Pregnancy Center is the real deal. ”
Of course. The demon brought a cabal of antis to this fundraiser. I should be shocked, but I feel numb to the emotion. I give the stranger an unfeigned nervous laugh.
“I don’t think it’s that many,” I say.
“Ah, don’t be so modest,” he replies. “We always have a hard time dealing with those Planned Parenthoods, but these small clinics are simpler targets, much easier to close down. Just a few minor incidents, talk to the right people, and there you go. And if you get rid of them, you weaken Planned Parenthood. Wait times go up, women stop coming all the way to this ridiculous state—I’m from Indiana, you know.
But we need people like you in these liberal states. ”
“Shall I tell them who you really are?” the demonic man from before whispers in my ear, suddenly right behind me. The jolt of fear that rushes through me seems to thicken the stink of his magic. “Shall I direct them to your clinic?”
The monologuing anti looks at me expectantly. “Thank you,” I say, feeling the demon’s grip on me grow stronger.
Tara told me to be hard. But what does that mean? Am I really going to give up my power to save the clinic? With all these bodies pressing around me, I can’t think. I don’t know what to do. My fear is feeding him, and that only scares me more.
“There you are, Nish!” I startle at JJ’s voice. She pushes through the sickly cloud, meeting the gaze of the man behind me before I can warn her away. “Who are you?”
He steps away, and I turn around to see him looking confused.
Who am I? he mouths, and I realize that he’s just some guy.
I don’t know if he is possessed or just a lackey, but I can fight a simple human.
The viscous purple miasma, the crowd of antis, it’s all here to make me feel threatened, weak, so that whatever demon is pulling the strings can capitalize on my fear and get what he wants.
But according to Muya, I can manipulate those around me as well.
I feel a tingling sensation under my skin, a bit like fire and a bit like a heavy blanket.
I may not be particularly skilled or powerful, but I can cut through bullshit with the best of them.
“Who is he?” I ask JJ, grabbing her hand with my clammy fingers, trying to push my magic into the air. “He just started talking to me.”
“I’m… Thomas?” the man answers. He has forgotten himself.
“I don’t think you’re on the guest list,” JJ accuses him. She can probably see that I’m nervous, and I love her for trying to protect me. “Uncle Gary?” she asks a man in the crowd.
A man I haven’t yet met steps forward, tugging on his collar as though overheated. “Good to see you, JJ.”
There’s an air of confusion in the crowd that I capitalize on, reminding everyone, You don’t know this man.
Who is he? How dare he? Nothing happens.
Maybe there are too many people here for it to work.
My heart pounds, but I concentrate on Uncle Gary and the purple smog around him.
You don’t know who he is. Why is he here?
Uncle Gary, bless his heart, turns to the man and says, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, have we? Or perhaps we have, apologies, the evening blends together.”
Thomas, or whoever he is, looks afraid. I harness the feeling of his confusion, his alarm, and knowing that I put it there, try to channel Muya’s power again. Who are you? The violet fog begins to thin.
“Funny, the last hour feels like a blur,” a woman next to me murmurs.
“Tell your boss he should be ashamed,” I whisper to Thomas. “What a pathetic attempt. Can’t even best one little human.”
Thomas’s eyes flash red. Something has snapped within him, the demon puppeteering him regaining control. “How dare you? You are nobody!” His energy surges, and people turn back toward us.
“You’re insane,” JJ says, voice firm.
Go away. You don’t know who we are or what is happening.
It finally works. The miasma disappears, and the crowd disperses. I’m almost giddy, but I school my expression into one of disdain.
“I don’t imagine I’ll see you again,” I say to Thomas, who seems to have been rendered speechless.
The man blinks, pressing a hand to his head. He looks at me with a blank expression. “Who are you?”
“What a weirdo,” JJ says with a nervous laugh. She takes my arm and turns us away. “Sorry you got stuck with Uncle Gary.”
“He wasn’t so bad,” I offer.
“Oh, good. I was worried he would start talking about his political views. He’s a little…
how to put it? Overly religious.” JJ makes a gesture with her hands as if to say, What can you do?
I think about how that other man was talking about the crisis pregnancy center and implying that there are already staff waiting in the wings, following a concrete timeline.
“Do you know him well?”
JJ frowns. “Unfortunately.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask her to. All of a sudden I’m exhausted. “Want to go upstairs?” she offers. “I know how you feel about the impressionists.”
I can’t burden JJ with everything that just happened, because I can hardly explain it myself. So instead I throw my arms around her in a brief hug.
“Thank you for coming back for me.”
JJ pats my shoulder awkwardly before disentangling. “Come on, talking to people isn’t that bad. But let’s make our escape, take a breather upstairs.”
“Only if you’re ready for me to talk your ear off about bales of hay,” I reply.
“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” JJ says, linking her arm through mine. I try to cling to the feeling of lightness in my chest, to remember this feeling of victory and friendship. In this moment, I don’t think I could feel any more powerful.