Contractor (62 page)

doesn’t give him the right to steal."

"I didn’t know anything about magicians,

or your laws," Daniel said.

"Ignorance of the law excuses no one."

"I didn’t think that would fly, but I

thought I might as well throw it out there,"

Daniel said. "Let’s talk practicalities. I’m the strongest weapon against the Vorid you have.

I’m not even sure exactly how powerful I am

after killing the lord. You’ve decided to

chuck me down a well and forget about it.

Do you really not need me?"

"We can prevail without resorting to the

extreme you represent."

"I personally saved at least two dozen

lives on that battlefield, and without me to

hold off the lord, you’d be dead."

"We cannot trust anything you can’t

prove."

"Guilty until proven innocent. I can see

why that makes sense, you know, since I’ve

kept my word the entire time. News flash:

you’re the one that tried to stab me in the

back."

"Unfounded accusations aren’t -"

"Seriously, dude, kiss my ass. You’re so

full of crap it’s pouring out your mouth."

Rothschild shrugged. He stood. "Then I

hereby -"

The witch raised a hand. "Wait."

Rothschild hesitated a moment, then sat back

down. The old woman stood instead, peering

over her wart-covered nose at Daniel.

"Young man." Her accent was a lot thicker

than Rothschild’s, but her English was clear

enough. "Do you understand why we must

send you away?"

"I’ve got no clue, lady. Seems to me like

you’ve only got as long as it takes for the

Vorid to pick someone else to invade Earth."

"Tell me. If we allowed you to stay,

what would you do?"

Daniel felt a tiny thread of hope worm

through him. He took a slow breath. "I’d fight

the Vorid."

"And then?"

"What do you mean?"

"When the Vorid are dead, or have

stopped attacking," she said. "What will you do then?"

Daniel thought for a moment. "…I

guess…I don’t know. I was in school to

become a prosecutor, but now I’m a part of

all this. I’m not sure what I’d be. But I’d

work with Eleanor, and anyone else, to keep

the peace."

"You do not comprehend your own

power," the witch said. "By all reports, even before you absorbed the lord, you could

overwhelm almost any mage. Now you could

destroy a battalion of them. If you fought

alongside us, you would continue to grow

more and more powerful. If magicians and

wizards and witches are as stars, then you

would become a black hole from which not

even light could escape."

Daniel gave her a disconcerted look.

"This might sound stupid…but I’m just a

normal person. The Klide threw me a gun

and told me to shoot, and I did, because I

didn’t want any more people to get hurt.

When the fighting’s over, what I’d really

want to do is go home. I’m not here because I

want to be."

"That’s beside the point." The witch

stared at Daniel until he looked away. "You

would be powerful enough to change the

world, to destroy, and perhaps to build, as

you saw fit. You would inevitably attract

others to your side, those in admiration of

your power, or those who wanted to use you.

They would influence you. Push you. You

would see the bad things in the world and

realize that it would take merely a flick of

your wrist to change them. You would be an

unchallengeable being, capable of enforcing

whatever law or morality you saw fit. Who

would dare question you when you could

eliminate them with the slightest effort?"

Daniel tried to protest, but the witch cut him

off. "It does not matter what you intend.

Troubles and conflicts condense around

those with the power to resolve them. Take it

from me, child—I know this, because we

have lived it. The nature of your magic

would inevitably draw you into conflict.

Even if you did not move, the problems

would simply come to you. You cannot tell

me that you wouldn’t be continually tempted

into action. It is not you we distrust, but your

power. Power is man’s great weakness.

When absolute, it is a terrible thing, and it

would surely corrupt you." The witch sat.

"That is the difference between you, and

ourselves. We are limited. You are not. That

is why you must be removed. You are no less

a threat to the world than the Vorid.

Daniel started to speak, but the woman

raised a hand. "I do not mean to say that you

made the wrong choices. Perhaps, had I a

family to protect, and no other means of

doing so, I would have done as you did. I

pity the fate which has fallen on your

shoulders."

No clever responses came to mind.

She’d made a good point. Would he really

just pack it up and go home after the Vorid

left? Humanity had plenty of issues even

without an invasion. He would be turning his

back on all that. There would be more than

one person trying to pull him into something.

He had a brief vision of a United States

backed up by a new nuclear weapon—

Daniel Fitzgerald. What kind of world would

that be like?

Was the witch right? Maybe he wouldn’t

sit on his hands. He’d certainly want to make

the world better than it was. Wasn’t that why

he wanted to be a prosecutor, anyway? His

own brand of karmic vengeance?

But how bad a thing would that be? He

wasn’t insane. He was just another guy. He

didn’t want to rule people; he believed in

republics. He could rationally ignore people

that tried to get him to be more than that.

Prosecution was his revenge, but it was

directed through the laws that society had

decided were acceptable.

No. He couldn’t accept her logic.

"You’re wrong," he said.

The witch’s face was patient. "How

so?"

"I wouldn’t use my powers after the

war," Daniel said. "Maybe in self-defense.

Save someone in a burning building, that sort

of thing. Other than that, I just wouldn’t do it.

That’s my answer. Being a contractor is only

about fighting the Vorid."

"And we come back, then," the woman

said, "to the fact that we would have to take

you at your word. The word of a hotheaded

young man is not something I can trust. I

doubt many would."

And then Daniel realized the truth of the

inquisition. The magicians weren’t interested

in a better world. They wanted, like so many

others, to maintain the status quo, carefully

protect and grow their own power. The

witch herself, along with the council that sat

before him, were the current masters of the

world, and they wouldn’t condone anything

that might replace them.

The Daniel from half a year ago

wouldn’t have turned himself in. Right after

killing the lord and protecting Rachel, his

old self would have laughed in Rothschild’s

face and walked away. And there would

have been nothing they could do about it.

But he’d set his cynicism aside. He’d

honestly tried to change his perspective. He

tried to do the right thing when he could

barely figure out what the right thing was.

He met their eyes. Matthew smirked at

him. The witch’s expression was flat. The

Chinese Wu was stony and indifferent.

Rothschild’s face was tight with satisfaction.

Daniel could see Eleanor’s hands. She

gripped the railing in front of her seat so

hard her knuckles were white. She was

helpless to save him. It didn’t sit well with

her. At least she cared.

He found himself more comforted by

that than he thought he would be.

The others long since stopped caring

about the ideals championed by prepubescent

boys that believed they’d figured out how the

world worked. They weren’t the magical

heroes from magazines and books. They

weren’t a league of justice. They were

politicians and hypocrites.

Except one.

"Where’s Henry Astor?" Daniel asked.

"What does he have to say about this?"

"I’m right here."

Daniel squinted. He could just make him

out in the unlit back row of the room. The old

man trudged down the stairs. He looked like

he’d never been wounded. Magic had its

benefits.

"Mr. Astor," Daniel said. "You know

me."

"I do." Henry narrowed his eyes. "And

you had the impudence to look me in the eyes

and tell me you’d protect my daughter. When

you’d made yourself into one of these things,

when you knew full well the consequences!"

Daniel’s mouth moved as he found the

words. "…but…I was trying…" He

swallowed. "I had to protect my brother."

"Then you made a choice," Henry said.

"Your life for his. I commend you for your

courage. Now you will pay that price."

"…why?"

"Because my daughter misguidedly

associated herself with Satan’s black magic,

and now she is dead!" Henry leaned in close.

"You should never have courted her. You

should never have dared. You should have

known better than to involve someone you

cared about. My little girl is dead because of

you."

Daniel was speechless.

You know he's right.

Daniel looked down. He shook his head

at the floorboards at Henry's feet—to reject

Henry's words, and the cynical voice in his

head, to try and stave off the fear in his chest

that they were both right and he was in

denial.

Henry stood straight, then marched up to

Eleanor. Daniel could see the struggle on her

face. She was trying with every fiber of her

being not to burst into tears. The betrayal and

disbelief was plain to see.

Daniel knew, because he felt the exact

same way. Was that the same Henry that had

laughed at his jokes back at Eleanor’s

birthday?

Yes, it was. A man like that didn’t last

as president of the world’s most powerful

organization of magicians because he was

nice.

Rothschild cleared his throat. "I hereby

exile you to Hell. Do you have any last

words?"

Daniel closed his eyes. "Miss Astor.

Please protect my little brother. He’s in

Cleveland with my father."

"I will," Eleanor said. "I promise."

Daniel looked up at Henry. "…I don’t

understand, sir. And I don’t think I ever

will."

"I wouldn’t expect you to. You are not a

father."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. Those words

meant nothing. He didn’t have a very good

track record with fathers.

He looked back at Rothschild, and

Henry, and the Wu, and the witch, and that

smug little prick, Matthew. They were

banishing him to protect themselves, the rest

of the human race be damned. Daniel's anger,

his fear, and all the rest of the twisted

feelings in his gut melted and bubbled up into

his throat.

"Fuck all of you," Daniel said. "You had better hope Hell is as good a fucking prison

as you say it is."

Rothschild raised his hands. What

looked like a purple-red laser light show

grew in front of him. It reminded Daniel of

Gabby’s electricity, but this was different.

Sinister.

It took him a moment to realize it was a

sigil. It was convoluted beyond anything he’d

seen. Shapes and lines and lights moved and

danced across its surface like the mechanical

parts of an impossibly complex engine. It

filled half the space before them, stretching

from the floor to halfway up to the ceiling.

At that moment, Daniel felt the fear

crush down on him. They were actually

sending him to Hell. It was happening, right

then. And this sight—the cruel magicians that

were all humanity had between life and death

—was the last thing he’d ever see.

Rothschild jabbed a finger forward. One

of the lines began to warp and vibrate. "May

god have mercy on your soul."

The dark light grew in Daniel’s vision.

Spots danced in front of his eyes. The world

was washed away.

****

He had a brief sensation of falling. The

next thing he knew, Daniel was sitting on the

ground. A cold wet seeped into his pants. He

opened his eyes and looked around.

He was on the side of a mountain, half-

planted in snow. Icy wind numbed his ears

and his fingertips.

The air was sharp and clean. Lines of

rocky peaks stretched to the horizon. He felt

like he’d been dropped in the Himalayas.

He clambered to his feet. He held his

arms to his chest and shivered. Wasn’t there

supposed to be a lake of fire down here?

"Hey you." Daniel turned. Perched on a

rock, wrapped in a thick fur coat, was

something that looked like a goblin. Mottled

green skin covered a fat, elongated nose that