A Matter of Forever (9 page)

Despite everything, I float in a haze of bliss over the next few days. Cameron says I’m nesting, which I thought was something only birds and pregnant ladies did, but apparently so do new homeowners. I spend hours picking and choosing new furniture to decorate with, colors for walls, art to sigh over. Friends and loved ones come over to visit; impromptu mini parties are thrown to celebrate. Caleb comes to visit, and though he has no idea what to say about somebody else’s voice being in my head, even if just momentarily, I love seeing my old friend. But here’s another nice thing about being a homeowner—you get to christen your new home over and over again, in every single room.

I go out to lunch and shopping with Callie, ignoring the Guard that follow us around. Cora and I go to the movies, Lizzie and I to the park to attempt rollerblading. While I’m constantly monitored, I feel so free, just so damn happy. I don’t even mind that Sophie and I have yet another run-in at the grocery store, or that she makes lewd comments about what Jonah and Kellan’s bedrooms look like. I just brush her off and go back into my happiness bubble.

There are even some moments with Kellan that don’t hurt lately. When Jonah gets called into meetings, sometimes his brother and I will hit up our favorite hot dog stand and eat way too many. We laugh, and it feels so good. Just so wonderful, like ... like everything is turning out exactly how it should.

Which is why when things go bad it stings all the more.

Many of the Métis colonies built of half Magical, half non families across the planes have begun to migrate to Annar after a series of Elder attacks over the last year. Just weeks before, I worked day and night to help expand Annar’s boundaries to include room for new housing for our newest citizens. That said, the Council didn’t want to risk Métis immigrants feeling ostracized or segregated during their immigration, so all new apartment complexes were opened to the general public for purchasing, too, thereby opening up slots in older districts to help integrate old with new. Maybe it’s because Magicals’ lives are so very regulated that any change is a shiny, desirable new treat, so many within the city-state limits chose to move into the new region. Businesses are looking to the influx of new labor to join the workforce or expand it. That’s not to say there aren’t lingering prejudices against our newest residents, or long-held grudges and resentments; far from it on both sides, in fact. But it warms my heart to know there are people
trying
.

Nymphs, Tides, and other crafts have been dispatched to landscape the new regions; discussions during Council meetings have taken place to even erect a new mountain range and river system to buttress the new district. This has the Seasons and Elementals living in Annar in a delighted tizzy; the thought of a ski resort all to our own is more than alluring.

Annar, for the first time in millennia, is evolving, even if kicking and screaming.

While the Council debates whether or not to include Métis delegates as part of our whole, a separate, official Métis Council comprised of members from all planes has been slowly coming together. It comes as no shock that Erik and Cameron are founding members; their advocacy for Métis-kind is nothing less than admirable. Jonah and I have offered to throw any and all support we have behind them; various influential friends have also agreed to step up and do so, too. We cannot remain a stagnant society any longer. Change must occur, and there must be people willing to stand up for what’s right. I’m proud of each person I talk to that offers to lend his or her weight to the Métis cause.

We’re meeting with many of them today down in Kellan’s apartment since the Guard still recommends I try to stick close to the building at least part of the day for another week or so. Trackers are combing Annar for signs of Jens Belladonna, but have so far turned up empty handed. So here I am, sitting once more in Kellan’s apartment, desperately trying to cling onto all the happiness I’ve allowed myself to accept over the last few days, only to find it dissipating like air out of a balloon with the news Erik shares with us: the Elders have attacked and demolished one of the Métis colonies resisting immigration on the Elvin plane.

“We were in contact with them as recently as a week ago,” the nurse practitioner is telling us. “It’s a small colony, four families in total, but they were stubborn.” A harsh laugh escapes him. “A delegate was dispatched to try to better lines of communication after they accused those moving here of being traitors to our kind.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And now ... nothing. Our delegate’s body is missing; pieces of the others were found scattered through the farmstead commune they shared. A few nons were found, too; we think they might have been seasonal workers.”

The room has fallen silent; so many faces are bleak or angry.

“You should have come to the Guard immediately,” Zthane says. “We—”

“Would have done what?” One of the Russian leaders, a stately man named Evgeni, barks in his harsh accent.

“A Guard should have accompanied your delegate,” Zthane counters just as angrily.

Evgeni pretends to stroke his neat goatee thoughtfully. “Ah yes, I can see how that would have gone over. These Métis believed us already to be dancing with the devil; how do you think they would have received just such a devil into the very homes they refused to abandon?”

Zthane’s skin flushes dark green. “It wouldn’t matter what they thought if they were kept safe.”

“Because you Guard are so good at keeping your own kind safe,” Evgeni sneers. “There have never been Magical deaths at the hands of the Elders, have there?”

I fear Zthane might strike the Russian down with a lightning bolt right here in the apartment.

“Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.” As quiet as it is, Cameron’s no nonsense tone dares somebody, anybody to contradict him. “Neither is blame. What’s done is done. We must look to the future now and how we can protect the other colonies from just such an attack.”

Karl says, “He’s right, though. It’s hard for us to formulate plans to keep Métis safe outside of Annar; nons, too, if we can’t guarantee the safety of Magicals, either.”

“Do we know yet what the Elders are gaining from Métis deaths?” Jonah asks.

Kate Blackthorn, sitting side by side with Astrid, shakes her head. “So far, from what I can tell, it doesn’t appear what we term,”—she flashes air quotes—“
life essences
or crafts are being drained out from the bodies we’ve found and examined. Métis simply don’t have enough to warrant an extraction.”

“Wait,” Will says. “What do you mean
have enough?”

Erik wraps his hands around the neck of a beer bottle he’s been nursing for a half hour and he leans forward. “Kate and I have been working in tandem, alongside other medical professionals, for the last few weeks trying to study the physiological differences between the Métis and Magicals.”

I had no idea about this.

“Technically, we’re biologically the same,” Kate says. “Métis blood cells are altered, just as ours are. They are resistant to many of the same diseases we are, vulnerable to the ones that affect us the most. Plus, many Métis are prone to lengthened life spans just as Magicals are. While we have much more experimentation and observation to do, the only difference we find is within craft possession and usage. Even nons who have ... uh ...” She glances over at Cameron. “Mated, for lack of a better word, with a Métis have altered blood cells. It could be due to body fluid exchanges. For example, Cameron here is no longer simply Human. He’s more Métis than non nowadays even if he doesn’t have a Magical bloodline in his past.”

“Also, it turns out,” Erik adds, “some Métis have hints of crafts within them.” He turns to Will. “It’s why you’re so good with metals.”

Will’s taken aback. “I’m not good with metals, mate.”

“And yet you are,” Erik continues. “The sword Chloe made you, the one you use while Elders hunting—”

“I’m Scottish,” Will smirks. “It’s in our blood. And wielding a sword is quite different from being good with metals.”

Erik smiles grimly. “That’s the thing, though, Will—while you are Scottish, when had you ever picked one up before the day Chloe made one for you?”

Will’s mouth snaps shut, confusion flashing in his dark eyes.

“That sword, while made of a lightweight material for swords, is still incredibly unwieldy for many others. Yet, you never tire when you use it—”

“It’s like you said, mate. Chloe made it lightweight.”

“True,” Erik admits. “But even strong people tire over time using it. You never have.”

Will laughs. “I most certainly have. Have you ever seen me after one of those skirmishes? I’m bloody exhausted.”

“You’re exhausted because you’ve just fought somebody,” Kate pipes in. “And most likely because you’ve been injured. But not from the sword. The metals in it speak to you. Metal strengthens you, not weakens you.”

Will asks slowly, “Are you saying that I’m a Smith, like my mum?”

“No,” Erik says. “From what we can tell, Métis never exhibit developed crafts. But we have discovered some of the first generation Métis have hints of their ancestral crafts within them.”

“Just not enough that the Elders drain them dry,” Kate tells us. “I’ve been looking over the data some of the Métis leaders have brought with them concerning past deaths.” She pulls a file out of a briefcase sitting at her feet. “Initially, the Elders did try to drain their Métis victims dry. It stopped after a few years, though; I can’t say for sure, but I’m assuming it’s because they deemed whatever they got from these victims wasn’t enough to warrant further efforts.”

Evgeni takes the folder from her, flipping through it. Jonah asks, “Then why continue targeting Métis? If they have nothing to offer the Elders in terms of craft expansions, then why bother killing them at all? What do they get out of it?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Cameron muses.

“Question or no,” Zthane says, “we cannot stand by and allow it to continue to happen.” He turns to Erik. “My team and I have discussed some options recently, but you may not like them.”

Evgeni passes the file to Cameron. “Let us hear them anyway.”

The head of the Guard says, “Part of the reason the Council voted to welcome Métis citizens into its boundaries are its shields. Annar is, of all the planes, the most heavily protected.”

Ice crystalizes in my veins. Annar is not as safe as he’s insisting, despite what he thinks. While Jonah and I shared my theory about Enlilkian with the Elders Subcommittee and the Guard nearly immediately after I told him about it, everyone continued to foolishly insist Annar is still the safest of all the planes.

How can it be safe, though, when the baddest bad of all is walking around freely?

“If the Council votes on it,” Karl pipes in, “Annar’s boundaries can be expanded even further to welcome all Métis and Magical-kind alike. “

“You forget one small thing,” Evgeni says. “Many Métis want nothing to do with moving here, room or no.”

“That’s true,” Zthane admits. “But ... there are ways to ensure their desire to choose safety over prejudices.”

Erik says slowly, “You are talking about using an Emotional against us.”

The room is silent for a long moment once again.

“Not against,” Kellan says. This is the first he’s spoken the entire meeting. He’s spent the entire time sitting on the other side of his brother, carefully ensuring our eyes never met. “And certainly not for anything else other than this purpose. It isn’t like we’re going to go out there and make those Métis long resentful of Magicals their new best friends.”

That’s not enough of an assurance for Evgeni, though. “This is outrageous. You would never attempt such a stunt on one of your kind!”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Kellan fires back.
“Your
kind and
my
kind are the same, at least biologically. And if you believe we don’t work on one another, think again. What do you assume Kate does over at the hospital? Play solely with viruses? She uses her craft on other people, asshole.”

Jonah sighs. I don’t have to be in their heads to know he’s telling his brother to play it cool right now rather than lose it.

“Healing somebody is entirely different than altering their emotions,” Evgeni snaps.

Will gives me a pointed look; this is an argument he and I had months back. I shoot an equally pointed look right back. He sure wasn’t complaining about Kellan using his craft on Becca recently.

Kellan’s like a dog with a bone, though. “Are you for real? You really think that altering someone’s emotions to ensure their safety is a bad thing?” He scoffs. “Fine. Let innocent Métis continue to die then. That’s blood on your hands, not mine. Don’t go asking me for help when you can’t sleep at night.”

Veins bulge around Evgeni’s eyes.

“All we’re saying,” Zthane says smoothly, “is that our Emotionals can ensure that resistant Métis favor safety over unreasonably leaving themselves on unguarded planes.”

“Geno,” Erik says quietly, “it’s worth bringing to the rest to consider. Don’t rule it out so fast.”

“If you like,” Zthane continues, “you may have any representatives come along with the Emotionals to ensure they are doing just as we agree.”

“What is to stop them from working on us, too?”

Kellan’s perilously close to losing it. Before he rips this guy a new one, Jonah says, “Our word.”

A Métis leader from the Goblin plane leans over to Evgeni to whisper something.

“We take you at your word.” Jonah’s words are calm and measured but low enough to show he means business. “All we’re asking is that you do the same for us. Annar has done nothing but bend over backward to help you. We have expanded our plane, welcomed Métis into our homes and jobs. Magicals have risked their lives to protect and defend the Métis time and time again over the last few months. We almost lost our Creator because she chose to protect one of
your
colonies. Does it really bear repeating that all of our civilizations suffer when there is no Creator in existence?”

Evgeni doesn’t say a word.