“You killed your dad?”
Noland tilts his head to the side. “Did… I could’ve sworn I told you the story. That doesn’t matter right now; push your awareness to its limits. There’s a very good chance we’re going to be attacked the moment they see us.”
I nod and change absolutely nothing. “You owe me a story when we’re safe.”
“Don’t worry about that; I plan on telling it to everyone here who hasn’t heard it yet.” Noland laughs and gestures down at the mech as it touches down. “Let’s head down and say hi.”
Yeah, going right into the fray of people who want to kill us is definitely an excellent idea. But there’s no real point delaying it; they’re going to see us eventually, and the sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner I can stop looking over my shoulder every few seconds. I roll my shoulder and flick a coin at the edge of the roof.
A shield bursts into being, but… it feels… a little weird. My awareness washes over it, and instead of one solid object, it feels like… countless perfectly interlocking smaller ones. I narrow my eyes in suspicion as I walk onto it, tap my foot to get it moving, and feel as it descends just like I commanded it to.
“Is something off, Shelby?” Noland asks. “You’ve got a look on your face.”
“Honestly… I don’t know. It feels like my spell evolved, but I didn’t get any kind of notification that it did.” I look over at him, but all he’s doing is adjusting his watch and cufflinks. “Can spells even evolve if we’re not on the other world?”
He shakes his head. “You can’t actually pass any thresholds, either. Everything gets checked when you go back, so don’t get surprised if you suddenly have quite a few spells ready to evolve right when you go back.”
Huh. I guess that’s why relocation hasn’t evolved yet. Because I’ve definitely put more than enough Worth into it to meet that threshold. So what the hell is happening with my shield? And did something happen to relocation and projectile, or is shield the only one that’s acting weird?
I set my jaw and focus on the mech that stands taller than Matt’s house. Depending on how things go with Noland and the Preservation, there’s a really good chance I’ll get to find out in a few minutes.
Gisela grips my arm hard and pats Noland on the shoulder to get our attention. “Let me talk to them first, please. I still haven’t put together who you actually are, Noland, but if you’re confident things will get violent, please don’t reveal yourself right away.”
Noland clicks his tongue and frowns. “Some people already know who I am, Gisa. Just seeing my face will be enough.”
“Then do something about your face.” She says flatly. “Just because you hate the Preservation, it doesn’t mean they can’t be useful.”
He sneers at that last remark, but doesn’t debate it. “Fine. Shelby, can I borrow the thing?”
I raise an eyebrow, then pull my mask from my inventory. “How do these things work if different people wear the same mask?”
“I have no idea. This isn’t really the kind of thing I focused on while I was over there.” He accepts the mask with a nod, then presses it to his face. Noland disappears. In his place is a man in his clothes, with his mannerisms, but my brain just won’t accept that he’s Noland. “So? Is it working?”
It takes all my focus to get my brain to register that–yes–the masked guy right next to me is Noland. “It feels like my brain is going to explode just from looking at you. Right, Gisela?”
I turn to her, but she’s frozen. Eyes wide, body tense and ready to run at any moment. She’s staring at Noland like he’s a completely different person, not just that she’s having trouble focusing on him.
Noland leans in close to her and snaps his fingers. She flinches and tries to pull away, but I stop her from jumping off the platform. “Wow. I thought March and Ursula were screwing with me when they said how hard it was to recognize someone with one of these on. But you literally watched me put it on and your brain isn’t letting you recognize me.”
“Who the hell are you?” Gisela demands.
“Me? I’m nobody.” Noland laughs, and Gisela shrinks away. “For now, at least. Come on, you two–if we want first dibs on the Preservation’s time, we have to be right there when they leave the safety of their mech.”
Gisela is overwhelmingly reluctant to follow us when the platform hits the ground, and more than a few times, I catch myself wondering who the man next to me is. I know he’s Noland. But the mask–it’s like it's screaming into my brain that I’m wrong. That the man behind the mask isn’t anyone I know. There’s so much more magic in that thing than I thought.
Somehow, I keep my mind on track for the minutes it takes us to cross the grass to the mech’s landing spot. Seared circles under its feet and a trail of smoldering green flames behind it show evidence of some kind of boosters, but I didn’t see any when it descended. Maybe they’re… invisible flames or something?
“Do you know why things are on fire?” I ask Noland, but the question’s really aimed at Pearl.
He shrugs. Pearl nods.
“They modified the mech with softflame thrusters. They’re completely invisible, and they burn way less fuel for the same results. If they were a little smarter they would’ve realized they could just use raw magic for it, but I guess they’re just too dumb for that.” She sighs and shakes her head, though her expression seems satisfied. “If you want to use heavy weapons in populated areas, you have to make everyone there feel safe that you’re not going to accidentally hurt them.”
She keeps going on about military tactics, and if I wasn’t about to meet some of my worst enemies, I would’ve kept listening. But the hiss of pressure equalizing and small plumes of greenish fumes rising from the mech’s chest area steals my attention away. I clench my fists, hoping against hope that I won’t recognize anyone that walks out. Either from anything in person, or from… association with Brandon.
The first person to step out is a woman armored in a suit so tight that the metal hugs her curves. Nothing like Ursula’s utilitarian suit, or Call, Whisper, and Shout’s body hiding armor. She wants to be seen, recognized, and–if I had to guess–adored.
“Hello, there, everyone!” She calls excitedly and strikes a… well… the best way I can describe it is a ‘sexy’ pose. “You can stop bickering and start staring, because Gasp is here to steal your breath away!”
Stunned silence melts away into raucous cheers. My heart skips a beat as this scantily armored woman looks my way, but my awareness takes hold of the unwelcome sensation and crushes it into nothing. Magic? Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure that was just magic. But… it was really weak. Like, weak enough that it shouldn’t really affect a normal person.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Masked Noland clears his throat to get my attention. “Gasp is a psychic. I don’t think I need to tell you more.”
“Is she… super weak?”
He shakes his head. “The opposite, actually. She’s a performer first and foremost, and she wants an audience captive to her skills, not her magic. That pulse you felt was a very small mental stimulant to get everyone over their shock and reluctance.”
I stare at him blankly. “How do you know that?”
“You… didn’t you read the message from our mutual friend?”
…Call? Call sent a message, and I didn’t know about it? How’s that possible?
Noland sighs and shakes his head. “Forget it; March must’ve forgotten to tell you. Long story short, we have a surface level understanding of all the Speakers, their classes, and their personalities. We don’t know their real names, how powerful they are, or how influential they are yet. That’s coming when our friend gets the information.”
Gasp blows the audience a few kisses through her helmet as she walks into thin air. A gangplank stays under her feet the entire time, perfectly matching her walking speed until she reaches the ground. It latches onto the dirt with a soft click, and Gasp slowly turns in circles as she takes in the cheers and attention.
“Thank you, thank you for your love! But unfortunately, I am only the opening act tonight. The real guests of honour–the people who are fighting to preserve humanity–are here to speak to you!” She gestures grandiosely at the mech, and everyone’s heads turn to look. Everyone but me and Noland. “Put your hands together for Shout, Phineas Fallgrace, Lucille Sherwood, and–”
Time stutters to a stop as the four people step onto the gangplank. I recognize Shout from my very first encounter with the Preservation. Barely, though, since they were standing in a hole in the sky with a giant mech. Two of the others, Phineas and Lucille, mean nothing to me. Just a man and a woman in suits. But the last one… a mountain of a man with a cruel smile and the eyes of a predator… my stomach turns and my blood boils at the resemblance between him and his cowardly asshole of a son.
“Ernest Highroller!”
Maybe I should just kill him now. Save all of us a lot of time. I look over at Noland, who seems completely relaxed at all this at first glance. But then I look at him with my awareness.
Gold. Everything is gold. Suffocating, stifling, and all-consuming gold. It clings to everything I can see like a fog, but from the way nobody else is reacting, they can’t see it. Hell, I bet Noland doesn’t even know I can see it. I glance down at my hands, expecting to be just as gold-coated as everything else, but there’s nothing.
It touches the sides of my shoes, but doesn’t climb my body. He’s excluded exactly me from whatever he’s doing. That’s… terrifying.
Ernest, Shout, and the others walk down the gangplank without waving. Shout holds his arms behind his back, carefully scanning the crowd, and he pauses on me for a split second too long. He keeps going right after, but there’s no doubt in my mind–he just recognized me. And… I kind of am a wanted criminal. I’ll have to be extra careful from now on.
…Wait, why am I calling Shout a guy? Is it just because Gasp is a woman, so I think they should be in pairs? Or does my awareness know something I don’t?
“To everyone here… I thank you for coming.”
Ernest’s voice is deep and measured, unwavering with confidence. But there’s an edge of a sneer in his words, like he’s looking down at everyone else and stifling a laugh. He walks right past Shout and stands next to Gasp as the other three slowly make their way past him and continue towards the house.
“You may think this is Matteus’ gathering. He is nothing but the pawn that moved first, setting the rest of the game in motion.” He continues in his strange, nearly demeaning tone. “Soon enough, HuSt will arrive. They are a danger to our prosperity. No matter what honeyed words they whisper, do not forget or forgive what they did in the past. Many of you lost loved ones. All of you lost profits and business ventures. Do not let the anger you felt in those following days fade. Let its burning heat warm your body and spur you towards the proper future.”
Noland makes a half-choking, half snort of displeasure. Ernest pauses and looks directly at him, but from how his eyes don’t change, he doesn’t recognize him. So he isn’t powerful enough to overcome the mask’s magic.
“Do you have something to say, bodyguard?” Ernest steps away from Gasp, who looks like she wants to follow him, but chooses against it. “Do you know the woman who hired you? Gisela Garza; a small-time hack who desperately struggles against the overwhelming tide of the future.”
He glances disdainfully at Gisela. To her credit, she doesn’t wither under his gaze. If anything, his dismissal seems to empower her. And when he looks away again, a venomous grin splits her face.
“Nobody can stand against the Preservation. HuSt is nothing but terrorists trying to regain their former glory, all governments can’t see past their own borders, and anyone else isn’t worth mentioning.”
“Hey, Shelby. I don’t think he recognized you.” Noland says casually. “He would’ve mentioned us if he did. But… I guess you’re still not on his radar.”
Ernest frowns, then focuses on my face. “No, I recognize the girl. One of the resort’s worthless lackeys. I believe you fall under my final category: not worth mentioning.”
Noland spreads his palms and his arms, then curls his fingers into guns. “Hey, you’re the one who came over to talk to us from a little noise I made. If that doesn’t shout ‘insecure dictator’, I don’t know what does. Hell, the only thing worse than that would’ve been sicking a Speaker on us.”
“You are not worth the effort.” Ernest sighs theatrically and turns his back to us. “If you have anything to discuss with us, Miss Garza, do not attempt speaking with me. You are below my attention.”
Gisela giggles cutely, which is the most unsettling sound I’ve heard her make. “I’ll talk to the others, then. Is Phineas still having that little illegal problem?”
Ernest’s back twitches. “He is not.”
“Oh, that’s good. All the sixteen year olds of the world can breathe a sigh of relief.” Her smile empties of all mirth, and her eyes darken with a hatred so vitriolic it can only end in death. “Or maybe not. Are you still supplying him with supple, young flesh from struggling countries?”
Everything goes deadly quiet. My awareness flares. I step in front of Gisela and slam three shields into the ground as a fist crashes into the first one. It doesn’t even break, and on the other side of it is a visage of hatred and violence I barely recognize as Ernest.
“You bitch. How do you know those words?”
Gisela raises a hand to her mouth and gasps. “Whatever are you talking about? Was that supposed to be some kind of secret? A code word for human trafficking, maybe?”
Every vein in Ernest’s forehead bulges. “Gasp. Undo it.”
Gasp gleefully snaps off a salute. “Got it, boss man! Alright, everyone, forget what you just heard!”
A tidal wave of magic slams into my shields. The first one breaks immediately. It takes all of two seconds for the second to follow. Yet the third holds strong. I didn’t think Gasp’s magic would be a physical thing. Unless… whatever changed in my shields lets them block intangible things.
Ernest backs up and shakes his fist, then gets right back into his posture and turns away from us. I shatter my last remaining shield before he can notice Gasp’s magic didn’t hit us.
“It was unpleasant speaking to you again, Gisela.” He says as the crowd turns from confused to cheering with adoration once more. “Hopefully you learn your place before it can be taught to you.”
Gisela just smiles. An empty smile, filled with experience that I don’t want to ask about. I gesture at Noland, and without a word, we make our way away from the Preservation.
“He isn’t leaving here alive.” Noland states.
“I’ll pay you ten times your fee if you make his death excruciating, long, and public.” Gisela replies pleasantly. “And if you can bring Phineas to me, I’ll double that.”
I swallow hard at the pain in her voice. “Should I ask what you’re going to do with him?”
Gisela squeezes my arm hard. “Not if you want to sleep soundly ever again.”
As we walk, unspoken history chokes the air around me. Noland’s dead dad. The reason everyone here should be scared of him, but some don’t apparently even know him. Why Gisela and Dora lied to us. What they actually know. What their intent is for this party.
No matter what I imagine, none of the scenarios end with anything less than a slaughter.