The Enchanter Heir

Chapter Five

Debriefing

“Mr. Kinlock!”

Jonah lifted his head from his desk and peered, blearyeyed, at Constantine. If it was Constantine teaching, it must be calculus. At the Anchorage, the teachers moved from classroom to classroom while students stayed put, to allow some of the more physically challenged students to be mainstreamed.

But staying put made it that much more difficult to stay awake. And even harder to keep track of what class was in session.

“Sorry,” Jonah mumbled. “I was just resting my eyes.” All around him, muffled laughter.

“Well, rest your eyes on your own time. I’m not up here to compete with your dreams, delicious as they may be. I’m up here to teach you a little something about differential equations.”Constantine was a recent hire, and a bit less missiondriven than most of Gabriel’s handpicked faculty. And, of course, he knew nothing about Nightshade. What he thought

She knew about Jonah’s delicious secret life was totally wrong. I will never use calculus, Jonah thought. I won’t live long enough to use differential equations. I have other problems I need to solve. But part of the bargain at the Anchorage was that students cooperate with their Individual Education Plans, or IEPs. It went along with the shared fiction that any of them would live long enough to need a career.

Jonah was an erratic student, mostly A’s with the occasional F. He didn’t obsess much about the failing grades. What was Gabriel going to do, flunk him out? When he missed things in class, it was because (a) he hadn’t had enough sleep because of his work with Nightshade, or (b) he was distracted by the background drama. Right now calculus was the least of his worries.

Even on the best of days, Jonah felt like he was under siege in class. On this particular morning, it didn’t help that he was jet-lagged and emotionally bruised from the events in London. Any gathering of teens was bound to be a cesspool of emotions, and the classroom was no exception. Jealousy, embarrassment, grief, unrequited love—it was all there on any given day.

He was most aware of lust. Lust hung in the air like September pollen. Sometimes it was a kind of broadband hormonal yearning that splashed everyone in the room. Other times it had a specific target. Rudy Severino, for instance, was gazing longingly at Jonah’s best friend, Natalie Diaz, looking for a reaction to the sizzling texts he was sending. She’d read them, smirk, and text back. They were at that stage in their relationship where their desire for each other made everyone else feel like an extra. Even in the middle of a classroom. Jonah was glad that Natalie was going out with someone, but he couldn’t help wondering how it would all turn out.

Nat and Rudy were in a band together, and failed romance was a major cause of band breakups. Jonah wouldn’t want to be on Natalie’s bad side. She was tough. She used to run with the Outlaws in Lorain—before her extended family sent her to the Anchorage.

Nat worked in the clinic and dispensary that served students at the Anchorage. A healer savant, she could spot disorders through the skin. Often, she was the only one who could determine whether a therapy was working or not. Jonah had always thought of healers as gentle, tender souls, his model being Jeanette. Not Natalie. She was a warrior who played to win.

Calculus finally ended and Jonah stuffed his tablet into his backpack. His debriefing with Gabriel was next on the agenda. He could have slept in and gone straight to the meeting with Gabriel, for all the math he’d absorbed.

Natalie and Rudy were waiting for Jonah outside the classroom. Well, actually, they were totally entangled, as if being apart for an hour of class was more than they could bear.“Get a room,” Jonah suggested.

They jumped apart, Natalie apologizing profusely. As always, she was hyperaware of Jonah’s celibate status. The two of them kept a measured foot apart all the way over to Gabriel’s office. Which was almost as annoying as the embrace.

“Who else is in town—do you know?” Rudy asked. “Charlie and Thérèse came back for the debriefing. I don’t know who else. I just got back last night.” His eyes felt like they had sand in them.

“Rudy and I have some new songs we’d like to run by Syou,” Natalie said. “Could we go back to your place after the meeting?”

“I’m going to go see Kenzie,” Jonah said. “I need to talk to him about Jeanette.”

Natalie squeezed his shoulder as they turned down the alley next to the Keep.

The Keep Nightclub was housed in a rehabbed warehouse perched on a bluff overlooking the river. Gabriel Mandrake’s offices were above the club, on the uppermost floor, where walls of windows offered a stunning view. In one direction lay downtown, a forest of glittering buildings; in the other, the river and the lake beyond. Several stories below lay the gritty industrial landscape of the Cleveland Flats.

They entered the main building through the alley door, touching their palms to the sensor by the entrance. Gabriel was a geek for gadgets and high tech. He’d been a materials man from way back, a kind of Renaissance minister of rock and roll. Part musician, part tech guru, part artist, part cutthroat promoter, part healer/pharmacist/drug dealer. A self-created sorcerer turned savant.

Gabriel had found a kindred spirit in Rudy Severino, who’d helped design and build the security system. Jonah was never sure how much of Rudy’s talent was extreme nerdistry and how much was magic, but when Rudy built systems, they worked like a charm.

The three of them climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor, then waited while the iris biometrics scanner did its thing. The locking mechanism shifted, and they were in.

The outer office was where Gabriel met music-industry big shots, prospective clients, venue owners, talent, and the like. The walls were lined with photographs—Gabriel at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremonies; Gabriel with an array of up-and-coming musicians; with the governor, the mayor. Gabriel introducing eight-year-old Jonah to the president.

At least Gabriel had put away the big-eyed Jonah posters when Jonah threatened to go on strike. Even though they’d been fund-raising gold.

It was the first of many small battles between Jonah and Gabriel. Jonah’s failed rescue of Jeanette had begun as an unauthorized investigation of the healer’s disappearance. His brother, Kenzie, had helped him track her down via the Web, which might mean the Kinlock brothers were in trouble again.

It would be worth it if it forced Gabriel’s hand. He can’t ignore this, Jonah thought. He can’t.

Patrick looked up from the reception desk. He served the dual role of personal assistant and bodyguard. “Jonah!” he said. “Glad you’re back! You three can go on in. The others are already here.” He buzzed them in.

Gabriel’s private office enshrined the sorcerer’s wideranging interests. A large showcase to the left of the door displayed an array of antique bottles—some extremely elaborate, in glass, metal, and enamel, with jeweled stoppers. Others were time-blackened, their tops layered in yellowing wax.

One wall showcased images of tattoos, in color and black-and-white. They represented just a fraction of Gabriel’s designs, many of which were inked into his skin. Skin art was the sorcerer’s tool Gabriel worked with most often, art that protected and healed. Many of the students at the Keep were Scovered with Gabriel’s work. It was the therapy that kept them alive and functioning a little while longer. Another gallery displayed line drawings of botanicals, reflecting his intense interest in drugs and medicinals.

The other slayers were sprawled around the conference area. It was glass on three sides, overlooking the Flats and the lake beyond. Leather couches and ottomans surrounded a low granite table with a platter of sandwiches and snacks.

Alison Shaw was there, of course. Charlie Dugard and Thérèse Fortenay from Europe, and Mike Joplin from South America. Like Jonah, they were still nominally in high school. Even Mose Butterfield was there. He’d been too ill to deploy for the past year, but the others pretended he’d be going back out again. Gabriel must have told them about Jeanette, because they all wore glum, dispirited expressions.

This was as large a quorum as they ever had. Most of Gabriel’s shadeslayers were in the field at any given time, hunting shades—their former classmates, families, neighbors, and friends—the undead victims of Thorn Hill. Making the world safer for everyone but themselves.

Unfolding to his feet, Gabriel crossed to where Jonah stood, just inside the door. Embracing him, he said, “Glad you’re safe. I just wish you’d brought better news.” Gabriel looked into Jonah’s face for another long moment before he let him go.

Well, Jonah thought, at least we’re not going to argue about my going after Jeanette.

Gabriel’s eyes were riveting, his pupils unusually large, all but obscuring their irises, so that his eyes seemed to swallow you. Whether it was his natural physiology or a consequence of the drugs he took, the sight of them could be unnerving.

Gabriel was a man of many demons, with a dump load of pain to forget.

Gabriel returned to his seat, and Jonah threaded his way around furniture, murmuring greetings to the others.

“Jonah!” Mose said, with an eager smile. “Glad you made it back safe.”

“It’s great to see you here,” Jonah said, squeezing Mose’s shoulder. Odd. The more Mose’s body declined, the more brightly his spirit shone through.

“Charlie was just filling us in on what happened in London,” Gabriel said as Jonah slumped into his usual chair. “Go on, Charlie.”

“Feel free to chime in, Jonah,” Charlie said. “Like I said, we’d been monitoring the towpath for weeks. Three of us followed two shades onto a canal boat. It was a private event, with several mainliners on board.”

“Then all hell broke loose,” Thérèse said. “The boat was attacked by an army of shades. We think they were targeting the mainliners.”

“What makes you think that?” Gabriel said.

“That’s what we’ve been hearing,” Charlie said. “Mainliners are being killed, all over Europe. As you can imagine, the guilds are in an uproar.”

“Any change in the old modus operandi?” Mose asked. When met with a blank look from Charlie, he added, in a loud stage whisper, “How are they riffed?”

“All different ways,” Charlie said. “Tossed off buildings, hacked to pieces, throats cut—nothing too high-tech. Some don’t have a mark on them. They’re just dead.”

“It’s the perfect crime, Watson,” Mose said. “So many Ssuspects. Everyone hates wizards.”

“It’s not just wizards,” Thérèse said. “And, anyway, the Anaweir authorities don’t know that.” Anaweir meaning the nongifted. The civilians.

“Let’s get back to Regent Canal,” Gabriel said.

“Summer went down fighting,” Charlie said. “We might’ve, too, but Jonah showed up and waded in. The shades split soon after that. To sum up, six civilians dead, including two mainliners.”

“Mainliners aren’t civilians,” Alison murmured.

“Dozens of shades freed, two shivved,” Charlie said, “counting Jonah’s. And one slayer down.”

Freed. That was Gabriel’s term for removing a shade’s borrowed body so you could get at it and kill it. That’s putting a positive spin on it, Jonah thought.

Alison looked up at the ceiling. “Only two shivved?” She slid a smirk at Charlie.

“I’ll match my long-term stats against yours anytime,” Charlie said, unruffled. “Then again, why would I want to do that?”

Jonah spoke up for the first time. “The shades were organized, working together. When they come in swarms like that, it’s really hard to do anything but chop them down.”

“Is that it, then, Charlie?” Gabriel said, as if eager to move on.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, “Except we’re running low on shivs.” He slid one of the enchanted daggers across the table to Gabriel. “We like this design the best.”

“We’re running short, too,” Alison said to Charlie. “Better make ’em count, Dugard.”

“Alison.” Gabriel raised his hand to quell her. “We’re making them as fast as we can,” he said.

Shivs were slender silver blades encrusted with runes—the weapons slayers used to dispatch free shades. All shadeslayers, except for Jonah. The runes were layered on, so they took months to make in the Anchorage metal shop.

Gabriel rubbed at his stubble of beard and turned to Jonah. “Now,” he said. “Tell us about Jeanette.”

Jonah kept the report short and matter-of-fact.

“But, I still don’t get it,” Rudy said, when Jonah had finished. “Why would they kidnap Jeanette? She’s retired. She lives—lived—on that farm in Massachusetts.”

“They were interrogating her about weapon development at Thorn Hill,” Jonah said.

“Thorn Hill!” Gabriel’s head snapped up. “What about Thorn Hill?”

“You know the wizard line—that Thorn Hill was a terrorist camp, and the massacre was some kind of an accident,” Jonah said. “Now they’re looking for some of that terrorist expertise. To fight back against Madison Moss, they claim.”

“Who’s Madison Moss?” Thérèse asked.

Jonah stared down at his hands, biting his lip to keep from speaking his mind. We should know this stuff, he thought. We’re Gabriel’s key operatives. We have to navigate this world whether we like it or not.

“She’s the young lady who holds the Dragonheart,” Gabriel said. “The source of power for Weir magic. It gives her the ability to cut off the spigot of power. It’s completely changed the relationships among the mainline guilds.”

“In other words, it’s reduced the power of wizards,” Jonah said. “And they don’t like that. Amazing she’s survived Sthis long.”

“The good news is, I don’t think Ms. Moss wants to control anybody,” Gabriel said. “She is, shall we say, a reluctant despot. On the other hand, Rowan DeVries is on the Interguild Council.”

“So the person who murdered Jeanette is on the council?” Mike snorted. “These are the good guys?”

Try and find a good wizard, Jonah thought. Betcha can’t.

Jonah finished relaying what he’d seen and heard in the mansion on the Thames. “Even in private, Longbranch, DeVries, and the others kept to the script, claiming that the massacre was something we did to ourselves.”

“I’m sure some wizards actually believe that,” Gabriel murmured.

“But if the Black Rose engineered it, and Rowan’s father, Andrew DeVries, was in charge—” Jonah began.

“Rowan DeVries was just a little older than you when Thorn Hill happened,” Gabriel said. “Frankly, it’s unlikely that the wizards who kidnapped Jeanette were involved in the Thorn Hill disaster.”

Here we go again, Jonah thought. Gabriel will diffuse blame and keep us from going after the real villains.

“They mentioned the Anchorage,” Jonah said. “But they didn’t seem to think we were much of a threat, and didn’t want to tangle with you.”

“Good,” Gabriel muttered. “At least they’re not blaming us.”

“Well, not yet,” Jonah said. “But that could change. Now they’re finding clues with the mainliner dead: nightshade flowers, scattered over the bodies.”

“Nightshade!” Gabriel levered out of his chair and stalked to the window as six slayers reflexively grabbed for their amulets. “My God.”

“So someone is trying to blame it on us,” Mike said.

“Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said, staring out through the glass. “Did the wizards connect that to us? Or mention any other clues around the bodies?”

“No,” Jonah said. Nightshade was hiding in plain sight, just an hour away from mainliner headquarters at Trinity.

Most mainliners had heard of the Anchorage, of course, but they didn’t know anything about the existence of Nightshade and its targets.

I wish we didn’t know, Jonah thought, fingering his sefa.

I wish we could just throw away these amulets and pretend that shades don’t exist.

“How did they find Jeanette?” Gabriel asked, in a low, tight voice. “Do you know?”

All of a sudden Gabriel cares, Jonah thought. When it seems like the Anchorage might be a target. “If they talked about it, it was before I arrived. But it couldn’t have been too hard. It’s not like she was hiding.”

“Did you leave any witnesses? Anyone who could identify you?”

“No. Longbranch and Wylie are dead. DeVries left before I came out of cover.” Jonah paused, then plunged on. “I should have riffed him, too.”

Gabriel spun away from the window, visibly agitated.

“That’s the last thing we need right now,” he snapped.

“What are you afraid of, Gabriel?” Jonah demanded.

“First, wizards tried to murder us. Now they pretend that it was our fault. The other mainliners treat us like—like—we Sshould be going after them.”

Natalie rested her hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “I know you’re upset at what happened to Jeanette,” she murmured.

“We all are.”

“I’m more than upset,” Jonah hissed. “Upset is what happens when you lose your cell phone. You’re upset when you break a string on your favorite guitar.”

Gabriel stood over Jonah, glowering down at him. “You agreed to the mission when you came here, remember?”

“That was ten years ago!” Jonah retorted. “I was seven years old. Maybe we should think about changing the mission.”

“You always have the option to leave,” Gabriel said. “I never said I wanted to leave.” Jonah tried to get his anger under control. “Anyway, I wouldn’t want to leave Kenzie behind.”

“Then you need to follow the rules that protect us all,”

Gabriel said flatly, returning to his seat. Pulling a bottle out of his desk drawer, he popped two pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

“Gabriel,” Mike began hesitatingly, “why Jeanette? If they want to find out how the poisoning was done, shouldn’t they be talking to wizards?”

“Wizards aren’t that good with material magic,” Gabriel said. He flipped the shiv, catching it by the hilt again. “But . . .” Alison looked lost. “You always said—”

“Though wizards would have planned the operation, it would have been sorcerers who developed and compounded the poison,” Gabriel said.

They all stared at him.

“Why haven’t you told us that before?” Jonah said finally.

“I thought it was obvious.” Gabriel shrugged. “That’s the role of sorcerers—compounding medicinals and the like.”

“Why would sorcerers collaborate with wizards?” Alison said, grimacing like she had a bad taste in her mouth.

“They may have been forced to do it. Perhaps they didn’t know what the intended use was.” Gabriel ran the edge of the dagger along his thumb, and blood welled up. He watched it drip onto the desk, as dispassionate as if it were someone else’s. Given the drug regimen he was on, he probably didn’t even feel the wound.

“Shouldn’t we find the survivors ourselves, then?” Jonah said. “Before they do? Or confront the Black Rose, head-on?”

“We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves. Not right now.”

“If not now, when?” Jonah exploded, his frustration and exhaustion getting the better of him again. “What the hell

kind of evidence do you need? Wizards kidnapped Jeanette, they tortured her, and then they murdered her. Now they’re trying to track down survivors from the Thorn Hill Massacre so they can figure out how to do it again!”

“Was the word ‘massacre’ mentioned?” Gabriel said quietly. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“What do you need, a signed confession?”

“Jonah,” Gabriel said. “If mainliners are dying, if the clues left with the bodies point directly at us, that means that someone knows enough about us to frame us. How long do you think it will take others to make that connection? Or for the framer to lead them to it?”

“They’re not blaming it on us! They seem to be blaming it on this Madison Moss.”

“They’re not blaming it on us yet,” Gabriel said. “If we Sconfront them, they will. You don’t remember what it was like, but I do. When I established the Anchorage, mainliners viewed the survivors of Thorn Hill like . . . like mad dogs. Like dangerous mutants who should be slaughtered before they hurt someone.”

Gabriel’s words eerily echoed what Longbranch had said about the “labrats,” as she called them. It would have been cleaner to have dealt with them at the time.

“So we don’t go after the Black Rose directly,” Jonah persisted. “If there are sorcerers out there who created those poisons, we find them. They could help us figure out how to treat the effects. Maybe they’d be eager to help.”

“That’s a waste of time,” Gabriel said. “Do you really think that the Black Rose would leave their collaborators alive to tell tales?”

“Looks like Longbranch, DeVries, and the others don’t think it’s a waste of time,” Jonah persisted. “Maybe they know something we don’t.”

Gabriel just kept shaking his head.

Jonah jackknifed to his feet. “They murdered Jeanette.

Now we’re just going to sit here and do nothing until they come after us?”

“Jonah,” Gabriel commanded, “Sit down. You’re out of control.”

Jonah didn’t sit.

“Anyway, we’re not doing nothing,” Gabriel said, an edge in his voice. “We’re going to upgrade our security and extend our eyes and ears.”

“So we’re going to hide in our bunkers like we’re guilty?”

Jonah demanded.

Gabriel surged to his feet, “I know you’re tired, and we’re all grieving for Jeanette, but I expect you to stay on task and on mission and to recognize no when you hear it.

“Now,” Gabriel said, turning away. “I mean to do every thing in my power to avoid another Thorn Hill. We have no reason to think they’ll come here, if we don’t draw their attention. If what you said is true, and they don’t view us as much of a threat.”

Why not? Jonah thought. Why aren’t we more of a threat? “If they’re planning a massacre, you can bet we’re not the targets, or at least we shouldn’t be,” Jonah said. “After all—if they wait a while, we’ll die off on our own.”

He strode to the door and yanked it open, then turned to fire a parting shot. “You know what I think? I think you’re scared they’ll come after you. I think you’ve lost your nerve.” And he slammed out of the office.