Fracture (The Machinists) (18 page)

Goodbyes.

Allyn kept his head low as he left Graeme’s study. The normal quiet, laid-back atmosphere had transformed into an active swarm of intense looks. Hushed whispers became shouts and walking turned to running as peace was replaced by war. His war. The mothers, fathers, husbands, and wives preparing for death would do so because of him. He didn’t want them to see the guilt in his eyes, because while a somber mood hung over the manor like an Oregon winter, Allyn’s insides roared with excitement.

By this time tomorrow, Kendyl will be safe.

Allyn bit the insides of his cheeks, fighting the smile that threatened to spread across his face. This wasn’t a time to smile. He nodded to a pair of magi rounding the corner. They were in the middle of a conversation and didn’t stop or acknowledge Allyn.
How long has it been?
Allyn asked himself.
Two weeks?
Even after they’d grown distant, he hadn’t gone that long without seeing Kendyl.
Since when? Her vacation?

“Not a trip,” she had told him. “A
once-in-a-lifetime
trip.” But even then, they had spoken to each other almost every night. She would tell him of her travels, the interesting towns, and amusing locals, all the while ridiculing him for not going with her. She called him old.

“Not old,” he told her. “Responsible.”

“Same thing,” she said. Allyn imagined her sticking her tongue out for effect. After their mother’s death, they each collected survivor’s benefits until they turned nineteen and drew from the remaining money in her life insurance. He had used it to attend college, but Kendyl had planned a sprawling three-continent, four-month backpacking trip. “What better way to celebrate Mother’s life than by doing everything she never got to do?” she had asked him.

“By earning a degree that will allow me to give back for my entire life.” What he didn’t tell her was how tempted he was to join her. In truth, he envied her ability to focus on the present, not years down the road. While he had the career, the car, and the condo, she had the fun. She had the memories.
We could each die tonight, and she would have lived the fuller life.

He trembled at the thought. The possibility of that outcome had never entered his mind. He always believed she would return safely. On two separate occasions, Graeme and Jaxon had told him that he’d entered a dangerous world, but until the recent ambush, he’d never felt it.

It won’t come to that. We have a good plan and the advantage
. Graeme was planning to strike that night, under the cover of darkness and, Allyn hoped, in surprise. Graeme had mobilized every magi available, calling on every magi and cleric in the manor to be prepared, and used others already out on Family business to spread misinformation. Some would tell of a future strike, others of Graeme not attacking at all, while more would spread talk of an attempt to form a Grand Coalition. As information rolled in via Lukas’s spies, so would the varying reports. Lukas wouldn’t know what to expect, so Graeme said Lukas would prepare for everything except for what they would actually do—strike before those preparations became reality.

Allyn entered his room and closed the door and curtains, shutting himself away from the world. He had his own plans to make. The conflict was about to blow up into full-scale war, and he had no intention of being around for it. He and Kendyl needed to be long gone by the time anyone noticed they were missing. They couldn’t go home, not if they intended to get away. They needed to vanish. Maybe he could take her back to Europe, meet her friends, see the sights, and heal by getting away from it all. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start. But first, he needed to get Kendyl out—alive.

Chapter 14

J
arrell Hartline marched through the concrete corridors of the compound with Lukas’s other followers. Whispers and rumors spread through the disorderly group like dandelions in an overgrown field. Darian Hyland had attempted to capture Graeme McCollum and Kendyl’s brother, Allyn. The young fool was unsuccessful, and a handful of his Family was dead, but nobody knew if Lukas had ordered the attack.

“Graeme is building a coalition.”

“He says he won’t retaliate. He doesn’t want a war.”

“I heard he was already planning a strike.”

Each person said something different, something that contradicted what the last person had said. Jarrell wanted to laugh. They were clueless. Lukas was too.
Unless he’s marshaling us together to address the rumors and tell us what’s really going on
.

They entered the cafeteria—a large open room with a matching concrete floor and walls unadorned with decorations. The tables were pushed against the walls, chairs resting on top, keeping the center of the room open. Bare but functional, nothing flashy—that was Lukas. He was about structure, strength, and unity. Most of the Family had already arrived, leaving Jarrell at the back of the room, struggling to see over the rest. He pulled his glasses off and breathed onto the lenses, then rubbed them clean with the hem of his shirt. More than one person asked what was going on, but most waited patiently, at least as patiently as could be expected. Answers were coming. Why else would they have been summoned there?

Lukas entered a few minutes later, accompanied by his two bodyguards. Kaleb, the younger of the two, strutted beside his leader, a wicked grin on his face as if he reveled in knowing something the rest didn’t. Reyland, always expressionless, stalked on the other side of him, his back straight, eyes darting, and muscles tight, ready to strike. He wasn’t just a man prepared for a fight. He was a man looking for one.

Ever present, Kendyl brought up the rear. Silently pleading for help, her eyes flickered toward Jarrell as they always did when he was near. He’d offered it, but had so far been unable to make good on his promise. He had to be patient and wait for the right time. Jarrell looked away, in part because it made him feel helpless, but also because those pleading eyes might lead to unpleasant questions. She didn’t look at anyone else like that. She didn’t so much as make
eye contact
with anyone else. If someone was paying attention… the weight of her gaze subsided as she passed, its incrimination staved off for another time.

Lukas leaped onto a table at the far end of the room, and the crowd fell quiet. He stood silently, scanning the crowd. “Here we are. Look around. The men and women standing beside you are the men and women who are going to change the world. Men and women who already courageously stood with me and left behind a philosophy that saw our numbers decline year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation. The same men and women who are willing to stand, willing to fight, willing to die so that this philosophy is replaced by one that not only ensures the survival of the magi race but one where it thrives. One where we don’t have to cower or hide. One where we can once again be
proud
of who we are and what we can do. You are the men and women of change.”

He fell silent again, watching the audience. He exhaled, and his voice took on a somber tone. “So it pains me to inform you that some of those who stood with me, with us, are gone. Slain by the very hands that held us back, by the man who holds a foot at our necks and watches as we suffocate. Graeme has acted against us, without the consent of the very magi Families he suggests
we
rebel against. He’s a traitor and has always been a traitor, and now his hands are bloody from an unprovoked attack.”

Murmurs spread through the followers, then shouts for action and calls for retaliation. Jarrell shrank back, wishing he could hide. Lukas was inciting a mob whose devastation would be more catastrophic to the stability of the magi community than any other internal conflict. There would be no going back from this. Lukas was placing the blame squarely at Graeme’s feet, and the mob wouldn’t rest until they had spilled his blood.

The provocation was as illogical as it was unfair. The magi numbers had been declining long before Graeme’s rise to power. They’d been declining since the Fracture. He was just the biggest target because he was Lukas’s loudest opposition. Jarrell didn’t stand for everything Graeme believed in, but he didn’t want to see the Families go to war. He worked with Graeme not only because he believed in him but because it allowed him to keep the peace by bringing balance. Through his information, Graeme could counter Lukas’s moves and ward off war for another day. This business with the Hyland Family was an extension of the truth at best and a complete fabrication at worst.

“But fear not.” Lukas raised a hand, interrupting the growing discussion among the masses. “Our day to right those wrongs is quickly approaching, and to help aid our cause is Darian Hyland and his strongest and most loyal magi.” Lukas pointed to the back of the room, where the young Darian Hyland entered, followed by ten of his magi. They were dressed in black battle attire embroidered with intricate gold patterns along the sleeves and chest. Four clerics wearing similar muted-gray garb made up the rear guard. Applause broke out, and the Hyland Family received pats on the back and nods of encouragement as they strode through the crowd.

Lukas pulled Darian onto the tabletop with him and shook his hand. Darian smiled and said something to him that was too quiet for the crowd to hear. Lukas patted him on the back and gave him a smile of his own. “If any of you have doubts about what I say, I offer Darian Hyland himself as proof.”

Darian stood there, hard and unflinching, silently agreeing with Lukas’s account. He was younger than even Lukas. Even from across the room his pale-blue eyes were striking. If he spoke with the same conviction that his eyes suggested, it was obvious how he’d become the youngest grand mage within the Families. People were born to follow such a man.

“Everything he says is true,” Darian said. “I welcomed Graeme and his Family into my home and offered my assistance. They were looking for something, a book of some kind. When they didn’t find it, they accused me of keeping it from them. Said I hid it. Graeme knows he’s fighting a losing battle. Already, the Families are lining up against him, and he’s becoming desperate. He’s power hungry, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to hold on to what little of it he has left. When I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, he became violent, attacking my magi. We were forced to protect ourselves, and after a tragic battle where we repelled them from the house, six of my magi and one of my clerics were dead. We’re here not for revenge, but to ensure that no more magi need to die senselessly at the hands of this desperate man.”

Darian’s voice was quickly drowned out by cries from his audience.

“We won’t let it happen!”

“We’re with you!”

“Kill the traitors!”

Lukas motioned for the crowd to settle down, but the corners of his mouth hinted at a smile. “Please,” he said. “Please.” The calls for revenge didn’t stop, but Lukas spoke over them. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The crowd booed.

“I really don’t. Graeme’s followers are not all bad. They’re scared. Scared of change, scared of what they would do with the freedom we strive for. But even as I say this, my spies tell me that Graeme is mobilizing. I can’t tell you when he’ll be here, but I can tell you that it will be sooner as opposed to later. He is coming. And he’s coming for our blood.”

“He’s not going to get it!”

“Let him come!”

“We’re not afraid!”

“As of right now,” Lukas yelled over the restless crowd, “we are at war. We are not fleeing. We are not seeking it out. But if it comes to us, we will be prepared. I’ve assigned each of you to a squadron, complete with a squad leader and a second. This information will be distributed along with orders. If they come for us, we’re going to blow them back to Graeme’s doorstep in pieces.”

The crowed roared.

It was over. There was nothing Jarrell could do except try to contact Graeme, tell him not to attack and that he was entering a trap. But that would only delay the inevitable. If Graeme didn’t attack, Lukas would. He had fear on his side, and it was as powerful an ally as any. Jarrell had failed. All he could do was cut his losses and run. But he still needed to make good on a promise.

Chapter 15

T
hey approached on foot, using the shadows to hide their advance. Allyn crept along in the middle of the file, behind a handful of magi. The magical S.W.A.T. force totaled more than twenty in all and was one of two storming Lukas’s compound. Graeme led this force, Jaxon the other, each approaching from different areas with separate objectives.

Jaxon’s force was tasked with creating a diversion, assaulting the elevator that led to the top floor of the abandoned warehouse where Lukas made his compound, and then entering through the main entrance. Meanwhile, Graeme and his force would ascend the fire escape and slip in among the chaos, using it to find Kendyl and retreat with minimal casualties.

It was a sound plan.

Allyn shivered against the wind. His compression armor did little to repel the rain that poured down in sheets. A river of rainwater flowed down the street against the curb and into a drain in front of them. Save for the hollow sound of splashing water echoing through the open grate, the streets were quiet. Lukas’s compound was in an industrial part of town two blocks south of the Columbia River where more buildings were vacant than occupied. And as late as it was, all the buildings were quiet, their working inhabitants having long since called it a day.

Lukas’s compound wasn’t much to look at and certainly not what Allyn had expected. Yellow light poured from the grimy top-floor windows of the otherwise-vacant building. Some were propped open, and others were broken. It looked… normal, hardly the sinister building of a psychopath bent on death and destruction.

Graeme ordered them to a halt, and they slid off the main street into the shadowy recesses of stoops, alleys, and corners, where they waited for their cue to advance.

Hold on, Kendyl. We’re on our way.

The lookout’s eyes widened in terror as Jaxon slipped from the shadows in front of him, driving his large fist into the man’s face. Leira caught him as he stumbled backward. White light flared as her bare hand touched his face, forcing him unconscious. Together, they dragged him into the alley where the rest of their force waited.

Erik, a young bright-eyed magi, handed him the rope. The kid’s hands were trembling. Embarrassed under Jaxon’s gaze, Erik withdrew, joining the others in a silent circle watching Jaxon and Leira bind the lookout’s wrists and ankles. Having trained so many of the magi under his command was an odd feeling. Things weren’t supposed to work that way. Those who did the training weren’t supposed to command. It was too personal.

Jaxon knew each of them. He knew their strengths and weaknesses. He remembered how quickly some had learned and how some had been blocked for years before finally being able to wield. Most, though not all, were younger than he was, but they were all
his
magi. And he would have to order some of them to their deaths.

It’s not supposed to work this way.

He pulled the rope tight in a complex knot that would likely have to be burned off. In reality, the rope would do little to hold the man once he regained consciousness, but that wouldn’t happen until they were ready. The knot was merely a symbolic gesture. He nodded to Leira and tossed the man over his shoulder.