“Yeah.”
“Yes. They aren’t half as good as you. It seems the cards don’t lie.”
“Cards?”
Laird turned around in his chair, and reached to the shelf. Boxes were lined up.
He seemed to decide, then picked one. He picked a book from the far end of the same shelf. Both box and book were placed on the coffee table between them.
Alister opened the box, lifting off the lid. Cards were stacked within.
“Keep those. You’re going to want to study the subject material, and study it fast. Given what you’ve talked about, I think it’ll be a natural fit.”
“Divination?”
“Your future was read a long time ago. Decisions were made.”
“Decisions?”
“To arrange a different binding for you, alongside your awakening. So you wouldn’t be constrained in the same ways.”
“I don’t remember anything like that.”
“We were subtle,” Laird said. “Just as Aimon was more subtle with me, just in case things didn’t work out. We decided you had potential, and paved the way. We didn’t, however, expect you to be quite as quick as you were to start being inventive.”
“I’m not sure I get it.”
“Things are moving towards a crisis point,” Laird said. “The question of who leads the Behaim family is secondary to the question of who leads Jacob’s Bell. We’re anticipating conflict, Aimon anticipated conflict, and we can’t have every member of the family fettered by rules. A select few have been vetted, cleared to tap into the well and use that power as they see fit. I was one, you’re another.”
Alister’s eyes went wider.
“I expected to wait another few years for you to get your bearings, but seeing as you’re already walking the path, we might as well get underway.”
Laird stood, setting the bottle on the short table by the chair. “Come.”
All this time, he’d thought he was walking his own path, and now… Alister shook his head. “What’s going on? Where are we going?”
“I know you have a lot of questions, but try to save them. You’ll have most of the answers soon enough, and you might find yourself wishing you hadn’t wasted all your questions on the simpler things.”
“I have limited questions?”
“You’re proud, Alister, and a proud person can only ask so many questions before they exhaust that pride. We’re very different people, but I think we’re similar in that.”
Alister nodded.
They passed Ainsley and the assorted adults, heading outside.
“What’s going on?” Ainsley asked, a concerned look on her face.
Well, if he got in trouble, she’d be at fault.
“Private lessons,” Laird said. “We’re stepping up his training.”
“He’s getting rewarded?” Alister’s father asked.
Laird didn’t answer, except to say, “He’ll be back home by dinner, Jonathan.”
Alister hurried into the car, before his parents could tear into him.
Ainsley was staring at him.
He shut the car door, and pulled on the seatbelt, but Laird was already pulling out.
A proud person could ask only so many questions. It made sense.
He had to pick the questions carefully, so the asking elevated.
Alister picked his question carefully. “You keep saying we. But I don’t think you’re talking about the family.”
“Not the Behaim circle, no.”
“Who’s we, then?”
■
Rose was intimidating, considering she was thin and old. Her clothes looked fragile too, starched, or lacey, or just old, though certainly not worn or threadbare. They were a statement. She was just a bit aristocratic.
There were words she could say that would overturn Alister’s entire world. If she had something summoned, a simple snap of her fingers…
Laird stood on the far side of the living room. It put Alister right in the old woman’s sights.
For the better part of his life, Alister had been told that you didn’t speak to the Thorburn diabolist, you didn’t look at her, you didn’t even think about messing with her or anything of hers.
Even Molly, Christoff, or Callan Walker were supposed to be off limits. Some did mess with them, especially the younger kids. They sensed the vibe, maybe, and they acted on it, but even then, it was uncommon.
“Sit,” she said.
He had to tear his eyes way to find an appropriate chair.
He took a seat, closer to Laird.
The room went dark. It wasn’t the lights – the lights and lamps weren’t on.
“Um,” he said, turning.
Laird was shutting the curtains.
“Eyes forward,” the old woman said.
When Alister looked, she had chalk in hand.
“I never believed in mollycoddling,” she said.
Oh. Oh shit. Oh shit.
She dropped to one knee, surprisingly easily for someone her age.
The chalk touched floorboard.
Alister started to rise from his seat. Laird’s hands pushed him down.
“You need to know what you’re dealing with,” Laird said.
“Dealing with? I’m not and never planning on-“
“Pay attention,” Laird said. “If you miss something, you’ll need to sit through this again. Take it from me, you don’t want to.”
Those words sent a chill through Alister.
“You-“
“-Sat where you sit, in a manner of speaking. I had that seat over there, I think.”
“You did,” the old woman said.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“An introductory lesson, one of several. You’ll need to know how to defend yourself, and this is the first step. Knowledge is power, and practice,” the old woman said, “makes perfect.”
“Why do I need to know how to defend myself?”
“First choir. Darkness,” she said, not answering his question.
Or maybe she was.
“I call on Ouhim,” she said.
Alister’s heart leaped into his throat when he saw the diagram. A simple circle, without ornamentation.
He saw the space within the circle turn black.
A head, or a face, pale, rose from the pool of darkness. The silhouette was sleek, like a person with long black hair, plastered to their head with water, and a long black dress that covered the hands, clinging to their form. Genderless. Human shaped, but not humanoid.
Two eyes, no nose, mouth or ears. The eye sockets were only dark pits, utterly black within.
Laird wasn’t holding him down anymore. He found himself rising out of his seat, despite himself, staring at the twin pools of darkness.