Chapter 11: Evil Lair Ltd.

Say what you want about the amberkin. When they make a decision, they don't waste time. Derek's guard entourage hustled him out of the Uwoom and into the streets of Othiamphuus in record time. The crowd was so focused on Teetch that Derek passed out of the colosseum virtually unnoticed by anyone save his guards. Whenever Derek slowed down or stumbled, their relentless momentum propelled him onward, not unkindly, but it was clear they weren't stopping for anything until Derek was some other Realm's problem.

The city felt eerily empty since they were nearly the first people or kin out of the arena. An amber tumbleweed wouldn't have looked out of place in the streets of Othiamphuus. The roads were narrower than Derek assumed of such a massive city. They were only wide enough for his guards to walk two abreast. It didn't seem to hinder them. There was a rhythm to how they navigated the streets as if they appeared to flow from one place to another. It was subtle, but Derek thought the city had a tilt to it as if he was always walking slightly downhill. The Uwoom in the center was the highest point, and everything trickled from the city's center to the outer reaches like a massive fountain.

Derek tried his best to absorb everything he was seeing. He didn't know why. This prisoner's march was the only time he would see the amberkin city, but he did his best to memorize the twists and turns of the cramped streets. The tall, irregular buildings were all unique in their own right, but Derek couldn't parse any logic to their layout. The only frequently repeated structures were the rose-gold domes that Derek knew led to the Flow beneath the city. He couldn't tell which types of buildings were where people lived or worked or what purpose any of them served. It felt like a city where everyone built and did what they wanted, and everything worked. At least it had used to. Derek noticed way more buildings than there were amberkin at the trial. There had to have been more of them at some point, and Derek wondered what had happened to the rest.

Derek's guards were firm and matter-of-fact, but they weren't cruel. Due to an over-saturation of prison movies, Derek would've expected to get a beating or something whenever his pace slipped or if he asked any questions. The entourage didn't answer his endless torrent of questions, but they didn't punish them either. Their gentle but relentless inertia kept him moving. No beatings were necessary. Derek couldn't have stopped if he tried. Some guards stole furtive glances at Derek when they thought he wasn't looking, but they hurriedly looked away whenever Derek returned the glance. He wondered if he would've been able to turn them to his cause if he had more time with them. However, Derek knew he wouldn't get that chance. They were already approaching the outskirts of the city.

As they got further from the center of Othiamphuus, the buildings became less tall and less grand and started to resemble single-story structures one might see in villages or towns. It gave Derek a clear view of Teetch's Realm at night without the towering structures of the center blocking his sight. The city had been so narrow and cramped and gave off so much ambient light Derek hadn't even noticed it was nighttime until they reached the outskirts. Predictably, the moon was a perfect golden amber orb suspended in an almost pitch-black night sky. Its reflection on the still water of Kindaala's Bowl felt like an entirely new heavenly body trapped beneath the glassy surface. There was no sign of the seething masses of Amber Mad fish at night. The golden pine forest surrounding the lake felt like a forest of Christmas lights that framed and highlighted the moon, the lake, and the mountain, Kindaala's Rest. At first, Derek had assumed that his guards were taking him back through the lake Gate, but they veered in a different direction sharply once they escaped the bounds of the great city.

The guards led Derek toward one of the swathes of forest, past the same dome Derek and Teetch had used to enter the Amber sewage tunnel a month before. A pang of something clutched Derek's heart. Am I already feeling nostalgia for when we broke into the Giild together? The answer was yes. Derek had a hard time looking at any of the things that reminded him of Teetch. He didn't want to imagine a world without the amberkin's passion. Nagging thoughts plagued him. If he had done more or chosen a different class in MythMaker, the amberkin could have avoided execution. It felt like there was a pattern with everyone in Derek's life. They never got to stick around: Jake, Bridger, Harmony, Andy, and Teetch. Derek was the common denominator. Why did he always have to be the one left behind?

A familiar screech pierced the night. Something scaly barreled into Derek's chest and knocked the wind out of him. Derek made the mental connection between the two events. Duck. The Swooper had found Derek and swooped down on him when he'd finally escaped the confines of Othiamphuus. Derek tried to hug the little Swooper. Duck resisted Derek's attempts and insistently pawed at his chest with one of its taloned feet. The little dinosaur was careful enough not to draw blood, but it still hurt. Protecting Derek must have been one of the amberkin goon squad's directives. The second the Swooper seemingly attacked him, several of his guards drew knives and advanced on Duck.

Derek tried to shoo the Swooper away. His conscience couldn't handle if someone or something got hurt on his behalf. However, the dinosaur resisted, and his scratching got more insistent. He even managed to tear several long gouges down Derek's shirt. He grabbed the Swooper's leg to restrain him and realized what Duck was doing. Instead of grabbing scaly skin, he grabbed something smooth and papery. Derek didn't know how it was possible, but someone, probably Teetch, had found a way to send him a message via Duck. Derek removed the message and shoved it into his pocket, hoping his guards hadn't seen it.

Duck pushed off of Derek's chest and took flight. Meanwhile, three of the guard had used their knives to make small incisions on the tips of their fingers. Golden blood dripped from the wounds, but instead of dropping to the ground, golden droplets zipped through the air, aimed at Duck. Duck spun and wove through the air, dodging the blood missiles and disappearing into the night. The dinosaur's appearance couldn't have lasted longer than thirty seconds, but it reminded Derek that things weren't as simple as they appeared. They had some hope, even if it was only a tiny glimmer.

Derek's guards wordlessly checked him for any wounds. When they were satisfied Derek was suitably intact, they continued their journey into the golden forest. If they'd noticed the clandestine message, they gave no sign. Surreal was the closest word Derek could think of to describe the forest. It was a perfect blend of the familiar and the Mystical. At points, Derek felt he recognized certain tree stumps or twists in the path, but in the same breath, he would see a glittering, golden spiderweb larger than a man strung between two trees. The crunch of pine needles told his senses he was back home, but the citrusy smell of Amber told him something else. And so it went, in this forest that reminded Derek of home but couldn't have been further.

They weren't trudging through the forest long before the entourage stopped at a tree that looked no different than any other. One of the guards, indistinguishable from any of the others, started tapping out a rhythm on the tree trunk with a closed fist. It reminded Derek of little kids with a secret club knock to allow entry into their tree. Derek heard a faint echo of a knock, and a shimmering curtain of energy rose from the ground stretched between two trees. The sheet undulated and shivered like the transparent material used for bubbles. It gave the impression that the slightest movement could cause it to pop, severing the connection between Amberkin Land and its unknown destination —a long stone hallway decorated with ornate wall sconces holding flickering torches.

Derek didn't claim to be an expert, but this seemed like another portal to another world. However, this time, he wasn't sure where it led. He'd never been to a location like that in Golden Lake, but the amberkin seemed ready to dump him through regardless. However, when Derek protested, the guard who knocked assured Derek that it led back to his Realm and that the "other Human" had given his guarantee it would work for stable Realm-to-Realm travel. Derek tried asking which Human, but the guard seemed annoyed by the question and repeated the words "other Human" more slowly as if Derek hadn't understood him the first time. Derek resisted when the guards started forcefully shoving him toward the portal. The torchlit hallway couldn't have been a part of Golden Lake, and Derek couldn't stop himself from imagining being dumped in some random place or time, stranded.

Amberkin looked more fragile than they were. The hands gripping and pushing him toward the portal were firm, and Derek's much larger frame couldn't break a single, warm grip. An inch from the portal, Derek started thrashing violently, trying to break free. A toe of his sneaker brushed the portal, and it was like when a vacuum catches the corner of a rug, and the whole thing gets sucked down the tube, and Derek was the rug. At that moment, Derek believed humans were 60% water as the portal sucked him through the portal, elongating his body to an unnatural degree, water first. Derek landed in a sprawling heap. He tried to scramble back through, but it winked out when Derek hit the other side. The patch of wall that used to contain a portal looked to be a solid wall of dirt as if the portal had cut out a perfect cross-section of earth. The stone, torchlit hallway from before stretched from the patch of dirt, and Derek guessed the mysterious hallway was underground. At the border of where stone finished and the earth began, Derek saw a rectangular, metallic arch set into the stone and dirt. It had the exact dimensions as the portal, with symbols etched all over its length. Derek only recognized one of the symbols, but it was enough. That same diamond Derek had seen drawn into the snow under the dock months ago.

WWW. Of course, they have their own portal, and now, they've got their very own hand-delivered Hero of Prophecy.

Derek didn't need to see anything else. He knew where he was. The portal deposited him in Golden Lake, but somehow, he was in the basement of that blocky, grey office building that seemed to have popped out of nowhere the first day the Wilcos came to town. The building looked so dull and unassuming that no one would have ever assumed a secret lair was underneath. With everyone coming in and going out, Derek felt like an idiot, and he hadn't expected something like this.

Derek didn't know how deep it went or Wilco's plans, but some incongruities started to make sense. Why they'd purchased the Lucky Catch and why construction always seemed ongoing. While they renovated and worked on buildings in Golden Lake, they built their network of sophisticated tunnels underneath the town. Derek didn't know much about architecture, but that didn't seem like the wisest or safest course of action; but then again, if they could build a portal to a Mystical Realm, they could probably figure out how to keep Golden Lake from collapsing under its weight. One thing still stuck in Derek's mind. Why would a rich and fancy company use torches? Is it because they don't want the power company to notice the extra power consumption?

Derek could have descended further into a question spiral, but something occurred to him that sent a chill down his spine. Someone on this side of the portal had opened it. Someone had returned the knock. WWW knew Derek was down here and was probably coming to pick him up any moment, and he couldn't imagine they were coming to have a friendly chat. He was lucky they hadn't picked him up already.

He started down the hall. It was stone with a lush red carpet running down its length. Each torch illuminated an ornate wooden doorway with names written out in cursive carved into the wood. Danica Roswell, Joshua Bancroft, Hendrick Everton, and seven others were listed. Derek didn't recognize any of the names, and he tried the golden handle of each door, but they were all locked. The hallway ended abruptly at another door, but this one was round and metal and opened with a twist. Derek strode through directly into a solidly built, suited figure.

Once more, strong hands clamped down on Derek's shoulders and started to lead him somewhere else. The prisoner transfer was complete. Derek counted only two jailers this time but quickly banished any hopes of escape. They may have been wearing sophisticated suits that off a thin veneer of sophistication, but something dangerous lurked beneath the surface of these guys. Maybe it was the fact they were so muscular they looked like overstuffed sausages that threatened to burst at any moment. Derek half-thought that they could rip out of their suits if they flexed. He'd never seen these two particular guys before and realized they must have spent their entire stay in Golden Lake in this secret underground lair, probably to put people's minds at ease. Nothing screams hostile takeover more clearly than muscular henchmen who could rip people apart with their bare hands.

Although their demeanors were openly antagonistic, Derek couldn't help but feel relieved to be around other humans again. The inhumanly small size of amberkin and their strange habits made it hard for Derek ever truly to feel at ease, and now, being led into the bowels of an evil lair, there was a piece of Derek that still felt more comfortable with that than the unknown threats of a Magical Realm. As they led him deeper into the structure, they took several twists and turns that Derek didn't even bother trying to memorize; he knew they didn't lead to the exit, just deeper into the lair. Eventually, fluorescent lights replaced torches, blocks of old stones gave way to carpeted floors, and Derek knew they were nearing their destination. Tweedle Deadly and Deadlier stopped before a beige door and flanked it on either side. They stopped moving entirely. They had gargoyles guarding a basilica vibe to them. Derek inched forward and tried the door. It swung forward with ease.

Derek didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't a corporate conference room with a long table adorned with an assortment of fruits, bagels, and one coffee machine that uses disposable cups. The conference table had ten empty seats and a man standing at the head of the table. His resemblance to Reid Wilco was striking. He had the same sharp, angular face, brown eyes, and head of slicked-back hair but peppered with steely grey. However, where Reid felt guileless and awkward, like the prim and proper persona, was just an image he was trying to convey. The man in the conference room felt like the real deal, and every piece of his image was something he'd carefully crafted. Even the black and gold pen in his suit pocket seemed like something just for that outfit. He strode toward Derek with an economy of stride that struck Derek as the right blend of powerful, efficient, and purposeful. With every step, Derek could tell there wouldn't be a crinkle or fold of his suit out of place. It wasn't until he reached Derek that he realized the man couldn't have been taller than five feet tall. With a smile as perfectly manufactured as the rest of him, the man reached out for a handshake. He gave no sign if it bothered him that Derek hadn't washed in a month and had a long gash in his shirt.

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Derek Dunn, or should I say Dirk Dawn? Wallace Wilco, an absolute pleasure to meet you, son."

Derek let the business mogul's hand hang in the air for a few seconds before the man returned it to his side. His face didn't so much twitch in annoyance.

"I wish I could say the same, but you know how it is. It's a David and Goliath thing." Derek said flippantly.

Wilco laughed, and Derek would've sworn he'd heard the same one on a laugh track somewhere, "Don't be like that, son. You and I should be great friends, at least on paper. After all, we have so much in common."

"You've gotta warn me before you say something like that. Bull crap makes me nauseous."

Derek waited for the smile to slip or falter, but Wallace Wilco still smiled up at him like the conversation was going exactly how he wanted.

"Do you like magic tricks, Derek? I've always liked magic tricks. Reid hates them, but something tells you're the type of guy who likes them. Not because you think it's Magic, but because you like to spot the trick underneath, the sleight of hand. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," Derek lied. He loved magic tricks.

Wallace Wilco smiled wider as if Derek had said he loved them. "I'll make a deal with you, son. I'm going to do a trick. If you can tell me how I did it, I'll send you home right now, no strings attached."

"What do you get if you win?" Derek asked.

"Come on, Derek, my boy, you're smarter than that. I want to talk about Magic. Magic with a capital M," Wilco said, his eyes never wavering from Derek's.

"What's the catch? With guys like you, there's always a catch." Derek said, meeting the stare.

Wilco laughed that phony, too-perfect laugh, "You don't get to where I am in life without a catch, Derek, my boy. However, we'll have to have that chat to find out what it is. You know how it goes."

As Derek talked to Wallace Wilco, the less the man reminded him of Reid. Reid's haughty demeanor had always seemed like he was trying too hard, but underneath, there was an earnest, awkward guy. Wallace Wilco's stiff and manufactured persona seemed to camouflage something even more sinister, and when Derek locked eyes with the man, he couldn't help but feel trapped in the gaze of some predator.

Derek returned the smile. "You got me. I love Magic tricks. You're on, Wilco, but if I win, you've got to stop trying to buy my parents' store."

A single eyebrow arched for a second, but finally, Wilco nodded, smiling even wider, a feat Derek wouldn't have thought possible, "You've got yourself a deal. Shake on it?"

Derek hesitated. For some reason, he felt like every decision he made played right into Wilco's hands. As if sensing his weakness, Wilco pressed, "I insist."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Derek shook the man's hand, which felt warm and callused, surprising him. They felt like the hands of a man who didn't shy away from hard work.

"Are you ready?" Wilco asked. He retrieved a gold coin from his breast pocket. Wilco held it up to show Derek. With pride in his voice, he told Derek that it was "The 1933 Double Eagle," and he couldn't possibly tell Derek how much he'd paid for it.

As Wilco talked about his rare coin collection, Derek quickly examined the room, looking for anything Wilco could use for a trick. The two muscled goons had silently entered and taken positions flanking the exit, but otherwise, everything appeared as it should. Derek took a few steps away from Wilco and the conference table so he wasn't within easy reach, denying Wilco the chance to use him in the trick.

Derek nodded.

Wilco positioned the gold coin on the tip of his thumb as if about to flip it, and he said, "Watch the coin."

This trick is going to be a piece of cake. Coin tricks involve sleight of hand. While I'm watching the coin, his other hand will do something else. I just have to watch his hands.

Wilco flicked the coin into the air. Derek tried to follow Wilco's sleight of hand, but his eyes locked onto the coin transfixed. As it flipped and tumbled through the air, it caught the reflected light from the fluorescents and gleamed. Suddenly, there were two coins, four, eight, and sixteen. Wilco deftly plucked each of them out of the air, but when Wilco finished the trick, he was only holding a single coin. The others had disappeared. Wilco put the coin back in his breast pocket.

Derek smiled at Wilco. "You almost got me there. I'll admit I've never seen that one before, but you don't have a lot of options using a coin and a room like this. You had the extra coins in your sleeve, and when you put the first coin away, you dumped the rest of them into your pocket or something similar. The real flaw of the trick is that you've only got so many options on where you can stow the extra coins."

The perfect smile faltered slightly, and Derek knew he had him. "You disappoint me, Derek, but you do not surprise me. No one surprises me." Wallace Wilco said mournfully, "There were no extra coins, just the one."

"How did you?" Derek started, "But I saw other coins. It couldn't have been just one."

Wilco smiled again, and it was the first one that felt genuine, "Magic with a capital M, my boy. I did give you a hint. I said it was a Magic trick."

"You knew what I would assume. You cheated. Deal's off," Derek said, "Let me out of here."

"I'll caution you against calling me a cheater again. I take great pride in my business acumen and have no need to cheat. I shared all pertinent information with you. Your mind supplied its preconceived expectations of what constitutes a Magic trick. If you should be upset at anything, it should be that brain of yours for letting it happen. I've often found the ones who come out on top of a business deal aren't the smartest or the most ruthless. However, those certainly help; the most useful attribute I've found is vision, seeing the furthest ahead or all the relevant details of a situation. If someone cannot imagine being taken advantage of because they cannot see far enough ahead, that is hardly my fault."

"So you're saying I lacked the imagination to see how the deal favored you, and that's why I lost?" Derek asked, "I'll remember that. You shouldn't have shown your hand, Wally; I don't make the same mistakes twice."

"A trait which my son sorely lacks, but I digress. You've always struck me as someone who could be a worthy opponent, but I hope it doesn't come to that. I still think we would make far better allies."

Derek couldn't hold back a snort.

Wallace Wilco had moved to the far end of the conference room, where a projector screen hung—perfect for quarterly reports and spreadsheets. Wilco pulled down on a string, and the screen rolled into its housing, revealing a hidden door behind it. The door was solid gold.

While Wilco sifted through a key ring, he idly chatted with Derek, "You seem to harbor some ill will toward me, or maybe it's World Wide Wilco as a whole, perhaps. I would've thought you Golden Lakers would welcome someone like me coming in and breathing some new life into the place." Wilco found a gold key in the ring and stuck it into the keyhole, "And make no mistake, Derek, my boy, that is what we are doing. It may not have been this year or the next five years, but without my help, your precious town would've died on the vine."

Derek crossed the room and poked a finger into Wilco's chest, crinkling the suit. "That's the problem with you business types. You can't conceive of a world where someone would rather die doing and being what they love. Your 'changes' may as well be their own type of death sentence for Golden Lake if they turn it into something we can't recognize."

"Derek, my boy, that's the point. Why would anyone want to languish in a place that has proven it cannot survive and thrive? It defies nature to artificially extend a creature's or town's life, as the case may be. I'm providing Golden Lake a valuable service." Wilco said, opening the golden door and strolling into a small, equally golden room, "Now, come, it's time to discuss Magic." It reminded Derek of a police interrogation room with two chairs and a table separating them, but it was all made of gold. He motioned for Derek to enter, and the owner of WWW took a seat in one of the chairs. Derek hesitated to enter. He could feel something at the threshold that felt wrong, like he would be walking into the lair of some dangerous beast. The air seemed to thrum with an energy that Derek couldn't touch, but he could feel it, like an electric fence. Wallace Wilco sat in the golden armchair with perfect posture and an unreadable, pleasant expression. Derek would've sworn he looked taller and more muscular inside the new room, and a thought struck him.

Derek pulled his phone out of his pocket, pointed it at Wilco, and whispered, "Identify."

Wilco raised a hand, and Derek realized he was gesturing for his bodyguards to stand down. They'd both reached into their jackets to grab something, and Derek doubted it was their phones. Derek watched Dirk Dawn pluck a book from somewhere and start to read.

Wallace Wilco (Warlock Level 3)

Warlocks are Practitioners of the new Gods. With the advent of Human Gods and Ideals, new schools of Magic yearn for exploration. Warlocks find and forge new pathways in the Craft. Often, these new paths are paved with blood, sometimes their own. Warlocks answer to a higher power, and becoming one requires a commensurate change in alignment to match their chosen Deity.

Derek looked up, and Wilco was hungrily staring at Derek's phone. Greed was writ plain on his face, and his eyes seemed to gleam like light glinted off his gold coin. Derek didn't like that hungry look, so he stuffed his phone into his pocket. That look made him want to step into that golden room even less. Derek didn't know all the ins and outs of being a warlock, but Teetch was wrong about one thing. Awakened humans were way more common than the amberkin had thought, and they were interested in Golden Lake for some reason. Derek wished he'd asked Teetch more questions about Magic and Ideals. The golden interrogation room felt like a source of magical power for Wilco, and Derek's skills seemed almost useless in the situation. He didn't even have anything to protect himself if things went sour. What good is an Iron Fillet Knife against bullets?

"You're more savvy than I gave you credit for, Derek, my boy." Wallace Wilco said with a laugh, "I solemnly swear you have protection from any undue influence exuded by my Treasure Room or myself for the duration of our conversation."

The latent magical energy winked out like Wilco had flicked a switch. Derek walked into the "Treasure Room." Wilco's gaze only occasionally shifted to Derek's pocket. Derek took a seat and discovered that chairs made of solid gold weren't any more comfortable than cheap folding chairs. Derek expected the room to have a sharp, metallic smell, but the golden room was almost distinctive because of its lack of sensory details. Derek wouldn't have been surprised if a magical barrier somehow blocked germs and smells.

Derek put his feet on the golden table and said, "Alright, Wally, so how's this gonna work? We talk about Magic, and if I don't tell you what you want to know, you lock me up?"

"Don't be like that," Wilco said. Derek didn't know if he was referring to Derek's feet or his confrontational attitude, "I've been looking forward to speaking to the only other Initiated native to Golden Lake. When my Avaricious Eyes pinpointed the largest source of Magic in the United States as Golden Lake, Idaho, I expected it to be more… fantastic."

"You want fantastic? You should try the potatoes," Derek said.

Wilco's smile didn't falter, but Derek could've sworn he saw a slight tightening around the wrinkles in his eyes. "I was hoping this conversation would go a bit smoother. After all, we both have something the other wants."

"You're not going to believe this, but I've never actually wanted a swimming pool full of gold, so you'll have to get a little more creative. You've got another thing coming if you think your precious money is going to get to me," Derek said.

"I'm well aware of you and your father's… resistance regarding financial compensation. I was, of course, referring to your friend, a one Andrew Renteria. It's come to my attention he's gone missing. I'm sure WWW could be persuaded to help locate him should you prove cooperative."

"I don't know an- Wait, Andy?" Derek remembered the boy's abandoned baseball cap at the edge of the like and Andy kicking and screaming, carried into the night, "You and your cronies better not have hurt him."

Wilco raised his hands as if in mock surrender. "I heard he was a friend of yours and that he'd gone missing. I was merely offering my incredible resources. I sincerely hope you aren't implying I've kidnapped the poor boy. Shame on you, Derek. That would be downright villainous. I merely suggested that I help locate him if you cooperate with my questions. This isn't some sort of backroom hostage negotiation."

The glimmer of mirth in the man's eyes told Derek everything he needed to know. Andy was locked up somewhere in this place, and unless Derek told Wilco what he wanted to know, Andy would never see the light of day. The fight sagged from Derek. He wasn't about to let his stubbornness affect Andy any more than it already had.

"Alright, Wilco, what do you want from me?" Derek asked.

"You aren't listening, son. All I want is a chat, a completely candid conversation," Wilco said, with no trace of the villainous undertones. His eyes even looked a little pleading. If he was faking it, the man was a terrific liar: "I want to forget sides and goals, good and evil, and talk about Magic. Being the one others always expect to have the answers is quite exhausting. It's been longer than I care to admit since I've discovered something new for myself."

"You just want to talk? No strings attached?" Derek asked. After a long pause, he sighed and said, "Fine, but you've got to drop the phony fatherly routine. My own dad doesn't lay it on that thick."

Wilco acted offended. "It's no act, but if you insist, I'll refrain from acting quite so familiar. In many ways, I wish my boy were more like you. After his mother's passing, he holed himself up in our estate, losing himself in his mother's favorite books and television series. Getting anything useful out of him was nearly impossible, but his tutors said he was keeping up with his studies and was ready for more responsibility. I'd hoped our excursion to Golden Lake would allow Reid to prove himself, but all he has proven himself to be is a bitter disappointment. I blame it on that local he spends so much time with."

Derek found himself wanting to defend the young Wilco. It was almost sad how much the guy idolized his father. "He's less of a disappointment than you think," Derek said, surprising himself, "I bet half the people who've sold to you guys wouldn't have done it without his guileless charm."

Wilco laughed, "All Reid's intervention has done is cost me more money. I could've had those businesses at a fraction of the cost and without having to offer 'relocation packages' for those who wanted to leave, but Reid insisted. I've been trying to let him take the reins on the business side of things here, but he's made it difficult. However, it has allowed me to keep my hands free to focus on other endeavors."

Reid had been defending the people of Golden Lake the whole time? Derek didn't believe it. It didn't fit with the self-centered attitude the Wilco heir had when Derek first met him, but there was no mistaking the guy cared about Harmony. Was it possible his relationship with Harmony spurred him to protect Golden Lake? Derek shook his head. He needed to focus on Wilco Sr.

"Other endeavors? Like making coin golems and kidnapping kids?" Derek asked.

"You're referring to the construct that that cantankerous piscine guardian destroyed? We don't possess the resources to produce another one, but it's no matter. Our efforts are focused elsewhere, like that Magical Realm you and your little friend helped us access. Had it not been for your little stunt, we may never have figured out how to power a Gate, let alone make one of our very own."

"You have a Gate?" Derek asked, shifting in his seat. WWW had access to the Giild, and it was Derek's fault.

"Of course, and we couldn't have done it without you. Our initial attempts to penetrate Golden Lake's Magical dimension proved fruitless. Still, we've finally managed to make contact with a funny little fellow named Juunor, who seems like someone who would be receptive to collaboration."

"What could you possibly want with the Giild?" Derek asked, but he knew it was a stupid question right as it left his lips.

"The same thing I want from you, information, all of it, as much as I can stomach. There's never enough. From the first moment I opened my eyes to the Mystical, I could never acquire enough." Wallace Wilco said, and at that moment, his eyes seemed to gleam the same color as the golden walls, "Ever since I was the boy who needed Magic to get a leg up on his larger, more brutish peers, I've wanted to know more. Unlike my colleagues who see Magic as just another crude means to backstab one another and make an extra million here or there. It's grander than that. Money is transient, temporary. I want more, Derek, and you'll give it to me."

Derek laughed. "Did I hear that right? It's not all about money?" Derek asked, "I just assumed your whole schtick would be commodifying and turning a Magical Realm into a theme park or something."

"Do not mistake me; money is the fuel that drives the engine of WWW. The various factions within the company are hungry to rise to the top of the money heap, but my goals in Golden Lake are driven entirely by discovery. I would much prefer a Magical Realm be kept secret from my peers and used for each other's mutual benefit." Wilco said, steepling his fingers and leaning on the table, "Now, I believe it's time for you to stop stalling and tell me how you fit into this."

Φ

Derek told Wilco everything, at least everything pertinent to Derek. Derek left out the words Hero of Prophecy and the specifics of amberkin society because, despite Wilco's assurances, Derek didn't believe he had their best interests at heart. Derek described his Angler abilities and how he and Teetch destroyed the Linconstruct. When Derek finished his story, Wilco laughed uproariously, deep belly laughs. He and the WWWarlocks had started to look at Derek as a magical boogeyman because they couldn't figure out who he was or how he did what he did.

They had some scrying spell called Avaricious Eyes that spotted all "Initiated" or Awakened in an area, and the name "Dirk Dawn" popped up whenever they attempted to scry. They'd assumed a magic user of far greater skill was running circles around them to the point where most of the higher-ups in Wilco's inner circle were terrified of the mysterious Dirk Dawn.

Wilco seemed fascinated by how Derek gained new "Spells" and kept asking Derek about his Ideals. Wilco explained that all the Magic he and his cronies practiced focused on one of two Ideals and could only produce effects centered around those Ideals. He even started to info dump that some Gods chose him as a boy because he exemplified their Ideals of Avarice and Ambition. He became their chosen Vessel. It became clear that Derek's version of Magic and Wilco's were incompatible, and Wilco decided that Derek couldn't help him further his goals or knowledge of the Mystical.

Derek could sense the conversation starting to lose steam, and he realized something, "That felt an awful lot like the evil villain monologue before you get rid of me for good."

Wilco flashed Derek what he'd come to realize was his authentic smile and said, "I do wish Reid could've learned some lessons from you, that grit. You've been given so little, and look what you've done with it while my boy has the world at his fingertips," Wilco waved his arm expansively, "Everything. But all he can seem to focus on is ethics and feelings. The boy has grown quite tiresome. Hopefully, he gets some calluses from this whole experience, but I'm afraid you're right. This is goodbye, Derek. The good news is that you're harmless enough and couldn't stop us even if you tried. Besides, the town has been on high alert since that Renteria boy went missing. In that vein, I can't afford any more attention, so all we'll confiscate are your memories and phone. Then I don't see why we can't turn you loose. It's been… expensive covering for your absence."

"Wait a second, you don't have to-" The door slamming open cut Derek off, and the two musclebound thugs walked in and slammed Derek's face into the table, knocking off his bucket hat. They rummaged through his pocket until they found and took his phone. Once they got the phone, they stepped back and stood behind Derek in the two back corners of the room. The door remained open, and someone in a black robe with a hood slipped in. The figure took Wilco's seat and sat across from Derek. No matter the angle of light, the new figure's face was entirely obscured by the shadows cast by the hood. Thanks to a certain movie series about a boy wizard, Derek couldn't help but think the figure was about to eat his soul.

With an urgent impulse Derek couldn't have explained, he reached across the table to grab his hat and stick it back on his head.

"Removing the last several hours should be sufficient," Wilco said to the hooded figure, then turned to Derek. Sometimes, Ideals can be a touch limiting, so we outsource things like erasing people's memories. They've assured me it doesn't hurt."

The robed figure set a wicker bird cage-looking device on the table. In its center was a black onyx gemstone suspended by more wicker arranged like a spider's web with the gem positioned in the center. The figure started tapping out a complex rhythm on the table. Black gloves covered their hands, and as they tapped, the light and colors in the room seemed to dim and lose some indescribable vital essence. Derek felt something black and questioning tug at him, but it failed to gain any purchase. In his mind's eye, he envisioned black tendrils slipping and sliding over him but unable to grab hold like his psyche was dipped in oil. Derek got the strangest feeling that the psychic oil came from his bucket hat. He'd worn it since that first day he'd become an Angler, but he'd never had to use its effect. While wearing the Bucket Hat of Focus, Anglers gain protection from all mind-altering effects. Black-robed figures vortexing Derek's memories into a black gem must have qualified as a mind-altering effect.

Derek didn't know what losing his memories was supposed to look like, but he acted like it hurt. Since he was supposed to be tough, he gritted his teeth through the imaginary pain. He put up a fight and eventually pretended to succumb to the effects with a flutter of his eyes and slumping in his chair. A dribble of drool spilled down his chin while the cloaked form stared at him. Suddenly, a tilting of the shadowy figure's head convinced Derek that the figure knew Derek still had his memories, but Wilco seemed satisfied by the act.

"What a shame. I would've liked to have brought young Derek into the fold," Wilco said, shaking his head, "Thank you for your services. Dimitri will see you out."

The robed and hooded figure glided out of the room with one of the beefcakes in tow. When they were safely out of earshot, Wilco shivered. "The VC gives me the creeps, and people say I'm over the top. Come on, Vlad, let's show Mr. Dunn out."