Green Mage, page 3
part #2 of Mackenzie Green Series
“Would you please?” Thadius said to my cat. Saber nodded, and I watched as he gathered the connections he’d already made and attempted to speak to them at once.
“I am attempting to connect to you, Curtis, Mackenzie, and Argus.” His muzzle crinkled as he bared his teeth. “I find it straining, like a muscle that is being overworked.”
Thadius smiled and swept his gaze around the room. “If you were able to hear Saber speak, please raise your hands.”
Curtis and I immediately put our hands in the air. Argus lifted his far more slowly, and to my surprise, one of the other scientists raised her hand as well—the man with the paw print.
Saber also had a look of surprise on his face, but it made sense. The man was an animal mage. If I had to guess, I would bet he could communicate with them on some level. My anger turned to disgust.
“Argus.” The lack of honorific was telling on how angry the Archmage was. “You and your team have a lot of explaining to do. I believe a complete audit of your facility is in order. You and your team are remanded to custody until my team has cleared your lab.”
Sputtering came from the table beside us. “You can’t do that.” Argus’s face was red with fury. “We obtained those specimens at a significant cost. Most are irreplaceable.”
Rage built within me and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “How many more intelligent species are you hiding? You’re a cruel bully who doesn’t deserve to study living beings.”
Curtis didn’t poke me this time and his blank face didn’t hide the pinch around his mouth. He was as enraged as I was.
Ignoring the mages’ pompous grandstanding, the Archmage turned to me. “You have filed a counterclaim. You state that a familiar bond has linked the two of you. Is that true?”
“Yes, your honor,” I said.
“Did you form the bond before or after learning of the beast's intelligence?” he asked, his eyes shrewd. I was on a slippery slope. If I said before, he could attribute Saber’s intelligence to the bond, his ability to speak a fluke, not totally unheard of in more evolved familiars. The Archmage would be more inclined to let me keep the cat, but if Saber ever wanted to wander free, he needed recognition as an intelligent being deserving of freedom.
On the other side, if I said after, I could be charged with enslaving an intelligent being for selfish purposes.
Saber looked at me as if he’d heard every word of my internal musing and spoke before I had the chance to answer. “Mackenzie offered me a choice. She explained in detail what each option meant, then let me choose. She was confident that the bond would give me a greater chance at staying out of a cage.”
The Archmage nodded. “Some would say the bond is just another type of cage.”
I pushed my thoughts to Saber before he could speak again. “They do not know that I can dissolve the bond. With most mages, the bond is until death. I would prefer they don’t know I can do it. I don’t want the attention.”
Saber tightened his tail around my ankle but gave no other outward sign that he’d heard. “But it is a cage of my choice.”
The Archmage nodded. “Very well. In any case, you would need a guardian to take responsibility for your actions until we can confirm you are not a danger to society.”
“You can’t do that. This animal is mine. It belongs to me,” Argus spat the words.
“He does not. I am stripping you of your claim and transferring his care to Miss Green.” He looked at Saber. I hadn’t had much reason to interact with the Archmage before now, and I had a natural wariness of authority figures, but despite his less than stellar start, he was winning me over.
“For now, I will uphold the familiar bond. However, my staff will look into finding someone who can sever the tie if you decide you wish to be free.” Saber began to purr. “Guards! Remand Argus and his team to one of the holding suites.”
The scientists didn’t fight, and the next hour was a blur of paperwork. But in the end, Saber came out with a new collar sporting a deep green gem. Any mage he came into contact with would now know he was a bonded familiar, and if he misbehaved, they would have a way to contact me.
Exiting the mansion, we parted ways with Curtis and headed for home. I couldn't wait to see what my family made of its newest member.
Chapter 4
Saber and I returned home well after midnight. I helped settle him into a corner of my garden upstairs with mounds of pillows and blankets. He’d made a beeline for the area as soon as we got through the door, claiming the smell of the earth and plants was comforting.
When my alarm crystal blared only hours later, it startled me out of a dream that dissipated faster the further awake I became. No way, it's seven already. Groaning, I closed my eyes and smashed at the offending object with a blind hand. The noise ended, but I didn't drift back into the warm comfort of the dream I'd been having. Instead, I threw the blankets off, nearly fell out of my double bed, and stumbled across the room like a drunken sailor. Damn, I hated mornings.
My wild stumbling took me to the door, where I swiped a fluffy lime green robe off the hook and threw it over my PJs. Appropriately dressed, at least for breakfast, I headed out into the main room.
I tripped on nothing as I entered the kitchen. "Stupid floors! Stupid morning. Stupid, stupid." I needed more sleep, but despite my late night, I was determined to have a meal with my family. Lately, my work schedule meant it had been a while since we’d eaten together. So, here I was, exhausted, grabbing breakfast, determined to make the most of what little family time we had. Besides, Saber was sleeping upstairs, and the sooner I mentioned him to the family, the better.
Silence greeted my cursing—my siblings had learned early how to deal with my morning crankiness.
In an effort not to look like a nutso, I attempted to run my hand through my hair to add some civility to my look. It backfired. My fingers became utterly tangled in the rat's nest.
Another round of cursing ensued as I wrestled to get my digits free.
I need coffee. I wouldn't have a chance at functioning as a half-normal person until I did. Looking back, I blamed the lack of coffee for missing the thick tension hanging in the air.
Oblivious, I pulled my favorite mug down off the shelf. The green and brown glaze made a poor pattern on the misshapen pottery, but it had been a gift from my brothers and sister, so I treasured the ugly little thing. The fact that it could hold the equivalent of three cups of coffee made it even more special in my mind.
I took a deep breath in through my nose, letting the rich aroma prime my system for the caffeine hit I was about to take. By the Old God, I loved coffee. The first drop of the rich, creamy ambrosia hit my tongue. I took a couple more gulps in quick succession. Heaven.
It was well worth the expense to get the good stuff.
I turned from the counter, fully expecting sly or exasperated looks from my family. They found my coffee routine hilarious.
The first face I landed on didn't belong to one of my siblings.
I reacted instantly, reaching into a drawer behind me. I grabbed one of the long kitchen knives. Within the span of two heartbeats, my mug was on the counter behind me and I had crouched into a defensive position. The blade pointed at the young man in front of me.
"Who are you?" Aggression laced my tone. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Brooke stiffen.
I took in the whole scene. My sister was sitting next to the stranger. Connor, my youngest brother, was at the end of the table, glaring at the two.
"This is Ben." Brooke started to introduce the boy but was interrupted. He lost points with me for that.
"Miss Green, it's lovely to meet you. Brooke speaks highly of you."
He said the right things. His inflection was perfect. He even oozed sincerity. And the whole act caused a shiver to cascade down my spine.
Ben, no last name, was of average height. His brown hair was cut to a shaggy mess, and his brown eyes were unassuming. He was a normal-looking guy. If I had passed him on the street, I wouldn't have given him a second glance. Except, if I'd taken a longer look, which I did now, there was a glint of something I could see laying just below the surface that scared me.
I wasn't a beauty, with my shoulder-length brown hair framing a long face. My deep green eyes and full mouth might have been an attention grabber to some, but I was too tall for most guys. If Ben stood, we would be able to look eye to eye.
"I can't say the same. Brooke's never mentioned you." I didn't lower the knife.
"Really, Kenzie. Is the knife necessary?" From the tone of her voice to the set of her shoulders, adolescent indignation shaped Brooke's entire frame.
Connor's fist clenched around his spoon at the whine.
"Brooke, I warned you—" Connor started, but Ben began speaking again, cutting him off. It was very telling of his personality that he didn’t let anyone finish their sentence. It only deepened my dislike of the boy.
"I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but Brooke's been so nice since I moved here. I just wanted to meet the people she kept telling me about." Ben's smooth words calmed the tension in me. I had an urge to lower the knife and apologize for my behavior. It freaked me the hell out.
Connor's grip on his spoon loosened, and he went back to eating his cereal. I blinked. Weird. Connor was more like me than the rest of my siblings. I'd expected him to be on guard a little longer.
"It's not your fault," I forced myself to say. Mentally, I took a step back. Something wasn't right here. "Brooke knows better.” And it was the truth. We had protocols for inviting new people into our lives—a long and arduous vetting process that happened before they ever stepped foot in our home.
If you don't believe me, ask Quinn. It took him three years to earn that right.
To most, this might seem like an overreaction. Hell, even my siblings were starting to question my insane level of paranoia. But I could never forget where we had come from.
Until five years ago, we'd been prisoners in a government facility, experimented on and trained to be humanity's violent answer to the supernatural problem. It wasn't a happy, loving childhood, and when I was twenty, we escaped and spent two years off the grid covering our trail. Then almost four years ago, we settled in GreenRiver, adopting the city's name as our own. Slowly but surely, we carved out a life for ourselves. Every day, in the dark recesses of my mind, I expected us to lose it all.
Did that make me paranoid? Yes!
Did I like being paranoid all the time? No!
Unfortunately, I had kept secrets from my siblings. I knew for a fact that the government would never stop hunting us. They had run out of the serum they’d used to awaken our latent powers. They couldn't create any more monsters like us. We were the last and only ones of our kind.
That knowledge fueled my paranoia. Saber was right. He had lived in a cage, but he hadn’t known the same depth of depravity as I had. I followed the bond in my head to check on him. He was happily passed out upstairs. Good. Now was not the time to add another complication to the mix.
Of the five of us, Brooke was the youngest. My brothers and I had shielded her from most of the horrors we'd endured at the facility. It gave her a naivety the rest of us had lost long ago. She was more trusting. But no matter how much she grumbled about my overbearing restrictions, she had never outright disobeyed me before.
I thought back over the last month. Brooke had been pushing her boundaries more. It was usually little things, like not checking in or coming home after curfew—not enough to make us truly panic, but enough for me to scold. And then there was that letter last week from one of her teachers. Brooke had missed turning in an important assignment. When I’d asked why she hadn’t handed it in, she told me she was way ahead, and one assignment wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it was nothing more than teenage angst, but perhaps it was something deeper.
I'd be firm but try tact first.
"Brooke, can I talk to you upstairs for a moment, please?" I kept my tone neutral and non-threatening.
Connor looked up from his bowl. He glanced around the room, then frowned when his eyes landed on Ben, like he had forgotten the boy was even there. Another red flag.
Brooke stomped behind me as we headed up to the training room, her fists clenched, and her eyes narrowed in anger. It threw me off balance.
Where is this animosity coming from?
Brooke snapped as we stepped onto the padded floor of our training room. "What?"
This conversation is starting well. "First of all, watch your tone."
I tried hard to keep my voice neutral, but Brooke had been pushing my buttons for weeks now, and I was starting to lose patience. My sister crossed her arms and radiated defensiveness.
"Who is he, Brooke? And why did you bring him to the house? You know the rules."
I crossed my arms too, mirroring her stance. Petty? Maybe. But I was getting tired of having to be an adult all the time. I wanted to let loose for once and forget my responsibilities. But now wasn't the time or the place. I shoved my personal feelings down and locked them in a box. They could keep my childhood memories company for a while.
"Help me understand, Brooke. This behavior isn't like you." A pleading note entered my voice. Brooke just rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, fine. His name is Ben. He started at our school a few weeks ago. I got tagged to show him around. We became friends. He started asking me about where I lived, and when I told him, he was interested. What's the big deal?" She sank so much snark into that last statement, I had to take a couple of deep breaths before I could respond.
"The 'big deal', Brooke, is that he's a stranger. You know the rules. We don't bring strangers into the house ever!" I waved my hand, punctuating my words. "We have a procedure to follow. You know this. We've done it before with your other friends." I threw my hands up in the air. "By the Old God, Brooke, you just met him. You don't know anything about him. Who he could be working for."
I shouldn't have said that last bit. I don’t know why I did.
Brooke erupted. "You’re so fucking paranoid! I'm tired of hiding all the time, of always being afraid. You suck all the fun out of living." Please, tell me what you really think. "You have no issue with Quinn and his dad."
"Quinn didn't step foot into this house until two months ago. Do the math. He waited over three years to earn that right." Brooke scowled at that. She didn't want me to fight with logic.
A spiteful glint entered her eyes. "You’re just mad because you’re old and have no friends. You want us all to be as alone and miserable as you are." What the hell? Brooke could be a poster child for teenage angst, but she was never this malicious.
I took a step back, her words hitting me hard. Was I that bad? Was I that stifling? Was I, in Brooke's words, sucking “the fun out of living?” I racked my sleep-addled brain. Had I gotten worse over the last couple of months? Was I a horrible parent figure?
I blame the lack of sleep for the following words that came out of my mouth. I was still too caught up in my self-reflection to filter them appropriately.
"You know the rules, Brooke, and you broke them. You risked everyone in this house by bringing in a stranger. My rules are absolute, and you will obey them." My voice was hard and unyielding. I closed my eyes as soon as I finished speaking. I was being harsh, but there was no going back. Nothing left to do but plow on. "Effective today, you're grounded. Two weeks. Your world is school and home. Are we clear?"
I opened my eyes to see Brooke's mouth harden into a thin line. Her fists opening and closing, and her face beet red. No doubt, she was picturing strangling me. At least she wasn’t floating or whipping the air around. She kept a tight leash on her magic. Good, the last thing we need is a fluke Category 5 hurricane to touch down. We'd—no, make that I'd—been too lenient with her over the years. It was time for her to learn that actions had consequences.
"You’re not my mom!" Her voice was shrill and elevated. "You can't tell me what to do!" Well, if they didn't hear that downstairs, I'd eat my robe.
I schooled my face. Brooke would never know how much her words hurt. I'd raised her from the age of four. I'd been there for every scrape, bruise, and nightmare. I'd invented games to entertain her when she was bored. She was as much a daughter to me as the boys were my sons, no matter how much I tried to think of them as siblings instead.
I pointed my finger at her. This argument was going to get ugly, and for some reason, I couldn't stop adding to the coming wreck.
"As long as you are under this roof, eating the food I provide, you will abide by the rules I set," I lashed out. My brain was screaming at me to walk away. It knew that if I didn't, one of us was going to say something we didn't mean and couldn't take back.
Brooke's sense of self-preservation kicked in. With big heaving sobs and fat tears, she turned and ran back down the stairs.
My legs crumpled as the weight of our fight overwhelmed me. I hit the padded floor and leaned against the wall. My head sagged forward and I rested it on my knees. Today was not going to be a good day.
Minutes later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. I rushed to wipe the moisture from my face. I blamed the tears on being tired. I wasn’t usually this emotionally unstable. Regardless, I was an ugly crier, and even if I hid my face as Tyr's head crested the top of the staircase, one look and he would know.
Slowly, he made his way over to me.
Tyr, my tall, slim, strong brother. Olive skinned with cropped black hair that was so dark it had a blue sheen—his Mediterranean descent was never in doubt. He was a fire elemental, and his crimson eyes were the physical manifestation of that power.
The quietest of my brothers slid down the wall and sat next to me. We didn't speak for a while, both staring across the room at nothing. Finally, I gathered the courage to face him.
"How much did everyone hear?" I dreaded the answer.
"Not as much as you think. Connor texted me a 911 when you and Brooke went upstairs. It took me longer to get home than I wanted."
